rosarianoath

He hums under his breath, willing himself to focus on the smell of her skin and the perfume on her hair, and not his half-hard cock pressed into the groove of her hip. With enough luck, it'll go, leave this moment without too much temptation.

"I'm yours to wear as you please."

"One of the things that brings me joy in this life is when you fall asleep on me. I like holding you." Silly, with how much bigger he is than her, but true. Her hands move up and down his sides, feeling him through his shirt.

There’s a little twitch and shiver to his skin as her hands rove, and he stays nestled against her.

“I could never grow tired of being held…”

She loves that reaction, subtle as it is. She loves him. Her hands travel the same path again, up and down.

"I'd like to hold you more often, then. You always slip into bed behind me... but your place is against my chest, against my heart."

"Perhaps we could be more equitable about that," he murmurs, "as long as I am not denied the opportunity to press against you from all sides."

And then the washing machine plays its little jingle, wet laundry sitting inside the drum.

"From all sides?" Jill echoes, teasing. And then she groans when the machine sounds. Terrible timing. She sighs and looks up at Clive, one hand slipping under his shirt to touch his skin.

"You're my favorite distraction." She forgot she's here to do laundry.

“Turnaround is fair play,” he says, and he has half a mind to let her go so she can return quickly, but then she gets her hand on his bare skin. He just gives a little hum, a vibration from his chest to hers.

Even more of a reason to stay right where she is. Her fingers trace his ribs.

"You're so warm," she murmurs. As if it's new information.

"There's a long story behind that," he murmurs back, teasing, and he shifts his face up just enough to press his lips against her neck and gently suck on her pulse.

He's warm, but she shivers beneath him anyway. His beard tickles more than his mouth.

"I'm sure it has to do with the warmth of your heart. Your body can't contain it," she teases back.

"It spills out of my very pores." He's barely broken from her for a moment to speak before he's quietly at her throat again, tongue laving over her skin.

And then he stops, stilling again as though thinking better of it, as though she won't notice the way his cock continues to press insistently against her.

Oh, she notices. Still, Jill frowns when he stops, though she nuzzles her face against his, fingers still tracing over his skin. She can feel her pulse quicken.

"We could..." She trails off, already bracing for rejection without even offering him a fully formed thought.

"We could." They've done so much talking. Haven't they earned a reprieve, the comfort of being so close to each other? He could rut into her right now and forget any reason not to. "How long is Joshua out?"

Her heart flutters.

"I don't know," she admits. Joshua coming home and taking a stroll down the stairs is one way to kill the mood. "How quickly can you put yourself away?"

"Fast enough, but if I'm inside you and have to withdraw at short notice," he says, "then I am going to be in a foul mood for the rest of the day."

Jill laughs, some of the nerves escaping her chest with it. Truly, she thought he'd reject the idea outright.

"You forget where you're sleeping tonight," she reminds him.

Anticipating it the rest of the day feels like its own form of torture. He thinks he'll split her clean in two if he has to think about it for hours on end first.

No way around that, though. Not when they're taking it slow.

"I can't forget my place with you." He nuzzles at her. "Perhaps I could just touch you now..."

It's been so long that she wouldn't mind being split in two. Jill isn't surprised when he offers to touch her. He's always eager to serve.

"Or I could touch you," she says, pressing into that erection she feels against her. Both could happen simultaneously of course, but she would like to focus on him. "I worry you might burst."

He draws a breath when she rubs against him, eyes closing. He’s only gotten harder, and her touch isn’t helping stave it off.

“I can endure,” he says. He’s not so sure, not with the way she holds him. Not with the way he flattens her with his whole body, her modest breasts mashed against his collarbone.

"You can, but you don't need to," she tells him, hand roving up his side and to his back, nails lightly scratching his skin. "You can let me take care of you. Let yourself enjoy something you want."

It would be nice, and he’s so tired, and so comfortable, and her touch feels so right. He tilts his hips a little to grind against her.

“Only if you want to…”

"You're silly," she teases, turning her face to kiss his, wherever she can land her lips. "Serving you is a pleasure. Of course I want to, Clive. As long as you think we're ready."

A handjob isn't crossing too many lines, right?

His pause is both a hesitation and an opportunity to luxuriate in her affection. But he finally nods.

“Please,” he says, more deliberately rolling his hips against her. “We can start.”

She smiles and begins to wiggle beneath him, as comfortably touching him means changing positions. For this, she prefers him beneath her.

"It makes sense when there's laundry to be done." Easy to clean up any mess.

He pushes himself up on his hands best he can on the narrow couch, and he glances down between their bodies to see his cockhead drag against her belly through his tented boxers. He looks back to her face and thinks she's the most beautiful woman he'll ever lay eyes on. He can't let her out from under him just yet.

"Making more work for yourself, are you," he says, before kissing her.

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