[His mouth meets hers just in time for her to moan into his, unable to help herself. He's the only man she's ever wanted. The moan turns into a gasp, accompanied by another little jolt of her body.]
Clive... [There's so much fondness in one word, her hands cupping his face. She loves him. She loves him terribly, and she doesn't know what to do with so much love, and she can't tell whether the urge to fuck him recklessly or hold and kiss him slowly is stronger. Both. Everything.]
I want everything with you. Everything.
[Love. A life together, beyond this seemingly endless fight, whatever that looks like. Maybe they'll marry. Have children. Maybe they'll travel the world, beyond Valisthea. As long as they're together, she'll be happy.]
[ Everything. Clive keeps touching Jill, kissing the sweet sounds out of her mouth, feeling overwhelmed from just this, the slow and steady exploration of each other's boundaries. He has no idea what 'everything' looks like, what it will offer them once all of the crystals are gone and they're left to pick up the fragments of this battered, tired world.
But he wants it. Wants something better, with Jill. He wants his hand in hers, and wants the certainty of her beside him.
And he wants this, too. The feeling of her clutching around his fingers when he quests them inside her, making up for the intrusion with more kisses. Assuring her that it's just him, and that she's cared for. ]
―Everything I have to give is yours.
[ Delayed, but sincere. I adore you, he projects with the faint smile on his lips; he pulls away afterwards, testing to see if she'll let him slide back down again. ]
[His words and his touch make her whimper. An embarrassing sound, most times, but not with him. He should know what he does to her. He should know she wants him, body pressing closer, hands grasping at his back.
He's enough. For so long he's been made to feel like his worth is tied to what he can do for others. If she can make him truly know he's loved simply because of who he is, she'll consider her time on this earth well spent.
When he pulls away, her hands linger on him, but she doesn't pout this time.]
You're going to be the death of me.
[Because she can guess his intent. This is what will kill her, not a blade. She laughs and drops her head back onto the bed.]
[ A laugh, pressed to Jill's navel, and then: ] I hope not.
[ Please, do not die here. Not now. He'd follow suit instantly, and then the world will be fucked forever.
With that joke out of the way, he slides back down to the welcome cradle of Jill's thighs, where he makes the executive and audacious decision to divest her of her last scrap of clothing so that he can do exactly as he'd said he wanted to do: taste her. Warm lips, hot tongue. He licks a long stripe along her seam, with his hand holding one of her thighs to brace him. ]
[There's something immensely unfair about being totally nude and him still having trousers on. Let her see. The curiosity might be what kills her--except no, she was right before, what he's doing is going to kill her. She can forgive him for not stripping. They'll get to it, she reminds herself. They have all night.
Besides, the feeling of his tongue on her clit is quite distracting. She has no complaints, moaning softly in approval, a hand reaching down to pet his hair.]
I've had dreams about this.
[A breathless laugh. Admitting as much makes her skin heat up, but he should know that, too. She's always wanted him.]
[ Clive will have to deal with Jill seeing the frankly embarrassing state of his cock later, but until then: this. He makes his own sound of pleasure when she pets him (this is awakening something inside of him, he can feel it), breathing it between her legs mid-lick.
She really shouldn't make him smile when he's trying to concentrate, but he does. ]
How do I measure against the man of your dreams?
[ Coyly, as he sucks lightly against her clit and flicks it with the tip of his tongue. He wasn't lying when he said that she's lovely when she's out of her mind; he hopes the answer to his question is another what? ]
[Clive earns something better as Jill does her best to resist the urge to rut against his face:]
Huh?
[Very eloquent.]
Please don't expect me to--words.
[Apparently the sentence about her dreaming of this is the last Clive is to get that's complete. Jill laughs, the end trailing off into a moan. She's never felt like this before, and she can only think of more. Having more of him, closer, as close as they can possibly be.]
[ Alright, he fully laughs at her response, which is probably the most impolite thing a man could do when they're between someone's legs. ]
Cute, [ he quips, because it is－ she is. Is that insulting? She's a beautiful woman capable of slitting his throat in his sleep if she really cared to, but it's also intoxicating to see her lose herself to his ministrations. It's so often the case that others bid him to hurt others; being permitted to touch someone for the sake of pleasuring is new and thrilling.
He waits for Jill to catch her breath, then leans in again. His tongue resumes tracing her heat, then presses inwards to delve deeper where his fingers made friction before. Opening her as best he can manage, relenting every so often to litter more lovebites along her inner thighs. Not quite possessive, but covetous. ]
[That laugh is almost as good as his tongue. Flushed and so terribly aroused and smitten, Jill laughs with him. At least until she can only moan, thighs threatenig squeeze his head before she reminds herself. Suffocating him would be a hell of a way to go, but she'd like to have more of him before either of them expire.]
Clive... please.
[She doesn't even know what she wants to beg for first. More of his tongue. The return of his teeth on her skin. A harder grip from his hands on her. A kiss on her mouth with the taste of her still on his lips. His cock, filling her.
Her hips rock against his mouth, impatient and greedy.]
Are we... are we taking turns?
[There. A sentence. A question, even! Jill, enjoying every moment, doesn't quite know what it is to simply be doted on for more than five minutes. Already, she's eager to tend to him, even if that feels like a privilege. It is, to her.]
[ It's a herculean effort to detach himself from between Jill's legs (maybe he could perish down here, what a wonderful way to go), but Clive manages. Eyes dull from arousal, mouth slightly open and his lips slick.
His turn to answer, essentially, with a huh? He blinks up at her, uncomprehending, still stroking her flushed slit with his thumb while he struggles to cobble together a response of his own. ]
If that's what my lady wants, [ is what he finally manages, his voice thick with need. He cranes up to land more kisses along the smooth plane of her stomach, tongue along her navel and teeth pressing into skin, testing to see if she's relaxed enough to let him work a thick, sword-callused middle inside of her. ]
[Every time she looks down at him between her thighs, she is absolutely certain she could die from this, as she warned him. Distantly, as she revels in how handsome he is (always, but particularly when pleasuring her), she wonders how he simply knows how to touch her, how to kiss her, how deeply to press his finger inside her. Maybe it's sinply from the bond between them or too many daydreams. If there's another answer, she likely doesn't want to know.
Not that she'll ask. There are some things they don't talk about, and sexual experiences are one Jill is happy to leave in the dark.
Right now is all that matters.]
Another finger and you may.
[She teases, breathless. Another sentence for the tally. See, she's not entirely fuckstruck. Only mostly. His one finger feels like two of her slender ones, unable to reach and fill and stretch as his do. She thinks she'll never get herself off again--though memory of tonight may help.]
[ More a matter of enthusiasm and attentiveness than anything to do with finesse; Clive is not a man who can magically find the G-spot in one try. Case in point is how he's less sure about penetration than he was when he had his mouth on Jill, how he stops when he feels her tense and flicks his focus up towards her expression, checking for any nonverbal signs of discomfort.
Another finger, she demands, but he doesn't give it to her right away. Attention is given to letting her acclimate to the one, only making light friction when he's sure that Jill is relaxed enough for it. Once he's more certain that he won't hurt her by ramping up the contact, he fits his ring alongside his middle and starts up a slow, steady rhythm.
This is the first time sex has ever felt like a conversation. Something mutual, something shared. Not a hurried, unspeakable thing to get over with quickly in the dark. ]
...You're alright? [ Checking in, rearing up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Jill's mouth. ]
[Jill's own exploration of her body leaves much to be desired. One day, they might find her G-spot together. Tonight, she's simply drowning in love given and love for him. Her Clive. She has no fears or worries in his arms, only a desire to make him feel as good as he makes her feel.
When he checks on her, words so sweet while he works her so carefully, she thinks she could cry. No one has ever considered her the way Clive has. It's her turn for misty eyes, smiling as she leans up to kiss him.]
I am. You're perfect, Clive.
[Always. She leans up to kiss hin again, lips parting for a deeper kiss.]
[ He's far from perfect, but hearing Jill use that word as a descriptor for him makes his chest ache with happiness. It only matters that Jill finds him suitable for her; he doesn't need anyone else in the world to share that opinion. Only Jill.
The kiss they share is breathless and deep, open-mouthed and lingering. Clive almost forgets himself entirely in it, his hand stopping with the sort of lazy stutter that says that he's distracted. He remembers himself a few beats later, humming a low sound in the back of his throat in apology, and resumes.
There are probably men who could do this much better, and with more flair. Still, Clive whispers: ] You feel so good, Jill.
[ Even if it's his fingers in her, and not his cock. He could probably come just from pleasuring her, which is a thought that makes his brain spark with happy serotonin; his fingers work faster now, thumb circling her clit as he strokes at her walls. ]
[Other men can't possibly exist when she's in Clive Rosfield's bed. He's everything she could want and more, patient and caring, strong and gentle. Jill groans when their kiss ends but the disappointment turns back into those sounds of pleasure. He really does mean to make her come, first and foremost.
Jill's moans pick up with his speed, teeth pressing into her bottom lip in some effort to remain quiet. The walls have ears, after all, if not gaping holes.
As if to remind them to behave, there are footsteps suddenly thudding up to Clive's door, heavy boots with a purpose behind them. Jill's moaning turns into a gasp, expression somewhere between panicked and pissed because of all times!!
Except the feet at the door seem to think better of knocking. Or perhaps someone nearby is shaking their head furioisly. A moment of hesitation, and the footsteps retreat.]
Founder.
[At some point she had tensed. Now, she sighs, deflating.
One day, perhaps they'll have actual walls. Stone walls.]
[ Of all times. Clearly, no one got the memo that he'd just returned, and that he'd perhaps like a few hours alone with the woman he loves. Clearly!!!
When footsteps recede, he also follows suit in deflating. Shoulders slump, and his weight settles lightly against Jill's front, face nestled against the crook of her neck. The saddest shaggy dog in all of Valisthea. ]
Do you think―?
[ "I should go check", is the rest of that sentence. As much as he just wants to lay here and kiss Jill until the sun comes up, obviously. His fingers draw out of her slowly, near-dejected. ]
[Jill's firm words come with a hard kiss to Clive's hair. Were it truly an emergency, they would have barged right in. It's happened before, though she and Clive would only ever be at his desk. Not fucking in his bed.
She whines--a new sound from her--and mourns the loss of his fingers.]
I'm not done with you.
[... but if he truly wishes to check, she won't stop him.]
[ Gods above and below, he doesn't want to go check. Clive only wavers for a short second, wherein he sits up and glances over his shoulder, making sure that the presence beyond them has fully disappeared; once he's certain that no one is doubling back, he sighs and turns his attention back to Jill and that beautiful frown on her face. ]
This is where I remember that the inns in Dalimil have thick walls.
[ And heavy doors. He laughs about it, exasperated, before dipping down and kissing the peak of her breast once more. ]
Have they ruined your peak for you? Or are you still amenable?
[ Smooth. This, too, is awakening something inside of Clive hereto untouched: being pet like a dog (embarrassing) and succumbing to suggestions delivered by Jill's soft voice (less embarrassing) makes the furnace in the pit of his stomach burn harder. ]
As you wish.
[ His voice lilts a little at the end, amused. It's not a very sexy ordeal, he thinks, as he peels away and swings himself towards the edge of the bed, letting his legs hang off the mattress as he undoes his trousers and pulls them off with his smallclothes. The main event, which he knows is undeniably his cock, hasn't flagged despite the intrusion; it bounces somewhat comically when released from its confines, still very much interested in where all of this is going.
With that done, he turns and crawls back towards Jill, full mast on full display. ]
[He is a Very Good Boy. Jill props herself up a little to look at him, see his cock bound of its prison. As much as she's prepared for it--her eyes do widen. Her mind fills with a dozen images, ideas, desires. And then he's crawling towards her, and she laughs, pleased.
She sits up to kiss him.]
All of you looks like quite the handful. Quite handsome, too.
[Is a cock a thing that can be handsome? Well, apparently. His, at least. Jill would worship all of him if she didn't think it would make him long for the grave. The thought makes her smile widen, and she goes for another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth playfully.]
[ He shares her internal question― can a cock be handsome?― but doesn't speak it into existence. Instead, he warms at the compliment and accepts her kiss with trace amounts of sheepishness, not sure what to think of handful. A good thing? A bad thing?
Idly, he imagines what it must be like to fit himself inside Jill. She's so slender; the thought of filling up her tight clutch makes his face warm further, and he slides his hand instinctively over her navel, almost as if to approximate how deep he'd go if he were fully seated. ]
If you'd rather we worked up to it...
[ Sex needn't be all about penetration, is what he's saying. Mindful of her and her levels of comfort, since his anatomy is built in a very simple structure. ]
[Ha. Look, they're allowed to joke about their own silliness. That, and his hand on her stomach tickles when she's not entirely consumed by him. Sweetly, she bumps her nose alongside his, hand coming to rest on his hip, tracing the line of it.]
I'd like to touch you, too. May I, Clive?
[His cock has an obvious opinion about that, but she likes that they're all remaining polite.]
[ It is all rather absurd, how polite he's being. They're neither children nor innocent now, him with thirty-three years under his belt and an erection that's straining very conspicuously between his legs. Briefly, he's mortified with himself when it occurs to him that it might be impolite not to insist on ravishing her, but that moment of self-doubt gets tossed to the wayside when Jill, in turn, very sweetly asks to be obliged.
His cock jumps when she says may I. Very interested. ]
I... yes. [ All of his blood has traveled from his brain to his nethers; he suddenly feels very stupid with lust. ] Of course. I'm yours.
[ Kissing the corner of her mouth as punctuation, affectionate as anything. ]
On your back, then. I want to be able to take my time.
[She gives him a kiss back before she moves, balancing on one elbow. His bed was not made for two people, she thinks--truly, she's amazed it can hold him, let alone the two of them. The wooden frame does protest as the weight shifts from the middle of the bed.
Were they out in the wilds, under the stars, this wouldn't be a problem. They would only need worry about beasts and bandits, not creaking wood, thin walls, and curious neighbors.
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Clive... [There's so much fondness in one word, her hands cupping his face. She loves him. She loves him terribly, and she doesn't know what to do with so much love, and she can't tell whether the urge to fuck him recklessly or hold and kiss him slowly is stronger. Both. Everything.]
I want everything with you. Everything.
[Love. A life together, beyond this seemingly endless fight, whatever that looks like. Maybe they'll marry. Have children. Maybe they'll travel the world, beyond Valisthea. As long as they're together, she'll be happy.]
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But he wants it. Wants something better, with Jill. He wants his hand in hers, and wants the certainty of her beside him.
And he wants this, too. The feeling of her clutching around his fingers when he quests them inside her, making up for the intrusion with more kisses. Assuring her that it's just him, and that she's cared for. ]
―Everything I have to give is yours.
[ Delayed, but sincere. I adore you, he projects with the faint smile on his lips; he pulls away afterwards, testing to see if she'll let him slide back down again. ]
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He's enough. For so long he's been made to feel like his worth is tied to what he can do for others. If she can make him truly know he's loved simply because of who he is, she'll consider her time on this earth well spent.
When he pulls away, her hands linger on him, but she doesn't pout this time.]
You're going to be the death of me.
[Because she can guess his intent. This is what will kill her, not a blade. She laughs and drops her head back onto the bed.]
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[ Please, do not die here. Not now. He'd follow suit instantly, and then the world will be fucked forever.
With that joke out of the way, he slides back down to the welcome cradle of Jill's thighs, where he makes the executive and audacious decision to divest her of her last scrap of clothing so that he can do exactly as he'd said he wanted to do: taste her. Warm lips, hot tongue. He licks a long stripe along her seam, with his hand holding one of her thighs to brace him. ]
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Besides, the feeling of his tongue on her clit is quite distracting. She has no complaints, moaning softly in approval, a hand reaching down to pet his hair.]
I've had dreams about this.
[A breathless laugh. Admitting as much makes her skin heat up, but he should know that, too. She's always wanted him.]
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She really shouldn't make him smile when he's trying to concentrate, but he does. ]
How do I measure against the man of your dreams?
[ Coyly, as he sucks lightly against her clit and flicks it with the tip of his tongue. He wasn't lying when he said that she's lovely when she's out of her mind; he hopes the answer to his question is another what? ]
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Huh?
[Very eloquent.]
Please don't expect me to--words.
[Apparently the sentence about her dreaming of this is the last Clive is to get that's complete. Jill laughs, the end trailing off into a moan. She's never felt like this before, and she can only think of more. Having more of him, closer, as close as they can possibly be.]
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Cute, [ he quips, because it is－ she is. Is that insulting? She's a beautiful woman capable of slitting his throat in his sleep if she really cared to, but it's also intoxicating to see her lose herself to his ministrations. It's so often the case that others bid him to hurt others; being permitted to touch someone for the sake of pleasuring is new and thrilling.
He waits for Jill to catch her breath, then leans in again. His tongue resumes tracing her heat, then presses inwards to delve deeper where his fingers made friction before. Opening her as best he can manage, relenting every so often to litter more lovebites along her inner thighs. Not quite possessive, but covetous. ]
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Clive... please.
[She doesn't even know what she wants to beg for first. More of his tongue. The return of his teeth on her skin. A harder grip from his hands on her. A kiss on her mouth with the taste of her still on his lips. His cock, filling her.
Her hips rock against his mouth, impatient and greedy.]
Are we... are we taking turns?
[There. A sentence. A question, even! Jill, enjoying every moment, doesn't quite know what it is to simply be doted on for more than five minutes. Already, she's eager to tend to him, even if that feels like a privilege. It is, to her.]
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His turn to answer, essentially, with a huh? He blinks up at her, uncomprehending, still stroking her flushed slit with his thumb while he struggles to cobble together a response of his own. ]
If that's what my lady wants, [ is what he finally manages, his voice thick with need. He cranes up to land more kisses along the smooth plane of her stomach, tongue along her navel and teeth pressing into skin, testing to see if she's relaxed enough to let him work a thick, sword-callused middle inside of her. ]
Maybe after I bring her to peak, once.
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Not that she'll ask. There are some things they don't talk about, and sexual experiences are one Jill is happy to leave in the dark.
Right now is all that matters.]
Another finger and you may.
[She teases, breathless. Another sentence for the tally. See, she's not entirely fuckstruck. Only mostly. His one finger feels like two of her slender ones, unable to reach and fill and stretch as his do. She thinks she'll never get herself off again--though memory of tonight may help.]
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[ More a matter of enthusiasm and attentiveness than anything to do with finesse; Clive is not a man who can magically find the G-spot in one try. Case in point is how he's less sure about penetration than he was when he had his mouth on Jill, how he stops when he feels her tense and flicks his focus up towards her expression, checking for any nonverbal signs of discomfort.
Another finger, she demands, but he doesn't give it to her right away. Attention is given to letting her acclimate to the one, only making light friction when he's sure that Jill is relaxed enough for it. Once he's more certain that he won't hurt her by ramping up the contact, he fits his ring alongside his middle and starts up a slow, steady rhythm.
This is the first time sex has ever felt like a conversation. Something mutual, something shared. Not a hurried, unspeakable thing to get over with quickly in the dark. ]
...You're alright? [ Checking in, rearing up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Jill's mouth. ]
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When he checks on her, words so sweet while he works her so carefully, she thinks she could cry. No one has ever considered her the way Clive has. It's her turn for misty eyes, smiling as she leans up to kiss him.]
I am. You're perfect, Clive.
[Always. She leans up to kiss hin again, lips parting for a deeper kiss.]
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The kiss they share is breathless and deep, open-mouthed and lingering. Clive almost forgets himself entirely in it, his hand stopping with the sort of lazy stutter that says that he's distracted. He remembers himself a few beats later, humming a low sound in the back of his throat in apology, and resumes.
There are probably men who could do this much better, and with more flair. Still, Clive whispers: ] You feel so good, Jill.
[ Even if it's his fingers in her, and not his cock. He could probably come just from pleasuring her, which is a thought that makes his brain spark with happy serotonin; his fingers work faster now, thumb circling her clit as he strokes at her walls. ]
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Jill's moans pick up with his speed, teeth pressing into her bottom lip in some effort to remain quiet. The walls have ears, after all, if not gaping holes.
As if to remind them to behave, there are footsteps suddenly thudding up to Clive's door, heavy boots with a purpose behind them. Jill's moaning turns into a gasp, expression somewhere between panicked and pissed because of all times!!
Except the feet at the door seem to think better of knocking. Or perhaps someone nearby is shaking their head furioisly. A moment of hesitation, and the footsteps retreat.]
Founder.
[At some point she had tensed. Now, she sighs, deflating.
One day, perhaps they'll have actual walls. Stone walls.]
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When footsteps recede, he also follows suit in deflating. Shoulders slump, and his weight settles lightly against Jill's front, face nestled against the crook of her neck. The saddest shaggy dog in all of Valisthea. ]
Do you think―?
[ "I should go check", is the rest of that sentence. As much as he just wants to lay here and kiss Jill until the sun comes up, obviously. His fingers draw out of her slowly, near-dejected. ]
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[Jill's firm words come with a hard kiss to Clive's hair. Were it truly an emergency, they would have barged right in. It's happened before, though she and Clive would only ever be at his desk. Not fucking in his bed.
She whines--a new sound from her--and mourns the loss of his fingers.]
I'm not done with you.
[... but if he truly wishes to check, she won't stop him.]
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This is where I remember that the inns in Dalimil have thick walls.
[ And heavy doors. He laughs about it, exasperated, before dipping down and kissing the peak of her breast once more. ]
Have they ruined your peak for you? Or are you still amenable?
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What do you think?
[She gives him a look. Leviathan the Lost could pass by the Hideaway and she would still be amenable.
The look quickly turns into something more mischievous.]
Though, if I've lost any momentum... perhaps it would return to me if I were able to see all of you.
[Strip, Clive.]
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As you wish.
[ His voice lilts a little at the end, amused. It's not a very sexy ordeal, he thinks, as he peels away and swings himself towards the edge of the bed, letting his legs hang off the mattress as he undoes his trousers and pulls them off with his smallclothes. The main event, which he knows is undeniably his cock, hasn't flagged despite the intrusion; it bounces somewhat comically when released from its confines, still very much interested in where all of this is going.
With that done, he turns and crawls back towards Jill, full mast on full display. ]
All of me, and nothing more.
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She sits up to kiss him.]
All of you looks like quite the handful. Quite handsome, too.
[Is a cock a thing that can be handsome? Well, apparently. His, at least. Jill would worship all of him if she didn't think it would make him long for the grave. The thought makes her smile widen, and she goes for another kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth playfully.]
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Idly, he imagines what it must be like to fit himself inside Jill. She's so slender; the thought of filling up her tight clutch makes his face warm further, and he slides his hand instinctively over her navel, almost as if to approximate how deep he'd go if he were fully seated. ]
If you'd rather we worked up to it...
[ Sex needn't be all about penetration, is what he's saying. Mindful of her and her levels of comfort, since his anatomy is built in a very simple structure. ]
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[Ha. Look, they're allowed to joke about their own silliness. That, and his hand on her stomach tickles when she's not entirely consumed by him. Sweetly, she bumps her nose alongside his, hand coming to rest on his hip, tracing the line of it.]
I'd like to touch you, too. May I, Clive?
[His cock has an obvious opinion about that, but she likes that they're all remaining polite.]
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His cock jumps when she says may I. Very interested. ]
I... yes. [ All of his blood has traveled from his brain to his nethers; he suddenly feels very stupid with lust. ] Of course. I'm yours.
[ Kissing the corner of her mouth as punctuation, affectionate as anything. ]
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[She gives him a kiss back before she moves, balancing on one elbow. His bed was not made for two people, she thinks--truly, she's amazed it can hold him, let alone the two of them. The wooden frame does protest as the weight shifts from the middle of the bed.
Were they out in the wilds, under the stars, this wouldn't be a problem. They would only need worry about beasts and bandits, not creaking wood, thin walls, and curious neighbors.
Next time.]
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