While the world outside is preparing for noisy celebrations to welcome the new year, Yennefer is comfortably perched on the couch in their living room. It had taken them a while to turn it into what it is. At first the spacious room was kept clean and tidy, every wall painted a plain white, barely any decor to be found. But it didn't feel homely, as if no one was living here. Over time, Tissaia had started adding bits and pieces, always carrying a satisfied demeanor when a new item found its place. A dark green pillow there, a soft rug with green details for the floor underneath the coffee table, a bookshelf made of dark wood at the far wall. Yennefer's favourite part is their sofa in the centre of the room, made of emerald velvet and big enough for two people to lie on. To Yennefer though, everything only feels lived in and right when Tissaia is around.
Yennefer leans back, content to watch her wife busying herself in the kitchen.
The white fabric of the blanket is artfully enveloping Tissaia's body, revealing the upper part of her back and the gentle slope of her neck. She has put her brunette waves in a bun, a bit more messy than usual but still immaculate compared to Yennefer's standards.
Tissaia is preparing two glasses of her beloved red wine, the sound of rich liquid being poured gently permeating the space. Tissaia can't do anything against the blanket slowly unfolding and dropping to the floor, leaving her bare to the warm air. She's wonderfully inhibited in her nudity, and she wouldn't need to be. It's like a drape being removed before a play, revealing a masterpiece.
Yennefer trails her eyes appreciatively up and down Tissaia's body and once again comes to the conclusion that she is better than any work of art. Her narrow waist slopes out to the gentle curves of her hips and her perfectly shaped butt. Tissaia's legs, short as they may be, are as soft as they look, elegant, enticing. The ridge of her vertebrae protrudes slightly, leaving Yennefer aching to press kisses along her spine.
When Tissaia turns around, Yennefer's breath gets stuck in her throat. Breasts, heavy and full, sit on her ribcage, kissable collarbones above them. The tendons in Tissaia's throat are inviting Yennefer to create a few love bites on creamy skin. And, of course, her face. Tissaia's features could have been sculpted by the Gods, drawn by the most prized artists and nobody would have ever come close to capturing Tissaia's beauty.
Yennefer doesn't want them to. She is content to be the one who gets to make Tissaia smile, to trace her fingers over Tissaia's sharp cheekbones and jaw, and to kiss those soft, rosy lips whenever it so pleases her. Tissaia's eyes, the prettiest shade of blue, remind Yennefer of the moon, a beacon in the darkest of times. There is comfort in knowing that she can look at the moon and be reminded of Tissaia, in knowing that they are both looking at the same celestial body whenever they are apart. She scoffs at herself for the sheer romanticism of that thought.
"What is it?" Tissaia asks as she makes her way over to the sofa, a small, curious smile on her face.
"You are beautiful," Yennefer answers truthfully.
The response makes Tissaia's smile widen. Placing the glasses on the table next to them, she leans down and presses a quick, tender kiss to Yennefer's lips. Yennefer doesn't get the chance to chase after her.
"Thank you, dear," Tissaia murmurs, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind Yennefer's ear. The sweet gesture is one of Yennefer's favourites, and Tissaia has many of them.
Tissaia goes to grab the blanket that lies forgotten on the kitchen floor, Yennefer meanwhile selects their evening entertainment of choice.
Once Tissaia is back, she settles herself in front of Yennefer, moulding her body against Yennefer's and snuggling in so they are both on their sides, facing the TV. Yennefer is well aware that her arm will fall off sooner or later because Tissaia put her head there. However, the woman has the habit of tracing her fingers over the inside of Yennefer's wrist up to her inner elbow which more than makes up for it. Yennefer is somewhat ticklish there, but Tissaia moves her fingers at perfect pace. The woman, ever the scholar, had explained it once. Humans have nerve endings solely made for recognizing touch. If one is being caressed at three to five centimeters per second, their smile muscles get activated. The small lecture was incredibly sexy so Tissaia got a lot of caresses herself.
As if on cue, Tissaia starts stroking Yennefer's inner arm and she almost immediately starts smiling. Whether it's caused by the touch itself or the fact that she knew this would happen, Yennefer can't tell.
"Ready?" She murmurs against Tissaia's hair.
She receives a low hum and the small wiggle of Tissaia's butt against her hips in return, the woman burrowing herself in closer.
Yennefer smiles as Petterson und Findus starts playing, a Swedish and German children's cartoon. It's certainly an odd choice for two grown women, but it bears history.
When Yennefer first met Tissaia at her bookshop, the woman was busy sorting books. Yennefer had intended to ask for help, unsure of where to find material for her Science studies, but she stopped when she could hear that Tissaia was humming a little tune under her breath. It sounded pretty, almost careless and happy.
Yennefer couldn't put her finger on it, but she wanted to figure out what the tune was. She focused on the melody rather than the voice, went through a mental list of songs, a few popular TV shows and movies, but nothing came to mind. It was almost annoying, like a word on the tip of one's tongue waiting to be spoken but not coming out. Hence, she stayed where she was, absentmindedly scanning the books on the shelf while listening to Tissaia's voice carrying over to her.
She only realized that her behaviour was maybe a bit odd when a small woman was suddenly standing in front of her, an amused smirk on her face. "Petterson und Findus. A children's series based on my favorite books from when I was a child."
Yennefer had no idea how Tissaia had guessed her question, but didn't dwell on it. All she could focus on were the memories of herself, locked in her room, finding out about a cat called Findus upending the life of an old man named Petersson. The book was written in German, so she used her imagination and the illustrations to take her elsewhere. She can't remember how they had found their way to her.
"I didn't know they made them into a series," Yennefer said, still lost in thought, her brows furrowing.
"I highly recommend it, dear. My favorite episode is the one where they use fireworks to get rid of the fox," Tissaia smiled conspiratorially as if letting Yennefer in on a secret. Yennefer inadvertently copied Tissaia's expression, the nickname making her feel strangely warm inside.
She looked at Tissaia properly for the very first time then. Tissaia had worn a black pencil skirt, matching heels, a white blouse and glasses, her hair in a strict bun – the most cliche image of a librarian. Yennefer still sees what she saw all those years ago – incomparable beauty. She's glad as ever that she was allowed to get to know Tissaia's inner beauty as well as the things that aren't pretty.
"Would you watch it with me?" The words were out before Yennefer could think better of it, but it was for the best. The question was as surprising as the answer.
"Only if you take me out to dinner first."
It took them a while to settle on a date, and eventually agreed to meet on New Years Eve. They were both free that day, which was as sad as it sounds. Hence, they decided to make the best of it together. It's only gotten better since.
Watching Petterson und Findus has become a tradition. Both of them can recite all episodes by now. Tissaia had given Yennefer German and Swedish lessons, quite a few even. Eventually, she learned how to not only understand the series, but she could also read the books. Tissaia gave her one of those rare, proud smiles when Yennefer read out loud correctly for the first time.
They have done this for nine years in a row now, not once missing out on their personal little custom.
Yennefer is pulled out of her musings when Tissaia starts humming along with the theme song. The seasons change on screen, but Tissaia's voice remains, a soft sound, as gentle and reassuring as her caresses on Yennefer's skin. She pulls Tissaia closer then, their legs entwining underneath the blanket.
"I love you," she whispers against Tissaia's temple. She means it with every fiber of her being.
"I love you too, dear," Tissaia answers just as sincerely, pressing a light kiss to Yennefer's inner elbow. Gentle warmth spreads from Yennefer's heart to the tips of her fingers and toes.
They watch and watch, and lose track of time. The series is drawn with love, the characters coming to life in vibrant colours. Petersson and Findus go on adventures, they bake cakes, celebrate birthdays and prank foxes. Their hens comment on everything all the time, creating frenzy. It feels cozy, comfortable, just like Yennefer's life with Tissaia.
Exactly at midnight, the fireworks of Tissaia's (and now also Yennefer's) favourite episode explode on screen, twinkling in all kinds of shades and shapes. Tissaia had timed it perfectly. Yennefer nuzzles into Tissaia's neck, the woman chuckling lightly because of the tickle.
Tissaia rouses herself then, getting up to let Yennefer try to get some feeling back into her arm. It tingles for quite a while, a little less pleasantly than the shiver which runs through Yennefer when she looks at Tissaia, still naked and gorgeous as she folds the blanket neatly before sitting down again.
Once Yennefer regains faculty of her limb, she reaches for their wine as she positions herself next to Tissaia, their fingers brushing deliberately when Tissaia takes her glass from Yennefer.
"Happy new year," Yennefer says, looking into Tissaia's bright eyes as their glasses clink. If the past years are any indication, the next one will be just as good. But even if it won't be, they will make it work.
Tissaia echoes the sentiment, her voice gentle, a tender expression on her features.
The wine is fantastic.
"Do you have any resolutions for next year?" Tissaia asks, leaning back against the sofa and swirling the liquid in the glass leisurely. Tissaia de Vries, playing with wine on her precious sofa, who would have thought? Her head is cocked to the side, a thing she does when she wants to know something.
"Only one," Yennefer replies, smirking mischievously. She continues once Tissaia raises a questioning eyebrow in a way that's just too sexy. "Making love to my wife at least once a day."
"At least, hm? Someone is ambitious," Tissaia teases, her eyes having a playful glint in them. The way her voice drops sends heat through Yennefer.
Yennefer dares to take Tissaia's wine from her then, putting both their glasses on the table.
"Which means we should get started right away, don't you agree?" She husks once she turns back to face Tissaia.
"Only if I am to be seduced properly," comes Tissaia's whispered response, the woman staring at Yennefer's lips. She doesn't need to be asked twice.
Yennefer's fingers stroke over Tissaia's soft thigh, her heart beating out of her chest as she leans into Tissaia's space, inhaling her familiar scent. The tension between them crescendos as their eyes meet, Tissaia's more black than their usual blue hue. Yennefer is sure that hers look quite the same.
It's Tissaia who closes the gap between them, pulling Yennefer into her lap as she cradles Yennefer's face, kissing her passionately. So much for wanting to be seduced. Yennefer responds easily, eagerly, pouring all of her desire and adoration for Tissaia into the kiss.
They don't even part on their way to the bedroom, Yennefer's hunger for Tissaia taking over.
Once in bed, Yennefer traces her lips and fingers over every inch she had admired earlier. She kisses up Tissaia's spine, presses a light kiss to each buttock, ghosts her fingers over glorious curves. Tissaia practically melts into the mattress at her touches and it's divine to watch.
Relaxation for Tissaia has become a priority in Yennefer's life and she tries her very best to let all of the tension in Tissaia's tiny body slip away. It feels as good as it looks to Yennefer, to know she is responsible for Tissaia's pleasure. She's been taught by the best after all – the woman herself. Those were the best lessons Yennefer has ever experienced and she still wants to learn more.
The sounds Tissaia makes while she has an orgasm are as beautiful as when she hums a certain tune. Yennefer could never get enough of it, and, thankfully, she gets to have it whenever she wants.
She doesn't stop showing her appreciation of the woman until Tissaia is out of breath, a sweaty tangle of limbs, half covered by the other white blanket. Like that, Yennefer believes Tissaia is a goddess.
"I think I like that resolution of yours," Tissaia concedes, her fingers cupping Yennefer's cheek, her thumb stroking softly.
"You never told me about your resolution," Yennefer responds, raising an eyebrow lazily.
At that, Tissaia smirks before kissing Yennefer gently. She tastes like wine and faintly like the orange she had eaten after dinner. Post-sex kissing is so good, so warm and tender. Yennefer wasn't always of that opinion, she loves it this much now purely because of the woman she gets to kiss.
When they part, Tissaia's hand trailing down to grab at Yennefer's hip possessively, she murmurs, "Returning every single one of your favours, dear."