Compared to that brief touch, the rest is rather mundane, in so far as she roams over him. Her hands brushing over his body with the soap. Over his hips, his stomach, up to his chest. Give him time to breath and ease off that immediate contact. Until she is reach up to his shoulders. Carding away his red locks back so she can map across his clavicals to the base of his neck with even swipes. Cleaning him from top to bottom, and all the places her fingers could dance curiously between. In comparison to the rush of the night before, she can do as she fondly imagined she would - learn him, see all of him, begin to appreciate this man she has been thrust into marriage with.
Then, she finally stops, and short as her breathe feels, nervous and yet eager she brings up the soap to offer him.
"Now.. you.. me?" And she gestures down her body to indicate he was to do the same for her.
It may be mundane, but that doesn't mean Sweeney isn't awash with more than soap and water. His skin is alive, anticipating every touch, and yet, he does his very best to be patient.
All that waiting only makes the moment when she stops stand stark. It takes Sweeney a second more to follow along, but with a tight nod, he bends to chase the bowl. At his height, it's awkward at best, so he takes another approach. While it's uncomfortable to fill the bowl from standing, doing so from kneeling is much easier.
So he drops down on both, filling the bowl before he looks up at her, savoring the opportunity to do so at this angle. Then he follows suit; wetting her skin, even though there's no need, and starting the soaped washing at her legs. Sweeney does his best to make it meaningful, hoping he's doing it mostly right, at least. When he glides his hand over the swell of one hip, his eyes lift again in soft question.
Her breathe catches as he kneels in front of her. Sticking in her lungs at the sight of him that way, something so without guile between them, all her day dreams made true for a moment.
And Spirits, he was so tall, even like this.
"Good, yes." Gilia answers with a shakey nod of her head. Her skin felt alive all over again, warm under his touch in a way different to the steam of hot water.
"Am... am glad to do, with you. Like... like imagined... when... when girl. Handsome husband to... to share with." She encourages, letting her fingers drift to brush his red hair back over his shoulder as he moved.
Sweeney smiles, finding comfort in that. In multiple aspects of it, truth be told. It's confirmed that he's executing the task in an acceptable fashion, he's fulfilling what she'd hoped for, and well...it's nice to be considered handsome, especially with all of his scars on display.
He's mindful as he works his way up and around, making sure that each inch of her is dutifully tended. Occasionally, he presses soft kisses to the parts that are closer to his mouth, which means quite a bit of her chest, but he fights to keep things mostly chaste. Not that one would assume that, given how hard and heavy his prick is.
The easily accessible surfaces completed, he starts to slide his hand up the inside of her leg, starting at her knee. Sweeney moves slowly, but with purpose, and he's still a hand's width shy of her apex when he looks up to her face with a soft lift in his expression.
"Yes?"
He may not be detailing things, but it's not too hard to deduce that he's inquiring if he's meant to touch her sex, and if so, if he's allowed to do more than just wash the skin there.
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Then, she finally stops, and short as her breathe feels, nervous and yet eager she brings up the soap to offer him.
"Now.. you.. me?" And she gestures down her body to indicate he was to do the same for her.
no subject
All that waiting only makes the moment when she stops stand stark. It takes Sweeney a second more to follow along, but with a tight nod, he bends to chase the bowl. At his height, it's awkward at best, so he takes another approach. While it's uncomfortable to fill the bowl from standing, doing so from kneeling is much easier.
So he drops down on both, filling the bowl before he looks up at her, savoring the opportunity to do so at this angle. Then he follows suit; wetting her skin, even though there's no need, and starting the soaped washing at her legs. Sweeney does his best to make it meaningful, hoping he's doing it mostly right, at least. When he glides his hand over the swell of one hip, his eyes lift again in soft question.
"Good?" He's cautiously optimistic.
"Correct?"
no subject
And Spirits, he was so tall, even like this.
"Good, yes." Gilia answers with a shakey nod of her head. Her skin felt alive all over again, warm under his touch in a way different to the steam of hot water.
"Am... am glad to do, with you. Like... like imagined... when... when girl. Handsome husband to... to share with." She encourages, letting her fingers drift to brush his red hair back over his shoulder as he moved.
no subject
Sweeney smiles, finding comfort in that. In multiple aspects of it, truth be told. It's confirmed that he's executing the task in an acceptable fashion, he's fulfilling what she'd hoped for, and well...it's nice to be considered handsome, especially with all of his scars on display.
He's mindful as he works his way up and around, making sure that each inch of her is dutifully tended. Occasionally, he presses soft kisses to the parts that are closer to his mouth, which means quite a bit of her chest, but he fights to keep things mostly chaste. Not that one would assume that, given how hard and heavy his prick is.
The easily accessible surfaces completed, he starts to slide his hand up the inside of her leg, starting at her knee. Sweeney moves slowly, but with purpose, and he's still a hand's width shy of her apex when he looks up to her face with a soft lift in his expression.
"Yes?"
He may not be detailing things, but it's not too hard to deduce that he's inquiring if he's meant to touch her sex, and if so, if he's allowed to do more than just wash the skin there.