[ Odin himself couldn't split Clive from Jill, and he isn't welcome to try. Get outta here, Barnabas.
Arms around Jill, Clive slowly rolls the both of them onto their sides (mindful that he doesn't want Jill to just be laying flat on top of the mess he's made). His fingers comb through waves of long hair, smoothing it along the beautiful line of Jill's perfect back. Every inch of her is precious, hallowed. She'd called herself a monster once, but he couldn't find it in himself to ever see her as such. ]
I'm enjoying myself now. [ Lips brush against her forehead. ] ...You're everything I ever wanted, and will ever want.
[ He thumbs along the corner of that slightly-shy smile, wanting to commit it to memory. ]
Jill. There's... somewhere I want to take you. When time allows.
[She hums with fondness, eyes warm as she regards him. Her heart has never felt so full.]
I'll go anywhere you wish to lead me, Clive.
[Across Valisthea, or to his bed. She lifts her hand to touch his face--but pauses. That hand is... sticky. Her eyes dart to it before she laughs, nuzzling her face against his.]
I think we should wash up before we get too comfortable.
[More excuses for wandering hands. She would love to wash him--a ridiculous thought, perhaps, given that he's a grown man. She doesn't care.]
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Arms around Jill, Clive slowly rolls the both of them onto their sides (mindful that he doesn't want Jill to just be laying flat on top of the mess he's made). His fingers comb through waves of long hair, smoothing it along the beautiful line of Jill's perfect back. Every inch of her is precious, hallowed. She'd called herself a monster once, but he couldn't find it in himself to ever see her as such. ]
I'm enjoying myself now. [ Lips brush against her forehead. ] ...You're everything I ever wanted, and will ever want.
[ He thumbs along the corner of that slightly-shy smile, wanting to commit it to memory. ]
Jill. There's... somewhere I want to take you. When time allows.
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I'll go anywhere you wish to lead me, Clive.
[Across Valisthea, or to his bed. She lifts her hand to touch his face--but pauses. That hand is... sticky. Her eyes dart to it before she laughs, nuzzling her face against his.]
I think we should wash up before we get too comfortable.
[More excuses for wandering hands. She would love to wash him--a ridiculous thought, perhaps, given that he's a grown man. She doesn't care.]