Shucking his doublet, he's quick to move to the foot of the bed when she crawls up on it. He wants the best view. And that view is fucking exquisite. For a moment, he gets stuck in it, just staring with a slack jaw. God...and she's his wife. His Beautiful Wife. How did he get so fucking lucky?
Sweeney bends awkwardly, trying to yank his boots off without completely abandoning the sight of her. It is not the most graceful execution, but he manages to get both of them free and cast safely aside where he's not at risk of tripping over them. Next order of business is his trousers, which are much easier to handle. In the meantime, his grin is renewed, wide and hungry. Tugged off, they're tossed somewhere near his boots.
Without thinking, Sweeney raises his arms to pull his shirt over his head, but then there's unexpected fire, and it makes his hurry stutter as he has to take a more careful path to get the garment off. He's successful though, and he sees that it caps the pile of clothing.
His smile is weaker, but he pushes it through for her. Somewhere along the way of his wanting to see her, he'd forgotten that it would mean she'd also see him, and well...the campaign has been eventful.
Sweeney's scarred flesh is freshly colored; bruises and cuts over many areas of him. Most are par for the course, battle being unkind by nature, but he has a wide bandage around his trunk. It's stained, but not bleeding through. The more noteworthy part is the dark purple that creeps out from its edges. The blow had been brutal, but it hadn't bested him, and he'd made it home to his precious son and his utterly delicious wife. That's what matters.
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Sweeney bends awkwardly, trying to yank his boots off without completely abandoning the sight of her. It is not the most graceful execution, but he manages to get both of them free and cast safely aside where he's not at risk of tripping over them. Next order of business is his trousers, which are much easier to handle. In the meantime, his grin is renewed, wide and hungry. Tugged off, they're tossed somewhere near his boots.
Without thinking, Sweeney raises his arms to pull his shirt over his head, but then there's unexpected fire, and it makes his hurry stutter as he has to take a more careful path to get the garment off. He's successful though, and he sees that it caps the pile of clothing.
His smile is weaker, but he pushes it through for her. Somewhere along the way of his wanting to see her, he'd forgotten that it would mean she'd also see him, and well...the campaign has been eventful.
Sweeney's scarred flesh is freshly colored; bruises and cuts over many areas of him. Most are par for the course, battle being unkind by nature, but he has a wide bandage around his trunk. It's stained, but not bleeding through. The more noteworthy part is the dark purple that creeps out from its edges. The blow had been brutal, but it hadn't bested him, and he'd made it home to his precious son and his utterly delicious wife. That's what matters.