[ there's plenty of things he grows frustrated with during the missions, weights that carry upon his shoulders to leave marks of questions towards why he lets himself get so mixed up in it, so much more involved than is even necessary beyond the hunt for the orb. but then the reminder comes in the form of her waiting for his return, the silent call for him to come home, like there's actually a home worth coming back to.
when this all started, he didn't entirely know what he was fighting for, or what he wanted out of it; the answer is the gentle stir of her fitting against his body, of the gentle twist she gives to seek out more of him.
(he's not a stranger to the physical want, to the desire for lust that he can inspire, but even when that's present here, he knows it's more, that what she welcomes is more than his face, than his body.)
he remains a solid weight behind her as she curves against the frame of his chest, steady to be there when her neck twists enough for him to guide his lips up to find hers, a gentle graze for an initial fond affection before adding firmness, mouth craving a hotter taste. it all remains lazy, deepening with a hint of intention for fueling heat while maintaining a slow rhythm to match the pace of the quiet night, fingers curling to the base of that stolen henley, bunching the fabric against a firm palm to stroke against her belly. ]
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when this all started, he didn't entirely know what he was fighting for, or what he wanted out of it; the answer is the gentle stir of her fitting against his body, of the gentle twist she gives to seek out more of him.
(he's not a stranger to the physical want, to the desire for lust that he can inspire, but even when that's present here, he knows it's more, that what she welcomes is more than his face, than his body.)
he remains a solid weight behind her as she curves against the frame of his chest, steady to be there when her neck twists enough for him to guide his lips up to find hers, a gentle graze for an initial fond affection before adding firmness, mouth craving a hotter taste. it all remains lazy, deepening with a hint of intention for fueling heat while maintaining a slow rhythm to match the pace of the quiet night, fingers curling to the base of that stolen henley, bunching the fabric against a firm palm to stroke against her belly. ]