Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Their day, interthreads the sacred ceremony—Neva and Rhett as one.

The bride, her groom and a priest, and His blessings. Their marriage was more perfect than ever.

For memories, Rhett had a camera stand, a capture to their weaving of love in it's living colours. Performing it's art, the blessed angle of the camcorder.

Portraits of their allegory of love, shall hang on the walls they whisper home. On the wild flower meadows, of two hearts, that shall never be lured apart.

For their reminiscence, as young and beautiful—when grey and older.

For their descendants to cherish and adore.

As of the twilight evening. The breeze swirling by, murmers the sprinkles of snow as the wintry night draws near.

"Are you cold?" Rhett lovingly peers at her rosy cheeks. Neva gazes up at his eyes, she sways her head, assuring she's warm with the peach cardigan and her wedding dress underneath.

She, in an instant gazes away from his enchanting eyes, an abrupt rippling in her chest shrinking her courage away. His bright orbs greatly the reason of her being so shy.

They saunter towards their little cottage house. Making perfect for their flourishing love to preserve it's sweetness—in their closed cozy home.

Rhett removes his hoodie jacket, draping over her shoulder. A glimpse of him, she slithers, radiance on her eyes. Breathing away warm vapour.

'Ah... this brings back memories.'

Rhett has Neva's feet above the ground, her eyes broadening in surprise. In his strong and warm arms he carries her, bridal carrying his newly wedded wife. Her cheeks reddens scarlet.

"Rhett... what if someone sees us?" Her wandering eyes, searches whispers of footsteps.

"It's perfectly fine. My wife." He says, gazing down at her beautiful face, drifting towards her sweet lips, savoring her strawberry brims.

She cheekily smiles, secreting her burning features in his warm chest. He giggles, she feels the vibration of his giddiness. Her mind amusing her, twinkles of little memories—findings of his laughs attractive.

Berating for her strange flavour, as he was precisely a stranger. Yet, here she's cradled in his arms, the man with mystical laughters, who she sings out as her husband now.

With each of his long strides, their cottage house comes clearer to the eyes. Serene floral wreath as a decor, on the coffee door—of their romantic home.

"You can put me down." Neva attempts to have herself on the ground, but his hold on her stays firmer.

"Nuh-uh," he shakes his head sassily.

"Not ever." A fearless grin paints on his lips.

"What?" He replies no word to her—her lips forming a faint pout, a mischievous glint on his handsome orbs.

He closens as far as the door step, his feet still, then suddenly he kisses her lips. She lightly slaps his chest.

"Oww... bad wifey, hitting me on our day."

Neva huffs, "My bad, sweet hubby, how shall we get into our home?"

And he savours her lips once more, "I have us walk inside, you shall unravel the way." He gestures at the black hand bag of Neva's, swung in his shoulders. She purses her lips—zipping it open then fishing out keys.

She unlocks the door, steady in his arms. Slowly they walk—he walks inside the interior of their snuggy home.

"Now, will you?" She queries him again. Earning his adoring gaze. "Never." He responds.

"I have to change and shower Rhett." Neva breathes out, wishing to wrap comfy garments on herself.

"I'll help you change, and accompony in bathe." He proudly presents his scheme.

She chuckles, "No you are not." His shoulder hits the door, nudging it open. They had made it inside their room.

"Why not?" He sadly frowns. They were now man and wife. Was she really unknown, the manner of their bodies, shall be as of today.

"Aren't we making love tonight?" Rhett's expression a brew of eagerness and somber. Only she was the one able to delight the previous.

Neva's cheeks burns in red, her delicate body hot. "I have to make dinner." Instead she forms. Rhett softly lays her frame on the surface of the bed. Beige, floral printed sheets underneath.

His large frame hovers over her, "We just had lunch not many hours ago. And I cannot sway away my desire for you anymore."

Passionately... his slim lips caresses her rosy brims. Nibbling on them, softly devouring her upper lip then the lower brim. The hungry tongue does it's magic, heating their bodies up.

He doesn't realise, he has already slid his black blazer off. Her fingers entangling on his mushy hair, cascades down on his chest, pushing him away. Heavy warm breathings, wafting over their agaped mouth.

"Atleast let me bath." She appeals, catching her breath. "I'm dying here." His forehead attaches to hers. "I'll be fast," she whispers.

Gathering strength, she presses his body away. She arises on her feet, then turns to the man with sad eyes.

"By then, you can go shower on the other room. Alright?" She fleetingly pecks the lips of her dramatic groom, sliding the thick sweaters off. Hurrying away...

Rhett in love, wears away the misery of parting some minutes, a delightful smile drawn on his pretty lips. These passing little seconds, igniting the fire tremendously. Heart of his, beating faster in desirousness. She'll soon be all his.

♡｡

Feathers of snow flying in the air, window pane starred in frost. Impatiently he awaits his bride on their bed in scarlet rose petals.

She makes no sound as her hush feet steps closes. Racing heart, heavy breaths.

Enchanted with her bare features, her fingers tightly grips the knot of towel on her chest—draped on her frame.

He approaches her, her feets settled on the ground. He stands there... so close, her valor fading away, she cannot meet his eyes.

His fingers on her chin, he lifts her eyes up to intertwine with his. And there she sees in the mirror of his soul, an ablaze of love and lust.

Softly he brushes his lips on her. Sweetly, slowly kissing her, soaring arousing sparks.

She presents him with a similar motion, with a resembling passion.

Parting lips, she whispers, "Can we turn the lights off?"

"Whichever you prefer." He smiles, appealing nothing more. He dives down for her once more, but then her palms meets his chest.

"Wait," she moves away, having the man pout a little. Neva moves towards a certain cabinet. Gathering scented candles and matches. She ambles around the room.

Drawing them in perfect places, she lights them up—with Rhett trailing her around.

He turns off the lights illuminating the dark surround, the spindle shaped flame of candles casting warm beams accross the room. Airbrushing the lovers, golden.

He wraps his large, dry arms around her lean waist. Nuzzling his face on her neck, little wet kisses on her skin, having her eyes close and exhale in relief.

"I can't believe we're married." He murmers, their bodies heating up. "Me too." Under her breath she whispers. He turns her to face him. His chest bare, he has only clothed his legs.

He kisses her, taking her breath away. Greedy and more greedy, he caresses her fist on her chest, gripping her only thin garment. Slyly unweaving her fingers away, one after—and the other.

The white cloth falls on the floor. She feels afraid, her breathing rasping. His fingers slides under her chin, he has her eyes float into his. "It's fine." He whispers.

"Can I look?" He smiles in such a way, comforting, still in a smirky, sexual way.

She hits his chest with her loosely clenched fist. He giggles, causing her lips to curve up, easing.

"Can I Angel?" He sweetly asks her, feathering a loving kiss. She knows those lips, those eyes, the burning soul, his mysterious heart.

She says nothing, but gestures with a nod of her head, assuring him, she trusts her body with him.

Lifting her in his arms, as she's his bride. Her groom carries her towards their soft, velvety bed. Her back caresses those red petals. An aroma of sweet candles and scarlet roses hovering in the air.

He warms her lips, caresses every curves. Fingers writing a poetry, lips painting stars. Slow, deep cores, clouded, white quilt on the torso—nails scratching name, her arched back, soft moans, low grunts, sensual and gentle strokes.

Twirling tongues, quivering souls, skin veiled in chills; a burning wildfire of love.

Dripping kisses, thirsty bones, igniting eyes.

Rhythm of love, lust and romance. Dancings of silhouettes, love you's tangled in contended sounds.

Leisure and intense. Roaring fire, trembling sighs, saturating flesh. Such perfect was the art of making love between two; married lovers.