rosarianoath

“I should get up so we can get on with our day, hmm?”

But he doesn’t stop, either.

"No, don't," she sighs, wrapping her arms around him. "Stay here. This is our day, and I'm so often right, remember?"

He stops for just a beat, his nose pressed into the space behind her ear.

“I remember,” he murmurs. “We’ll stay.”

The rumble of his voice against her ear makes her shiver.

"I don't think you really wished to get up."

“I always wish I could linger a little longer.”

He breathes out, slow, comfortable.

"Then you should. And don't say a word about hunting," she warns. "No excuses."

Clive runs his lips around the shell of her ear, humming.

“I am thus unemployed until the next sunrise,” he promises.

She laughs with another squirm, trapped between him and the mattress and content to remain there.

"I'm so glad I need not beg. Besides, I can always find a job for you to do."

He smiles against her skin.

“And what job will that be?”

"Spend time with me," she says, and laugh still in her voice. "However you see fit. We can watch your show, if you'd like."

Not her favorite activity, but she likes to see him happy.

“I want to look at you, not the television,” he says, and he runs a hand down her side. “I want to give you all my attention.”

What a perfect response.

"I seem to have all your attention as of now," she points out, smile in her voice. "What shall I do with that, I wonder?"

“It’s all yours.” Her fingers wound into his hair feels compelling. “I will be pleased no matter what you do with it.”

"What if I chose to kiss you until your lips are sore?" He gives her too much control.

“I would think of you every time I noticed the sting,” he murmurs, shifting so he can look up at her, blue eyes soft and sincere. He smiles, faint but true. “As I’m sure you would, too, feeling the scrape of my beard.”

She passes her fingers over his cheek, tracing his skin to the corner of his mouth. He can melt her with just a look. "I can say you've burned me."

With his beard.

He turns his face to her hand, just slightly, kissing her fingertips.

“The tolerable kind, I hope.”

She smiles as she watches him, fingertips brushing against his lips.

"The enjoyable kind. Nothing about you is merely tolerable."

“Oh,” he says, amused. “To think I’ve never tried my lady’s patience.”

He kisses her fingertips again and then briefly takes one into his mouth, sucking gently.

Jill's smile grows as she watches him take her finger, and she gently sees if he'll take another.

"You're generally well behaved."

“I try my best,” he says, and he obediently takes two fingers next, with a quiet little hum.

"That's always more than enough for me," she tells him, and this time when she pulls her fingers away she tips his mouth towards hers so that she can kiss him. It's her tongue that parts his lips rather than her fingertips.

Clive’s mouth briefly bobs open, anticipating another finger, and the kiss is a pleasant surprise, her tongue prompting a soft sound. He shifts in her arms, dragging his body against hers, humming as he settles into making out.

She sighs against his mouth, both from pleasure and the weight of his body pushing the air out of her lungs.

"Perfect," she murmurs after a few moments, on a break from his mouth to catch her breath. Jill looks into his eyes with a smile, cheeks rosy. "You're perfect for me, Clive."

He kisses the corner of her mouth when she breaks off, then her cheek, then he presses his forehead against hers, like only space will maintain his desire for her.

“I love you,” he replies. “Every bit of you.”

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