"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..."
Her hand leaves his cock for a moment because she'd like his full attention.
"We don't do things like that anymore, Clive," she reminds him. Well, she doesn't, as she was the only one to really do that. Never again. "I'm sorry that I worried you by not responding. Truthfully, I saw the picture moments before Dion returned to our table."
“If you didn’t like it, I wouldn’t ask you to pretend you did,” he says, even if he’s tempted to not say anything at all. He owes her his honesty, too. But more importantly, with a growing alarm: “I didn’t consider Dion might see it…”
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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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"We don't do things like that anymore, Clive," she reminds him. Well, she doesn't, as she was the only one to really do that. Never again. "I'm sorry that I worried you by not responding. Truthfully, I saw the picture moments before Dion returned to our table."
She wasn't going to open his messages. Too risky.
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This time, his concern makes her laugh.
"I know you didn't! I began to sweat. But he suspected nothing, so I suppose that makes me better at acting than I thought."
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"We should put you in a film," he murmurs. "I would like to watch you, too. Or look at you, at least..."