Day One - Hands


When the hands of the clock point south, she rolls over and kisses him awake. Her lips drag over his neck and jaw before settling on his mouth. The fringe of hair that always hangs in her eyes brushes over his face and he smiles. Erza never sleeps completely naked and the lace bust of her nightgown scratches his bare chest. The hem rides up on her thighs when she slides across his hips and Jellal's hands fit perfectly over them.

In the mornings, Erza is always on top.


The sun is high in the sky when the hands of the clock in his office point directly upward. Most of his afternoons are spent in the Magnolia chapter building of the Magic Council. Residence in the home town of Fairy Tail was his only requirement before agreeing to sit on the Council once more. He couldn't drag Erza away from her home, and he would not live without her.

When she brings his lunch, it's usually a cold sandwich that Mirajane has made. Erza tries but she doesn't have experience in the kitchen like Mirajane and her skills are slow in coming. Hot lunches were quickly ruled out – at least on the days when Erza joins him.

She is heavier than she looks and he's never been more grateful for a life that has made him strong. There is a space between the tall bookshelves that line the walls of his office. This particular space is free of hanging artwork or standing topiary – and that is intentional. Erza's back slides easily against the satin wallpaper. She wraps her legs around his waist and bites her lip. He leaves a complicated design of kisses over the slope of her neck before settling on a spot her currently unbuttoned shirt will cover once righted.

There is certainly something appealing about Erza's naked body, but there's also a very specific pleasure in knowing he doesn't need to strip her down to make her whisper his name and tug painfully on his hair.

In the afternoons, Jellal is always in control.


He's not much of a drinker even when the hands of the clock send patrons to their barstools. There's the occasional beer or shot of something that Laxus has chosen, but Jellal prefers sobriety. He is, however, always intoxicated by the sight of his wife – pink and fresh from her bath – putting up her hair. It is his preference to already be in bed when she joins him in their room. She leaves her towel on the floor, slides something whisper soft over head to sleep in, and then twists his beloved strands of scarlet into a bun.

The way the skin of her back glows in the moonlight, and the way her well-toned muscles flex under it, leave him more drunk than the darkest bourbon. She doesn't use hair ties or bobby pins as durability isn't the goal.

When she turns around to join him in bed, she smirks.

Erza always takes her time stretching out beside him. She folds her arms under her chin and innocently kicks one leg up. He starts at her ankle and ends at her shoulder. Every inch of her is kissably soft. One hand slides beneath her nightgown to squeeze her hip, and the other releases her hair. She doesn't protest when he tucks one of her knees under her stomach for leverage. Her fingers dig into the sheets and she stretches her arms forward while pressing backward into him.

He has protected her from many things over the years – even himself. There is notable intimacy in the way her back fits against his chest. She trusts him there and Jellal is honored.

At night they are inextricable.