All of it was - so much, wonderful, heady, intoxicating. How often he delighted in pulling every sound from her, making her loud when she was so often too shy. Yet, now, she savoured it return, listening to her husband plead, gasp, groan in a guttural intensity as he strained for every breath he could get and she stole gleefully. Grinding her fingers against her clit, not to come again, but to make her flutter, clench and urge out every drop she could get.

And oh he felt like he had so much to give, flooding her just as she crooned to him. He felt so thick, so hot inside of her with it, each pulse making her own breath hitch as the stimulation from the echoes of her own release. Letting her head fall back as she simply enjoyed it, rolling her hips through it, every blissful moment.

Until she feels him run through at last, and holding her weight carefully still, she slowly begins to pull off of him. Much as she might want to stay, her size now, and his injuries meant she couldn't. So instead, she lingers just away, where he could see as he comes free, and with it a moment later comes the leak of his come, that she can feel rather than see as she holds herself open and smears her fingers against it.

That - remembering how he had gone wide eyed to watch her clean her fingers before, settling back, she pulled her hand up and did it again. His come smeared between them, as she lapped it clean, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked them clean. Tasting him, savouring him, this, almost.

Gilia keeps her eyes on his as she pulled them free, that content smile on her lips as she found her voice again. "I missed you, husband." Warm and husky, sated utterly. "Welcome home."