He sighs, breathing into her hair as she cuddles into him. "We certainly are," he agrees, low and reverent. "I'm hardly the person I was when we met." That was her doing, and he loved it. Looking back, he'd been so stuck and lonely and angry when he'd taken that job, and no idea about any of it. She'd been the escape route he hadn't even known he needed. Except it wasn't escapism, wasn't running away. It was...deeper. More grounded. Like he was living his real life.
Which, admittedly, he hadn't expected to include kinky sex in a changing room, but -- he liked that too.
He moans a little louder than he means as she tugs at his ear with her teeth. He's nervous, he realizes, to dress like that in public, to touch her in public -- but he's hot with desire, too, curiosity and want.
"How could I forget?" he purrs back, sliding one hand to skim her slick outer folds and briefly tease her clit. "I don't think you'll be able to stay quiet, though, and we may not be able to show our faces here for a long time."
He lets her go, wanting to leave her aching for him, and wanting to let himself cool down. He begins to dress in the fine fabric, heart pounding. He feels like he's getting away with something, like he shouldn't be wearing this. And then his hands hit the choker she's gotten him. "This too?"
He knows she does, wants her to even, but some part of him wants to hear her say it again. He has no doubt as to the depth of their commitment to one another, but there's some thrill at being claimed so publicly and literally, and to whatever possessive game this is.
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Which, admittedly, he hadn't expected to include kinky sex in a changing room, but -- he liked that too.
He moans a little louder than he means as she tugs at his ear with her teeth. He's nervous, he realizes, to dress like that in public, to touch her in public -- but he's hot with desire, too, curiosity and want.
"How could I forget?" he purrs back, sliding one hand to skim her slick outer folds and briefly tease her clit. "I don't think you'll be able to stay quiet, though, and we may not be able to show our faces here for a long time."
He lets her go, wanting to leave her aching for him, and wanting to let himself cool down. He begins to dress in the fine fabric, heart pounding. He feels like he's getting away with something, like he shouldn't be wearing this. And then his hands hit the choker she's gotten him. "This too?"
He knows she does, wants her to even, but some part of him wants to hear her say it again. He has no doubt as to the depth of their commitment to one another, but there's some thrill at being claimed so publicly and literally, and to whatever possessive game this is.