His hand dwarfs hers. He's so much bigger than her, yet she finds so much pleasure in simply holding him.
"Look at them when you're out hunting and I miss you, I suppose. Or when you're sleeping peacefully and I haven't the heart to wake you for my perversions," she teases. "Or perhaps save them and look upon them when we're old."
"Oh, there's no question about that. Obedient as you are to your lady, I must also see that you're rested. To better serve me at our usual hours, of course."
This time, there's a playful press of teeth to his shoulder.
“Am I to sleep through you touching yourself, then? Denied the…” Founder, it’s getting harder to string a sentence together with her hands on him like that, with her mouth on his shoulder, the prick of her teeth. “The.. pleasure of even watching?”
Jill kisses his shoulder again before pulling herself away. She needs the space to grope his ass with both hands, giving a little laugh as she shoves him towards the bed.
It’s always funny when she manhandles him, the bulk of her force prompting him to move on her behalf, bending to put his hands down on the mattress and shift forward. He doesn’t know how she wants him; how fun, to let her push him around some more.
“I would not dare suggest so,” he says. “The lady need only consider me when she’s feeling generous.”
"The lady considers you constantly because she loves you immensely," Jill says, very serious until she starts to peel herself out of her clothes. She nearly stumbles over herself as her jeans get stuck on her foot. A hop and a hand on the bed keep her steady.
No more pushing, so he turns over, finding himself a seat on the bed. Just as well when she stumbles — he reaches towards her and she catches herself before he can, so he just chuckles and rids himself of his t-shirt.
“Then the lady ought to interrupt my sleep anyway, when it pleases her to.”
"She'll consider it. I would say the same to you, and you'd feel similarly," she points out with a smile. They don't wish to disturb one another. She wonders if all couples take such care.
Free of her shirt and jeans, her panties and bra come off next. The weather is still chilly--and while their home is often warm, she looks for any reason to cuddle up to her favorite furnace. And she does so with enthusiasm, crawling into his lap and grabbing him by the face for a kiss.
"I'm always glad to wake when you're the firs thing I see," she says sweetly. "Should I wake you gently, too? I admit, sometimes when I look over and see your mouth hanging open, I have to resist the urge to stick a finger in there."
“You should wake me by pressing something else to my mouth,” he says, hands roving down her hips, holding her against him, his cock snuggled between them. “No need to be gentle.”
Oh. The words are so sweet she's caught off guard for a moment, staring down at him. She has to grapple with the swell of emotion in her chest before kissing him deeply.
"It is. And so is sending pictures, and asking for what you want..."
She’s so beautiful that for an instant memory isn’t enough, and he wishes he could take a picture with his eyes. He sighs happily into that kiss, hands spanning up her sides.
“I’m still relieved you liked the picture,” he admits. “I want you to be happy always.”
“I’ll try my best,” he promises, and he will, even if sending a picture of his face feels more immediately daunting than one of his cock. He reaches up to brush her hair from her eyes. “I love you.”
"Mm, nothing," she lies, smiling wider. Her hand slips between them to stroke him--a distraction. But she must say something.
"You're very precious, is all. You bring me joy every time you try something new. Something that I know makes you uncomfortable, because for some reason you imagine I may not be pleased."
"Nothing?" he repeats, with a pleasant hum, eyes fluttering shut briefly. She's so nice to him. "I just worry I will want something you will not like..."
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"Look at them when you're out hunting and I miss you, I suppose. Or when you're sleeping peacefully and I haven't the heart to wake you for my perversions," she teases. "Or perhaps save them and look upon them when we're old."
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“If I am at your command, surely you could wake me,” he says. “I would do your bidding with my first waking thought.”
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This time, there's a playful press of teeth to his shoulder.
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"How greedy of me, hmm?"
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“I would not dare suggest so,” he says. “The lady need only consider me when she’s feeling generous.”
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“Then the lady ought to interrupt my sleep anyway, when it pleases her to.”
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Free of her shirt and jeans, her panties and bra come off next. The weather is still chilly--and while their home is often warm, she looks for any reason to cuddle up to her favorite furnace. And she does so with enthusiasm, crawling into his lap and grabbing him by the face for a kiss.
"I will wake you when you snore."
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“So I should snore on purpose,” he says, just off her lips. “And move on you so gently that you are glad to wake.”
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What a terror.
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"You're insatiable." Like she's not just as bad. "Moreso as time goes by."
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“It’s safe, with you.”
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"It is. And so is sending pictures, and asking for what you want..."
Everything, really.
"That makes me very happy, Clive."
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“I’m still relieved you liked the picture,” he admits. “I want you to be happy always.”
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"You should send me pictures of your handsome face as well. I like seeing your smile."
Surely he can't screw that up.
"You're my greatest happiness."
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Bad photography skills can always be improved.
At least the memory of the picture on her screen and the near heart attack makes her laugh against his lips.
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“What is so funny?”
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"You're very precious, is all. You bring me joy every time you try something new. Something that I know makes you uncomfortable, because for some reason you imagine I may not be pleased."
She knows him.
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"I don't think so," she reassures. "You worry about upsetting me too much, Clive."
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"You looked like you expected me to yell at you when I came home." Funny, in retrospect, but also sad. She'd never. Not over a picture.
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