[ he's quiet, thoughtful, tilting his head, and then presses another kiss to her forehead. ] I could sing you a song. Admittedly, I'm tone deaf, so I don't think that would be helpful.
[ another kiss, at the tip of her nose. ] Or, perhaps, I could recite you poetry like I promised, or shower you with compliments. Maybe lay you out in this bed and help you feel good, until you're the one who barely can speak their own name straight when it's done. Which is fine - I'll say it a million times for you, Lup. [ this is followed with another kiss, one to either cheek. ] Gently, though.
Could cook you a meal, but I'm not nearly as good at it as you are. [ another smooch, on the lips this time, gentle and lingering. ] Truth be told, to spoil you, I'd just be taking a leaf out of your book. Terribly uncreative of me - but you're rather the master.
[as always, she shivers at the sound of her name. she noses closer.]
... I wouldn't mind the poetry. [she says, with a huffy little laugh. the lingering kiss has her sighing out slow, eyes closed.] But I won't say no to being laid out, either.
[she can't promise she won't starfish because she's exhausted, but listen.]
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I'm not going to burn out. [she swallows hard.] Return the favor how, huh?
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[ he's quiet, thoughtful, tilting his head, and then presses another kiss to her forehead. ] I could sing you a song. Admittedly, I'm tone deaf, so I don't think that would be helpful.
[ another kiss, at the tip of her nose. ] Or, perhaps, I could recite you poetry like I promised, or shower you with compliments. Maybe lay you out in this bed and help you feel good, until you're the one who barely can speak their own name straight when it's done. Which is fine - I'll say it a million times for you, Lup. [ this is followed with another kiss, one to either cheek. ] Gently, though.
Could cook you a meal, but I'm not nearly as good at it as you are. [ another smooch, on the lips this time, gentle and lingering. ] Truth be told, to spoil you, I'd just be taking a leaf out of your book. Terribly uncreative of me - but you're rather the master.
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... I wouldn't mind the poetry. [she says, with a huffy little laugh. the lingering kiss has her sighing out slow, eyes closed.] But I won't say no to being laid out, either.
[she can't promise she won't starfish because she's exhausted, but listen.]