he laughs a bit as he picks it up. some random ring he found… nothing of note. a nice quality metal with a fairly large gemstone, swimming with beautiful color. your favorite color. but he doesn’t wear rings, so he offers it to you.
wouldn’t you want to sell it? you ask. you’re the one that found it.
why would i, when i can give it to you? he says. youre my friend.
you find that it only fits on your ring finger. a coincidence, but not crazy. it’s beautiful, though, exactly the gemstone cut you’ve found yourself eyeing in the past, and such a rich color.
you’ve been wearing that ring a lot, he says with a smile, and you blush.
i just like it. it… fits me.
he slips his hand into your palm and kisses the ring before you can react. it makes you look at his handsome face. it makes you look at the swirling colors in the deep gemstone.
your coworker asks if you’re engaged. it makes your face burn, and you say no, but laugh off that your friend gave it to you.
your sister asks who the lucky man is. you giggle and answer that it’s him. but you’re not engaged- he just gave it to you.
a saleswoman says that you must have a good man. you blush as you think of him. he is a good man.
but he’s not… he’s not your fiancé. right?
he invites you over for the night, and you expect pizza and video games, but you find yourself dressing up anyway, matching the quality of the ring. dressing to impress him, your… friend?
you don’t expect dinner, and having the chair pulled out for you. you don’t expect him to kiss your ring again. you don’t expect the candle smell and the low lighting. the calming movie. the delicious food. the rosewater with its petals decorating the table. he’s swept you off your feet, and when he holds your hand, he runs his thumb over your ring.
“i’m so glad i’m in love with you.” the words stumble out of you, natural as a waterfall.
his arms come around your waist as he backs you into his bedroom. your bedroom..? ever since…
“don’t think,” he breathes, and licks the thought into your mouth. “you’re with me.”
with him. you’re with him. he’s perfect. your bedroom is filled with candlelight and the sheets are soft. not familiar, but… aren’t they?
he undresses you like he’s done it before, because of course he has, hasn’t he? and the shiver of his touch isn’t because it’s unfamiliar, it’s because he just incites that in you. it’s always new, with him. ever since you’ve been in love. always.
you call to the sky when he gets his tongue on you. you hold onto his hair and whimper and kiss him when he comes up for air and tastes of you.
“my fiancé,” you whisper breathlessly into his mouth, and he laughs like you’ve said something silly.
of course you do. it only makes sense. that gorgeous ring he gave you when you got engaged… it must’ve been so long ago, but he sweeps you off your feet, it’s such a whirlwind. it feels like yesterday. but you’d left your wedding ring at the bedside when you washed your hands before dinner, like always, and you’d forgotten to put it on. of course. of course.
your life is perfect. your husband fucks you and kisses your ring and you stare at the swirling colors in the deep gemstone. he kisses your forehead while he thrusts deeper into you and watches the colors of the gemstone reflect in your eyes. he tells you every day how much he loves you as he makes you breakfast. he polishes your rings for you, so that their shining metals and gorgeous colors never dull.
you remember how he gave it to you. you’d been in love with him for years until he got onto one knee. you accepted him as your husband with nothing short of joy.
and he got to watch the rich colors of the gemstones swim in your eyes, revealing to you just how deeply you loved him, and wonder if its color in your face make him fall ever deeper in love with you, too.
