rosarianoath

"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.

She lets the desire bleed into the kiss, leaning up to kiss him hungrily. She doesn't wish this to be a frenzy, but he makes it difficult by simply being who he is. How could she not want to kiss him until their lips are sore?

"Nothing about you is work," she murmurs. With more space between them, she can let her hands glide over his stomach, purposely avoiding his tent.

Clive goes right into that kiss readily, abs taut as he holds himself in a plank over her, breathing in sharply right against her mouth as she teases him.

"Jill..."

"Yes, my love?"

She grins, thoroughly enjoying every muscle her fingers trace. Knowing the strength he possesses.

He shifts his weight a little, as if he could press his cock into her hand, his face bowing into the crook of her neck again.

He's sweet, eager for her attentions. She doesn't feel particularly eager to torture him when Joshua could return at any moment, and so she lets a hand dip lower to cup him through his boxers.

"You're this hard and you were willing to ignore it?" She clicks her tongue.

He chuckles against her shoulder, one of his own digging into the back of the couch to brace himself as she touches him. He might just drop, otherwise –– not for the lack of endurance in his arms, but simply for how intense the sensation is. He has to stifle a moan against her skin.

"I've resisted even touching myself to thought of you," he confesses.

"I haven't," she tells him, nosing against the side of his face. "I think of you often. Why did you resist?"

"It wouldn't be as satisfying as the real thing, just two floors above me."

He thrusts against her hand, eager.

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