It's as though I physically can't stay away from this duo for long. So it's back to Wessa again folks, to the tune of Pillow Talk this time. I usually have my stories planned, but I'm just going to go with it this time. This one will also be different because, as I've said, I don't do heavy duty mature shit. So this is more like what happens after 'fucking you and fight on' in their paradise and war zone. Well, onward mes amies.

Will loved this time of the day: the dawn after, when he always woke up before Tessa and saw her sleep with that slight half smile adorning her lips. The first light would slowly fall on her broad white forehead and eyelashes, a strange projection of light and shadow on her face. He would gently rub small circles on parts of her body; her waist, her shoulders, her neck, her stomach, her chest. He would slowly ease the stiffness out of her body. In turn, she would push herself closer to him and inhale his aroma before slowly opening her eyes and flashing him a smile that was breathtakingly beautiful in its innocence and bashfulness, before shutting them again and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. That was all the pair needed to succumb to their carnal urges and repeat the events of the previous night.

For some strange reason, the bout in the morning was always soft, gentle and delicate. It felt as though his passion and desperate need to be in and around her ebbed with darkness. At night, they were bare emotionally and lay vulnerable and insecure in front of each other; there was no hiding or running away from anything. Fairly often, he would find himself trembling while holding her as close to him as humanly possible. Many a times they had started crying in the midst of the tornado of emotions that always seemed to enshroud the pair. There would be shuddering breaths, clashing teeth, bleeding lips and the cold metal of a clockwork angel and two Herondale rings pressed against hot and moist skin. The nights consisted of whispered confession and honest answers. It was the washing away of grief, anxiety, rage, jealousy and every other grey emotion in the steady stream of the pure love their sullied hearts held for each other. It was the thorny path to their safe haven, their nirvana.

The mornings, however, were quite the opposite. The sinking in of the realizations of rediscovered love and passion would have reinstated the sense of security they felt around each other. While the nights were for denuding their hearts of all the baggage, the light of dawn was for true, pure, unsullied love making, it was to give and receive solace in equal measure. All his insecurity, all despair and fear of Tessa leaving him for all those harsh things he had said to her would burn to ashes that would be blown away by the pleasantly cold morning breeze pouring into the room through the partially open window. The zephyr would carry the ashes away with it while simultaneously running its hands over the skin of the lovers, skin damp with sweat. Its fingers would play with hair of the entwined duo while their own were running over the other's body with coaxing motions. Will loved the way it would make her gooseflesh stand as prominently as they did whenever he raked his own fingernail down her body as he kissed her slowly, sensuously.

And today, as he had grown accustomed to, he would rub circles on the body of his wife. And she would turn to face him and rub her face into his bare chest life smiling at him and kissing him, just the way she always had.

Tessa was sure that she had woken up to the feeling of Will's rough and calloused, yet warm and soothing, fingers on her stomach. In a motion that was just as familiar to her as breathing, she turned to snuggle into his chest. She had expected to be greeted by the warmth that her husband seemed to wear like a blanket. Instead, she was greeted by the chilling morning zephyr, the same that was once a dear companion in their morning nonverbal declarations of love and affection. When she reached across to the other side of the bed, the sheets were devoid of warmth, hope and life. They were empty and unused, just the way they'd been for the last five decades.

What she didn't know was that the spectre of her blue-eyed boy was right there, regarding her with a look of unconcealed love and deep and insurmountable sorrow. A boy who was dying to say, "Look Tess, I'm right her. I haven't gone anywhere. I'm right beside you, cariad fy; there's nowhere else I could ever be," but he knew that she would only hear the silence. So he did the most that he could; he cradled her head while her pillow soaked her anguished tears, hoping she knew that he was there, that he loved her, that the pearl bracelet in her little jewelry box was not only a gift but also a promise. A promise that, even when he died, his heart would be hers and hers alone. All those years ago, he had told her that he would love her more with every passing hour. He still meant it and, had he not died of age, the inferno of love he held for her would have killed him wasn't humanly possible for a man to love a woman with the passion he loved Tessa with, and so he had to die to make more space for yet more love.

And, they lay there; the heartbroken widow crying into her pillow, registering the caresses of her dead husband and dismissing them as the hallucinations of her despairing mind.

Yes, I had to do that. This will go on both, Musical Shots and as an individual one shot.

This is the first time I'm doing something like this guys. Please help me. Please review.