[ Francesca's underthings are far more involved than Benedict's are, especially since he was dressed down for training and not for every day or even in his uniform, both of which are far more involved than his training clothes. Naturally, Benedict also makes a point to train both in his regular clothes as well as his Guard uniform, because being prepared is important, and an attacking force would not give him time to run home and change into comfortable clothes before engaging him in any kind of combat.
He's gotten rather adept at unlacing her after some practice, so it doesn't take long until her stays are loosened enough that he can peel them off her and set them aside.
Her compliment has him glancing away, not quite coloring under her praise but equally not just accepting it at face value. He's working at automatically not batting aside praise, though, especially praise from his wife. ] ...Thank you.
[ She slides his trousers and his smalls down until he's able to step out of them. Francesca still turns pink when she looks at his manhood, but she's getting better at least looking. Truly, she's best at touching though she doesn't touch him there right away. She brushes her fingers along his abdomen and presses her lips to the scars she can see. It's becoming a habit of hers to do so when they're both nude and have the opportunity. ]
You're welcome.
[ She's noticed the way he struggled to take praise. She knows the Warriorborn are often looked down upon, some view them as little more than beasts. Francesca has always been curious about them, but never had she considered them anything less than. If anything, they're superior given their sharpened senses and strength, but that's an opinion that the rest of society would heartily disagree with.
She chooses to be bold and pushes off her own smalls. It joins the pool of clothes at their feet. She stands there before, more and more confident about her naked body each day, and cups his face for a lingering kiss. It's a kiss that tells him all about her fondness and growing affection for him.
It's not love, not quite yet perhaps, but she's certainly getting there. ]
[ If she complimented his physical abilities like his strength or his speed, he'd have an easier time accepting them. Benedict isn't blind, or needlessly humble. He's aware that his blood affords him an advantage in combat, and that he is considered wildly useful in the Guard because of it.
Sometimes he wishes he had been born to a poorer House, or perhaps on a lower habble entirely, so that he would have fewer expectations placed on him. He'd never want to go work on the surface, he's not suicidal, but he would probably live a much more comfortable life as a Marine without the added burden of family duty and expectation weighing him down.
He loves his parents, and his aunts and uncles, and especially his cousins, but it is difficult being born different into a family that expects so much of him.
Francesca doesn't seem to mind, her cool — and slightly smudged — hands settling on his hips as she steps in closer to press her lip to the scars that dot his chest and arms. There aren't that many; Benedict is passing good at what he does, though even the best swordsman gets nicked sometimes. She quickly shifts to kissing his lips instead, and this is something Benedict has gotten quite comfortable with, so he's quick to reciprocate, his hands sliding around her naked waist to slide up the smooth plane of her back.
He doesn't even mind having to bend to kiss her, though after a minute or so he pulls away enough so that he can murmur, ] This is quite a novel way to bathe, my sweet.
I must admit, you've done a fine job distracting me.
[ Bathing is the last thing on her mind now that they're bare to one another. They share sweet kisses in the bathing room without any sort of care or rush. It's slipped her mind entirely that they're both in need of a good wash. It's a fine idea. Usually, once they start kissing like things, things have a tendency to turn heated, and they end up a remarkable mess.
It's not occurred to Francesca that they can continue such things while they bathe although it would also be incredibly efficient. She brushes her nose against his, nearly standing on tiptoes to reach him when he pulls back. Sometimes she worries he'll give himself back pain with all the bending he must do to kiss her. ]
You're right of course, darling. We are meant to bathe.
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Date: 2026-02-22 02:20 am (UTC)He's gotten rather adept at unlacing her after some practice, so it doesn't take long until her stays are loosened enough that he can peel them off her and set them aside.
Her compliment has him glancing away, not quite coloring under her praise but equally not just accepting it at face value. He's working at automatically not batting aside praise, though, especially praise from his wife. ] ...Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-22 03:04 am (UTC)You're welcome.
[ She's noticed the way he struggled to take praise. She knows the Warriorborn are often looked down upon, some view them as little more than beasts. Francesca has always been curious about them, but never had she considered them anything less than. If anything, they're superior given their sharpened senses and strength, but that's an opinion that the rest of society would heartily disagree with.
She chooses to be bold and pushes off her own smalls. It joins the pool of clothes at their feet. She stands there before, more and more confident about her naked body each day, and cups his face for a lingering kiss. It's a kiss that tells him all about her fondness and growing affection for him.
It's not love, not quite yet perhaps, but she's certainly getting there. ]
no subject
Date: 2026-02-22 03:35 am (UTC)Sometimes he wishes he had been born to a poorer House, or perhaps on a lower habble entirely, so that he would have fewer expectations placed on him. He'd never want to go work on the surface, he's not suicidal, but he would probably live a much more comfortable life as a Marine without the added burden of family duty and expectation weighing him down.
He loves his parents, and his aunts and uncles, and especially his cousins, but it is difficult being born different into a family that expects so much of him.
Francesca doesn't seem to mind, her cool — and slightly smudged — hands settling on his hips as she steps in closer to press her lip to the scars that dot his chest and arms. There aren't that many; Benedict is passing good at what he does, though even the best swordsman gets nicked sometimes. She quickly shifts to kissing his lips instead, and this is something Benedict has gotten quite comfortable with, so he's quick to reciprocate, his hands sliding around her naked waist to slide up the smooth plane of her back.
He doesn't even mind having to bend to kiss her, though after a minute or so he pulls away enough so that he can murmur, ] This is quite a novel way to bathe, my sweet.
no subject
Date: 2026-02-22 06:07 pm (UTC)[ Bathing is the last thing on her mind now that they're bare to one another. They share sweet kisses in the bathing room without any sort of care or rush. It's slipped her mind entirely that they're both in need of a good wash. It's a fine idea. Usually, once they start kissing like things, things have a tendency to turn heated, and they end up a remarkable mess.
It's not occurred to Francesca that they can continue such things while they bathe although it would also be incredibly efficient. She brushes her nose against his, nearly standing on tiptoes to reach him when he pulls back. Sometimes she worries he'll give himself back pain with all the bending he must do to kiss her. ]
You're right of course, darling. We are meant to bathe.