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lady_mabthis is the most mild spice you'll read but it's all you'll get from me ever
Ephrim's laugh catches in the back of his throat, breathy and faint. The bristles of Throndir's beard tickle as he plants soft, lazy kisses across the curves of his throat. "Good morning to you, too."
"'Morning," Throndir mumbles, though his lips curl into a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Absolutely splendid." Ephrim lifts his left hand from where it's pinned between them and runs his fingers back through Throndir's hair. "We're married."
It's Throndir's turn to huff a laugh, and he nuzzles at the underside of Ephrim's jaw, encouraging him to tilt his head back so more kisses can be left. "We are."
At the lowest level, nothing changes. They still wake up together, tangled limbs and comfortable touches. But as Throndir's hand traces idle patterns across Ephrim's chest, down his abdomen and lower still, Ephrim watches the early morning sunlight catch on the ring around his finger.
Throndir outlines the jut of his hips, smiles as Ephrim's breath catches when fingers warm and calloused wrap around his cock--already keenly aware of the path Throndir's hand had taken, of the way it does a lazy slide down the length of it.
Ephrim tangles his fingers in Throndir's hair and gives a faint tug, pulling him up for a kiss as they shift. Familiar routine, the way Ephrim gasps into his mouth as Throndir's hand moves with more purpose, the way Throndir moans softly as Ephrim slides a leg between his, just enough friction to be a tease.
"Good morning, husband," Ephrim says, letting his hand slip down to cradle Throndir's cheek, and he's rewarded with a brilliant smile and a kiss pressed to his palm as Throndir's hand moves with slow, indulgent strokes.
"Good morning, my love," Throndir replies softly.
Ephrim's laugh catches in the back of his throat, breathy and faint. The bristles of Throndir's beard tickle as he plants soft, lazy kisses across the curves of his throat. "Good morning to you, too."
"'Morning," Throndir mumbles, though his lips curl into a smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Absolutely splendid." Ephrim lifts his left hand from where it's pinned between them and runs his fingers back through Throndir's hair. "We're married."
It's Throndir's turn to huff a laugh, and he nuzzles at the underside of Ephrim's jaw, encouraging him to tilt his head back so more kisses can be left. "We are."
At the lowest level, nothing changes. They still wake up together, tangled limbs and comfortable touches. But as Throndir's hand traces idle patterns across Ephrim's chest, down his abdomen and lower still, Ephrim watches the early morning sunlight catch on the ring around his finger.
Throndir outlines the jut of his hips, smiles as Ephrim's breath catches when fingers warm and calloused wrap around his cock--already keenly aware of the path Throndir's hand had taken, of the way it does a lazy slide down the length of it.
Ephrim tangles his fingers in Throndir's hair and gives a faint tug, pulling him up for a kiss as they shift. Familiar routine, the way Ephrim gasps into his mouth as Throndir's hand moves with more purpose, the way Throndir moans softly as Ephrim slides a leg between his, just enough friction to be a tease.
"Good morning, husband," Ephrim says, letting his hand slip down to cradle Throndir's cheek, and he's rewarded with a brilliant smile and a kiss pressed to his palm as Throndir's hand moves with slow, indulgent strokes.
"Good morning, my love," Throndir replies softly.
