[ He draws back for a moment, face intense in that way he gets when he's thinking hard, his eyes searching her face as he strokes down her hair. ]

Nami, you know you are one of the best things that's ever happened to me, don't you?

[ He doesn't pin her there too long, not with how he knows his earnestness can dishevel her, and not with the shy embarrassment of having said it so bluntly. His hands easily go to help ease the older garment -- more familiar to him -- from her warm body. His lips find hers again, reveling in the familiarity of her fingers at his shirt, his trousers. There's something even sweeter about it, in the intimacy of a quiet bedroom he associates with years slowly passing, with marriage and with love. ]

Certainly not the first while [ he agrees with what could almost be called a grin. ] But you'd want me to show you the forest and the trade routes and the festivals and dancing in town, too.

[ Not that he gives her much chance to reply, pulling her close so he can feel the warmth of her body against his, chest to chest, sliding his large hands across the planes of her back. ]