rosarianoath

"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.”

"Even the bits that push you into uncomfortable territory?" She can't help but ask, teasing. He loves her completely. She doesn't doubt that for a moment.

“Especially those,” he says, and he imagines he’ll be coming up with something to ask for her soon.

Her smile widens at his immediate response.

"I'm the most fortunate woman in any world. My days are full of nothing but love and warmth. And you, and your smile."

“My smile?” he repeats, a little amused. “I suppose you see it more than most…”

"You have the most handsome smile there is. My heart flutters every time," she tells him, and she's telling the truth. "It's always been that way, with you. I take great pride in being the cause of your smile."

Clive gives an embarrassed little huff, briefly looking away, as though such a gesture could hide his smile from her. He kisses her deeply just to not have to reply.

She'll take it. A leg hooks around his, Jill always looking for ways to be closer, have more of him.

"I could survive off your kisses and nothing else."

“Is that so?” he murmurs, against her lips, kissing her again and again. The leg around his prompts him to slide the hand on her hip down, hitching it tight to him. “Then you will have kisses and pastries to feed upon for the rest of our days.”

Jill's giggles are soft, but persistent, tickled by his kisses.

"I enjoy your kisses much more than pastries. Even the ones filled with chocolate," she adds. An honor.

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