Title: A Few of My Favorite Things
Author: Fallenbelle
Rating: M for sexual content
Summary: "So," William asked over breakfast the next morning-proud grin still firmly in place, but at least accompanied with a deep, crimson blush, "did we ever decide what was our favorite thing?" buttering his toast.
Spoilers: General season 8 spoilers-nothing specific other than they're married now.
Notes: I wanted to write something this weekend, and apparently, the lack of passion between these two prompted this. I really would like to write a fic with a plot.
Laying her head on his chest, she tried to catch her breath and calm her heart rate. Despite the sweat that covered their bodies in an attempt to cool them, she knew they would soon become cold in the rapidly cooling autumn night air of Toronto and tried to delay the inevitable donning of night wear, wanting to enjoy the feel of her skin against his for as long as possible.
Sighing, she reached for the blankets and pulled them upon them, hoping to stave off the cold in its entirety and maybe even convincing him to sleep in the nude all night.
Still, while there was much to enjoy about being married to William, perhaps her favorite was basking in the afterglow of mutually satisfying lovemaking, when no words needed to be said, and when they could read one another's minds simply by looking at the other. This was them at their most vulnerable, and rather than be nervous or anxious about it, they embraced it-a far cry from previous days for both of them.
Usually, Julia could read William like a book in these tender moments, but tonight, a most unusually inane grin crossed his features, and Julia wasn't sure what he could be thinking about that would merit such an expression.
Curiosity getting the best of her, she broke the comfortable silence.
"William, you seem most amused. Is all well?"
"I'm most content, Julia. I'm just thinking about how I'll never tire of …this," he said gesturing at the both of them still in their lover's embrace. "Plus, lying here with you in my arms is perhaps my favorite thing."
Rolling her eyes, Julia sat up, allowing the covers to fall down, exposing even more skin, while trailing her fingers down his chest.
"Are you sure, William? I thought the physical act of love itself was your favorite thing? Or that laying your head on my breasts was your favorite thing. Or, I'm fairly certain that taking your time while undressing me must also be a particular favorite of yours as well, given how much pleasure you seem to take in my frustration," Julia reminded him.
He merely blushed in response, and looked at her breasts, where his grin became even wider. He made no effort to deny it however.
"Perhaps all these things are my favorite," he conceded, rolling a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, smirking when Julia gasped in response.
"That reaction is also one of my favorite things, along with your face when you are enraptured. I suspect that's why I love to watch you recite romantic poetry-you make the same face as when you come undone. It's quite a sight to behold," William added as his other hand slid down her torso to the juncture of her thighs, his eyes keenly observing her face as the pleasant sensations overwhelmed her.
Julia fell back onto her pillows as he intensified his efforts, squeezing her eyes shut while her fingers clutched at the sheets in an effort to center herself, and keep her wits about her. But it was a losing battle, and she quickly succumbed to his ministrations.
"What about you, Julia? Is this one of your favorite things?" William asked with a smug grin.
"Oh, god, yes. Yes," Julia managed to respond as she braced herself for a second round.
"So," William asked over breakfast the next morning-proud grin still firmly in place, but at least accompanied with a deep, crimson blush, "did we ever decide what was our favorite thing?" buttering his toast.
Taking care to swallow the tea she had just sipped before snorting, she set her cup down.
"I believe we decided that there were multiple things that were our favorites, which kind of defeats the purpose of having a favorite, because that denotes a single thing," Julia replied.
"Perhaps," William conceded, "but after some careful consideration, I've come up with a single thing."
"Oh? Pray tell, what could that be?" Julia wondered.
"You. All of the things that I think are my favorite things, most of them involve you; therefore, since you are the common denominator, ergo, you are my favorite thing." William proudly stated before immediately catching himself. "But, you're no thing" he quickly amended.
"Nice save, William. I must admit, that's some excellent rationale. I find it difficult to name one thing I enjoy about being with you, and perhaps it's just being allowed to finally to be with you-in all of its forms that's truly wonderful. Therefore, I'll concur. You are my favorite thing as well, William. Without you, nothing else is as enjoyable."
Once again, William blushed and looked a bit sheepish, staring down at his tea.
"Something else, William?" Julia asked.
"Just thinking about how that is my favorite blouse of yours, yet I can't wait to remove it later tonight," William confessed.
"Oh, and you know for a fact that you'll be removing it tonight?" Julia asked.
"Yes, because I also know a few of your favorite things, Mrs. Murdoch," he replied with a smirk.
Dropping her fork, she sighed. There was no doubt about it, she had created a monster, but he was right, he indeed knew a few of her favorite things.