His heart feels light. The earlier events of the evening had made him feel foul and jealous, but pressed against her body, he knows where he is supposed to be. She’s the sweetest, most patient, most enduring woman in the world, and if he could serve her forever, he gladly would. She loves him, despite what he’s done, and what he’s failed in.
“I love you too,” he says, and then he holds her tighter, like he could prove it with the proximity of his body, skin to skin.
Well, that’s fair enough. He presses another quick kiss to her lips and then lifts himself off her and onto his forearms so he can look down and ask, seriously:
When he lifts himself off her, she seems to suddenly remember something.
"Wait a moment. What are you doing, surprising me when I said I had something for you." Trying to outdo her, Clive? She smiles and gives his shoulder a little shove, moving to attempt to get up.
"My surprises tend to pale in comparison to yours," she says, heading to her closet. She has to go get the stool from her vanity to step on, grabbing a basket from the top shelf above the clothing.
She hops off to set that basket down on it and plucks out a little blue box no bigger than her hand, kept shut with white ribbon. She looks down at it for a long moment.
"I do," he says, sitting and watching her. The shame of wanting to eke out every second with her will likely still come to him a hundred years from now, when he's served his time and is supposed to be able to move on. His gaze drops to the box. "Even when you loathed to even look at me, you thought to...?"
If she had to pick a favorite kiss, it would be ones like that. Jill smiles into it before removing one of his hands from her face to put the box in it.
Inside is a small silver medallion, leather tucked beneath it so he can decide where to wear it--if at all. It's remarkably plain, though on one side, pressed into the metal, is a fingerprint. Her fingerprint.
"Supposedly, when I think of you and you have this medallion, you'll be able to tell. I can't say I know if it works or not, but I've seen stranger items." She can't tell from sight alone, but there's a very unnatural warmth to the silver. A pulsing warmth, like a heartbeat. Jill's busy looking embarrassed.
"I just thought--it would be nice for you to have. So that you know I do think of you, even when we are apart."
He breaks off slowly, more interested in her than the awkwardness of receiving a gift. He takes it, pulling it out between his fingers and looking it over with a fond look on his face.
“It’s very thoughtful,” he says. “Thank you. I will keep it on me always.”
To make good on that, he unwinds the leather cord attached to it and puts it on over his head.
Here she is, sitting beside him with his seed still hot between her legs, and she feels shy over a gift. She laughs at herself, shaking her head.
"Always is a lot, isn't it?" And what if he's with someone else? "Just when you'd like."
But she does lift her head to look at him wearing it, reaching out to press her thumb to the print left on the medallion. It makes her happy to see him finally wear it.
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“I love you too,” he says, and then he holds her tighter, like he could prove it with the proximity of his body, skin to skin.
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“Of course.”
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“In fairness,” he says, “I have never aspired to tempt you down to the basement.”
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She's weak for those blue eyes.
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She runs her fingers through his hair.
"I'm so glad we talk more. I'm so glad we spend time together."
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Truly.
He smiles. He feels disarmed.
"Do you want to rest longer?"
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Well, that’s fair enough. He presses another quick kiss to her lips and then lifts himself off her and onto his forearms so he can look down and ask, seriously:
“What would you ask of me?”
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"Wait a moment. What are you doing, surprising me when I said I had something for you." Trying to outdo her, Clive? She smiles and gives his shoulder a little shove, moving to attempt to get up.
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She hops off to set that basket down on it and plucks out a little blue box no bigger than her hand, kept shut with white ribbon. She looks down at it for a long moment.
"Do you remember that winter market?"
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She keeps a hold of the box as she approaches him, sitting on the bed.
"It isn't entirely free. The price is one kiss."
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"A small price to pay," he says, turning on his knees to face her proper. He takes her face between his hands and kisses her.
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Inside is a small silver medallion, leather tucked beneath it so he can decide where to wear it--if at all. It's remarkably plain, though on one side, pressed into the metal, is a fingerprint. Her fingerprint.
"Supposedly, when I think of you and you have this medallion, you'll be able to tell. I can't say I know if it works or not, but I've seen stranger items." She can't tell from sight alone, but there's a very unnatural warmth to the silver. A pulsing warmth, like a heartbeat. Jill's busy looking embarrassed.
"I just thought--it would be nice for you to have. So that you know I do think of you, even when we are apart."
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“It’s very thoughtful,” he says. “Thank you. I will keep it on me always.”
To make good on that, he unwinds the leather cord attached to it and puts it on over his head.
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"Always is a lot, isn't it?" And what if he's with someone else? "Just when you'd like."
But she does lift her head to look at him wearing it, reaching out to press her thumb to the print left on the medallion. It makes her happy to see him finally wear it.
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"Then I'll be glad to know you'll be aware of when you're on my mind. I think of you all the time."
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He clasps her hand back to his chest, his gaze warm.
"It's funny, but I had the same thought to get you something at that market. It's sat in my closet all this time, in the same house."
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comment 666 number of the situationship
evil
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