12 + 1 Days of Christmas (A Very Syverson Christmas)

Day Eleven: Christmas Films

"She likes to sleep after her feed," you tell your mum. "So, make sure you change her before you feed her, or she won't sleep."

Your mother rolls her eyes at you. "You act like I didn't have three kids of my own."

You feel your lips pull into a tight line. It's the same every time you leave one of your kids for the first time. You hate to do it, but you need to. You need to have some time alone with Sy, time to reconnect, to rekindle the flame between you.

You're finding it particularly hard to leave Bindi. Knowing she's your last you don't want to miss any of the special little moments in her life, you want to see every smile, every giggle.

"Give her to me, Noah's waiting." Your mum puts her arms out and you hesitate.

"We could take her with us, Noah. She won't be any trouble."

Sy raises his eyebrows. "Give her 'ere," he says, taking Bindi out of your arms. He smiles at her, while her little hands reach for his slowly greying beard. With a playful growl he nibbles on her fingers and passes her to your mum.

"Noah," you whine.

"Woman," he whines back at you, and you sigh.

"She'll be right," your dad says from the lounge. He's got Mitch on his lap, watching a nature documentary already, those two love doing that together. The girls are already in the spare bedroom, playing with the toys they keep and your parents' place. "Say goodbye Mitch."

"Bye Mummy," he says without even looking away from the tv.

Outnumbered you slump your shoulders and look at Sy. "Ok, let's go."

Sy grins and gives your mum a kiss on the cheek and Bindi one on her forehead. It takes you another five minutes to leave, kissing and hugging all your babies one more time, reminding the older ones to behave and be helpful.

You're quiet on the way to the drive-in. Sy is taking you to see Love, Actually, your favourite Christmas movie. You usually watch it at home, followed by Die Hard, but this year he wanted to take you out on a date. It was a sweet idea, you just hated leaving the kids.

Sy had set up the back of his ute with your air mattress you use for camping, some pillows and light blankets. It was too hot for the blankets really, and there were a few too many mozzies around, but it was a touching gesture.

Sy sits with his back against the window, and you sit between his legs, resting your head on his chest. You share a bucket of popcorn, well Sy eats most of it, but he feeds you a few pieces for every mouthful he eats. As soon as the food is finished though, you can see that Sy starts to get distracted, bored by the movie, more interested in other things.

He's subtle at first, his fingers caressing your neck, tracing invisible lines from your ear to your collarbone. Then his touch gets lower, you barely notice his delicate descent, until he's caressing the tops of your breasts and the familiar ache between your legs starts to grow.

A soft moan falls from your lips, and Sy responds with his own deeper, rougher groan as his arm wraps around your belly. He pulls you closer, dragging a blanket over you despite the evening's heat.

You know where this is going, what he wants to do, but you shake your head. "We can't Sy."

Sy drops his head to your neck, his kisses are hard, all deep massaging tongue and teeth. "We ain't doin' anythin'," Sy rumbles, and you clench your thighs together at the teasing tone in his voice. "Nothin' at all."

But he doesn't stop.