He nods again, and he lets her go just enough for her to bend to kiss him, wondering how he ever survived without these little motes of affection. How he lived at her side for five years without any more touch than her hand placed in his.
“It will in time. We’ll make it into a new one.”
He presses another brief kiss to her, this time at the side of her neck, face tucked under her jaw.
Sometimes it feels as if he sneaks little dosages of affection, as if someone might come along and grab him by the ear for it. It wouldn't be Jill, whose palm cups Clive's face, thumb caressing his scarred cheek.
"I believe you. You've yet to disappoint me, and I doubt you will in this."
His eyes drift closed again for a slow second, his cheek pressed into her palm. No one else touches him this way. He wants to appreciate it.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises her.
He untangles his arms from around her, still moving slow, his hands roving to her hips to tug her –– gently, as if only a suggestion –– to sit in his lap.
It's enough for Jill to understand the invitation. She sits, keeping her hand on his face so that once she's got her legs over his thigh she can guide his face to hers and press a sweet kiss to his lips.
"The best seat in all of Rosia," she teases. "All this furniture we have now and I would prefer to be right here."
He breathes in as she kisses him, barely pulling back when it breaks.
“Well… it is a kind of throne,” he says amiably, hands staying on her hips, settling there a little more comfortably to stay. Her weight is pleasant on his lap, and he thinks that any chair should be thrilled to host her. The buzzing in his chest from bracing himself for another day of castle life fades out, replaced by something else: anticipation for time with her. “You can stay here as long as you like.”
“They’ll understand.” The chance to hold her gaze alone would make anyone understand, let alone the chance to hold her. Clive smiles, ears a little red as he feels his cock stiffen under the press of her skin. Trapped under Jill’s firm thighs, her round hips? Heaven. “I think we’ll have to make arrangements to eat, though… and bathe…”
"All things that can be done together, last I was aware," she hums, smile growing a touch because she doesn't need to feel him getting hard to know he enjoys having her using him as furniture. Always eager to serve, regardless of the task.
"I suppose I'll just have to tolerate leaving your lap every now and then. How unfortunate."
He lets out a short breath, a hair away from being a laugh. He momentarily presses his forehead to her cheek, his thumbs stroking over her hips, ruffling the fabric of her dress.
“Thank you for your mercy, my lady,” he says. “I don’t know that I’ve earned it.”
So close. Jill thinks she'll fade away if she doesn't get a real laugh out of him, as difficult as that may be some days. His laughter is a precious, rare gift.
"Well, you haven't not earned it," she points out, turning her face towards his to nuzzle her nose against his brow. "And you've only made by day better by lingering here with me."
Oh, to have his face this close to hers. It’s mundane, without fanfare, and yet it feels like some tremendous miracle, a thing that he never imagined he would be lucky enough to have.
Every time they have an opportunity to be sweet to one another like this makes Jill feel like she could win any battle. It's a rush, butterflies still fluttering around in her chest when he holds her, stomach doing flips whenever they kiss. He makes her feel like she's pleasantly tipsy.
"Tell me about the future you see here," she says. That's likely not what he hoped to hear, and so she continues.
He opens his mouth slightly, like he might start answering in earnest, but she wants to be taken back to bed. He meets her eyes for a moment, fit for the base labour of the latter task but unsure what to say. He’s terrible at the future.
“Ah,” he trails. “Joshua will direct us in rebuilding Rosaria, and I will continue to serve as his Shield. You’ll be at my side, happy and well-cared for…”
He sits forward a little, both hands sliding down to find the backs of her thighs, preparing himself to lift them both out of this seat.
A valid answer. A nice life, certainly. The fact that she gets to be by his side is more than she ever thought she'd have. Jill slides her arms around his neck to help with the carry, moving some of the weight from his arms to his shoulders.
"And what of yourself? Will you be happy?" Here, once more.
Up he goes, the brief strain of muscle and the tensing of his arms around her as he lifts and gets to his feet. When he’s up, he gives her a gentle little boost up in his arms so she can lean the bulk of her weight against his chest, and he’s happy to be held in turn.
The distance from the chair to their bed is not far enough to be able to relish it properly, so he walks slowly.
“With you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” he promises her.
"What would the boy that once lived here think?" She teases. If she had any idea as a girl that she would one day be with Clive, she'd never believe it no matter how much she wished it to be true.
"Sometimes it feels like a dream. We found one another again despite the odds, and not only that... you care for me as I care for you."
What would that boy have thought? He’d be overwhelmed, surely, by the magnitude of the grief and pain he’d endure, and how much of it he’d realize had started well before that fateful night when Rosaria had fallen, how much he’d been blind to. It puts a frog in his throat just to think about it, but he doesn’t want to let that grip him, not when he has her in his arms, not when she speaks to him so sweetly.
He grips her a little tighter, happy to just feel the shape of her through her dress, happy to be here now, and when he reaches the bedside, he stoops to lay her down on her back, and follows right after, looming overtop her on his hands.
“I’m glad this is real,” he says. She’s real and breathing under him. “We get… a future.”
"A future together, at that." Jill's smile brightens, the only warning before she makes her attempt to roll him over, onto their bed. It's a feat that will only be possible if he humors her, because she could never hope to move all that muscle if it didn't wish to go. It's why she laughs. Silly, but how glad she is they can be silly together.
Clive huffs out an amused breath as she pushes at him, and he goes where she bids, sinking onto his side and grasping at her to help her roll on top of him.
Rolling onto him, Jill pushes her hair back over her shoulder before kissing him. This time, she lingers, chest pressed to his with no effort made to hold herself above him.
It feels good, having her weight on him, and he lifts a knee so he can gently press a thigh between her legs. It’s so good to touch her, to hold her, to feel the press of her lips against his, and to feel the way she draws breath.
“At the Hideaway?” he murmurs, just off her lips. “Or…?”
"... any, actually." Their childhood beds, the beds of the Hideaway, the inn beds that often left him sleeping on the floor. They're afforded much more space, here, though Jill will tuck herself against him no matter how much room there is.
"I often worried the bed at the Hideaway wouldn't survive us."
Another kiss, her weight lowering onto his thigh. That poor bed did complain under their combined weight.
“It did already sag in one corner,” he murmurs. The old bed ropes were so loose that one had come right out. Not very handy for a sound sleep, let alone lovemaking. “We haven’t tested this one much…”
Easy to attribute to being busy, but more like they've been learning how to fall asleep here. Jill doesn't say it, but rather chooses to slide her fingers into his hair, cradling his head in her hands as she looks down at him.
"No time like the present. And, should it fail us, better it happen in the morning rather than the middle of the night. Isn't that right, Clive?"
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“It will in time. We’ll make it into a new one.”
He presses another brief kiss to her, this time at the side of her neck, face tucked under her jaw.
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"I believe you. You've yet to disappoint me, and I doubt you will in this."
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“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises her.
He untangles his arms from around her, still moving slow, his hands roving to her hips to tug her –– gently, as if only a suggestion –– to sit in his lap.
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"The best seat in all of Rosia," she teases. "All this furniture we have now and I would prefer to be right here."
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“Well… it is a kind of throne,” he says amiably, hands staying on her hips, settling there a little more comfortably to stay. Her weight is pleasant on his lap, and he thinks that any chair should be thrilled to host her. The buzzing in his chest from bracing himself for another day of castle life fades out, replaced by something else: anticipation for time with her. “You can stay here as long as you like.”
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"Oh? Then I'll stay here forever," she says simply, claiming another brief kiss. "The others will manage without us, surely."
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"I suppose I'll just have to tolerate leaving your lap every now and then. How unfortunate."
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“Thank you for your mercy, my lady,” he says. “I don’t know that I’ve earned it.”
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"Well, you haven't not earned it," she points out, turning her face towards his to nuzzle her nose against his brow. "And you've only made by day better by lingering here with me."
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He’d give her anything he could.
“How do I make it even better?”
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"Tell me about the future you see here," she says. That's likely not what he hoped to hear, and so she continues.
"... as you take us to bed."
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“Ah,” he trails. “Joshua will direct us in rebuilding Rosaria, and I will continue to serve as his Shield. You’ll be at my side, happy and well-cared for…”
He sits forward a little, both hands sliding down to find the backs of her thighs, preparing himself to lift them both out of this seat.
“And we’ll share a bed every single night.”
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"And what of yourself? Will you be happy?" Here, once more.
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The distance from the chair to their bed is not far enough to be able to relish it properly, so he walks slowly.
“With you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been,” he promises her.
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"Sometimes it feels like a dream. We found one another again despite the odds, and not only that... you care for me as I care for you."
Fate. It must be.
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He grips her a little tighter, happy to just feel the shape of her through her dress, happy to be here now, and when he reaches the bedside, he stoops to lay her down on her back, and follows right after, looming overtop her on his hands.
“I’m glad this is real,” he says. She’s real and breathing under him. “We get… a future.”
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“Together,” he promises.
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The kiss only stops when she laughs.
"Couldn't do that in the old bed, could I?"
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“At the Hideaway?” he murmurs, just off her lips. “Or…?”
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"I often worried the bed at the Hideaway wouldn't survive us."
Another kiss, her weight lowering onto his thigh. That poor bed did complain under their combined weight.
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"No time like the present. And, should it fail us, better it happen in the morning rather than the middle of the night. Isn't that right, Clive?"
It only makes sense.