"Content to bury your face or your cock between my thighs," she purrs. Those sweatpants really are thin for how it feels like he's right against her. All of him feels hard, muscles tensing as he moves, and her hands leave his bottom to roam up his back once more.
"But I've known this for a very long time now, Clive."
“A very long time, hmm.” There’s a twinge of shame with that, being known for a thought and not his commitment to such a thing, but he can’t care much when he’s rubbing against her so tautly. “I hope it’s not any less enjoyable for being so predictable…”
“I’m glad,” he says, choosing relief over the terror of boring her, of being selfish with his wants. “I really could just service you for the rest of my days.”
Which he is only not doing now, he tells himself, because he wants lunch before he develops a temper.
But she’s still tempting, and under him, and he kisses down her neck.
"Because I love you. You ask me for so little, Clive. I know you worry about your desires being too much... whatever that is. Could it not be that I enjoy being under your command as you do being under mine?"
Though perhaps for different reasons, at the heart of it.
“That may be,” he says, but he feels his own hesitation in a way he’s immediately self-conscious about. He doesn’t want her to feel poorly, but he’s been feeling too tender towards her to have much of a poker face. Gently: “I’d like to discuss what that means when I’m not already on top of you…”
He looks at the floor for a long moment, and then he sits, obediently. The playful intimacy is gone, leaving him full of shame and dread, forced to think about what they’re doing.
“That night many months ago, when I came home and wasn’t myself,” he says. “I stalked outside your room, and when you came to me anyway, I tore your gown and plundered you mercilessly.”
This sweet man. She smiles, surprised that she feels a sting behind her eyes. She's fortunate to have someone that is so careful with her.
"The list of things I want with you is infinite, Clive. We can afford to skip some," she reassures, squeezing his hand. "Please, believe me when I tell you that."
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"But I've known this for a very long time now, Clive."
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She breathes out a laugh, because this is not where she expected to be when she simply meant to do the laundry.
"I enjoy so much about you."
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Which he is only not doing now, he tells himself, because he wants lunch before he develops a temper.
But she’s still tempting, and under him, and he kisses down her neck.
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She would happily let him be her master, for a time.
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“For the sake of it, or because you’d want me to make demands?”
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"Because I love you. You ask me for so little, Clive. I know you worry about your desires being too much... whatever that is. Could it not be that I enjoy being under your command as you do being under mine?"
Though perhaps for different reasons, at the heart of it.
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"I'd like to discuss that as well... is that appropriate cheeseburger conversation?" She asks with a laugh and a touch to his cheek.
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They were supposed to talk about these things more before falling into bed together.
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"That sort of conversation. This. Us," she says, patiently. "We have a bad habit of... postponing conversations."
At least no one else can force these.
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“And then the moment passes, and we’re hesitant to spoil another by bringing it up later.”
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"Then... let us talk about it, Clive. I don't want that for us anymore. No more fear of ruining what we have, even just in the moment."
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They can push through to lunch after. Hopefully.
"We can't be afraid of talking."
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He just asks: “Why do you want me to hurt you?”
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"Hurt me? How?"
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“That night many months ago, when I came home and wasn’t myself,” he says. “I stalked outside your room, and when you came to me anyway, I tore your gown and plundered you mercilessly.”
He looks at her, apprehensive.
“And you liked it. You wanted more.”
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"I did like it. There was pain, but it... you weren't hurting me, Clive."
That's not what she's now concerned about.
"I enjoyed that you gave into your desires. That's all."
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“I don’t know if I can put my hands on you like that in my right mind,” he says.
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"Then don't. It's that simple."
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"The list of things I want with you is infinite, Clive. We can afford to skip some," she reassures, squeezing his hand. "Please, believe me when I tell you that."
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