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She doesn’t look any worse for wear, but the noise sticks in his brain with tiny hooked claws. Maybe he shouldn’t have held her head.

“I was,” he says, guiltily. He can feel himself flagging, and disappointing her in the process. “Normally when you take me into your mouth I do not hold you so roughly…”

When he lets her at all, anyway.

"You weren't holding me roughly. Had I moved away in the slightest you would have released me. And you did," she reminds him. She looks into his eyes as she holds his face.

"You've done worse by rolling onto my hair in our bed."

She has a lot of hair.

“A worse crime than stepping on Torgal’s paw,” he jokes feebly, and he takes his cock in hand once more and idly strokes it, hoping to preserve what’s left of the mood. He shifts his face in her hands just enough to kiss her palm, eyes on hers. “I’ll try again for you, my love, but perhaps in bed instead.”

Jill says nothing, but moves closer to kiss him. Something soft and sweet becomes more insistent as she drops her hand from his face and to his cock, trying to shoo him away so she can stroke him.

He gives himself over to her readily. An intense kiss that has him tasting her tongue on his is the least he can give her, and her touch is far more interesting than his own could be. He hums into that kiss, pressing forward into each stroke of her hand.

"Will you stand for me, Clive?" She asks between kisses. "I want you so terribly."

She'll kiss and lick him until he's ready to fuck her mouth again, Founder help her.

He nods, just a curt thing done without drifting too far from her, and though he’s slow to move, there never was a request so simple to grant. Up he gets.

She looks up at him with a smile and kisses his thigh.

"A little choking is fair for all the times I'm certain you've been smothered between my legs," she teases.

"But I like being smothered," he says, daring to touch her head again, although gentler: he pets her hair back. "And if I may venture boldly... you like smothering me."

She leans into his petting as she takes his cock in hand, holding it steady as her kisses press to it.

"I do, but I still worry one day you'll go limp," she says with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. This is nothing serious. "And yes, I know you'd consider it worth it all the same..."

"It'd be well worth it," he agrees, and his nerves are settling, slowly but surely. He looks down at her face, at the gentle slope of her nose and her pale eyelashes, and he breathes in to steady himself even as his cock comes back to life. His fingers thread through her hair. "You don't want to lay down? It's more comfortable for you..."

"I'm fine," she promises. "Tell me what you want, Clive. That's all I want."

If he truly wishes for them to move, she will. A little choking shouldn't deter him from enjoying himself--but she knows how his mind works, how he worries for her.

Having to choose feels bad, but she's trying hard to accommodate and he can try the least in turn. He thinks on it for a second, and then nods.

"We can stay here," he says. "But I'm not going to touch you."

He knows that's going to disappoint her, so he digs deep into the part of him that is used to scolding soldiers. His voice dips, firm despite the embarrassment creeping in his mind: "If you want it so much, you'll manage without my help or your hands."

She does feel some sense of disappointment, though he surprises her in the next moment. He doesn't use that voice with her.

She likes it. It's clear in the slow smile across her lips.

"Oh. I'll manage."

But she will use her hands to guide him to her mouth before letting go.

Founder reward her, she's always so eager -– he leans to put both hands on the mirror just to keep them occupied himself, and he feels the instant rush of heat through him as she's upon him once more.

"Like that," he says, looking down at her, at the twin images of her lips around his cock and the back of her, kneeling before him. "Good."

She likes his praise. She always has, but this is a bit different. She looks up at him, lean muscle in her peripheral, and pretends she can feel his hand at the back of her head. She had liked that, too.

She tries to move as he thinks he would guide her. She's hopeful that he'll try again, sometime, once the fear of choking her has faded.

She thought it was funny, anyway.

He may not put his hands on her, but he’s still in her mouth, and the urge to not fully rock his hips forward is a nightmare to suppress. That focus — that fear — is the only thing that stops him from making a mess of her too quickly, even as he rapidly loses himself to the pleasure of it.

“I…,” he says, the order spoiled by the low moan that slips out of him immediate after. His fingers curl around the mirror frame. “You tempt me to...” Founder, how crude is he allowed to be? “To try this every day, until you can swallow me whole.”

She'll have to remember to encourage him to be as crude as he'd like, once her mouth isn't occupied. She can easily separate what happens here from their reality: he loves and respects her. He can be a little filthy and disrespectful when they're fooling around.

She likes it, from him. He's safe.

Still, what he says is enough to make a smile reach her eyes, and a hum that sounds like uh huh comes from her throat as she fucks him with her mouth. Don't threaten her with a good time.

Looking down at her and her joy makes a shiver run up his spine. His head drops, eyes closed, as he leans his weight into the mirror to keep from meeting the stroke of her mouth with a hearty thrust of his own.

"I want to have your mouth as enthusiastically as I do the rest of you," he mutters. "As hard as you want it."

She wishes he wouldn't fight his urges.

Jill hums again in pleased agreement, flat of her tongue pressing to the bottom of his cock as she pulls back to focus on his head, lavishing it with her attentions. She reaches out to put a hand on his calf, thumb rubbing his skin, touching simply to touch.

He opens his eyes when he feels her hand on his skin, and for a beat he's not sure what he's supposed to do about that. Didn't he tell her not to? Is he supposed to follow through with the order if she disobeys? He struggles to reason out an answer with the tug of her lips around the head of his cock, so he doesn't think. He just stoops just enough to engulf her wrist in his grip, pulling her hand off him and holding it.

"Jill," he warns, the same way he might scold a new recruit to the Cursebreakers. Sure, that works. "I told you no hands."

His dick falls from her lips with a little pop, and Jill smiles. Oops.

"I thought you meant your cock. I'm not allowed to touch you at all?" She asks, voice low. "I don't believe you shared the consequences with me, should I disobey."

Try to look less thrilled, Jill.

Oh. Maybe he was unclear on that, but she looks happy, so.

"I am going to have to punish you when you're finished here," he says, and with his cock out of her mouth, he can comfortably move again: he shifts his weight forward, letting his cock bounce against her cheek, a smear of wetness touching her hair. "Back to it, Jill."

He's going to keep hanging onto her wrist, too.

There's a brief grin from her before she licks the side of his cock.

She has another hand. She looks him in the eyes as she lifts it to run along his thigh, defiant.

If she's to be punished anyway, might as well.

There's that competitive streak again, and with no hesitation, he snatches up her other wrist too, easily moving it to the first hand so he can clutch both at once.

"Last chance," he warns. "Or you won't have my cock at all."

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