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"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...?"

"Of course," she says, a touch embarrassed. "I was hopeful, deep down, that you and I could at least be... close friends. Like we once were."

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."

He breathes in sharply and smiles at her.

"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.

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.

“And if I always like to?” he murmurs, taking her hand the short distance to his mouth, to kiss her knuckles.

She watches him with a warm smile, cheeks still flushed.

"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."

"I'm touched," he says. "Thank you."

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."

"Really?" It's her turn to be surprised. "I was awful to you."

Some of it she considers justified, and she was right to be hurt, but she didn't need to be cruel.

But she smiles a little wider as she leans in closer.

"What is it?"

He elects to brush by the first comment. No need to retread that territory.

“I’d sooner show you than tell you, but then I’d have to leave this bed.”

"Ah, but now I'm distracted. Dinner, a surprise... and now I know there's a gift. My body may be here, but my mind is in your closet." She laughs, leaning in more to press her face to his shoulder.

"But I don't want you to go."

He chuckles and puts his arm around her.

“Should I take your mind off it, then?” he says, his hand drifting along her thigh.

"You're welcome to try," she tells him, lifting her head to look at him with a smile. "Just know that I am very curious."

“Relentlessly so,” he says, catching her in a brief, hard kiss as he loops an arm around her shoulder and tips her backwards.

She goes with an amused sound, reaching up to touch his face. She adores him. It's so wonderful to be around him and not actively hurt because of it.

"I have never been more glad to be who I am."

He tips with her, staying close to her, nose-to-nose as he slides both hands to her hips.

“I’m glad for you, then,” he says. “You’ve earned every minute of joy.”

Her arms slide around him.

"Are you happy to be who you are right now, Clive? Or would you prefer to be in someone else's body for an hour?"

She would not recommend the experience.

He lets her hold him, his chest brushing hers.

“I might like the perspective, looking out of someone else’s eyes,” he murmurs, “but it depends on whose.”

One hand sneaks between her thighs, cupping her boldly.

Jill looks ready to reply, but his touch interrupts her with a small gasp. She rewards him with a soft smile and her fingers in the back of his hair.

"I'm very glad you're you, Clive."

“Who else would I be?” he murmurs, stroking her gently with two fingers.

"No one I love as much as I love Clive Rosfield," she says easily, fingers combing through his hair as she sighs, comfortable beneath him.

He hums at her, fingers working up and down her slit, slow but firm. His gaze doesn’t leave her for an instant.

“Then I’m glad to be him.”

She smiles up at him, resisting the urge to squirm.

"Glad enough to give me a hint about gift or surprise?"

A girl can try.

He raises his brows at her, amused.

“It’s small enough to fit in my pocket,” he says, a fingertip tracing a ring around her entrance.

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