This was hardly going according to script. Guinevere had had her expectations of this occasion, and thus far, her new King and husband hadn't fulfilled a single one. Not that she minded; she enjoyed the touch of his hands and the taste of his kisses, but she was woefully out of her depth when it came to voicing her wants. Because she honestly had not the slightest clue what to ask for.
Other than more of that roughened touch against her skin, still barely covered by her whisper-thin shift, and Guinevere felt something low in her stomach suddenly start to ache the second Jon's hand settled back over her breast. A whimper fluttered from her mouth to his, and she felt herself instinctively pressing back against him, suddenly needing to know what his own skin felt like beneath her hands.
So she abruptly turned in his arms, hands flying to the laces of his cloak and giving them a sharp yank, letting it slither free of his tunic bracings. They were face to face, Guinevere's cheeks flushed and heated, but she kissed him without qualm, murmuring against his mouth, "...your tunic, Your Grace. 'tis only fair, no?"
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Date: 2019-09-09 12:47 am (UTC)Other than more of that roughened touch against her skin, still barely covered by her whisper-thin shift, and Guinevere felt something low in her stomach suddenly start to ache the second Jon's hand settled back over her breast. A whimper fluttered from her mouth to his, and she felt herself instinctively pressing back against him, suddenly needing to know what his own skin felt like beneath her hands.
So she abruptly turned in his arms, hands flying to the laces of his cloak and giving them a sharp yank, letting it slither free of his tunic bracings. They were face to face, Guinevere's cheeks flushed and heated, but she kissed him without qualm, murmuring against his mouth, "...your tunic, Your Grace. 'tis only fair, no?"