They've been married for a year now and roommates a year before that. Given the amount of time they spend together, one would expect them to have grown (even just a bit) closer by now. Well, they're certainly very close right now.
...
THUMP! THUMP!
"Ohhh..."
"Ungh! Ungh!"
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
"Mhhmm... Oh! OH! OHHH..."
"Ungh! Grrr... UNGHH..."
(THUMPING REACHES A CRESCENDO)
"Anata...aaaahh. Aahh! AAAHHH!"
(Breathing heavily) "UNGHHH... IRINA! UNGHHH!"
.
Yep.
Very. Close.
.
Creeeeeeeaaak. THUMP!
...
Tadaomi Karasuma lay on his back, bare chest heaving with exertion. A few moments later, the woman beside him shifted. Irina Jelavich-Karasuma tangled her legs with her husband's and rested her head on his shoulders. Languidly tracing a finger on his chest, she studied her husband's expression. He must have noticed because he turned his head and planted a kiss on her forehead.
Irina sighed inwardly. A year of marriage and that's the only physical intimacy Karasuma allows himself. Well, that and the occasional roll in the hay. Like now. Irina's mind wandered to all those times she initiated any kind of physical contact between them. Kissing (french, of course), hand-holding, snuggling, spooning and (most of the) intercourse... that's all her.
'Such a square...' Irina thought. 'If I hadn't jumped you on our wedding night, I don't think we'd be doing this at all... Even then you were very rigid. In both senses of the word.'
The thought made her smile.
[Work in progress]
