He's sore to have nothing but his own face to look at while she does the back, but he turns obediently, feeling like he should hunch at least a little so she can reach easier. He leans over the sink a bit, not sure if it's helpful or a hindrance. He supposes she'll tell him.
"We do," Jill agrees with a smile he can't see because he blocks her entirely in the mirror. She combs through his hair with her fingers before trimming, using the very valid excuse of hair getting caught in the curve of his ass to lightly swat it.
Jill laughs and reaches around him to put the scissors back onto the counter. She takes the opportunity to wrap her arms around Clive's middle from behind.
He braces himself against the counter so she can lean her weight into him. Her arms are snug around his waist, and he feels his dick brush the counter’s edge.
“I’ll be quick,” he promises, shifting to lay a hand over hers and give it a quick squeeze. “Next time you should wait until I get home to bathe… we could spare the water, showering together.”
"I could wash you," he says. "Or if I was too unclean to do so, at least watch you wash yourself..."
He most certainly spent a handful of years attempting not to get a hard-on just knowing she'd gone to the nearest creek to bathe, and imagining what that looked like.
"I suppose not," he says, and he turns in her arms so he can hold her, too. This requires his very thinly clothed cock to smear against her hip as he turns. "I suppose if I press myself to you long enough, you'll have to."
"I am no Harpocrates, but I do think that's where it comes from," he says. He rests his chin on the top of her head, like he might settle in for good. "Are you pungent enough to bathe with me, then?"
"You're quite the monster yourself right now. I might decide to nibble on you," she laughs, and though she might be able to slip away, she doesn't. "See what all the fuss is about."
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"Good."
Then she puts a hand on his shoulder, urging him to turn around so she can trim the back of his hair.
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In the meantime:
"Do you like the thought of making her angry?"
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"I do. I spent so long afraid of her, trying so hard to avoid angering her... that our happiness would upset her brings me joy. Petty as that is."
But she can be a little petty before the man she loves, she thinks.
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"I spent so long trying to please her," he muses, straightening up again. "You deserve to be petty, and I deserve to displease her..."
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“Forget petty. You spite her, laying your hands on a prince of Rosaria in such a manner…”
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"I claim this prince as my own."
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“He’s yours, my love.”
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She hopes Anabella is shrieking, wherever she may be.
"I suppose I'll let you clean up now that I can see your face again."
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“There are other perks…”
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"Such as?"
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He most certainly spent a handful of years attempting not to get a hard-on just knowing she'd gone to the nearest creek to bathe, and imagining what that looked like.
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"And if I wish to wash you... it's no crime to bathe twice, is it?"
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"I do think I must smell like you by now."
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"You're pungent!" She says lovingly.
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He arches his back a little, just enough to put his sweaty chest in her face, too.
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"It's coming from your pores!" Ew.
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He loosens his grip on her, but only slightly.
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