Accompanying graphic (modified link): rewritetheending dot tumbl r dot com slash post slash 109731488187
Rated T (strong T/light M?)
Romance
Set anytime post-marriage


He's supposed to be meeting her for lunch. They've found this brief chance to reconnect over a necessary meal, too busy with meetings and murder over the past week to get an opportunity for anything more than a quick hello and a few hours of sleep by the other's side. And he knows he's wasting precious conversation time by standing across the street, but he can't help it. His wife is just so damn beautiful and he's captivated.

He wants to kneel before her, palms splayed over those tight black pants. The seams would be beneath the pads of his thumbs, leading him upward to where heat most certainly awaits. He'd nip at the inside of her thighs and make her squirm. Maybe even beg a little. And whisper a 'fuck' or two.

He imagines the practiced release of her belt, the soft snap as he'd pull it from her waist and toss it aside. There have been times that keeping the belt handy has been an important part of their encounters, but he doesn't think this would be the time for it. No, he'd be in the mood for something far more straightforward. Leaving on the floor to retrieve later would be fine.

He feels the weight of her jacket, knowing he'd slip his hands under the leather resting upon her shoulders before sliding it down her arms. Then again, perhaps he wouldn't. Maybe he'd rather leave it in place, let it serve as a reminder of how much he appreciates the edginess she's maintained, even as she's been measurably softened by love. Yeah, the jacket would stay on.

He knows his last target would be her shirt and he'd pop each button with a patience he only exhibits when he's intent on stoking something powerful. When opened, it would show off her lacy bra, something she'd worn to counter the black leather in a premeditated attempt to fulfill multiple fantasies at once. He'd reach in to cup one breast, pulling it free of the fabric and ducking down to suck one taut tip into his mouth.

He smiles when he sees her tapping out a text message, presumably to him, a well-deserved admonishment for being late. She's owed an explanation and he'll do his best. Maybe now. Maybe later. He shakes his head and crosses to where she's waiting. He won't keep the daydream to himself for long; he never does.