[ All this time he hasn't spent praying to Metia, and now he's considering doing so just to implore that he doesn't bust the moment Jill puts his mouth on him. Because that's what he realizes she's about to do, when she crawls down along the front of him and says that she has an idea. ]
Jill. [ He says her name like, yes, a prayer. ] Slowly.
[ Cid the Outlaw, Ifrit's Dominant, breaker of Mothercrystals, effectively brought to his knees completely by one woman that he desperately loves. He doesn't mind it at all; in fact, he thinks he couldn't possibly be more aroused if he tried to be. ]
[As her kisses lead to his stomach, hand working him delicately, she can't help the laugh. Usually, Clive in any sort of distress is not okay, but this? This is wonderful. He's at her mercy, but in her hands, and she's the only person she trusts to take care of him. She's earned it.
As she moves lower, she decides to leave another little love mark, right beneath his navel. He smells like sweat and sex and leather and the road and she hums in consideration of his words.]
Slowly? In the way I handle you, or in the way I travel south?
[Both? Agony, but she'll oblige. This is almost better than him fingering her.]
[ He really might die. Blue eyes flick down, and they can't seem to settle on an emotion－ he cycles between urgency and adoration and anticipation, a kaleidoscope of primal instincts that all boil down to him simply needing Jill in every way that matters.
He strokes her hair, traces her shoulder with his fingertips, feels the rise of her shoulderblades. Turnabout is fair play; now he understands how agonizing it is to just sit back and let himself be doted on. Sex has never taken this shape for him before. ]
In the way you handle me. [ As honest as he ever is, without a shred of pride getting in the way of him admitting: ] I may finish too soon otherwise.
[ He might die of shame if he doesn't get her to completion first. ]
[They both have found themselves with partners that live to serve. This might lead to them both needing to learn how to simply let the other take care of them, and understand both doting and being doted on are ways to give and receive affection.
It might be a long road, that.
Jill presses another kiss to his stomach and tries very much to not give too much thought to the idea of him finishing inside her and how that might feel.]
Is tonight the only night we'll have?
[Her hand stills on his cock, then dips lower, fingertips brushing against his balls. That's a new feel under her hand, and she quietly feels him, massages him. Slowly.]
[ Which is to say: he's very distracted. She's handling the most vulnerable parts of him, quite literally, and it's all he can do to not let his metaphorical cup spill over. His cock is leaking with need.
He hisses his next breath, sweat beading on his forehead, and jerks his hips under her touch. ]
But, no. It isn't. [ Finally, an answer. ] I pray it isn't. Please, let it not be.
[It's a futile attempt, apparently. Jill laughs, charmed and endeared by him. His cock is wet when it drags against her arm when she shifts to move herself lower, just enough to drag her mouth over his hip bone. Her hand returns to give his dick the attention it desires, thumb toying with the tip as she contemplates her next move.]
I don't think slow is going to do you any favors, Clive.
[She wants to put her mouth on him so badly. Maybe she should suggest he do a lap around the room, let the blood flowing elsewhere, so she can have her way with him longer. It's a serious thought.]
[That warning comes with a playful press of teeth to his hip. Her tongue soothes, after, and she remembers she loves him terribly and therefore will not invoke the name of his mother to tame that arousal.]
You can think of where you'd like to finish.
[Her hand, her mouth, her belly, her breasts, her cunt. She doesn't care as long as she can witness it, feel it. Hear what sweet noises he makes.]
[ Has Anabella not tortured him enough!!!!!!!!! Jill is the most merciful person ever for not destroying Clive's boner forever by speaking that name in Clive's bed. Again: he loves her so much.
He sighs, long and slow, and flicks his gaze back down to her. ]
An impossible choice. [ The real answer is "all of the above". ] ...Your hand, if I were forced at swordpoint to make a decision.
[ This is their first time being intimate; he wants to save being inside her for when he tells her that he loves her. As for why he wants her hand－ ]
－I want to kiss you when I finish. [ Hard to do that, if she has her mouth on him. Again, it's an impossible choice, but he wants to be close to her. ]
[An impossible choice, not too dissimilar to one he offered to her not very long ago. Jill smiles at him when she catches his gaze. She kisses his stomach again (she might have a thing for his abdomen, the lines and hard muscle, the soft spots she can press her teeth into) and hums in understanding.]
Very well. I would like to taste you before we get there--if you're amenable...?
[Yet another question, and she knows what she's doing when she strokes him from base to tip. This is too much fun. Some part of her wonders if it's like this for other people, all the laughter and smiles and teasing. If it's not, she pities them.]
[ She's torturing him. It's bliss. Clive feels himself balance on the tip of her finger, both literally and symbolically: she could ruin him with a breath and a few quick strokes of her hand, if she wanted to.
He whines in time to the friction that she makes, a soft and hoarse ah. ]
―Yes. Please, Jill, your mouth.
[ Not a full or coherent sentence, but it's close enough. Blue eyes shutter closed for a brief moment, the ridges of his abs tensing under her lips. Flexing and relaxing in anticipation, and in an effort not to come too quickly. Concentrating, almost boyishly. ]
[Fortunate that their enemies don't know that it's this easy to topple Clive. Each sound he makes is burned in her memory to recall later, with pride, and she's quite eager to hear what he sounds like when he comes.
So, she moves to get between his legs, deciding to figure out the logistics of her mouth, his cock, and him being able to look upon her, if he desires.
But first of all? She takes his cock in hand and gives it a kiss on the shaft.]
[ Hugo Kupka had the right idea, when he'd cornered Clive by putting his filthy hands on Jill. (Barnabas Tharmr will also have the right idea eventually, when he lures Clive out by capturing Jill.) Every man has his weakness.
This is his weakness in the most benign (?) form, however: Jill, tucked between his legs, her warm lips to his obscenely hard cock. The juxtaposition of her beautiful face against his flushed erection is dizzying, and Clive instinctively starts counting prime numbers in his head to keep himself from teetering along his edge from just the sight of her alone. ]
For you, always. [ "I'll be good", essentially. He props himself on his elbows, lifting his upper body up with the intention of keeping his eyes on her. The rest of him stays relatively still, though his hips shift under her weight for a moment, restless. ]
[He moves and gives her quite the handsome sight to behold. Abdomen tensing, eyes clear and intent, all attention on her. Left to think of this moment on another day, an earlier day, she might die from how the embarrassment would send color to her face. Here, in the moment? She's nervous, but excited. Unsure, but eager to learn. And most importantly, she feels safe. Safe to explore, to speak her mind, to look to him for guidance and reassurance. She's never loved or trusted anyone as much as she does Clive.
Her face hovers over his cock for a moment (vaguely reminiscent of Jill figuring out an angle to attack a bread roll), and then she decides to lead with her tongue. Using her hand to keep his erection steady (though she thinks he could stand all on his own with how hard he is), the flat of her tongue goes from shaft to tip. That lubrication leaking from his cock is a new taste, and it mixes with the now-familiar flavor of his skin. It's not unpleasant.
Her pale eyes flick up to his darker ones as she takes the head of his cock between her lips, moving slowly. She remembers what it felt like to have him between her thighs. She almost died. Jill can only imagine this is similar.]
[ There are precious few people Clive has ever trusted with his body, with himself temporarily included in the count. It was, by all rights, never a thing made to be cared for－ a failed vessel for an Eikon that blessed his brother instead (a wonderful thing, which he has never held against Joshua), a shattered Shield, a blasphemous monster. A thing to be pushed to its limits, tested for cracks, dragged into submission.
Not so, when he's with Jill. She touches him, kisses him, and explores him as if he could ever be something that can be worshipped. Affection sweeps him off his emotional feet; it's a lot of feeling for someone who's currently being blown. ]
Jill, [ he huffs. ] Fuck.
[ Is it awkward for her? Is it unpleasant? Gods, but she's so lovely. Clive trembles under her hand and mouth, fists his fingers into his bedsheets, and does not fuck up into her warm, inviting lips. Instead, he hums when she sucks at his tip, clearly enjoying how that feels, and strokes her hair encouragingly. ]
[Fuck. Every swear is a little victory to Jill, and she'd laugh if her mouth wasn't otherwise... full. Her neck and shoulders may be sore later from simply being unused to the position, inexperienced in holding herself while sucking him off, but she already knows it's worth it.
The praise alone makes her ache anew for him.]
You'll have to tell me when to stop.
[Worth taking her lips off him to give that warning, a smile creasing the corner of her eyes, and then she's back to taking him in her mouth. Her tongue explores the shape of him with clear pleasure. If there's any doubt, she moans, knowing he'll feel it if the blood rushing to his cock has left him deaf.]
[ Is this Clive's Final Fantasy???? (The audience groans.) Clive, stupid and sex-brained, momentarily thinks of a future where he doesn't tell Jill to stop and they just exist on this bed forever, until the end of time. Absurd and impossible, but enticing nevertheless. Like this, with Jill tending to him, the horrors of the world outside them grow quiet.
He's hot and slick in her mouth, throbbing, and he makes another strangled sound as she moans around him and makes him see stars. He arches back and curls forward, unable to choose which position will help him last longer, if he even truly can.
His fingers tickle the back of Jill's ear. Desperate to touch her, even like this. ]
Almost, [ he admits. He wants to let her enjoy this for a little longer, so he braces himself with toes curled into the bedsheets, rewarding her with more soft moans, his rattled breaths. ] Jill, look at me.
[Clive's request (or demand, whichever), is immediately met. It's difficult to look at him and keep a steady motion, head bobbing and tongue firm against his cock. Everything is a distraction. His voice. His face. The pulse of his erection. The taste of him. His touch in her hair.
The adoration in her eyes is intertwined with something else--determination. If this is how he reacts to her, clumsy as she learns, she does intend to kill him with the skill she'll surely gain the more nights they spend together.
She's discovered she loves to see him squirm. It makes her laugh, and she pulls away for a moment, tongue taking one more swipe at his cockhead.]
Don't hurt yourself, Clive.
[Do not make them explain away a pulled muscle from edging to Tarja. She'll know.]
[ And squirm he does, happily caught on her hook. The ridges of his abdominals ripple again as he reorients under her, and his response to her warning is a low, coarse: ]
Finish me, then. [ Plaintive, but playful. He smiles at her, sweaty and shaky and utterly smitten, gesturing for her to come up here, the way he'd requested. He thinks he might die if he doesn't kiss her as he comes. ] So I might do the same for you, too.
[ They can touch each other, for these last few moments. Her fingers around him, his inside her. Together, in all things. ]
[A woman more versed in the art of seduction might kiss her way up Clive's body. Jill, however, is not. She's both aroused out of her mind and enthralled by everything before her. So, she pulls away to crawl up his body, pushing her hair back over her shoulder.
But she can't resist pressing a bite to his collar as she settles in against and beside him, hand on his belly, thumb tracing an ab.]
You're a gift.
[A bite and a sweet nuzzle against his jaw, all affection and reverence for him.]
[ They're both littered with bitemarks, at this point: Clive's concentrated around his upper half, Jill with lovebites all over her inner thighs. Later (in the morning), he'll have to sneak out and get some water and a washcloth to wipe Jill with, and boggle at how unruly he was when it came to using his mouth.
Later. Now, he sweeps Jill close to him and kisses her temple, her cheek, sweeping her hair out of her face to taste her skin. It takes a bit of repositioning, but he bids her to scoot up high enough so that he can snake his hand between her legs again, sinking thick fingers (plural) back inside her to stroke her while she strokes him.
It's perfect. He can't imagine what it'll feel like being seated in her, but he knows he'll fantasize about it between errands. ]
Yours to unravel.
[ Sweetly, as he thumbs at her and kisses along her jaw. Close, and getting closer. His hips stutter in anticipation. ]
[The biting was his idea. And Jill loves it, little stings to remind her of where his mouth has been. She'll be quite proud to look over them tomorrow, and map out the ones she's left on him in turn.
Later. She's too wrapped up in Clive and his body, limbs going where he guides, and the moan of pleasure that escapes her is so loud she startles herself. Touching and tasting him has only made her all the more slick, and his fingers fill her to perfection. It feels like the air's been pulled from her lungs.
How is she supposed to stroke him while she wants to fuck his fingers?]
Yours to unravel.
[It's a whisper, dangerously close to a whimper, as she echoes his words. She moans again, moans his name, and shudders. She realizes, then, that she can move her hand up and down his cock and rock her hips just so for more and press a kiss to his neck all at once.]
Fuck.
[It feels good. Too good. Good enough to drag something vulgar from her throat as she closes her eyes as presses her face into him, desperation seeping into her movements as she feels herself draw closer, closer.]
[ That lovely voice whispering an obscenity does something to Clive that he can't even name. He flushes, hot all over in a way that makes something primal in the back of his head panic (did he semi-prime?); he gasps, repeats the same expletive, fuck, rough and growled against Jill's lips.
Bedsprings creak under them. The nonexistent wall on the far end of the room provides them no shelter－ if anyone passed by then, below them on the deck of the Invincible, they'd know exactly what's happening right now in Cid's quarters.
Clive doesn't care. Let them hear. He's wanted Jill for a lifetime, and nothing will make him ashamed of it, nothing will make him stop chasing her. So he does, with his fingers and the bucking of his hips, matching her grinding and her shifting. Yes, he huffs, and tips her face towards his for a kiss. ]
Jill, [ is a whine and a plea and a warning, muffled against her mouth－ he loves her so much, he thinks he could shatter. And he does, eventually, in the clutch of her hand, spilling hot and hard with her name still on his lips, shuddering against her warm body with reckless desperation. ] Jill, Jill.
[Every time they're behind closed doors, thin as they are, she's sure some gil is exchanging hands in the bet of are they fucking or not. That pot must be quite heavy after all these years. Jill doesn't care. Congratulations to the victor, whoever can hear her satisfied so well by Clive, and vice versa. Her moans are only muted when his mouth is on hers, and once more she forgets to breathe, euphoria the only thing she knows.
She thinks he comes before she does--all she's aware of is how impossibly hot and hard his cock is before it's pulsing in her hand, somehow hotter, his seed seeping between her fingertips as she passes her fingers over the tip. It's a tip in the scales, a hard shove, that sends her plummeting. Her hips twitch and press hard into his fingers as she comes, the pulsing of her walls matching the pulsing of his cock.
Impressive that he can still manage her name. If she speaks she'll blurt out that she loves him, loves him always and forever, but she's still very much determined to not steal his moment. All she can do is gasp and try to catch her breath, orgasm quick to arrive but deliciously slow to taper off.]
[ Deliriously, Clive thinks he could come again just from the feeling of Jill climaxing around his fingers. She shakes and clenches and clings to him, and Clive's world boils down to just this, her body and her breath and her warmth, and he draws closer as if he could somehow will himself to keep this moment written permanently into his flesh if he tries hard enough.
The orgasm is perfect; the afterglow, even more so. Sluggishly, he draws his fingers out from the inviting heat on her, and pulls Jill into a loose, affectionate embrace. Sweaty forehead to her shoulder, like the oversized dog he'd protested being compared to.
I love you, he aches to say. But he also doesn't want her to mistake it for a throwaway post-coitus comment, so he swallows it back down with agonizing difficulty. She deserves to hear it, from him, every day. She always has.
After a minute to catch his breath: ] If only I could will this moment to last forever.
[ Not a very Cid the Outlaw thing to say. Not a very Liberator of Valisthea thing to say, either. Just Clive Rosfield, with wants he didn't allow himself to have for decades. ]
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Jill. [ He says her name like, yes, a prayer. ] Slowly.
[ Cid the Outlaw, Ifrit's Dominant, breaker of Mothercrystals, effectively brought to his knees completely by one woman that he desperately loves. He doesn't mind it at all; in fact, he thinks he couldn't possibly be more aroused if he tried to be. ]
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As she moves lower, she decides to leave another little love mark, right beneath his navel. He smells like sweat and sex and leather and the road and she hums in consideration of his words.]
Slowly? In the way I handle you, or in the way I travel south?
[Both? Agony, but she'll oblige. This is almost better than him fingering her.]
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He strokes her hair, traces her shoulder with his fingertips, feels the rise of her shoulderblades. Turnabout is fair play; now he understands how agonizing it is to just sit back and let himself be doted on. Sex has never taken this shape for him before. ]
In the way you handle me. [ As honest as he ever is, without a shred of pride getting in the way of him admitting: ] I may finish too soon otherwise.
[ He might die of shame if he doesn't get her to completion first. ]
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It might be a long road, that.
Jill presses another kiss to his stomach and tries very much to not give too much thought to the idea of him finishing inside her and how that might feel.]
Is tonight the only night we'll have?
[Her hand stills on his cock, then dips lower, fingertips brushing against his balls. That's a new feel under her hand, and she quietly feels him, massages him. Slowly.]
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You keep asking me questions.
[ Which is to say: he's very distracted. She's handling the most vulnerable parts of him, quite literally, and it's all he can do to not let his metaphorical cup spill over. His cock is leaking with need.
He hisses his next breath, sweat beading on his forehead, and jerks his hips under her touch. ]
But, no. It isn't. [ Finally, an answer. ] I pray it isn't. Please, let it not be.
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[It's a futile attempt, apparently. Jill laughs, charmed and endeared by him. His cock is wet when it drags against her arm when she shifts to move herself lower, just enough to drag her mouth over his hip bone. Her hand returns to give his dick the attention it desires, thumb toying with the tip as she contemplates her next move.]
I don't think slow is going to do you any favors, Clive.
[She wants to put her mouth on him so badly. Maybe she should suggest he do a lap around the room, let the blood flowing elsewhere, so she can have her way with him longer. It's a serious thought.]
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[ A laugh, after he says so. It's all very silly. He leans back, elbows on the mattress and head to a pillow, and stares up at the ceiling. ]
Maybe I'll think of the Hideaway's ledger for a moment. [ Joking, even as he squirms a bit under Jill's hand. ] We might owe Quinten some gil.
[ The unsexiest thing he can think of, right now. ]
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[That warning comes with a playful press of teeth to his hip. Her tongue soothes, after, and she remembers she loves him terribly and therefore will not invoke the name of his mother to tame that arousal.]
You can think of where you'd like to finish.
[Her hand, her mouth, her belly, her breasts, her cunt. She doesn't care as long as she can witness it, feel it. Hear what sweet noises he makes.]
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He sighs, long and slow, and flicks his gaze back down to her. ]
An impossible choice. [ The real answer is "all of the above". ] ...Your hand, if I were forced at swordpoint to make a decision.
[ This is their first time being intimate; he wants to save being inside her for when he tells her that he loves her. As for why he wants her hand－ ]
－I want to kiss you when I finish. [ Hard to do that, if she has her mouth on him. Again, it's an impossible choice, but he wants to be close to her. ]
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Very well. I would like to taste you before we get there--if you're amenable...?
[Yet another question, and she knows what she's doing when she strokes him from base to tip. This is too much fun. Some part of her wonders if it's like this for other people, all the laughter and smiles and teasing. If it's not, she pities them.]
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He whines in time to the friction that she makes, a soft and hoarse ah. ]
―Yes. Please, Jill, your mouth.
[ Not a full or coherent sentence, but it's close enough. Blue eyes shutter closed for a brief moment, the ridges of his abs tensing under her lips. Flexing and relaxing in anticipation, and in an effort not to come too quickly. Concentrating, almost boyishly. ]
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So, she moves to get between his legs, deciding to figure out the logistics of her mouth, his cock, and him being able to look upon her, if he desires.
But first of all? She takes his cock in hand and gives it a kiss on the shaft.]
For good behavior.
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This is his weakness in the most benign (?) form, however: Jill, tucked between his legs, her warm lips to his obscenely hard cock. The juxtaposition of her beautiful face against his flushed erection is dizzying, and Clive instinctively starts counting prime numbers in his head to keep himself from teetering along his edge from just the sight of her alone. ]
For you, always. [ "I'll be good", essentially. He props himself on his elbows, lifting his upper body up with the intention of keeping his eyes on her. The rest of him stays relatively still, though his hips shift under her weight for a moment, restless. ]
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Her face hovers over his cock for a moment (vaguely reminiscent of Jill figuring out an angle to attack a bread roll), and then she decides to lead with her tongue. Using her hand to keep his erection steady (though she thinks he could stand all on his own with how hard he is), the flat of her tongue goes from shaft to tip. That lubrication leaking from his cock is a new taste, and it mixes with the now-familiar flavor of his skin. It's not unpleasant.
Her pale eyes flick up to his darker ones as she takes the head of his cock between her lips, moving slowly. She remembers what it felt like to have him between her thighs. She almost died. Jill can only imagine this is similar.]
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Not so, when he's with Jill. She touches him, kisses him, and explores him as if he could ever be something that can be worshipped. Affection sweeps him off his emotional feet; it's a lot of feeling for someone who's currently being blown. ]
Jill, [ he huffs. ] Fuck.
[ Is it awkward for her? Is it unpleasant? Gods, but she's so lovely. Clive trembles under her hand and mouth, fists his fingers into his bedsheets, and does not fuck up into her warm, inviting lips. Instead, he hums when she sucks at his tip, clearly enjoying how that feels, and strokes her hair encouragingly. ]
Like that. You're perfect.
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The praise alone makes her ache anew for him.]
You'll have to tell me when to stop.
[Worth taking her lips off him to give that warning, a smile creasing the corner of her eyes, and then she's back to taking him in her mouth. Her tongue explores the shape of him with clear pleasure. If there's any doubt, she moans, knowing he'll feel it if the blood rushing to his cock has left him deaf.]
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He's hot and slick in her mouth, throbbing, and he makes another strangled sound as she moans around him and makes him see stars. He arches back and curls forward, unable to choose which position will help him last longer, if he even truly can.
His fingers tickle the back of Jill's ear. Desperate to touch her, even like this. ]
Almost, [ he admits. He wants to let her enjoy this for a little longer, so he braces himself with toes curled into the bedsheets, rewarding her with more soft moans, his rattled breaths. ] Jill, look at me.
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The adoration in her eyes is intertwined with something else--determination. If this is how he reacts to her, clumsy as she learns, she does intend to kill him with the skill she'll surely gain the more nights they spend together.
She's discovered she loves to see him squirm. It makes her laugh, and she pulls away for a moment, tongue taking one more swipe at his cockhead.]
Don't hurt yourself, Clive.
[Do not make them explain away a pulled muscle from edging to Tarja. She'll know.]
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Finish me, then. [ Plaintive, but playful. He smiles at her, sweaty and shaky and utterly smitten, gesturing for her to come up here, the way he'd requested. He thinks he might die if he doesn't kiss her as he comes. ] So I might do the same for you, too.
[ They can touch each other, for these last few moments. Her fingers around him, his inside her. Together, in all things. ]
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But she can't resist pressing a bite to his collar as she settles in against and beside him, hand on his belly, thumb tracing an ab.]
You're a gift.
[A bite and a sweet nuzzle against his jaw, all affection and reverence for him.]
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Later. Now, he sweeps Jill close to him and kisses her temple, her cheek, sweeping her hair out of her face to taste her skin. It takes a bit of repositioning, but he bids her to scoot up high enough so that he can snake his hand between her legs again, sinking thick fingers (plural) back inside her to stroke her while she strokes him.
It's perfect. He can't imagine what it'll feel like being seated in her, but he knows he'll fantasize about it between errands. ]
Yours to unravel.
[ Sweetly, as he thumbs at her and kisses along her jaw. Close, and getting closer. His hips stutter in anticipation. ]
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Later. She's too wrapped up in Clive and his body, limbs going where he guides, and the moan of pleasure that escapes her is so loud she startles herself. Touching and tasting him has only made her all the more slick, and his fingers fill her to perfection. It feels like the air's been pulled from her lungs.
How is she supposed to stroke him while she wants to fuck his fingers?]
Yours to unravel.
[It's a whisper, dangerously close to a whimper, as she echoes his words. She moans again, moans his name, and shudders. She realizes, then, that she can move her hand up and down his cock and rock her hips just so for more and press a kiss to his neck all at once.]
Fuck.
[It feels good. Too good. Good enough to drag something vulgar from her throat as she closes her eyes as presses her face into him, desperation seeping into her movements as she feels herself draw closer, closer.]
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Bedsprings creak under them. The nonexistent wall on the far end of the room provides them no shelter－ if anyone passed by then, below them on the deck of the Invincible, they'd know exactly what's happening right now in Cid's quarters.
Clive doesn't care. Let them hear. He's wanted Jill for a lifetime, and nothing will make him ashamed of it, nothing will make him stop chasing her. So he does, with his fingers and the bucking of his hips, matching her grinding and her shifting. Yes, he huffs, and tips her face towards his for a kiss. ]
Jill, [ is a whine and a plea and a warning, muffled against her mouth－ he loves her so much, he thinks he could shatter. And he does, eventually, in the clutch of her hand, spilling hot and hard with her name still on his lips, shuddering against her warm body with reckless desperation. ] Jill, Jill.
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She thinks he comes before she does--all she's aware of is how impossibly hot and hard his cock is before it's pulsing in her hand, somehow hotter, his seed seeping between her fingertips as she passes her fingers over the tip. It's a tip in the scales, a hard shove, that sends her plummeting. Her hips twitch and press hard into his fingers as she comes, the pulsing of her walls matching the pulsing of his cock.
Impressive that he can still manage her name. If she speaks she'll blurt out that she loves him, loves him always and forever, but she's still very much determined to not steal his moment. All she can do is gasp and try to catch her breath, orgasm quick to arrive but deliciously slow to taper off.]
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The orgasm is perfect; the afterglow, even more so. Sluggishly, he draws his fingers out from the inviting heat on her, and pulls Jill into a loose, affectionate embrace. Sweaty forehead to her shoulder, like the oversized dog he'd protested being compared to.
I love you, he aches to say. But he also doesn't want her to mistake it for a throwaway post-coitus comment, so he swallows it back down with agonizing difficulty. She deserves to hear it, from him, every day. She always has.
After a minute to catch his breath: ] If only I could will this moment to last forever.
[ Not a very Cid the Outlaw thing to say. Not a very Liberator of Valisthea thing to say, either. Just Clive Rosfield, with wants he didn't allow himself to have for decades. ]
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