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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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.