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He had forgotten the joy that came with having a wife.
It was not something he’d had much time to focus on. After all, his life was consumed by the man who wished him dead. Elias was frequently making it known that he knew everything Aimias was saying or doing, which meant that his free time was spent continuing to discredit himself, discredit the Xanthos family. Bile rose in his throat any time he suggested that perhaps Emilia was just as much of a witch as Persephone was. That Persephone had persuaded him to do her bidding and it was only now that she was gone that he could see with a clear head. Each lie was harder and harder to say, because the betrayal to the family he had cared for was so obvious to anyone who listened to him.
But, for this moment, he was not with senators. He was pressed warmly against his wife, who had drifted back to sleep after he had woken her to make love again.
Aimias hadn’t expected her to command him to her bed. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how much he wanted his wife, too. So they had ended the night in each other’s arms, exhausted from their actions and touches. What surprised him more was how much he found himself wanting her upon waking. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, or that he didn’t find her sexually appealing-- quite the opposite actually. He felt like he wasn’t worthy of her. And he was briefly reminded of Elias’s words-- that he would never be worthy of her. But upon awakening, hard with his need to take her again, Aimias realizes that this was the one place that Elias should not have any control over.
His wife was his. And he had buried his head under the covers to remind her who she belonged, determined to have her wake wet and wanting like he was. By the time he had found himself inside her, she was wide awake and succumbing to her desires alongside him. Now, she dozed beside him, his hand in her hair, trying desperately not to think of what would happen once she found out what he’d been doing all this time.
Would this be the last time? Would she ever be able to forgive him? To stand the sight of him? Would she ever find herself so hot and desperate for his touch like she had been the night before? Or would she refuse his bed, divorce him for a better option? Perhaps that was what he feared the most-- her realizing just how poorly she had married. He was weak, and could not protect what belonged to him. Perhaps Elias was right along, and the chance that she might realize that too crushed him. He was trying not to think about it, not to dwell on the devastation that would fall around them.
If the house fell apart around him, he would have no one to blame but himself.
She stirred against next to him, and he tried to push it from his thoughts. There had been a promise to leave everything else on the other side of the door, and he wanted nothing more than to obey her and do just that. So instead, he kissed her cheek, then her earlobe, then the space behind her ear with open affection. ”I do like waking with you in this bed, wife.” His voice was deeper, with a bit of seductively longing in it as well. As if he could go again from how badly he wanted her.
Was he getting hard again?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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He had forgotten the joy that came with having a wife.
It was not something he’d had much time to focus on. After all, his life was consumed by the man who wished him dead. Elias was frequently making it known that he knew everything Aimias was saying or doing, which meant that his free time was spent continuing to discredit himself, discredit the Xanthos family. Bile rose in his throat any time he suggested that perhaps Emilia was just as much of a witch as Persephone was. That Persephone had persuaded him to do her bidding and it was only now that she was gone that he could see with a clear head. Each lie was harder and harder to say, because the betrayal to the family he had cared for was so obvious to anyone who listened to him.
But, for this moment, he was not with senators. He was pressed warmly against his wife, who had drifted back to sleep after he had woken her to make love again.
Aimias hadn’t expected her to command him to her bed. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how much he wanted his wife, too. So they had ended the night in each other’s arms, exhausted from their actions and touches. What surprised him more was how much he found himself wanting her upon waking. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, or that he didn’t find her sexually appealing-- quite the opposite actually. He felt like he wasn’t worthy of her. And he was briefly reminded of Elias’s words-- that he would never be worthy of her. But upon awakening, hard with his need to take her again, Aimias realizes that this was the one place that Elias should not have any control over.
His wife was his. And he had buried his head under the covers to remind her who she belonged, determined to have her wake wet and wanting like he was. By the time he had found himself inside her, she was wide awake and succumbing to her desires alongside him. Now, she dozed beside him, his hand in her hair, trying desperately not to think of what would happen once she found out what he’d been doing all this time.
Would this be the last time? Would she ever be able to forgive him? To stand the sight of him? Would she ever find herself so hot and desperate for his touch like she had been the night before? Or would she refuse his bed, divorce him for a better option? Perhaps that was what he feared the most-- her realizing just how poorly she had married. He was weak, and could not protect what belonged to him. Perhaps Elias was right along, and the chance that she might realize that too crushed him. He was trying not to think about it, not to dwell on the devastation that would fall around them.
If the house fell apart around him, he would have no one to blame but himself.
She stirred against next to him, and he tried to push it from his thoughts. There had been a promise to leave everything else on the other side of the door, and he wanted nothing more than to obey her and do just that. So instead, he kissed her cheek, then her earlobe, then the space behind her ear with open affection. ”I do like waking with you in this bed, wife.” His voice was deeper, with a bit of seductively longing in it as well. As if he could go again from how badly he wanted her.
Was he getting hard again?
He had forgotten the joy that came with having a wife.
It was not something he’d had much time to focus on. After all, his life was consumed by the man who wished him dead. Elias was frequently making it known that he knew everything Aimias was saying or doing, which meant that his free time was spent continuing to discredit himself, discredit the Xanthos family. Bile rose in his throat any time he suggested that perhaps Emilia was just as much of a witch as Persephone was. That Persephone had persuaded him to do her bidding and it was only now that she was gone that he could see with a clear head. Each lie was harder and harder to say, because the betrayal to the family he had cared for was so obvious to anyone who listened to him.
But, for this moment, he was not with senators. He was pressed warmly against his wife, who had drifted back to sleep after he had woken her to make love again.
Aimias hadn’t expected her to command him to her bed. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize just how much he wanted his wife, too. So they had ended the night in each other’s arms, exhausted from their actions and touches. What surprised him more was how much he found himself wanting her upon waking. It wasn’t that she was unattractive, or that he didn’t find her sexually appealing-- quite the opposite actually. He felt like he wasn’t worthy of her. And he was briefly reminded of Elias’s words-- that he would never be worthy of her. But upon awakening, hard with his need to take her again, Aimias realizes that this was the one place that Elias should not have any control over.
His wife was his. And he had buried his head under the covers to remind her who she belonged, determined to have her wake wet and wanting like he was. By the time he had found himself inside her, she was wide awake and succumbing to her desires alongside him. Now, she dozed beside him, his hand in her hair, trying desperately not to think of what would happen once she found out what he’d been doing all this time.
Would this be the last time? Would she ever be able to forgive him? To stand the sight of him? Would she ever find herself so hot and desperate for his touch like she had been the night before? Or would she refuse his bed, divorce him for a better option? Perhaps that was what he feared the most-- her realizing just how poorly she had married. He was weak, and could not protect what belonged to him. Perhaps Elias was right along, and the chance that she might realize that too crushed him. He was trying not to think about it, not to dwell on the devastation that would fall around them.
If the house fell apart around him, he would have no one to blame but himself.
She stirred against next to him, and he tried to push it from his thoughts. There had been a promise to leave everything else on the other side of the door, and he wanted nothing more than to obey her and do just that. So instead, he kissed her cheek, then her earlobe, then the space behind her ear with open affection. ”I do like waking with you in this bed, wife.” His voice was deeper, with a bit of seductively longing in it as well. As if he could go again from how badly he wanted her.
Was he getting hard again?
It wasn't as if they hadn't slept together before. That wasn't true at all. Their wedding night had been something to turn her mind the next morning, but Aimias being called back to Athenia had cut off any extra little moments that they would have had. The king's death had left them little time to really learn each other's bodies even further. The last time they had lain together had been only a few days before her own father's death, but it was born more out of necessity and relief of bodily functions rather than anything outwardly romantic.
After her father died, Iris hadn't really been interested in anything physical. However, now that she was slowly falling out of mourning and the need to feel close to someone had arisen, Iris hadn't been able to keep herself from being bold. It seemed, almost unfortunately (or maybe extremely fortunately), that Aimias needed some reminder of who he was and what he and his wife were to one another. Her demand the night before that he come to bed with her had mostly been a fleeting home. Part of her hadn't expected it to go as far as it had, but the lady could not find it in herself to be displeased with the outcome.
Falling into bed with him, getting to put her hands on his skin, it was a joy she hadn't felt in a while. his name had been on her lips more times than she could count, her mind spinning with pleasure and satisfaction by the time they collasped together. Sated and affectionate, Iris had found herself kissing him softly until they had both drifted swiftly into an exhausted sleep.
Waking in the very early morning hours with his tongue between her legs first, then himself, Iris had found herself more desperate than the night before. It was as if they'd open the flood gates of a straining dam and everything hit them at once. Pent up need and desire, that aching want for affection that seemed as if both of them were putting off. Now that they had broken down whatever silent barrier had kept them apart, Iris was not keen on losing this physical connection with him. Even when sleep dragged her back down in the afterglow of their second tryst in a handfull of hours, Iris kept herself curled against the warmth of his skin.
She hadn't realized how much she had needed such release until now, and frankly, she was feeling a little greedy as she trailed back out of sleep once more to the soft kisses and seductive tone of Aimias. Tilting her head a little so that he could taste her skin easier, Iris hummed her happiness into the quiet room. "Then do not leave it so soon," Iris murmured softly, a slight yawn falling off her lips even as her body woke with the tenderness of affectionate touch.
Turning slowly in his arms, Iris caught his lips with her own, putting a hand to his shoulder to force him to lay back into the comfort of the bed. Sliding her body carefully over his, Iris was not surprised at the suddenly comforting feeling of his hardness against her backside. Smiling sweetly down at him, the woman trailed her fingers through her hair and back over the opposite shoulder before she leaned down to kiss him again. "Your work can wait. So can mine," she purred softly against his lips.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It wasn't as if they hadn't slept together before. That wasn't true at all. Their wedding night had been something to turn her mind the next morning, but Aimias being called back to Athenia had cut off any extra little moments that they would have had. The king's death had left them little time to really learn each other's bodies even further. The last time they had lain together had been only a few days before her own father's death, but it was born more out of necessity and relief of bodily functions rather than anything outwardly romantic.
After her father died, Iris hadn't really been interested in anything physical. However, now that she was slowly falling out of mourning and the need to feel close to someone had arisen, Iris hadn't been able to keep herself from being bold. It seemed, almost unfortunately (or maybe extremely fortunately), that Aimias needed some reminder of who he was and what he and his wife were to one another. Her demand the night before that he come to bed with her had mostly been a fleeting home. Part of her hadn't expected it to go as far as it had, but the lady could not find it in herself to be displeased with the outcome.
Falling into bed with him, getting to put her hands on his skin, it was a joy she hadn't felt in a while. his name had been on her lips more times than she could count, her mind spinning with pleasure and satisfaction by the time they collasped together. Sated and affectionate, Iris had found herself kissing him softly until they had both drifted swiftly into an exhausted sleep.
Waking in the very early morning hours with his tongue between her legs first, then himself, Iris had found herself more desperate than the night before. It was as if they'd open the flood gates of a straining dam and everything hit them at once. Pent up need and desire, that aching want for affection that seemed as if both of them were putting off. Now that they had broken down whatever silent barrier had kept them apart, Iris was not keen on losing this physical connection with him. Even when sleep dragged her back down in the afterglow of their second tryst in a handfull of hours, Iris kept herself curled against the warmth of his skin.
She hadn't realized how much she had needed such release until now, and frankly, she was feeling a little greedy as she trailed back out of sleep once more to the soft kisses and seductive tone of Aimias. Tilting her head a little so that he could taste her skin easier, Iris hummed her happiness into the quiet room. "Then do not leave it so soon," Iris murmured softly, a slight yawn falling off her lips even as her body woke with the tenderness of affectionate touch.
Turning slowly in his arms, Iris caught his lips with her own, putting a hand to his shoulder to force him to lay back into the comfort of the bed. Sliding her body carefully over his, Iris was not surprised at the suddenly comforting feeling of his hardness against her backside. Smiling sweetly down at him, the woman trailed her fingers through her hair and back over the opposite shoulder before she leaned down to kiss him again. "Your work can wait. So can mine," she purred softly against his lips.
It wasn't as if they hadn't slept together before. That wasn't true at all. Their wedding night had been something to turn her mind the next morning, but Aimias being called back to Athenia had cut off any extra little moments that they would have had. The king's death had left them little time to really learn each other's bodies even further. The last time they had lain together had been only a few days before her own father's death, but it was born more out of necessity and relief of bodily functions rather than anything outwardly romantic.
After her father died, Iris hadn't really been interested in anything physical. However, now that she was slowly falling out of mourning and the need to feel close to someone had arisen, Iris hadn't been able to keep herself from being bold. It seemed, almost unfortunately (or maybe extremely fortunately), that Aimias needed some reminder of who he was and what he and his wife were to one another. Her demand the night before that he come to bed with her had mostly been a fleeting home. Part of her hadn't expected it to go as far as it had, but the lady could not find it in herself to be displeased with the outcome.
Falling into bed with him, getting to put her hands on his skin, it was a joy she hadn't felt in a while. his name had been on her lips more times than she could count, her mind spinning with pleasure and satisfaction by the time they collasped together. Sated and affectionate, Iris had found herself kissing him softly until they had both drifted swiftly into an exhausted sleep.
Waking in the very early morning hours with his tongue between her legs first, then himself, Iris had found herself more desperate than the night before. It was as if they'd open the flood gates of a straining dam and everything hit them at once. Pent up need and desire, that aching want for affection that seemed as if both of them were putting off. Now that they had broken down whatever silent barrier had kept them apart, Iris was not keen on losing this physical connection with him. Even when sleep dragged her back down in the afterglow of their second tryst in a handfull of hours, Iris kept herself curled against the warmth of his skin.
She hadn't realized how much she had needed such release until now, and frankly, she was feeling a little greedy as she trailed back out of sleep once more to the soft kisses and seductive tone of Aimias. Tilting her head a little so that he could taste her skin easier, Iris hummed her happiness into the quiet room. "Then do not leave it so soon," Iris murmured softly, a slight yawn falling off her lips even as her body woke with the tenderness of affectionate touch.
Turning slowly in his arms, Iris caught his lips with her own, putting a hand to his shoulder to force him to lay back into the comfort of the bed. Sliding her body carefully over his, Iris was not surprised at the suddenly comforting feeling of his hardness against her backside. Smiling sweetly down at him, the woman trailed her fingers through her hair and back over the opposite shoulder before she leaned down to kiss him again. "Your work can wait. So can mine," she purred softly against his lips.
Aimias was no saint. He was a man who had desires just like others. His personality was what usually kept him from ever acting on them. After all, his awkward constitution had been the reason why she had been clueless to his previous affections. He had tried, in his own way, to tell her how he felt, only to have her leave with a second glance back. And there was little he could do about it. He wasn’t a boy who had gone after what he wanted (and he couldn’t have said for sure that he wanted her like that, anyway).
But he was a man now, who had known women and who knew his own mind. So it was easier for him to give into his want of her, especially when she had so earnestly begged for him to pay her mind.
He had taken her that morning for the simple want of her, as if he wasn’t sure that he was man enough to bring her the pleasure she deserved. And by the time he realized that he wanted her again, too, it was easy for him to take her.
The man knew he shouldn’t spend any more time in bed. They had avoided his responsibilities long enough, and if he wasn’t noticed among the usual men waiting outside the senate, surely it would be noticed by those who cared. And those who shouldn’t. He knew that he needed to get up, to keep her safe by fulfilling his part of the bargain. And yet, with her so warm against him, it felt impossible. How long could he lie here before he was noticed? How long would he be able to avoid his duties?
How long until Elias sent for him?
Her suggestion that he stay a bit long was hard to ignore, when it was obvious that he wanted her again. And yet, he knew he should be completing his morning routine. He could only imagine the stack of letters at his desk, the men at his beckon call reporting in with their findings, awaiting written orders. But he kissed her, and let her push him back down into the bed as if he had nothing else to do by continuing to show her affection within this room. He kissed her, and deepened the kiss at her suggestion that his work could wait. He wasn’t so sure that it could, but he was certain that his days of loving her were numbered.
After all, Elias would scarcely let him live after what he’d done. The world could wait.
His hands moved to her hips, settling them against the firmness there. ”I could be persuaded to stay, wife.” He took his lip into his teeth, sucking on the plump skin, ”The world shall continue on without us for an hour or two, yes?” It was unlike him to suggest such a thing, but he wanted to make her happy. And if that meant his duty would be delayed, then so be it.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Aimias was no saint. He was a man who had desires just like others. His personality was what usually kept him from ever acting on them. After all, his awkward constitution had been the reason why she had been clueless to his previous affections. He had tried, in his own way, to tell her how he felt, only to have her leave with a second glance back. And there was little he could do about it. He wasn’t a boy who had gone after what he wanted (and he couldn’t have said for sure that he wanted her like that, anyway).
But he was a man now, who had known women and who knew his own mind. So it was easier for him to give into his want of her, especially when she had so earnestly begged for him to pay her mind.
He had taken her that morning for the simple want of her, as if he wasn’t sure that he was man enough to bring her the pleasure she deserved. And by the time he realized that he wanted her again, too, it was easy for him to take her.
The man knew he shouldn’t spend any more time in bed. They had avoided his responsibilities long enough, and if he wasn’t noticed among the usual men waiting outside the senate, surely it would be noticed by those who cared. And those who shouldn’t. He knew that he needed to get up, to keep her safe by fulfilling his part of the bargain. And yet, with her so warm against him, it felt impossible. How long could he lie here before he was noticed? How long would he be able to avoid his duties?
How long until Elias sent for him?
Her suggestion that he stay a bit long was hard to ignore, when it was obvious that he wanted her again. And yet, he knew he should be completing his morning routine. He could only imagine the stack of letters at his desk, the men at his beckon call reporting in with their findings, awaiting written orders. But he kissed her, and let her push him back down into the bed as if he had nothing else to do by continuing to show her affection within this room. He kissed her, and deepened the kiss at her suggestion that his work could wait. He wasn’t so sure that it could, but he was certain that his days of loving her were numbered.
After all, Elias would scarcely let him live after what he’d done. The world could wait.
His hands moved to her hips, settling them against the firmness there. ”I could be persuaded to stay, wife.” He took his lip into his teeth, sucking on the plump skin, ”The world shall continue on without us for an hour or two, yes?” It was unlike him to suggest such a thing, but he wanted to make her happy. And if that meant his duty would be delayed, then so be it.
Aimias was no saint. He was a man who had desires just like others. His personality was what usually kept him from ever acting on them. After all, his awkward constitution had been the reason why she had been clueless to his previous affections. He had tried, in his own way, to tell her how he felt, only to have her leave with a second glance back. And there was little he could do about it. He wasn’t a boy who had gone after what he wanted (and he couldn’t have said for sure that he wanted her like that, anyway).
But he was a man now, who had known women and who knew his own mind. So it was easier for him to give into his want of her, especially when she had so earnestly begged for him to pay her mind.
He had taken her that morning for the simple want of her, as if he wasn’t sure that he was man enough to bring her the pleasure she deserved. And by the time he realized that he wanted her again, too, it was easy for him to take her.
The man knew he shouldn’t spend any more time in bed. They had avoided his responsibilities long enough, and if he wasn’t noticed among the usual men waiting outside the senate, surely it would be noticed by those who cared. And those who shouldn’t. He knew that he needed to get up, to keep her safe by fulfilling his part of the bargain. And yet, with her so warm against him, it felt impossible. How long could he lie here before he was noticed? How long would he be able to avoid his duties?
How long until Elias sent for him?
Her suggestion that he stay a bit long was hard to ignore, when it was obvious that he wanted her again. And yet, he knew he should be completing his morning routine. He could only imagine the stack of letters at his desk, the men at his beckon call reporting in with their findings, awaiting written orders. But he kissed her, and let her push him back down into the bed as if he had nothing else to do by continuing to show her affection within this room. He kissed her, and deepened the kiss at her suggestion that his work could wait. He wasn’t so sure that it could, but he was certain that his days of loving her were numbered.
After all, Elias would scarcely let him live after what he’d done. The world could wait.
His hands moved to her hips, settling them against the firmness there. ”I could be persuaded to stay, wife.” He took his lip into his teeth, sucking on the plump skin, ”The world shall continue on without us for an hour or two, yes?” It was unlike him to suggest such a thing, but he wanted to make her happy. And if that meant his duty would be delayed, then so be it.
She knew that they both had work to complete. They both had things to do and people to see, but the chances of them having a moment like this again so soon was low. Especially a moment where he was already warm, hard, and wanting. The night before, her solicitation of her want for him against her, it had been one of the best decisions she had made in the last few weeks. You never truly realized how much you needed a person when affection was rarely shared. Only when both of them had stepped past that threshold between their emotions and their wants had Iris recognized how madly she wanted him.
With the sexual appetite of someone who had been starved affection for so long, Iris found that she wanted her husband every second of every day. Every breath that their shared was like a breath of life that she'd been struggling to reach. And she wasn't going to let Aimias go so soon. Not when they were finally showing each other affections far more passionate than the standardized motions required of a wedding night.
For some reason, Iris felt as if she needed to love him now, for she might not get these chances she'd been given again anytime soon.
Things were likely to heat up and the strain that the world around them would put on their relationship would likely color their next few months of their lives together. And she was going to ensure that both were pleased and sated with what little time they had left to lay in each other's company. "The world will absolutely keep moving forward for a few hours," Iris said slowly as she pulled back, gazing down into his face with a warm, affectionate smile. The lady's mind quickly turned from the sweet and affectionate and right to the carnal.
All it took was a slow shifting of her body, leaning up on her knees so that she could reach back and better guide himself into the heat of her. Taking him like this was something that she hadn't done yet, having been more than willing to hand him every bit of control he had wanted the night before and this morning. But now, it was her turn, and as she sunk onto him, joining them in the most delicious of ways, a low hum of pleasure fell off her lips. Tipping her head back just slightly so that she could brush her fingers through her loose locks, she took in a deep breath to steady herself.
Then she was leaning back over her husband, brushing her lips against his jaw with the first few rocking movements of her hips. "Besides," Iris whispered against his skin, "Where else is better than right here, Aimias?" her teeth dragged slowly against his skin, "This is the only place you belong right now."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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She knew that they both had work to complete. They both had things to do and people to see, but the chances of them having a moment like this again so soon was low. Especially a moment where he was already warm, hard, and wanting. The night before, her solicitation of her want for him against her, it had been one of the best decisions she had made in the last few weeks. You never truly realized how much you needed a person when affection was rarely shared. Only when both of them had stepped past that threshold between their emotions and their wants had Iris recognized how madly she wanted him.
With the sexual appetite of someone who had been starved affection for so long, Iris found that she wanted her husband every second of every day. Every breath that their shared was like a breath of life that she'd been struggling to reach. And she wasn't going to let Aimias go so soon. Not when they were finally showing each other affections far more passionate than the standardized motions required of a wedding night.
For some reason, Iris felt as if she needed to love him now, for she might not get these chances she'd been given again anytime soon.
Things were likely to heat up and the strain that the world around them would put on their relationship would likely color their next few months of their lives together. And she was going to ensure that both were pleased and sated with what little time they had left to lay in each other's company. "The world will absolutely keep moving forward for a few hours," Iris said slowly as she pulled back, gazing down into his face with a warm, affectionate smile. The lady's mind quickly turned from the sweet and affectionate and right to the carnal.
All it took was a slow shifting of her body, leaning up on her knees so that she could reach back and better guide himself into the heat of her. Taking him like this was something that she hadn't done yet, having been more than willing to hand him every bit of control he had wanted the night before and this morning. But now, it was her turn, and as she sunk onto him, joining them in the most delicious of ways, a low hum of pleasure fell off her lips. Tipping her head back just slightly so that she could brush her fingers through her loose locks, she took in a deep breath to steady herself.
Then she was leaning back over her husband, brushing her lips against his jaw with the first few rocking movements of her hips. "Besides," Iris whispered against his skin, "Where else is better than right here, Aimias?" her teeth dragged slowly against his skin, "This is the only place you belong right now."
She knew that they both had work to complete. They both had things to do and people to see, but the chances of them having a moment like this again so soon was low. Especially a moment where he was already warm, hard, and wanting. The night before, her solicitation of her want for him against her, it had been one of the best decisions she had made in the last few weeks. You never truly realized how much you needed a person when affection was rarely shared. Only when both of them had stepped past that threshold between their emotions and their wants had Iris recognized how madly she wanted him.
With the sexual appetite of someone who had been starved affection for so long, Iris found that she wanted her husband every second of every day. Every breath that their shared was like a breath of life that she'd been struggling to reach. And she wasn't going to let Aimias go so soon. Not when they were finally showing each other affections far more passionate than the standardized motions required of a wedding night.
For some reason, Iris felt as if she needed to love him now, for she might not get these chances she'd been given again anytime soon.
Things were likely to heat up and the strain that the world around them would put on their relationship would likely color their next few months of their lives together. And she was going to ensure that both were pleased and sated with what little time they had left to lay in each other's company. "The world will absolutely keep moving forward for a few hours," Iris said slowly as she pulled back, gazing down into his face with a warm, affectionate smile. The lady's mind quickly turned from the sweet and affectionate and right to the carnal.
All it took was a slow shifting of her body, leaning up on her knees so that she could reach back and better guide himself into the heat of her. Taking him like this was something that she hadn't done yet, having been more than willing to hand him every bit of control he had wanted the night before and this morning. But now, it was her turn, and as she sunk onto him, joining them in the most delicious of ways, a low hum of pleasure fell off her lips. Tipping her head back just slightly so that she could brush her fingers through her loose locks, she took in a deep breath to steady herself.
Then she was leaning back over her husband, brushing her lips against his jaw with the first few rocking movements of her hips. "Besides," Iris whispered against his skin, "Where else is better than right here, Aimias?" her teeth dragged slowly against his skin, "This is the only place you belong right now."
He wanted the world to stop. And if he could spend the rest of his days in prayer for it to happen, to allow him such a moment of bliss. There wasn't nearly enough time for him to be able to enjoy her, and it felt like death was always over his shoulder, waiting to claim him for Hades for his actions. But right now, things slowed, to the point where he was sure that each breath was a 1/10th of what it should be. And he saw no real reason to fight it.
There was guilt, too. Knowing that he had not been the husband she was hoping he would be… it was hard to accept that he wasn't meeting her expectations. She might have fully well known what she was getting into, but that didn't mean it was right for him to just forget his duty altogether. It was not an acceptable excuse for being a poor husband. But the task of making it right seemed monumental. There was a betrayal of trust, and he was certain that he would have to seek rede from his old friend to make sense of any of it. But for now, with the taste of his wife still on his tongue, he would focus on trying to make amends.
He tried to think back on what his wife had liked, on how to pleasure a woman in the ways that mattered. He was hard enough to want her again and yet was hesitant to make the next move. What if she wasn't interested? Or what if she had found him repulsive? There was an odd sort of uncertainty that overtook him so unexpectedly that he couldn't wrap his head around his own thoughts. But luckily for him, he didn't seem to need to. She was quick to take the reins, guiding his hardness into her slick center in an agonizing motion that caused a low, guttural groan to escape his lips. His hands moved to her hips without a thought, only to steady her motions so not to kill him from the sensations.
Her body was powerful, and he still wasn't used to the fact that it belonged to him.
Thumbs lightly tracing the curves of her hip bones, he wished he had the words of an artist. He wanted to paint her in the light in which he saw her, wanted to describe all the ways in which she totally consumed him. And yet, as usual, words were impossible to find. Any other moment, he might have allowed himself a moment to let his frustration get the better of himself. He would have let her know that he wanted to say more, wanted to woo his way into her heart until the end of their days. But his mind would not let him, and probably wouldn’t have anyway. He was a man of reason, a man who used logic to work through any problem he found himself dealing with.
Love was not logical, and hence the reason he seemed to fail at it.
He would be able to make recompense with his faults on his own time. For now, he let his dominant hand reach up, brushing back her sleep tousled curls as her teeth were on his skin. Head turning, he let his do the same, but this time to his neck, nibbling and tasting her, finding himself addicted to it. “I am sure there are others who would disagree with your notions, my dear.” He said, his voice thick with his attempted humor. “Yet I find myself unable to give a damn.” To drive his point home, he rocked his hips upward into her with her own thrust, showing just how much he could care less about the outside world.
“I find myself unable to focus on anything but the curves of your breast in my hands.” He said, slowly trailing up to cup the mound, thumb lightly brushing the hard, rosy bud. “Or the taste of you on my tongue. Tell me,” He said, searching for the pulse along the smooth line of her neck, “do you like this?” He rocked his hips again, curious if it felt good to her. “I have never had a woman like this to know if it is a pleasurable experience.”
Internally, he was kicking himself for ruining the moment. Why was he trying to make sense of her actions? Why did he always have to find a reason to explain everything?
He was going to be a horrible husband for her.
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He wanted the world to stop. And if he could spend the rest of his days in prayer for it to happen, to allow him such a moment of bliss. There wasn't nearly enough time for him to be able to enjoy her, and it felt like death was always over his shoulder, waiting to claim him for Hades for his actions. But right now, things slowed, to the point where he was sure that each breath was a 1/10th of what it should be. And he saw no real reason to fight it.
There was guilt, too. Knowing that he had not been the husband she was hoping he would be… it was hard to accept that he wasn't meeting her expectations. She might have fully well known what she was getting into, but that didn't mean it was right for him to just forget his duty altogether. It was not an acceptable excuse for being a poor husband. But the task of making it right seemed monumental. There was a betrayal of trust, and he was certain that he would have to seek rede from his old friend to make sense of any of it. But for now, with the taste of his wife still on his tongue, he would focus on trying to make amends.
He tried to think back on what his wife had liked, on how to pleasure a woman in the ways that mattered. He was hard enough to want her again and yet was hesitant to make the next move. What if she wasn't interested? Or what if she had found him repulsive? There was an odd sort of uncertainty that overtook him so unexpectedly that he couldn't wrap his head around his own thoughts. But luckily for him, he didn't seem to need to. She was quick to take the reins, guiding his hardness into her slick center in an agonizing motion that caused a low, guttural groan to escape his lips. His hands moved to her hips without a thought, only to steady her motions so not to kill him from the sensations.
Her body was powerful, and he still wasn't used to the fact that it belonged to him.
Thumbs lightly tracing the curves of her hip bones, he wished he had the words of an artist. He wanted to paint her in the light in which he saw her, wanted to describe all the ways in which she totally consumed him. And yet, as usual, words were impossible to find. Any other moment, he might have allowed himself a moment to let his frustration get the better of himself. He would have let her know that he wanted to say more, wanted to woo his way into her heart until the end of their days. But his mind would not let him, and probably wouldn’t have anyway. He was a man of reason, a man who used logic to work through any problem he found himself dealing with.
Love was not logical, and hence the reason he seemed to fail at it.
He would be able to make recompense with his faults on his own time. For now, he let his dominant hand reach up, brushing back her sleep tousled curls as her teeth were on his skin. Head turning, he let his do the same, but this time to his neck, nibbling and tasting her, finding himself addicted to it. “I am sure there are others who would disagree with your notions, my dear.” He said, his voice thick with his attempted humor. “Yet I find myself unable to give a damn.” To drive his point home, he rocked his hips upward into her with her own thrust, showing just how much he could care less about the outside world.
“I find myself unable to focus on anything but the curves of your breast in my hands.” He said, slowly trailing up to cup the mound, thumb lightly brushing the hard, rosy bud. “Or the taste of you on my tongue. Tell me,” He said, searching for the pulse along the smooth line of her neck, “do you like this?” He rocked his hips again, curious if it felt good to her. “I have never had a woman like this to know if it is a pleasurable experience.”
Internally, he was kicking himself for ruining the moment. Why was he trying to make sense of her actions? Why did he always have to find a reason to explain everything?
He was going to be a horrible husband for her.
He wanted the world to stop. And if he could spend the rest of his days in prayer for it to happen, to allow him such a moment of bliss. There wasn't nearly enough time for him to be able to enjoy her, and it felt like death was always over his shoulder, waiting to claim him for Hades for his actions. But right now, things slowed, to the point where he was sure that each breath was a 1/10th of what it should be. And he saw no real reason to fight it.
There was guilt, too. Knowing that he had not been the husband she was hoping he would be… it was hard to accept that he wasn't meeting her expectations. She might have fully well known what she was getting into, but that didn't mean it was right for him to just forget his duty altogether. It was not an acceptable excuse for being a poor husband. But the task of making it right seemed monumental. There was a betrayal of trust, and he was certain that he would have to seek rede from his old friend to make sense of any of it. But for now, with the taste of his wife still on his tongue, he would focus on trying to make amends.
He tried to think back on what his wife had liked, on how to pleasure a woman in the ways that mattered. He was hard enough to want her again and yet was hesitant to make the next move. What if she wasn't interested? Or what if she had found him repulsive? There was an odd sort of uncertainty that overtook him so unexpectedly that he couldn't wrap his head around his own thoughts. But luckily for him, he didn't seem to need to. She was quick to take the reins, guiding his hardness into her slick center in an agonizing motion that caused a low, guttural groan to escape his lips. His hands moved to her hips without a thought, only to steady her motions so not to kill him from the sensations.
Her body was powerful, and he still wasn't used to the fact that it belonged to him.
Thumbs lightly tracing the curves of her hip bones, he wished he had the words of an artist. He wanted to paint her in the light in which he saw her, wanted to describe all the ways in which she totally consumed him. And yet, as usual, words were impossible to find. Any other moment, he might have allowed himself a moment to let his frustration get the better of himself. He would have let her know that he wanted to say more, wanted to woo his way into her heart until the end of their days. But his mind would not let him, and probably wouldn’t have anyway. He was a man of reason, a man who used logic to work through any problem he found himself dealing with.
Love was not logical, and hence the reason he seemed to fail at it.
He would be able to make recompense with his faults on his own time. For now, he let his dominant hand reach up, brushing back her sleep tousled curls as her teeth were on his skin. Head turning, he let his do the same, but this time to his neck, nibbling and tasting her, finding himself addicted to it. “I am sure there are others who would disagree with your notions, my dear.” He said, his voice thick with his attempted humor. “Yet I find myself unable to give a damn.” To drive his point home, he rocked his hips upward into her with her own thrust, showing just how much he could care less about the outside world.
“I find myself unable to focus on anything but the curves of your breast in my hands.” He said, slowly trailing up to cup the mound, thumb lightly brushing the hard, rosy bud. “Or the taste of you on my tongue. Tell me,” He said, searching for the pulse along the smooth line of her neck, “do you like this?” He rocked his hips again, curious if it felt good to her. “I have never had a woman like this to know if it is a pleasurable experience.”
Internally, he was kicking himself for ruining the moment. Why was he trying to make sense of her actions? Why did he always have to find a reason to explain everything?
He was going to be a horrible husband for her.
For all of Iris' own logic, love was not something she tried to put into its own little logical box. Love, true love, was not a game of logic that she tried to play in order to see how best she could win. To her, she had already won in love. Her first love would be her last, she was sure, because she could only imagine happiness from here on out. She could only imagine the happy moments, the ones that had not come to pass but absolutely would. Because there was nothing else in her mind but absolutes. Though she had once love Elias of Stravos, and maybe she still did a little bit, it was Aimias who had always held the pieces of her heart she hadn't been able to give others.
She had not been jealous when she'd heard that Aimias had married the first time. Iris knew that she had done him wrong when she'd run out on him, leaving him just as heartbroken as she had left herself. But through trials and through their own heartbreaks, they'd still ended up back here. Though their marriage was one of convenience, there was no doubt in Iris' own mind that she was truly and warmly in love with this man. What he felt, she did not know, but she knew that love was there with them.
"They simply do not know the true pleasures or joys of getting to-... oh..." her entire train of thought broke off in that moment, the rocking of his hips back against her turning her mind away from anything to do with speech. Not when the pads of his fingers trailed along her skin, her breasts, the hard little bud that was just one signal of her complete arousal in this moment. But then his fingers were gone, trailing up against her pulse and holding her there as he rocked his hips up into her for a second time. This time she was well and truly lost for thought. It was hard to focus on the words that fell off his own lips and she was struggling to make sense of which way was up or down at all.
The soft moan that tumbled from her lips, her brows furrowed in both concentration and pleasure, was keening, inviting. "Yes," was the only word she could think of, both a plea and an answer in one. Then, "Again," she mumbled, resolve to silence his speech with her own lips and her tongue, hoping that he could focus less on the words on his mind and more on the feel of her around him. Her own fingers trailed down the front of his chest, intent on using him as leverage to brace herself so that she could silence him with more than just her mouth, but also her body.
There was more to life than overthinking every little thing, and though Iris understood how his mind worked, for just one morning, she wanted him to feel free of anything resembling his anxieties. Even if it was shortlived.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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For all of Iris' own logic, love was not something she tried to put into its own little logical box. Love, true love, was not a game of logic that she tried to play in order to see how best she could win. To her, she had already won in love. Her first love would be her last, she was sure, because she could only imagine happiness from here on out. She could only imagine the happy moments, the ones that had not come to pass but absolutely would. Because there was nothing else in her mind but absolutes. Though she had once love Elias of Stravos, and maybe she still did a little bit, it was Aimias who had always held the pieces of her heart she hadn't been able to give others.
She had not been jealous when she'd heard that Aimias had married the first time. Iris knew that she had done him wrong when she'd run out on him, leaving him just as heartbroken as she had left herself. But through trials and through their own heartbreaks, they'd still ended up back here. Though their marriage was one of convenience, there was no doubt in Iris' own mind that she was truly and warmly in love with this man. What he felt, she did not know, but she knew that love was there with them.
"They simply do not know the true pleasures or joys of getting to-... oh..." her entire train of thought broke off in that moment, the rocking of his hips back against her turning her mind away from anything to do with speech. Not when the pads of his fingers trailed along her skin, her breasts, the hard little bud that was just one signal of her complete arousal in this moment. But then his fingers were gone, trailing up against her pulse and holding her there as he rocked his hips up into her for a second time. This time she was well and truly lost for thought. It was hard to focus on the words that fell off his own lips and she was struggling to make sense of which way was up or down at all.
The soft moan that tumbled from her lips, her brows furrowed in both concentration and pleasure, was keening, inviting. "Yes," was the only word she could think of, both a plea and an answer in one. Then, "Again," she mumbled, resolve to silence his speech with her own lips and her tongue, hoping that he could focus less on the words on his mind and more on the feel of her around him. Her own fingers trailed down the front of his chest, intent on using him as leverage to brace herself so that she could silence him with more than just her mouth, but also her body.
There was more to life than overthinking every little thing, and though Iris understood how his mind worked, for just one morning, she wanted him to feel free of anything resembling his anxieties. Even if it was shortlived.
For all of Iris' own logic, love was not something she tried to put into its own little logical box. Love, true love, was not a game of logic that she tried to play in order to see how best she could win. To her, she had already won in love. Her first love would be her last, she was sure, because she could only imagine happiness from here on out. She could only imagine the happy moments, the ones that had not come to pass but absolutely would. Because there was nothing else in her mind but absolutes. Though she had once love Elias of Stravos, and maybe she still did a little bit, it was Aimias who had always held the pieces of her heart she hadn't been able to give others.
She had not been jealous when she'd heard that Aimias had married the first time. Iris knew that she had done him wrong when she'd run out on him, leaving him just as heartbroken as she had left herself. But through trials and through their own heartbreaks, they'd still ended up back here. Though their marriage was one of convenience, there was no doubt in Iris' own mind that she was truly and warmly in love with this man. What he felt, she did not know, but she knew that love was there with them.
"They simply do not know the true pleasures or joys of getting to-... oh..." her entire train of thought broke off in that moment, the rocking of his hips back against her turning her mind away from anything to do with speech. Not when the pads of his fingers trailed along her skin, her breasts, the hard little bud that was just one signal of her complete arousal in this moment. But then his fingers were gone, trailing up against her pulse and holding her there as he rocked his hips up into her for a second time. This time she was well and truly lost for thought. It was hard to focus on the words that fell off his own lips and she was struggling to make sense of which way was up or down at all.
The soft moan that tumbled from her lips, her brows furrowed in both concentration and pleasure, was keening, inviting. "Yes," was the only word she could think of, both a plea and an answer in one. Then, "Again," she mumbled, resolve to silence his speech with her own lips and her tongue, hoping that he could focus less on the words on his mind and more on the feel of her around him. Her own fingers trailed down the front of his chest, intent on using him as leverage to brace herself so that she could silence him with more than just her mouth, but also her body.
There was more to life than overthinking every little thing, and though Iris understood how his mind worked, for just one morning, she wanted him to feel free of anything resembling his anxieties. Even if it was shortlived.
Smug male satisfaction was never something he’d known. Even in his younger days, he didn’t really understand what would drive a man to feel gratification simply in the fact that he was a man. He didn’t understand the need to conquer, like so many others did. And yet, with her moaning the way she was, he couldn’t deny that he felt powerful underneath her. And power made men hungry for more. But for him, there was no drive for more, only the need to make sure that she continued to moan.
That sound made him feel powerful, and that was the only thing he needed. That was his only satisfaction.
He refused to stop the motion, would not refuse her begging. Aimias did exactly as she asked, because he seemed to need it just as much as she had. His hips attempted a rhythm, but he was no musician, so he was unsure if he was even keeping the pace as she should have expected. He knew he was worrying too much, but he was also terrified to disappoint her. And she was right to worry about him overthinking the situation, because it was exactly what he was doing at that very moment.
Rocking his hips firmly, hands tight against her flesh, he was determined to find release with her this time. Her pace was easy to keep, but it was more that he was distracted simply by the sight of her on top of him that he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep going like this. It was easy to see that she was moving to kiss him, so he let his one hand snake up her body, grasping her neck firmly to pull her face to his. Claiming her lips, he wanted to consume every sound that came out of her mouth, wanted to keep track of every different sign of enjoyment that she gave. He was a student, first and foremost, and was set on being a good study on the matter.
He felt the need for release growing, praying to the Gods that she was close, too. His hips continued to rock, the memory of her moans and the taste of her still on his tongue. He had found too much pleasure in taking her so early in the morning, and the memory of the moments before were rushing him far quicker than he wished to be. He moaned into her lips, his body tensing as he tried to keep himself from releasing before her.
Aimias was not an experienced lover and neither had his first wife been a master of it. They had set themselves to learn together, to find common pleasure and work to become better at the act But Iris knew what she was doing, seemed to know exactly how to make him lose any control he may have had. So while he was trying his best to wait, he was failing. On the brink, his eyes closed tightly as he hoped that she would find release as he body began to tremble with the beginnings of his own.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Smug male satisfaction was never something he’d known. Even in his younger days, he didn’t really understand what would drive a man to feel gratification simply in the fact that he was a man. He didn’t understand the need to conquer, like so many others did. And yet, with her moaning the way she was, he couldn’t deny that he felt powerful underneath her. And power made men hungry for more. But for him, there was no drive for more, only the need to make sure that she continued to moan.
That sound made him feel powerful, and that was the only thing he needed. That was his only satisfaction.
He refused to stop the motion, would not refuse her begging. Aimias did exactly as she asked, because he seemed to need it just as much as she had. His hips attempted a rhythm, but he was no musician, so he was unsure if he was even keeping the pace as she should have expected. He knew he was worrying too much, but he was also terrified to disappoint her. And she was right to worry about him overthinking the situation, because it was exactly what he was doing at that very moment.
Rocking his hips firmly, hands tight against her flesh, he was determined to find release with her this time. Her pace was easy to keep, but it was more that he was distracted simply by the sight of her on top of him that he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep going like this. It was easy to see that she was moving to kiss him, so he let his one hand snake up her body, grasping her neck firmly to pull her face to his. Claiming her lips, he wanted to consume every sound that came out of her mouth, wanted to keep track of every different sign of enjoyment that she gave. He was a student, first and foremost, and was set on being a good study on the matter.
He felt the need for release growing, praying to the Gods that she was close, too. His hips continued to rock, the memory of her moans and the taste of her still on his tongue. He had found too much pleasure in taking her so early in the morning, and the memory of the moments before were rushing him far quicker than he wished to be. He moaned into her lips, his body tensing as he tried to keep himself from releasing before her.
Aimias was not an experienced lover and neither had his first wife been a master of it. They had set themselves to learn together, to find common pleasure and work to become better at the act But Iris knew what she was doing, seemed to know exactly how to make him lose any control he may have had. So while he was trying his best to wait, he was failing. On the brink, his eyes closed tightly as he hoped that she would find release as he body began to tremble with the beginnings of his own.
Smug male satisfaction was never something he’d known. Even in his younger days, he didn’t really understand what would drive a man to feel gratification simply in the fact that he was a man. He didn’t understand the need to conquer, like so many others did. And yet, with her moaning the way she was, he couldn’t deny that he felt powerful underneath her. And power made men hungry for more. But for him, there was no drive for more, only the need to make sure that she continued to moan.
That sound made him feel powerful, and that was the only thing he needed. That was his only satisfaction.
He refused to stop the motion, would not refuse her begging. Aimias did exactly as she asked, because he seemed to need it just as much as she had. His hips attempted a rhythm, but he was no musician, so he was unsure if he was even keeping the pace as she should have expected. He knew he was worrying too much, but he was also terrified to disappoint her. And she was right to worry about him overthinking the situation, because it was exactly what he was doing at that very moment.
Rocking his hips firmly, hands tight against her flesh, he was determined to find release with her this time. Her pace was easy to keep, but it was more that he was distracted simply by the sight of her on top of him that he didn’t know how long he would be able to keep going like this. It was easy to see that she was moving to kiss him, so he let his one hand snake up her body, grasping her neck firmly to pull her face to his. Claiming her lips, he wanted to consume every sound that came out of her mouth, wanted to keep track of every different sign of enjoyment that she gave. He was a student, first and foremost, and was set on being a good study on the matter.
He felt the need for release growing, praying to the Gods that she was close, too. His hips continued to rock, the memory of her moans and the taste of her still on his tongue. He had found too much pleasure in taking her so early in the morning, and the memory of the moments before were rushing him far quicker than he wished to be. He moaned into her lips, his body tensing as he tried to keep himself from releasing before her.
Aimias was not an experienced lover and neither had his first wife been a master of it. They had set themselves to learn together, to find common pleasure and work to become better at the act But Iris knew what she was doing, seemed to know exactly how to make him lose any control he may have had. So while he was trying his best to wait, he was failing. On the brink, his eyes closed tightly as he hoped that she would find release as he body began to tremble with the beginnings of his own.
She was close. So very, very close. Her husband's hand at the back of her neck sent heat trailing sharply down her spine, their lips claiming one another at the sharper rocking of his hips. Iris had experience, but not in lovemaking such as this. The tenderness of it was the most stalling part. The desperation of it so characteristic of what she had been feeling for the last few weeks that she was wholly consumed by it. And him. His hands, his mouth, his breath, his body. It was hard not to find herself distracted even now. The world was starting to move around them, but they were still there, wrapped up in each other the way that they should have been from the very beginning of their union.
Aimias seemed so afraid of finding his pleasure without her, but he would quickly come to know that she was incredibly easy and had been teetering on the edge for such a long time, only to be making a stark attempt to get him to join her in such bliss. Breaking their kiss, Iris focused on just resting her forehead against his as the last few movements of her hips finally brought him, and her, to that sharp peak once more. Having to take a sharp breath, her mind and body body dizzy with pleasure, the woman kissed him hard once more as they fell over that edge together, intent on keeping his body close to her own for as long as she possibly could.
She was in no rush to get to work and to have a few moments of utter peace with her husband was something she craved even more than his body. Though, her mind wandered with thoughts of never leaving their marriage bed at all that day and keeping him hostage between her thighs until neither could move nor think about anything outside of their bedchamber. But Iris was characteristically herself and knew that would not happen. She liked to work and she had much to do.
That did not, however, stop her from settling herself against his side as they both came down from their delightful high together. An arm draped over his chest, she nuzzled into his shoulder, even nipping his collarbone lightly. "You cannot tell me you don't think of that all the time," Iris said softly against his skin, bringing her green gaze back to his face. There was a hint of humor in her voice and on her lips, the intent being to tease her husband into admitting that he did actually want her more than he usually let on. "You know that I will never once complain if you lay me across my desk. I'm sure Gaios could find something else to do with his time if the desire arose," she tempted him, her smile growing much brighter in that moment.
A picture of happiness and total bliss in the moment. Something that would be quickly broken with the sharp knocking upon their door and a declaration that there was a letter for the two of them, its contents being urgent and about little Phillipa.
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She was close. So very, very close. Her husband's hand at the back of her neck sent heat trailing sharply down her spine, their lips claiming one another at the sharper rocking of his hips. Iris had experience, but not in lovemaking such as this. The tenderness of it was the most stalling part. The desperation of it so characteristic of what she had been feeling for the last few weeks that she was wholly consumed by it. And him. His hands, his mouth, his breath, his body. It was hard not to find herself distracted even now. The world was starting to move around them, but they were still there, wrapped up in each other the way that they should have been from the very beginning of their union.
Aimias seemed so afraid of finding his pleasure without her, but he would quickly come to know that she was incredibly easy and had been teetering on the edge for such a long time, only to be making a stark attempt to get him to join her in such bliss. Breaking their kiss, Iris focused on just resting her forehead against his as the last few movements of her hips finally brought him, and her, to that sharp peak once more. Having to take a sharp breath, her mind and body body dizzy with pleasure, the woman kissed him hard once more as they fell over that edge together, intent on keeping his body close to her own for as long as she possibly could.
She was in no rush to get to work and to have a few moments of utter peace with her husband was something she craved even more than his body. Though, her mind wandered with thoughts of never leaving their marriage bed at all that day and keeping him hostage between her thighs until neither could move nor think about anything outside of their bedchamber. But Iris was characteristically herself and knew that would not happen. She liked to work and she had much to do.
That did not, however, stop her from settling herself against his side as they both came down from their delightful high together. An arm draped over his chest, she nuzzled into his shoulder, even nipping his collarbone lightly. "You cannot tell me you don't think of that all the time," Iris said softly against his skin, bringing her green gaze back to his face. There was a hint of humor in her voice and on her lips, the intent being to tease her husband into admitting that he did actually want her more than he usually let on. "You know that I will never once complain if you lay me across my desk. I'm sure Gaios could find something else to do with his time if the desire arose," she tempted him, her smile growing much brighter in that moment.
A picture of happiness and total bliss in the moment. Something that would be quickly broken with the sharp knocking upon their door and a declaration that there was a letter for the two of them, its contents being urgent and about little Phillipa.
She was close. So very, very close. Her husband's hand at the back of her neck sent heat trailing sharply down her spine, their lips claiming one another at the sharper rocking of his hips. Iris had experience, but not in lovemaking such as this. The tenderness of it was the most stalling part. The desperation of it so characteristic of what she had been feeling for the last few weeks that she was wholly consumed by it. And him. His hands, his mouth, his breath, his body. It was hard not to find herself distracted even now. The world was starting to move around them, but they were still there, wrapped up in each other the way that they should have been from the very beginning of their union.
Aimias seemed so afraid of finding his pleasure without her, but he would quickly come to know that she was incredibly easy and had been teetering on the edge for such a long time, only to be making a stark attempt to get him to join her in such bliss. Breaking their kiss, Iris focused on just resting her forehead against his as the last few movements of her hips finally brought him, and her, to that sharp peak once more. Having to take a sharp breath, her mind and body body dizzy with pleasure, the woman kissed him hard once more as they fell over that edge together, intent on keeping his body close to her own for as long as she possibly could.
She was in no rush to get to work and to have a few moments of utter peace with her husband was something she craved even more than his body. Though, her mind wandered with thoughts of never leaving their marriage bed at all that day and keeping him hostage between her thighs until neither could move nor think about anything outside of their bedchamber. But Iris was characteristically herself and knew that would not happen. She liked to work and she had much to do.
That did not, however, stop her from settling herself against his side as they both came down from their delightful high together. An arm draped over his chest, she nuzzled into his shoulder, even nipping his collarbone lightly. "You cannot tell me you don't think of that all the time," Iris said softly against his skin, bringing her green gaze back to his face. There was a hint of humor in her voice and on her lips, the intent being to tease her husband into admitting that he did actually want her more than he usually let on. "You know that I will never once complain if you lay me across my desk. I'm sure Gaios could find something else to do with his time if the desire arose," she tempted him, her smile growing much brighter in that moment.
A picture of happiness and total bliss in the moment. Something that would be quickly broken with the sharp knocking upon their door and a declaration that there was a letter for the two of them, its contents being urgent and about little Phillipa.
He knew that he would look back on this moment and worry about every motion, about every word he spoke in a haze of passion. Aimias certainly couldn’t claim to be a poet, even with his scholarly ways-- and yet he wondered if he could even attempt a sonnet about her body. Could he find a word to compare the lustiness of her moans? Could he paint the line of her body with words?
As she started to tremble above him, any thought went out the window. The need was animalist in them all, even with as shy as he was. And her trust in him to protect her, to bring her to her peak and catch her at the top, was almost as powerful as her moans. His pace picked up, all focus on the buildup, on watching her come with him once more. It was impossible for him to miss the signs of her own release, of the tightening of her walls around him, her nails rough against his skin as she tumbled.
Aimias was not far behind her.
He was a reserved man in many ways, and that very much carried over into his own release. There was no loud moan of satisfaction and very little warning except to someone who was paying attention. No, there was simply the quickening and depth of his pace and the shallow breathing that came with him. With a soft grunt, his breathing easing as he tumbled over the edge with her. Aimias let his hands rest on her hip bones, until she tucked herself into him. He was slowing his breathing, holding her selfishly close.
With her laugh, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed being in bed with her like this. “I wish I could lie to you and tell you that I do.” He said with his cheeks pink, “But I certainly will after this.” He nuzzled the side of her face, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “And I may have to take you up on that office thing. Yours though. Not mine.” He was far too particular about his own office. And with that note, he was smiling. He was trying not to think about what would happen when she found out.
He debated telling her. Aimias had every intention of telling her, and this felt like a right moment. And as he tried to form the words, they were interrupted. He sat up, wrapping a sheet around his waist. Slipping out of bed, he intercepted the letter. Opening it, he read it carefully. And he paled. “Phillipa’s sick.” There was a lump in his throat, “They are worried about her enough. Say she’s too weak to get out of bed. Trouble breathing.” Handing her the letter, his hands were shaking.
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He knew that he would look back on this moment and worry about every motion, about every word he spoke in a haze of passion. Aimias certainly couldn’t claim to be a poet, even with his scholarly ways-- and yet he wondered if he could even attempt a sonnet about her body. Could he find a word to compare the lustiness of her moans? Could he paint the line of her body with words?
As she started to tremble above him, any thought went out the window. The need was animalist in them all, even with as shy as he was. And her trust in him to protect her, to bring her to her peak and catch her at the top, was almost as powerful as her moans. His pace picked up, all focus on the buildup, on watching her come with him once more. It was impossible for him to miss the signs of her own release, of the tightening of her walls around him, her nails rough against his skin as she tumbled.
Aimias was not far behind her.
He was a reserved man in many ways, and that very much carried over into his own release. There was no loud moan of satisfaction and very little warning except to someone who was paying attention. No, there was simply the quickening and depth of his pace and the shallow breathing that came with him. With a soft grunt, his breathing easing as he tumbled over the edge with her. Aimias let his hands rest on her hip bones, until she tucked herself into him. He was slowing his breathing, holding her selfishly close.
With her laugh, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed being in bed with her like this. “I wish I could lie to you and tell you that I do.” He said with his cheeks pink, “But I certainly will after this.” He nuzzled the side of her face, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “And I may have to take you up on that office thing. Yours though. Not mine.” He was far too particular about his own office. And with that note, he was smiling. He was trying not to think about what would happen when she found out.
He debated telling her. Aimias had every intention of telling her, and this felt like a right moment. And as he tried to form the words, they were interrupted. He sat up, wrapping a sheet around his waist. Slipping out of bed, he intercepted the letter. Opening it, he read it carefully. And he paled. “Phillipa’s sick.” There was a lump in his throat, “They are worried about her enough. Say she’s too weak to get out of bed. Trouble breathing.” Handing her the letter, his hands were shaking.
He knew that he would look back on this moment and worry about every motion, about every word he spoke in a haze of passion. Aimias certainly couldn’t claim to be a poet, even with his scholarly ways-- and yet he wondered if he could even attempt a sonnet about her body. Could he find a word to compare the lustiness of her moans? Could he paint the line of her body with words?
As she started to tremble above him, any thought went out the window. The need was animalist in them all, even with as shy as he was. And her trust in him to protect her, to bring her to her peak and catch her at the top, was almost as powerful as her moans. His pace picked up, all focus on the buildup, on watching her come with him once more. It was impossible for him to miss the signs of her own release, of the tightening of her walls around him, her nails rough against his skin as she tumbled.
Aimias was not far behind her.
He was a reserved man in many ways, and that very much carried over into his own release. There was no loud moan of satisfaction and very little warning except to someone who was paying attention. No, there was simply the quickening and depth of his pace and the shallow breathing that came with him. With a soft grunt, his breathing easing as he tumbled over the edge with her. Aimias let his hands rest on her hip bones, until she tucked herself into him. He was slowing his breathing, holding her selfishly close.
With her laugh, he couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed being in bed with her like this. “I wish I could lie to you and tell you that I do.” He said with his cheeks pink, “But I certainly will after this.” He nuzzled the side of her face, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “And I may have to take you up on that office thing. Yours though. Not mine.” He was far too particular about his own office. And with that note, he was smiling. He was trying not to think about what would happen when she found out.
He debated telling her. Aimias had every intention of telling her, and this felt like a right moment. And as he tried to form the words, they were interrupted. He sat up, wrapping a sheet around his waist. Slipping out of bed, he intercepted the letter. Opening it, he read it carefully. And he paled. “Phillipa’s sick.” There was a lump in his throat, “They are worried about her enough. Say she’s too weak to get out of bed. Trouble breathing.” Handing her the letter, his hands were shaking.
If there was anything that Iris had gotten used to looking for in his features, it was the knitting of his brow and the soft exhale that always accentuated his release. Something that turned her on far more than anyone else had in the past. Warm, sated, and listening to his breathing slow as she settled against his chest, Iris was intent not to leave his arms for just a little bit longer. As long as she could manage to keep him enraptured with her despite the work that they both had to do. Everything was so much better with his warmth against her. Less lonely and uncertain.
For the moment, there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, and she found herself laughing softly when he admitted to liking the idea of surprising her in her office. With her lips grazing his jaw slowly, Iris hummed soft words of encouragement, "I don't mind if we make a mess of my office," she purred softly, "I'm going to keep thinking of your hands in my hair all day, now," his wife teased.
When the letter was announced, Iris shifted so that she could sit up, pulling a blanket up against her chest to give her a bit of modesty when Aimias opened the door. And then he was coming back toward her with the letter in hand, reading it and explaining the contents to her. Immediately reaching and taking it from him, Iris read it over herself.
Then her green eyes lifted to his face. "You need to go to her, Aimias," Iris said quickly, starting to get out of bed. "We both do," she said softly, her brows furrowed. "Now. This morning. No more work," she shook her head firmly, her features knit with concern. She was serious, and she would fight him if he decided that he wasn't going to leave with her. She would dig her heels in if it came to it. It was the only thing she could think of to drive the point home and instill some bit of urgency in him.
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If there was anything that Iris had gotten used to looking for in his features, it was the knitting of his brow and the soft exhale that always accentuated his release. Something that turned her on far more than anyone else had in the past. Warm, sated, and listening to his breathing slow as she settled against his chest, Iris was intent not to leave his arms for just a little bit longer. As long as she could manage to keep him enraptured with her despite the work that they both had to do. Everything was so much better with his warmth against her. Less lonely and uncertain.
For the moment, there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, and she found herself laughing softly when he admitted to liking the idea of surprising her in her office. With her lips grazing his jaw slowly, Iris hummed soft words of encouragement, "I don't mind if we make a mess of my office," she purred softly, "I'm going to keep thinking of your hands in my hair all day, now," his wife teased.
When the letter was announced, Iris shifted so that she could sit up, pulling a blanket up against her chest to give her a bit of modesty when Aimias opened the door. And then he was coming back toward her with the letter in hand, reading it and explaining the contents to her. Immediately reaching and taking it from him, Iris read it over herself.
Then her green eyes lifted to his face. "You need to go to her, Aimias," Iris said quickly, starting to get out of bed. "We both do," she said softly, her brows furrowed. "Now. This morning. No more work," she shook her head firmly, her features knit with concern. She was serious, and she would fight him if he decided that he wasn't going to leave with her. She would dig her heels in if it came to it. It was the only thing she could think of to drive the point home and instill some bit of urgency in him.
If there was anything that Iris had gotten used to looking for in his features, it was the knitting of his brow and the soft exhale that always accentuated his release. Something that turned her on far more than anyone else had in the past. Warm, sated, and listening to his breathing slow as she settled against his chest, Iris was intent not to leave his arms for just a little bit longer. As long as she could manage to keep him enraptured with her despite the work that they both had to do. Everything was so much better with his warmth against her. Less lonely and uncertain.
For the moment, there was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, and she found herself laughing softly when he admitted to liking the idea of surprising her in her office. With her lips grazing his jaw slowly, Iris hummed soft words of encouragement, "I don't mind if we make a mess of my office," she purred softly, "I'm going to keep thinking of your hands in my hair all day, now," his wife teased.
When the letter was announced, Iris shifted so that she could sit up, pulling a blanket up against her chest to give her a bit of modesty when Aimias opened the door. And then he was coming back toward her with the letter in hand, reading it and explaining the contents to her. Immediately reaching and taking it from him, Iris read it over herself.
Then her green eyes lifted to his face. "You need to go to her, Aimias," Iris said quickly, starting to get out of bed. "We both do," she said softly, her brows furrowed. "Now. This morning. No more work," she shook her head firmly, her features knit with concern. She was serious, and she would fight him if he decided that he wasn't going to leave with her. She would dig her heels in if it came to it. It was the only thing she could think of to drive the point home and instill some bit of urgency in him.
As he slipped from the bed, he thought to pack his things. There was a bitterness in his chest, knowing that he should have been with her through all this, but knowing in his heart he had done the right thing by keeping her in the country. While he was just beginning to develop a close relationship to his talkative, almost 3 year old child, Phillipa was still a bit of an anomaly to him. It had taken him too long to really connect, and now he was worried that she would be ripped from the world like her mother had. Fear ripped though him, knowing exactly where he needed to be. “No.”
But he heard Elias in the back of his mind, knowing that his leaving would be far more detrimental than if he had just stayed. Things were unstable in the kingdom, and his last interaction with the man had been volatile. If he left now, he knew that there would be no keeping him away from Emilia. He had made a promise to both King and Queen that he would protect her.
“You must go ahead of me.” He said firmly, the shaking from his voice gone as he came to terms with what must happen. “She will want you more, and I must see a few things in the Capitol before I leave.” He knew he should follow her, should rush to his daughter’s side to make sure she was well. The letter had made it appear as if she was deathly ill, that writing would not have happened unless…
He knew he might regret this later. But he also knew that having Iris in the country was a safer option for her too. He could be a bit more decisive with her gone, less worried about what the man might do to her and more focus on his own goals. He could have more open conversations with those to gauge their side of this fight. And he knew that he could make bigger risks, too. “I shall not be more than a few days. But I have work here that I must complete before I can quit the Capitol. I need you to go.” He’d been quietly looking for a reason to send her off, to beg her to go. This, he knew, would most likely be the only thing to make her go.
And he hoped that one day he would be able to tell her how much it had broken him not to follow.
His back was to her, dressing in his usual attire of dark chitons and sandals. He would miss her, already hating the fact that his bed would be cold without her. A part of his soul would go, slowly chipping away at the parts of him that mattered. Gods, he would miss her. But he was not going back until he was certain he could put protections in place for Emilia as well.
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As he slipped from the bed, he thought to pack his things. There was a bitterness in his chest, knowing that he should have been with her through all this, but knowing in his heart he had done the right thing by keeping her in the country. While he was just beginning to develop a close relationship to his talkative, almost 3 year old child, Phillipa was still a bit of an anomaly to him. It had taken him too long to really connect, and now he was worried that she would be ripped from the world like her mother had. Fear ripped though him, knowing exactly where he needed to be. “No.”
But he heard Elias in the back of his mind, knowing that his leaving would be far more detrimental than if he had just stayed. Things were unstable in the kingdom, and his last interaction with the man had been volatile. If he left now, he knew that there would be no keeping him away from Emilia. He had made a promise to both King and Queen that he would protect her.
“You must go ahead of me.” He said firmly, the shaking from his voice gone as he came to terms with what must happen. “She will want you more, and I must see a few things in the Capitol before I leave.” He knew he should follow her, should rush to his daughter’s side to make sure she was well. The letter had made it appear as if she was deathly ill, that writing would not have happened unless…
He knew he might regret this later. But he also knew that having Iris in the country was a safer option for her too. He could be a bit more decisive with her gone, less worried about what the man might do to her and more focus on his own goals. He could have more open conversations with those to gauge their side of this fight. And he knew that he could make bigger risks, too. “I shall not be more than a few days. But I have work here that I must complete before I can quit the Capitol. I need you to go.” He’d been quietly looking for a reason to send her off, to beg her to go. This, he knew, would most likely be the only thing to make her go.
And he hoped that one day he would be able to tell her how much it had broken him not to follow.
His back was to her, dressing in his usual attire of dark chitons and sandals. He would miss her, already hating the fact that his bed would be cold without her. A part of his soul would go, slowly chipping away at the parts of him that mattered. Gods, he would miss her. But he was not going back until he was certain he could put protections in place for Emilia as well.
As he slipped from the bed, he thought to pack his things. There was a bitterness in his chest, knowing that he should have been with her through all this, but knowing in his heart he had done the right thing by keeping her in the country. While he was just beginning to develop a close relationship to his talkative, almost 3 year old child, Phillipa was still a bit of an anomaly to him. It had taken him too long to really connect, and now he was worried that she would be ripped from the world like her mother had. Fear ripped though him, knowing exactly where he needed to be. “No.”
But he heard Elias in the back of his mind, knowing that his leaving would be far more detrimental than if he had just stayed. Things were unstable in the kingdom, and his last interaction with the man had been volatile. If he left now, he knew that there would be no keeping him away from Emilia. He had made a promise to both King and Queen that he would protect her.
“You must go ahead of me.” He said firmly, the shaking from his voice gone as he came to terms with what must happen. “She will want you more, and I must see a few things in the Capitol before I leave.” He knew he should follow her, should rush to his daughter’s side to make sure she was well. The letter had made it appear as if she was deathly ill, that writing would not have happened unless…
He knew he might regret this later. But he also knew that having Iris in the country was a safer option for her too. He could be a bit more decisive with her gone, less worried about what the man might do to her and more focus on his own goals. He could have more open conversations with those to gauge their side of this fight. And he knew that he could make bigger risks, too. “I shall not be more than a few days. But I have work here that I must complete before I can quit the Capitol. I need you to go.” He’d been quietly looking for a reason to send her off, to beg her to go. This, he knew, would most likely be the only thing to make her go.
And he hoped that one day he would be able to tell her how much it had broken him not to follow.
His back was to her, dressing in his usual attire of dark chitons and sandals. He would miss her, already hating the fact that his bed would be cold without her. A part of his soul would go, slowly chipping away at the parts of him that mattered. Gods, he would miss her. But he was not going back until he was certain he could put protections in place for Emilia as well.
