He just holds onto the curtain rod with one hand, moving as-needed. Her touch feels nice, warm and slippery and wet, and it leaves him with a pleasant hum in his heart. No one, he's sure, has ever tended to him like Jill has.
For all the touching they do, it still always feels like the first time.
"And who is to blame for that?" he says, gently teasing. "It's not me putting your face there."
"I'm suggesting no such thing!" She says with a laugh, enamored with the look on his face. And while she doesn't mean to tickle him, her touch is light as it moves down his sides.
“You love me most when I’m smelly,” he murmurs back, right against her lips, shower stream hitting his head in a way that has water slowly dripping into his eyes. Her laugh is intoxicating, and he’s glad for the shower muffling it out. Still, better quiet her with another kiss. He loves her.
"I love you most always, all the time," she replies with another laugh, quieted by his mouth. She kisses him deeply, pushing back his wet hair, wanting him to feel her love for him with each touch of her fingers and lips.
They're really not going to conserve much water if they're always like this.
Founder, he feels it to the very marrow of his bones, and he gently turns her so he can press her up against the shower wall, feel the soft squish of her body under his. He opens his eyes to look at her, water dripping off his brow. Every touch of her fingers feels electric.
He chuckles under his breath, and much as he loves being dragged against her, he pulls off her just enough to get a hand between them to cup her roughly, a finger slipping between her lips.
Alarm passes over his face, but there’s nothing to be done about what’s already passed her lips. He just gently places his free hand over her mouth, using one hip to pin her and the other hand to keep stroking her.
There's a whimper from behind his hand, a needy little sound that would most certainly be too loud if he didn't muffle her. Blunt fingernails trail over his skin, her eyes on his.
He meets her eyes, water beating down on his shoulder, spray bouncing around them. His fingers work back and forth, firm, until he finally slips one inside her.
He can’t believe he’s doing this, as though he’s ever had such fortune.
The hand at her mouth is doing just as much work, keeping her noises quiet, her eyes trained on his even as she nips at his palm with her teeth. Her patience is always near non-existent when it comes to his hands on her, and she strains to move her hips.
Holding her down is a job all on its own, the way she always wants to get at him. He idly thinks it’s a pity she can’t be tied down; there’s plenty more he could do with both hands free. But it’s pleasant, as it is, to feel her squirm under him, to feel the gentle bite into the meat of his palm.
“I don’t think my palm could quiet you if I put my cock in you,” he murmurs, brow bowed against hers.
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For all the touching they do, it still always feels like the first time.
"And who is to blame for that?" he says, gently teasing. "It's not me putting your face there."
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She gives the other pit and extra scrub, playful. That's the side she's usually curled against.
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"And yet I do not hear any confession as to where you find yourself in the morning."
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Maybe she just wants a reason to bend over shortly.
"I love you, you smelly man."
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They're really not going to conserve much water if they're always like this.
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“I’d love you hard right here,” he murmurs.
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“We can’t be loud.”
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"We can give it a try. I'll be on my best behavior."
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“You’ll be a good girl for me?”
He should wash his mouth out with soap next.
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She grins.
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"Your influence."
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"Forgive me," she says, looping her arms over his shoulders. "It's difficult when you feel so good."
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“And I haven’t even gotten started.”
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She loves him.
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He can’t believe he’s doing this, as though he’s ever had such fortune.
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“I don’t think my palm could quiet you if I put my cock in you,” he murmurs, brow bowed against hers.
He adds another finger.
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