[What she lacks in experience she makes up for with enthusiasm. All while being mindful of her teeth and sensitive parts. She wants to love him in every way she can, smother him with affection... but also undo him. Just a little. It's hot.]
I hear no complaints.
[A smile after running her tongue flat against the bottom of his cock as she takes a breath to speak, and then her lips are right back on him.]
[ Just a little? More like a lot. No one can undo Clive quite the way Jill does, and she should be able to feel it in the way he grows slicker in her mouth, in the restless shifting of his hips and thighs against the edge of the mattress.
Fingers tighten in Jill's hair, and Clive involuntarily bucks up after her tongue rakes along something particularly sensitive. He gasps, and bites back a moan as he keeps himself from chasing that feeling too quickly or vehemently. ]
None whatsoever, [ is the fuck-stupid answer. She didn't need one, he's sure, but still. ] Fuck, Jill.
[ The part of him that was raised right feels slightly mortified by the thought of finishing in his beloved's mouth, and so, he's not sure if he should discourage it. ]
[Oh, she does love to head him swear. Jill purrs, lavishing his cock with her tongue, and she can ignore the mild concern she has that aligns somewhat with his own: he's likely close. All that spend has to go somewhere. Her mouth? Does she swallow? Can she manage it?
Okay, maybe she can't ignore it completely.
But she also can't help but focus on making him gasp, noting what passes of her tongue get him to twist in pleasure. A dangerous game, but she doesn't want to stop.]
[ Oh, she's inviting disaster (?). Clive swears again under his breath, something clipped and unintelligible as she dips down on him and makes friction with her tongue just the way he likes it (a new discovery), and the full-bodied way that she makes him squirm is definitely an indication that he's dangerously close to falling over his edge. ]
Jill. I'm almost there.
[ Would it be worse to come in her mouth, or, gods forbid, over her face? The thought of it makes Clive flush red from ear to ear, makes his toes curl in the rug under his feet. ] Please, you're going to―
[ A clipped groan, and his control snaps. Depending on how Jill's reacted to the warning, Clive is going to come in or on a very inopportune place. ]
[Stupid games, stupid prizes. Kind of. Jill regrets nothing, and she would be quick to say that if her mouth and throat weren't coated with hot spend the moment she thinks she should pull back, given his warnings. He gave many! To her credit, she does try to not cough up his dick, but it's exactly what happens, cock falling out of her mouth as she dribbles onto her chest.
They've been covered in grime and blood and secretions from many a beast together, but this is certainly a first. Jill's a little stunned by both the taste and the sensation in her mouth, hands coming up to her chin. Is it rude to spit it out? Swallowing--well, she tries, but half is already down her throat and half is rolling over her chin, so she splits the difference and lets her hands catch some and her throat handle some and she tries to not cough or, Founder forbid, gag.]
... sorry.
[She can feel her face turn red, embarrassed by the mess she's made, and worried that he'll think he did something wrong.]
[ A little mortified by what he's done, and a lot concerned about how Jill's managing. Once his orgasm recedes enough to let him piece his scattered mind back together, his hands fly sideways for to strip a pillow from its casing and to hold the fabric to Jill's hand, her mouth. ]
No, Jill― forgive me, I should have been more careful.
[ She can spit; he won't think anything of it. His brows pinch inwards, and his free hand moves to soothe along her shoulder. ]
[The moment the pillowcase is in front of her, she grabs it, bringing it to her mouth so she can (demurely, somehow) spit and wipe her chin. It's all one swift motion, and she wipes her hands. It's somehow gotten on her chest, too? Impressive.]
You warned--[she clears her throat] me. I was greedy.
[A clean hand rests on his knee, rubbing. Reassuring, before she leans in to press a kiss to his leg and lean her cheek on it, looking up at Clive with warmth.]
I hope you'll allow me to practice until I feel like I'm perfect.
[ The feral, animal part of Clive's brain hums at the sight of Jill with his spend on her chest (bad dog), but he tames it as best as he can manage to brush his fingertips along the corner of her flushed mouth wanting to soothe any residual discomfort there (good dog). ]
Allow.
[ Almost a laugh, how he says it. Bemused, but fond. ]
You're full of surprises, still.
[ That she'd even want to practice feels like an indulgence. ]
[She laughs, eyes darker as she presses a bite to the meat of his thigh before moving to sit on his leg. Despite the near drowning, she's relaxed and were she a cat, she'd surely be purring.]
Would you like to know something?
[A question asked as she puts her arms around his neck.]
[ Jill gets up to sit on his lap, and Clive immediately loops his arms around her waist, keeping her tucked and close as he noses against her jaw, her ear. ]
Of course.
[ She could be reciting the driest bits of Sanbrequois history to him, and he'd be raptly attentive. ] I'd listen to anything you have to say.
[He's distracting, when he's all sweet and affectionate and she's trying to remember what she was going to say. She takes a moment to cup his jaw and press a kiss to his lips.
Oh. She remembers now.]
I could very much use a bath. [She is... sticky.] Do you know where I might find one? Better yet, someone to wash me?
[As if they weren't just in the water before they got instantly distracted by their bodies.]
[ A mirrored moment, where he's too affection-stupid and orgasm-dumb to properly understand what Jill is asking. He blinks his lack of comprehension out of his eyes a moment later, and lands another kiss to Jill's jaw. ]
I may need to ask around.
[ Says the ass-naked man slowly getting up off of the bed (his legs feel like flan but it's fine, he's fine), Jill in tow. If he has his way, her feet would never touch the floor from now until they have to return to the Hideaway. ]
―On second thought, I'd not let anyone else wash you.
[ It would be an unbelievably embarrassing end to their story if Clive slipped and fell and cracked his head open, so he maintains balance until they reach their spacious bath again, gently lowering the both of them back into the scented, warm water.
He might be a puddle by the end of the day. Dalimil is sweltering, and the bath is comfortable, and Jill's company is already making him feel soft and boneless. She'll need to sweep him up and put him into a jar. ]
You'd love me even if I were a petty, jealous man?
[Is this his version of asking if she'd still love him if he were a worm? Jill laughs, leaning in to bump their noses together.]
Yes. I couldn't imagine it, but yes. I can't imagine what would make you jealous. All of me belongs to you, and happily so. Yours is the only attention I could ever crave.
[Jill, meanwhile, will have to school her RBF whenever another woman talks to Clive. It's fine. It's totally fine.]
[ Isabelle is lucky Jill wasn't around when she was touching up on Jill's man.......... that said, Clive's dick won't so much as stir around women who aren't Jill, so there's that.
A low hum, affectionate, and Clive subtly, subtly sifts some water over Jill's slightly-dirtied chest. ]
[So subtle! Jill smiles and tips her head to the side so that he can have easier access to her chest and neck. She's sticky. Not that it bothers her at all. All the more reason for them to lounge in the bath.]
[ He sloughs the stickiness off of her by pooling water in his palm and cascading it over her collarbone and down her chest. Once he's sure that everything is relatively clean, he dips his head to kiss where he'd previously made a mess, not quite able to quell the urge to nip and leave a lovebite there. ]
My biggest competition. [ Honestly, he wouldn't even be mad if Jill chose their dog over him. Torgal is, in fact, the Best Boy. ] Our bard's been composing sonnets about you, but I don't think I need to worry about him.
[She laughs softly when she feels teeth, a wet hand lifting to comb through his hair. It’s impossible to not press a kiss to his head, so she does, warm and fond.]
You know you're my favorite. The love of my life, and whatever comes after.
[ The only person who will ever hold his heart, utterly and completely. She means everything to him, and her attention and care help him feel real. Human.
That said: ] ―Though I do want to hear what the bard's been writing.
[ They're very nice, actually. And mostly unspecific enough that Clive doesn't feel self-conscious about the bard narrating current events through song.
He laughs, anyway. ] "On frost-white wings doth Our Lady fly, dovelike in her grace..."
[ Making Shit Up. Channeling his inner theater boy. ]
[ A reciprocal oh, as Clive watches Jill flush. That, in turn, is the cutest thing Clive's seen, and he smiles against Jill's mouth as he tries to continue, muffled: ]
"Though bring she does her winter chill, the summer of her smile thaws, the lonely autumn of my heart, and spring she blooms forevermore."
[ Again, maybe he's written a love poem or two (or many) in his journal. He's been pining for years. ]
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I hear no complaints.
[A smile after running her tongue flat against the bottom of his cock as she takes a breath to speak, and then her lips are right back on him.]
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Fingers tighten in Jill's hair, and Clive involuntarily bucks up after her tongue rakes along something particularly sensitive. He gasps, and bites back a moan as he keeps himself from chasing that feeling too quickly or vehemently. ]
None whatsoever, [ is the fuck-stupid answer. She didn't need one, he's sure, but still. ] Fuck, Jill.
[ The part of him that was raised right feels slightly mortified by the thought of finishing in his beloved's mouth, and so, he's not sure if he should discourage it. ]
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Okay, maybe she can't ignore it completely.
But she also can't help but focus on making him gasp, noting what passes of her tongue get him to twist in pleasure. A dangerous game, but she doesn't want to stop.]
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Jill. I'm almost there.
[ Would it be worse to come in her mouth, or, gods forbid, over her face? The thought of it makes Clive flush red from ear to ear, makes his toes curl in the rug under his feet. ] Please, you're going to―
[ A clipped groan, and his control snaps. Depending on how Jill's reacted to the warning, Clive is going to come in or on a very inopportune place. ]
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They've been covered in grime and blood and secretions from many a beast together, but this is certainly a first. Jill's a little stunned by both the taste and the sensation in her mouth, hands coming up to her chin. Is it rude to spit it out? Swallowing--well, she tries, but half is already down her throat and half is rolling over her chin, so she splits the difference and lets her hands catch some and her throat handle some and she tries to not cough or, Founder forbid, gag.]
... sorry.
[She can feel her face turn red, embarrassed by the mess she's made, and worried that he'll think he did something wrong.]
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No, Jill― forgive me, I should have been more careful.
[ She can spit; he won't think anything of it. His brows pinch inwards, and his free hand moves to soothe along her shoulder. ]
You were perfect. Believe me.
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You warned--[she clears her throat] me. I was greedy.
[A clean hand rests on his knee, rubbing. Reassuring, before she leans in to press a kiss to his leg and lean her cheek on it, looking up at Clive with warmth.]
I hope you'll allow me to practice until I feel like I'm perfect.
[You know. Less coughing on semen.]
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Allow.
[ Almost a laugh, how he says it. Bemused, but fond. ]
You're full of surprises, still.
[ That she'd even want to practice feels like an indulgence. ]
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Would you like to know something?
[A question asked as she puts her arms around his neck.]
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Of course.
[ She could be reciting the driest bits of Sanbrequois history to him, and he'd be raptly attentive. ] I'd listen to anything you have to say.
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Oh. She remembers now.]
I could very much use a bath. [She is... sticky.] Do you know where I might find one? Better yet, someone to wash me?
[As if they weren't just in the water before they got instantly distracted by their bodies.]
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I may need to ask around.
[ Says the ass-naked man slowly getting up off of the bed (his legs feel like flan but it's fine, he's fine), Jill in tow. If he has his way, her feet would never touch the floor from now until they have to return to the Hideaway. ]
―On second thought, I'd not let anyone else wash you.
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[She would kiss him again, but she suspects his legs might be a little wobbly. Let's not mix that with wet floors and carrying her, too.]
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He might be a puddle by the end of the day. Dalimil is sweltering, and the bath is comfortable, and Jill's company is already making him feel soft and boneless. She'll need to sweep him up and put him into a jar. ]
You'd love me even if I were a petty, jealous man?
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Yes. I couldn't imagine it, but yes. I can't imagine what would make you jealous. All of me belongs to you, and happily so. Yours is the only attention I could ever crave.
[Jill, meanwhile, will have to school her RBF whenever another woman talks to Clive. It's fine. It's totally fine.]
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A low hum, affectionate, and Clive subtly, subtly sifts some water over Jill's slightly-dirtied chest. ]
Don't let Torgal hear that.
[ Their dog son!!!! ]
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Oh, Torgal is a given. I shouldn't need to say.
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My biggest competition. [ Honestly, he wouldn't even be mad if Jill chose their dog over him. Torgal is, in fact, the Best Boy. ] Our bard's been composing sonnets about you, but I don't think I need to worry about him.
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[She laughs softly when she feels teeth, a wet hand lifting to comb through his hair. It’s impossible to not press a kiss to his head, so she does, warm and fond.]
You know you're my favorite. The love of my life, and whatever comes after.
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[ The only person who will ever hold his heart, utterly and completely. She means everything to him, and her attention and care help him feel real. Human.
That said: ] ―Though I do want to hear what the bard's been writing.
[ Waxing poetic about Jill? Sign him up. ]
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Are you actually serious about the beard writing about me? I thought you were joking. That's mortifying, actually...
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[ They're very nice, actually. And mostly unspecific enough that Clive doesn't feel self-conscious about the bard narrating current events through song.
He laughs, anyway. ] "On frost-white wings doth Our Lady fly, dovelike in her grace..."
[ Making Shit Up. Channeling his inner theater boy. ]
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She laughs before shutting him up with a kiss. It's so precious she has to stop him. Her heart can't take it.]
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"Though bring she does her winter chill, the summer of her smile thaws,
the lonely autumn of my heart, and spring she blooms forevermore."
[ Again, maybe he's written a love poem or two (or many) in his journal. He's been pining for years. ]
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[A playful murmur against his lips. How special to have a man able to wield a sword and eikons and pretty words. She's charmed.]
My sweetheart.
[She kisses him again, full of love.]
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