Evenings by the fireside had become less solitary of late, and consequently less productive, much to Tristan's amusement. He'd been accustomed to using the time to write letters, or occasionally to carve the little figures that occupied his hands when he was not working specifically on a broom, but it seemed both habits were to fall by the wayside in Gwen's company, not that he could bring himself to mind.

After the second time she'd literally removed the knife and half-formed shape from his hands, very intent on another use for his idle urge to have them active, he'd stopped setting up for the hobby on the days when they adjourned to his parlor after supper.

At the moment, however, there was no need to contemplate the situation, since, as they both preferred, his hands were on her, one lightly at her shoulder as she rested against him, legs draped over the arm of his chair, the other splayed across her stomach, thumb swirling little circles as he watched the firelight dance over her face. Just a human-shaped, utterly spoiled feline, he mused, the thought causing one corner of his mouth to curl in a smirk.

Feeling Tristan's eyes on her, Gwen pulled her gaze away from the flames dancing in the grate to his face. His expression merited a raised brow and a small curl of her own lips. "What?"

Her eyes scanned his face, tones warm in the firelight. Were she not warm and very relaxed where she was, Gwen would be having a much harder time resisting the heat that seemed to always exist between them. Not inclined to move as that electricity dictated as she could feel his warmth all around her, Gwen leaned foward just enough kiss the underside of his jaw.

"Tell me your thoughts, Tristan," she murmured, encouraging, as she brushed another kiss across his skin.

"It was nothing overly pressing," Tristan answered, letting his head lean on the back of his chair for a moment as Gwen nuzzled him, "just that this is what prompted your second birthday gift, though I couldn't know the extent of its aptness at the time." The carved wooden cat, polished to a soft sheen and stained a rich mahogany, had taken shape without conscious thought, and not until it was finished had he realized why he'd made it.

Flattening his palm over her stomach, fingers sliding against the smooth fabric covering her skin, he observed aloud, "Likes to half-nap in front of the fire, arrange herself across the most comfortable surface available... if my hands are to be busy with anything, it had better be her deserving and lovely self..." He smiled, turning his head to look at Gwen again. "You're a cat, Siren."

"Mmm," she hummed, smiling against his skin before pulling back enough to look up at him. "I suppose there are worse things to be." She ran her fingers up his arm then, before coming back down to flatten her smaller hand over his on her stomach.

"Deserving and lovely," she mused, eyes on their hands and the differences between them, the heat everpresent when their skin touched. "Very true," she acknowledged, lips twitching again. "As is the fact that your hands should always be busy with me." Her voice was a little lower than normal, a heat there that wasn't before as she raised a slightly darker gaze to his.

A soft laugh escaping him, Tristan flexed his hand under Gwen's, watching her eyes tint. "And modest, and not the slightest bit demanding," he added, a hint of teasing present in his voice, though he liked that about her. "I'll not complain about them being busy with you, as I find I quite enjoy it, though I despair of ever accomplishing anything again with you in the shop with me."

The thought of their time together recalled another he'd had earlier in the day, and his hand stilled as he regarded her. "You're going to be abysmally overscheduled with the end of the season drawing nigh, yes?"

"I am," she replied, heat leaving her voice as her eyes found the flames again. "Falmouth on Saturday and it's all but the league championship. I've more press, meetings and office work this week than the whole season combined. Everyone wants a piece of me."

Though she was with Tristan, a good portion of her thoughts with him, his words had redirected her to the coming week. Practices were planned, but she would spend most every daylight minute at the stadium until the game on Saturday. She had no doubt that her team would perform beatifully and come out on top should the fouls be kept in check by the officials.

For all that though, she didn't envision seeing much of Tristan after this evening. "I don't imagine I'll have a terrible amount of time, unfortunately. One would think they'd have in their minds that the seeker needs her time too, coming up on a big game, but the world doesn't wait for such."

Tristan nodded, catching the near-inaudible trace of resignation in Gwen's words. Her profession was demanding by nature, moreso as she was captain of a very successful team, and he understood the cost of such a thing, in a way. Trailing the backs of his fingers along her cheek, her face turned away from him as she studied the fire, he requested, "Come dancing, when you're free. We hardly leave here, which has its own decided merits, but I think an evening out might suit us, once the Quidditch world is allotted its pieces."

A bare curl of smile lingering as he tipped her face toward him, he allowed, "I'll admit selfishness, Gwen... and hope that I'm better company."

"Much," she murmured, voice warm again.

Gwen was pleased, very, and the musings of the coming week were easily pushed away in favor agreeable thoughts. She'd been wondering if he would ask her to spend time with him beyond the walls of Ivy's Run. A warm satisfaction with this new devopment mixed with the electric heat that was always between them and Gwen turned her face to kiss his palm before leaning forward to kiss him properly, hand resting lightly on his chest.

"And I'd love to," she hummed against his lips, curling her body into his.

"Excellent, on both counts," Tristan said, content with the beginnings of plans for the time being as Gwen pulled herself closer. He slid his hand around the back of her neck as she stretched up to kiss him, the niggling thought that no matter how often they were together, he fairly craved her skin batted away so that he could focus on the now-familiar buzz of awareness between them. His eyes were shaded dark as his lips left hers momentarily, suggesting, "Shall I reclaim my pieces now, then?"

Her eyes darkned in response, mouth tipping into a decidedly wicked smile at his reference to her earlier statement of everyone wanting a piece of her. "You should. First pick, even," she purred, catching his lips again.


SUMMARY: Tristan and Gwen have a quiet moment by the fire. Plans are made for spending time together outside of Ivy's Run.