Huddled under sheets, their breaths mingling in the enclosed space, they whispered words of love. They kissed and touched and laughed in the early hours of the morning. It was like they were children again, staying up past their bedtimes.

The TV was on the travel channel because they had been trying to determine where they wanted to go.

Fang wanted France.

Erin wanted Spain. Or Germany. Or maybe Romania? He couldn’t decide. Traveling sounded like a dream to him.

Erin stole a quick kiss from his smaller lover, and it made Fang giggle, his fingers threaded into his hair. “Japan.” He offered.

“Too crowded.” Fang told him, their noses pressed together, the smile pulling those pink, overly kissed lips up.

“Italy.”

“Maybe.”

“Greece.”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” Erin purred and kissed him again, but this was a longer, deeper kiss, his hands braced on the small of his back. His fingers pushed up his shirt, and pressed into the knobs of his spine. “Everything is perfect.”

“You’re a liar.” Fang moved his mouth away to softly nip at Erin’s jaw, and it made Erin grin.

“I never lie.”

“Liar.” Fang laughed, his nose crinkling up.

“I don’t lie. Not to you, at least.” He defended his own honor.

“Then be completely honest.” Fang told him, sitting up straight now.

“Of course.”

“What’s the greatest thing about you? That thing you want everyone to know.”

“You.”

Taken aback, Fang blinked and his head cocked a little, “Me?”

“Yup.” Erin kissed his forehead, and slid him off of his lap, stretching his legs out.

“O-oh.” He blushed, a delayed reaction of sorts. He tucked his hair behind his soft, pink ear and curled down into the comforter, his hand finding Erin’s in the dark.

He felt their fingers curl around one another’s, and their palms pressed together. Erin’s hand was big, and Fang’s was small. Erin’s fingers were long and boney, and his nails were chewed to the quick. Fang’s fingers were long and slender. Piano fingers.
Perfect.