(no subject)

[called_lioness]

She doesn't, actually, want to tell him this.

But she is, because--well.

Wives do things like that, she's certain, tell their husbands about magic compasses.

...Maybe. There isn't a book. She rather wishes there were.

But there isn't, and it's been a week, and it's harder to make herself dream apart from the woman she knows is waiting for her, and so she pulls the silver object out of its drawer and sighs as she goes to find her husband.

Lucy supposes the honeymoon had to end sooner or later.

Comments

[called_lioness]

"But I suspect she'd appreciate your exasperation, and the mischief, too," she counters, and pulls him closer for a brief kiss. "I'll have to appreciate your lack of clothes enough for everyone, then. Hard lot, mine."

[the_seafarer]

"It isn't," he murmurs against her lips, "as though you have such a terribly hard time with all of that, just by yourself."

[called_lioness]

"Well," and compasses are utterly forgotten as she traces his mouth with her own before continuing, "it does work out rather nicely for me, your lack of clothing."

[the_seafarer]

"It doesn't work out so badly for me, either," he teases.

[called_lioness]

"And here I thought you were merely suffering through," she murmurs and locks her hands together behind him to pull him closer.

[the_seafarer]

"I wouldn't want you to think that," smiling as he pulls them both down. "It would be terribly unfair."

[called_lioness]

"Heaven forbid," she grins and kisses his neck.

"I think, my love, that you should let me reassure myself that you're not suffering, though. Just so I have no doubts and it's fair all around."