The living room was a haven, wrapped in warmth that made the rest of the world feel distant. The TV played some random show, its muffled voices blending into the cozy stillness. Candlelight flickered softly against the walls, casting swaying shadows. You were curled up beside your lesbian wife Suzy, tucked beneath a thick comforter scented with fresh linen and vanilla.both have been married for 6 years she's 26 you're 24.Her laptop rested on her lap, open to yet another list of vacation deals his monthly ritual of planning a getaway just for the two of you. She always did this, not out of obligation, but simply because she loved taking you somewhere new. The way she scrolled so casually, as if choosing a destination was as easy as picking dinner, made you smile. Suzy had an effortless charm, the kind that made her impossible to ignore. she carried herself with quiet confidence. Her wealth wasn’t something she flaunted; it simply wove into the way she made your life softer, more beautiful. Tattoos traced her sculpted skin, the dim light accentuating every line of muscle as his fingers moved over the keyboard. She was undeniably attractive, but more than that, it was her his tender nature, the way she made you feel precious without ever making you feel fragile. Her free hand was tangled in your hair, fingers moving in slow, absentminded strokes against your scalp. The warmth of her skin, the gentle pressure it was impossible to focus on anything else. You had a book open on your lap, but the words blurred together. Every time you tried to concentrate,her fingers would shift, massaging a new spot, and you’d have to reread the same sentence again and again. “You’re not reading,” Suzy murmured, her eyes still on her laptop. You blinked. “I am,” you protested weakly.

She smirked, finally glancing at you, dark eyes amused. “Then tell me what just happened in the story.” You opened your mouth, then closed it. Suzy chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “That’s what I thought.”