Mikhail & Taisiya - Valentine’s Day (Patreon)

Mikhail slips into their bedroom quietly as the first rays of light shine through the curtains. The house is quiet; the kids are off to school, and his wife is under the impression that he should be as well.

He took the day off, though, and drove all morning to get home. He stopped only at a florist and a bakery along the way.

Kneeling by the bed, he admires the way the light hits her skin, her hair fanning out around her in a flaming halo. She looks like something from a myth, a goddess forgotten to time. Despite being supernatural himself, Mikhail had never been one for religion. Taisiya is the only holy thing he’s ever believed in.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She stirs slowly, as she always does in the morning, before those warm eyes flutter open and steal all the air from his lungs. No matter how many times he sees her with her eyes still heavy with sleep and hair mussed from the night, it moves him every time. It reminds him how lucky he is to get the privilege of seeing her wake, of having her in his bed.

“Mik,” She squints up at him, her nose scrunching in confusion, “Why aren’t you at work?”

He brushes the stray hair from her eyes, smiling at her expression, “I took time off.”

Her entire face softens, “For Valentine’s Day? You didn’t have to, Mik.”

“I wanted to, love.” He brushes a kiss over her lips, heat flooding veins when she meets him eagerly to deepen it.

He comes to sit on the edge of the bed as she pushes the covers off herself, her body pressing against his side. Her hands skate along his jaw before she wraps her arms around his neck. His hands rest on her waist, and he pulls her up and onto his lap in one smooth movement. She makes a little noise, something caught between a sigh and a moan, but it’s lost between their lips.

He pulls away for a moment just to stare. The way her lips are spit slick and red, the way a flush has risen to the tops of her cheeks and spread across her nose, the way her mouth curls into a wider and wider smile the longer he gazes at her; it’s all still mesmerizing to him.

“Quit it,” She reprimands, though her voice is purely amused.

“How?” He asks, “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve been saying that for twenty years.” She laughs, the noise musical and sweet.

“And I’ll say it for twenty more.” He confirms.

She kisses him again, feeling him back in by his horns. It’s slower this time as she runs her hands along the expanse of his chest, her fingers long familiar with his body. He rubs idle circles into her bare thigh as she does, access made easy by the way her nightgown hiked up when he pulled her onto his lap. His tail curls around her ankle, working its way up her calf.

“We have all day, you know,” He mummers against her mouth, “And I brought donuts. Your favorite, in fact.”

“Angela’s bakery?” She perks up, her face lighting up with youthful joy.

“The very one.” He says, a deep satisfaction curling in his chest at her joy.

She slides off his lap, pulling him up in a swift movement and leading him down the stairs with giddy excitement. She gushes over the flowers, all of her favorites in a crystal vase. Sunflowers, baby’s breath, and daisies are arranged neatly beside the box of donuts, which is next to catch her attention. She sits on the counter eating, just like she used to when they were twenty two and studying in his dorm.

He stands next to her, leaning on the counter as his wings wouldn’t exactly allow him to sit like that. When they finish eating, she wraps her legs around his waist and draws him in close. His wings flutter as she holds him against her from where she’s perched, and he knows exactly what’s on her mind.

Their next kiss is far from chaste, and in minutes he’s sinking to his knees with every intention of making her scream.