They'd been fighting about work shit.

Which turned into at home shit.

Which turned into not talking to one another for two days.

Had they not been on the road together, this might not have been a problem, but Stephanie was traveling with him. Even a year prior, this wouldn't have been the end of the world as he could have easily booked his own room, away from her, at the next stop, and they could both have a chance to cool off. But getting a separate room away from your girlfriend was a lot different than your wife.

People would talk.

Which he wouldn't care about as, even as he was still extremely pissed at her that afternoon as he shaved in the mirror, he knew they'd make up. Eventually. They always had. Though the pair were rare to have anything that could be classified above a slight disagreement, when they really started butting heads, they required some cooling off time.

But you couldn't exactly find that when you were miles away from home, sharing a tiny hotel room. And, when free of it, having to hear about one another at work. Or at least catch glimpses. Or avoid them when you usually tried to catch them.

Whatever.

The last thing he wanted to do that day, a rare day in the middle of the week, where he neither had to travel nor deal with any work commitments, was see Stephanie.

Well, not the last.

Not really.

That sounded awful.

Rather, he just felt a sense of relief, when he awoke alone in the motel room. Steph's side of the bed was cold, her purse was gone, and as he stretched out to claim the rest of the mattress, it was with an absent scratch of his chest.

Even a burp.

Sometimes he forgot how nice it was to be alone.

Until he had to make his own protein shake.

Getting to immediately head out to a local gym without informing anyone of this was heavenly though. He ran into some other guys who he caught lunch with after and when he arrived back at the hotel room to drop off his gym bag, he wasn't surprised to find Steph still out. Or around, at least. He was pretty sure she'd mentioned (in passing) before bed the night before that she had a lunch meeting, going over creative shit. Which, of course, had been exactly what they'd fought over, so he hadn't inquired further.

Plus, they were in an argument; he wasn't speaking to her anymore than he had to.

This was great though, as it meant Paul still had ample free time to putter around the hotel room, deciding what exactly he wanted to waste the rest of his day on. Stephanie, usually, and with her out available, gym, but that was taken care of and…

Wow.

He'd become so fucking boring.

So soon.

He hated his beard.

He decided this as he splashed water on his face in the bathroom, still struggling to come up with how exactly he wanted to spend the rest of his day. Relaxing sounded like the best bet and he thought, maybe even, as he went through beginning prep to shave, Stephanie would be in a better mood.

And ready to apologize.

It was as he was lathering up his face that she came in.

She didn't call out to him as she entered the hotel room and Paul didn't her. He could hear the woman rutting around for something in her bag and, when she came to stand in the open bathroom doorway, it was with a hairbrush in her hand.

He didn't glance over her. Paul could tell just from the woman's demeanor (what little of it he'd been exposed to, at least) that she was not ready to apologize to him and that was fine. Perfect. He hadn't wanted to tell her all about the gym anyways.

But then she did speak to him.

"What are you doing?"

And there was no hint of remorse.

"What do you mean?" he grumbled as he dunked his razor in the filled sink before bringing it back to his foamy cheek. Running it down, he said, "I'm shaving."

"Why?"

"What?"

"I like," she complained and he tried hard not to roll his eyes, "how you had it. Wait, are you shaving it all off? Paul-"

"It's my fucking face."

"Yeah," she grumbled as she came closer, "but I'm the one who has to look at it.."

He narrowed his eyes, in the mirror, as she came to stand at his side. The bathroom was cramped and there wasn't much room for this. Annoyed, he wanted to tell her to get out and let him finish up, damn. And while that would've gotten him in considerable hot water with the woman, as she raised the brush to her dyed blonde locks, he decided to hurt her in another way.

"Yeah?" He snorted. "Well, I liked your hair better dark."

It was hardly an insult.

It was lame, really, if anything, and he could say about a thousand other more creative, more cutting, more jarring, but while more entertaining, none could've brought that look to his wife's face.

Any victory he felt in shutting her up was dashed when he saw how hurt she was.

Briefly.

Because then the anger came.

"You're a fucking asshole," she retorted, glossy eyes hardening. He'd been ready for tears, but they dried before they fell. "Get out."

He couldn't help it.

He laughed.

"I was in here first," he retorted as the woman bristled.

He went back to shaving, but his hand was shaking a bit now, adrenaline pumping overtime as he tried to figure out what exactly he wanted from this point. Had she teared up or ran off, this would have cemented him as the agitator and thus the one who had to apologize. They'd been building to it for days and, while he'd been hoping to con her into an apology, had known deep down she'd eventually weasel one out of him.

"And you," he kept out as he found it then, his out for his statement, "insulted me first."

"Excuse me?"

"I can do whatever the fuck I want with my facial hair."

Stephanie scoffed, one arm folded over her chest as the other dangled the hair brush. Her blue eyes were steel, her tone just as harsh as she retorted, "And I can with my hair."

He nodded and maybe he did want to make her cry. Or at least didn't like that she was combating him so heavily. While Steph wasn't one to be walked all over, she was one to walk away. Tell him he was a jerk and give him more space.

But they'd had space.

Two days worth of space.

She wasn't walking away from this.

But he needed her to. Because he wasn't ready to apologize and, if she wasn't either, then they'd only fight more.

If anything, he was helping.

"Yeah," he agreed, "you can fuck up your hair all you-"

"Fuck you."

He didn't like the ease at which she offered it up and was surprised how easily it fell out of his own mouth.

"Fuck," he tried to retort, but as he was just forming the, "Y-" Stephanie unleashed on him.

"I can't believe," she yelled and he remembered then, than they were in the hotel and now home, "that you would say that to me."

He huffed, glaring over at her. "You said it to me!"

"And you've been an ass," she continued and he could hear it then, that quiver in her voice, but still she just wouldn't fucking leave, "to me this whole week for something I don't even control-"

"I'm not mad about goddamn work. Would you stop fucking-"

"Yes, you are. You've been mean to me since-"

"You won't shut the fuck up about-"

"Stop cursing at me!"

"You did it fir- Damn it!" He'd been, ill-advisedly, still trying to shave the what remained of his facial hair. He'd gotten his mustache clear and was hoping to take care of his sideburns, but he nicked himself.

Badly.

"That's what you get," Stephanie whispered softly as he shoved around her for a nearby roll of toilet paper. Folding her arms over her chest, she sniffled, though threw the title to him of, "You big baby."

He growled as he ripped a shit of toilet tissue and took to holding it against the cut on his cheek.

They were at an impasse. Tension had rise and burst, leaving them in an awkward place. Steph still held her hair brush, tapping it against an open palm, as she eyed her husband. He was doing the same in return. Neither spoke. He knew it was his turn, technically, but he hadn't wanted this.

Any of it.

Looking away from her, he said, "I don't fucking hate your hair blonde, Stephanie."

"I don't care what you like," she retorted, but with one last sniffle, her folded arm fell. Setting the hair brush down, she was quick to his side, reaching up to take over holding the tissue to his face. "Here, let-"

"Go away."

"Paul-"

"I'm tired of fighting, Stephanie."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" She stomped a foot, insisting, "All I did was come in here."

He huffed a breath though his nose. "Yelling at me."

"I didn't yell at you." She didn't reach for him now, but instead only took one last step closer and this time, when he huffed, his breath tickled her face and they'd been apart, before their two day fight happened, for an entire week and maybe they were just pent up.

Yeah.

It's what he decided, anyways, as his hand fell from his own face to capture hers and Steph met his lips with her own. Running a hand along his now sensitive flesh of his cheek, the underside of her fingers left tickles and slight burning in their wake. He hissed, even, pulling back from her, but Steph caught his bottom lip between her teeth, raking them against his flesh with a tighter grip than he could usually expect.

But this only excited the man, who brought his mouth right back to hers for more rough treatment. As she nipped at his bottom lip, he played along, pulling back, returning, head bowed and turned. Whatever she wanted. Always. When one of her hands curled around his neck, trying to pull him down even closer, the other again ran up his face, only things time the sensation wasn't as uncomfortable. Her fingers were destined to tangle in his hair, but pulled back suddenly, as did the woman all together, when they encountered the remaining shaving cream residue.

"Here," she breathed, finding the time to take one finally as she turned to grab one of the hand towel's he'd been utilizing before. When she turned back to rub his face in it though, the man's own hands were waiting for her.

"What?" he questioned with a tight expression and dark eyes. One of his hands had shot out to grasp her slender jaw in his palm, curling his fingers tightly as he glared into her momentarily confused eyes. Snatching the hand towel with his free hand, he roughly rubbing it against either side of his face while asking, "You didn't think I'd forget, did you? Fuck me, Stephie? Is that what you said?"

She couldn't talk. He had her cheeks to smushed. She gripped his wrist, but didn't tug it away.

"Fuck me?" He squeezed tighter as he tossed the towel to the ground. Dangling his other fingers in her face, he snorted. "Fuck you."

Steph moaned around his finger as he shoved it into her mouth. The intrusion wasn't uncommon and had been anticipated, but there was something about it, even just the feel of the ones still grasping her jaw. The trimmed nails dug into the soft flesh of her face as the other scratched at her tongue, the inside of her cheeks, digging around. She tried to spit him out when she realized this, but his hold prevented it and when he hooked his finger into the side of her and pulled, she could only gasp.

The grip on his wrist tightened and she was trying to tug him off, then, so Hunter dropped her face and withdrew his finger. At the sudden lack of support though, Steph stumbled some while he panted. Sucking in his lip, he bit it, hard, digging into the smaller indents Steph had already made.

He was worried that he'd misread her. The situation. But when her eyes found his, they weren't flaming in anger any long. Nor were they fearful.

"Get on your knees." He took a step closer to regain any lost when she'd turned from him. Her hands flew to his chest, but didn't push him back. Just stroked at the vinyl print of his graphic tee while gazing up at him, lips still parted. Waiting. "Suck my dick."

Again, he got a soft shake of the head before a retort of, "Make me."

"Make you?"

"Make me."

"Stephanie-"

"Make me, you jerk." She balled one of her fists on his shirt and twisted the fabric bunched inside. He thought she was going to pull him closer, down, something. He could do with a few more nibbles on his lip. Instead, she shoved him back some before holding her head higher and asserting, "Before I make you."

He frowned. "Make me? Make me what, huh? Eat you out? You think you have to make me do that?"

Tripped up a bit, Steph frowned, breaking character a bit as she legitimately asked, "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying," he grumbled as he reached out for her, but it was only to roughly shove her against the front of the sink, Steph hissing at the contact, "is all you have to do is fucking ask."

He fell to one knee and Steph still wasn't sure what his play was. Everything leading them up to that moment had her imagine some more rough manhandling, maybe actually evening sucking him off some, but not the reverse. Not with such little cajoling. Bullying. Insisting.

Something.

But as he reached for the zipper of her pants, head even with her waist, Stephanie figured it better not to ask too many questions. He wouldn't an answer for her anyways, honestly, shot of ones he wouldn't admit aloud anyhow. The man didn't like to fight with his wife.

He really didn't like how willing he'd been to hurt her feelings.

It made him feel like a douche, even as she reached down to run a hand through his hair. Tugging at her pants, he grumbled about her stepping out of them, and logistically it all took a second, but once he had her free of both those and her panties, he wasted no time feasting on her.

The breath his wife drew in was sharp as he freely ran his thick, course fingers along her slit and he fought a grin. Pressing his other palm to her stomach, he leaned her back bit, remarking, "Shit, baby. Didn't even need you slobbering all over my fingers, huh?" With a snicker, he leaned closer to whistle, his breath cold and causing her to squirm. "You're dipping."

"Shut up." Her fingers curled and she tugged at his hair, drawing him closer to her warm center. Staring down at him with dark expression, she ordered, "Eat me."

Paul took his own exaggerated breath then, breathing in her scent and he wanted to start by peppering her thighs with kisses, but it was just too much. Tongue darting out, he pulled further against her hold, to get to her pussy faster. Swiping his tongue across the length of her, Steph's fingers uncurled a bit and he was given more freedom.

He pressed a palm firmly into the ground. Leaning further over, all he could taste was the metallic tang of his wife's of his wife's juices. He lapped at her, putting his neck into it as Steph sighed. One of her legs slipped over his shoulder as his free hand found her hip. As his tongue settled at crest of her labia, he brought his lips down, breath hot, until he was able to kiss her clitoris.

"Shit, Stephie," he sighed as her fingers stroked at his scalp. Pulling back for air, he only took a bit of it before doing as he wished before and pressing his lips to her inner right thigh. He bit down, getting a hiss from the woman, before a sharp tug of his hair. "Your so warm, baby," he whispered as his lips trailed back to center. His tongue came out, before he made it, to leave a long, wet trail along on her inner thigh. As he broke this contact, he added, "And soft. Fuck."

The intensity was dying out and his wife's fingers detangled a bit, from his hair, as the man dove back for her pussy.

He loved eating her out.

Not necessarily the act itself, but having her like this, so focused in on him, fuck.

Fuck.

He lapped away at her clit, mainly, and was surprised when he angled his head back, to brush his chin over the bundle of nerves, to find his beard hairs gone, not even a patch of stubble to tide the woman over. Though his blunder gave her a chance to catch her breath, it made Hunter huff one of his own before again shifting his angle and instead brushing his nose roughly against her.

Steph gasped.

Hand cupping the back of his head, she forced him closer. His breath was hot. She wanted to ride his face. If they were in bed, or at least a better position to allow this, she would have requested it, but it was greedy to take more then. When they'd been fighting.

He struggled with apologizing, especially if their fight had been intense, but there had never been a time he man didn't give her everything he had in bed.

And out of it.

There would be no fight, after this.

She whined as his hand fell from her hip for added assistance.

His fingers, long and thick, felt grooved from the rough callouses and he wasted no time teasing her with just one. As it slipped in, another fell right into place beside it. His tongue was rolled down slightly, so he could press more of the center more heavily against her clit and when he did it just right, all her pleas and begging from above turned into a low moan.

She around around him.

His fingers.

Below him.

His tongue.

But he didn't stop.

Not even as she begged him so, her words a false testament as, even if he wanted to listen, the hand threaded in his hair allowed no reprieve. She ground his face into her pussy. Or maybe he was doing the grinding. He couldn't tell.

It didn't matter.

When Stephanie had enough of him, the fingers in his hair curled, tugging him away from her molten core, his beardless face still house the remnants. His tongue darted out, to absently lick any residue and Steph sighed.

He was hard enough it hurt, still encased in his restrictive jeans. The pain, the restraint, had kept him hot, even as he was only licking at Steph's vag, but it hurt now, just about, and he was grabbing at himself as he got back to his feet. Gripping his dick through the rough fabric of his jeans, he squeezed it while eyeing the woman.

Steph was still coming back down. Though she knew there was definitely more in store for her, she imagined it involved returning the favor to the man, so to speak. It had been his intention before, she was certain, and though she'd deviated the plans, she absolutely was down for choking on his cock. Though it hadn't been a bit since she'd, uh, sucked it, it had been a bit since he was forceful about it.

And though the vibe had died down, the glint in his eye was returning as the lick of his lips felt more purposeful.

Jutting out her bottom lip, Stephanie was ready to be grabbed and tossed to the floor. As she straightened herself from her slumped position against the sink counter, it was with the intent of her knees meeting the harsh bathroom tile with a harsh smack while his fingers tugged at the hair he apparently hated so much.

But when he reached for her, it wasn't to toss her down.

"Turn around."

"Wha-"

"Turn," he grumbled as the hand that wasn't still rubbing at the front of his jeans gripped her arm tightly, "around."

"Why?" But she did as he asked, with his help some, yeah, as he forcibly shoved her into the counter once she was facing it. Staring back at him in the mirror, she braced both hands against the sink as she questioned, "Gonna spank me?"

He had to take a breath.

A couple.

"No," he grumbled. While the idea wasn't completely uninteresting to the man, it would only serve to distract then. Her pussy was dripping, wet and warmed up for him. As he unzipped his jeans, he hissed some. "Shit, Stephie."

She still wore her top, but bare on the bottom, as she leaned her tone ass out to him, it took a lot for the man to not bend down run his lips along the milky smooth, ample flesh.

If he spanked her, pulled his belt of and tarred her ass, he would've. Kissed her. Made it better. Even just a slap of the hand required such soothing.

He didn't want to sooth.

He'd apologized before, the best he knew how; now it was back to business.

"What?" She pushed up on her palms, glancing over her shoulder as she shook her ass for him. "Too much?"

He shook his head softly no, giving her room to state such a thing herself, even, as he looked her in the eyes then. Her blue were bright again, lust sated, but ready to return at the drop of a hat.

Or his jeans.

His belt buckle clanked as it fell to the tile and Steph's knees felt weak still, at the thought of joining then, but her husband had evolved past needing such a thing. Her mouth on his dick now would bring him there far too quickly.

He wanted in her.

So badly.

He had since she came, tight around his two fingers, craving more.

Deserving more.

Stepping out of his jeans and kicking his boxers to the side once they reached his ankles, he swiped the head of his cock along his wife, just to hear her moan. Her call was heavenly and, as he sank into her overly slick depths, it was with a soft pant. Paul leaned closer, one hand falling beside hers on the counter as the other brushed her hair to the side. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. Then another. Then he licked up to her earlobe and bit down.

Paul loved fucking his wife.

In any capacity.

Just the feeling of her body near his...

But there was something so much better, not just shoving in her when she was close, when he'd worked her up into a frenzy, but being too late. Slipping in as she was cooling down. And working her right back up into it.

It was a game then, as he withdrew.

Steph tried to turn her head to look at at him, but he shoved her down. The hand that lay on the counter top beside hers was grasped and pulled behind her back and he wanted it frantic, harsh and unwavering. As he twisted her arm behind her back, Steph winced, but it was around a moan.

Fuck.

Releasing her arm, he reached forward for her face and Steph instinctively turned away from him at first, but he was insistent. His palm fell over her lips and she thought she'd been too loud. She knew they weren't at home and how embarrassed he could get, at the idea of someone else hearing them.

"We're married," she reminded frequently now, with a giggle. "We're one of the only people here who should be fucking."

It didn't matter.

But he wasn't trying to silencing her moans that day.

No.

His fingers curled like hooks, the thick digits easily parting her plump lips and slipping between. His index and middle hooked against her cheek, tugging painfully at an awkward angle as he continued to plow into. Steph pulled against his digital intrusion, cracking her top lip. She fell into it then, rather than resisting, his fingers not so much as pulling as just clutching to her cheek as the woman's teeth fell over the curled knuckles and she bit down.

Paul was the one too loud then.

He yelled, jerking his hand back, but any satisfaction Stephanie wore on her face was wiped off as he quickly twirled her back around. The first knuckle on his index was bleeding slightly as the man gathered his wife in his arms. Her legs fell over his waist as her arm wrapped around his neck tightly and Paul turned from the counter, to give them more free space.

It was one of the better parts of having him as a husband.

Yes, he was great in many ways, but fuck having a man who could bench press her weight twice over meant the only thing holding them back from him manhandling her during every fuck was her own hesitance. As she gave herself fully over to him then, Paul had no problem with manipulating her to his liking. Then, with nothing to brace herself against, she was at his mercy as he bounced the woman on his cock, supporting her unsteady weight in full.

Steph had never been with a man who could do that.

Fuck her standing.

Even against a wall felt exotic for most men, but Paul liked it like this, with her clinging to him, jostling up and down his length as she tried hard to override the natural urge to steady herself. Peeking an eye open and glancing in the mirror gave her the best visual of them, together. He was hunched slightly as she hung from his eyes closed and her head pressed tightly near his as she insisted back the same nonsensical promises.

They wouldn't fight again.

They loved one another.

He was going to bash her head into that wall.

Steph realized this too late.

Or maybe her realization brought it into reality.

As she gazed over into the mirror at the two of them, she noted that if she tilted her head back just right, if he drove into her as he was, she was going to bash her head on the upward stroke. It wouldn't have been a concern, if she stayed that tightly coiled around him, but she panicked slightly, jerking away from him without thought.

It was self-fufilling.

It hurt.

Like hell.

"Goddamn it, Paul."

So she blamed him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he was insisting as he dropped her back down to her feet. His eyes were wide and he took a step backwards from her, cock glistening and firm between them now as she turned from him. Panting, concern was evident in his round eyes as he replied, "I was just-"

"You," she griped, "hurt me."

"Stephanie, I'm sorry." He ran a hand over his sweaty face, annoyed to find it clean shaven. Growling, he took a step towards her, reaching, but not touching. "Let me see if you're okay. C'mere."

"No."

"Steph…"

He caught it.

As he trailed off, he saw the slight smile the woman gave as she turned her back fully to him and while he knew she had hit her head rather hard, he wasn't in near as much trouble as she was playing up.

But she was tired of being mistreated.

Even if it was consensual.

She fell into back into his chest as his arms enveloped her and as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, he didn't even note a knot.

He was pretty sure she'd hardly even tapped it.

She'd scared him though and his adrenaline was different now. Rather than being filled with lust, he was coming down off a spike of worry. Nuzzling his head gently against hers, the only thing he knew he needed then was release-

And his wife's attention.

Though he'd showered her in his, it had been domineering.

As the pounding in his chest and worry in his expression waned, he wanted some of the consoling he was offering her.

That time his step back didn't include a rough hand on her arm. Rather, his open palm was only left that way for a short moment before Steph's hand filled it and he led her quickly out of the bathroom. Rather than fall into the hotel room bed though, he immediately keyed in on the plush chair that sat alone in the corner. The old fabric was itchy on his butt and back of his thighs, but Paul was so enraptured by Steph clambering right up into his lap that he didn't care.

About anything.

Other than getting her top off.

Steph pushed up on her knees as he did this, raising her hands above her head as the man left her in an admittedly disappointing bra. It was plain, but that was just as well for the man, as he found the hooks in the back far easier to manipulate.

"There," he said as he freed them, grinning as her enhanced, full tits bounced in his face. This time, the licking of his lips was purposeful. All he'd wanted before was her messy cunt over him, but removed a few steps, it was high time he properly enjoyed the moment. "Steph."

Steph pressed her hands to either side of each one, squeezing them together with a grin. It was soft now though, no malice. The woman didn't even wince as he ghosted a hand first over where she'd bumped her head before resting it there. With their heads rested together, just for a moment, they shared a breath, him in and her out, before he ducked his to capture her left breast. With slippery lips, he moaned for show, getting a content sigh from the woman before she reached below to help align them.

He shift as she sank into him, her boob slipping from his mouth as he began to rock them, mainly. The hand on her head fell to her ass and the roughly palmed her other breast. His fingers curled into each and this is what the other position had been missing for the woman.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he swore, but she turned her head from him. So he followed, their rocking dying out some on his end as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, open and sloppy. "Love you."

Her sucked in breath wasn't in preparation for a verbal reciprocation, but rather an intense kiss that again ended with his lip between her teeth and fuck.

He was there.

As his hips fell back into the cushion, Steph's took over, forward and back, nothing major. She was giggling, even, at him, as his hands came to both her hips and stilled her, the pleasure too exceptional.

"Did you…" he trailed off, softly and though she didn't answer him, he knew it anyways, before he asked.

"Before," Steph whispered, but he felt renewed again, not for fucking, but for all toying he'd done with her clit before.

His head came back from where it had fallen, into the felt chair, just to press gently into her forehead. They didn't speak, not really, but it felt like in the two minutes of huffed breaths and shifting enough was said. Though he'd gone flaccid, Steph ground against him all the same, even when he fell from her, and he promised her an hour or so and-

"Shit," she cut him off, loudly, mind you, when they were being so quiet before, and now he kinda wanted her out of his lap.

He helped her up, even, as she moved to get that way.

"I have to get to my luncheon!"

"What?" Paul huffed. "I thought you already-"

"It got moved back. I just came by to freshen up-"

"Then where were you?"

"What?"

"All morning." He shoved up to go after her. The woman had disappeared into the bathroom, not fully closing the door in her rush, and he caught it before it naturally completed the motion. "Where were you?"

"I don't have time for this," she griped and they each gave the other a few minutes to at least clean up.

He knew better than try and initiate a joint shower and that the task that day would be a solo one. In doing so, once more at the sink, he found himself glancing in the mirror frequently. Not just to look at the woman, as she awaited the warming water, but also his own slowly dissipating reflection, fresh faced and quickly becoming swallowed up by steam. It had been what was missing before, when he was shaving.

The nick on his cheek was hardly obvious, faded tissue just a speck dried on his face. But he saw it anyways.

Glancing away from the mirror, he said over his shoulder to the woman, "I like what you've been doing with your hair, Steph."

She was just stepping into the shower/tub combo but spared him a glare before tugging the green curtain closed.

"Shut up," she ordered.

"It's true," he insisted. "I-"

"You wouldn't have said that in the moment," she griped over the running water of both his sink and her shower, "unless you meant it."

"That's not true."

"It is."

"No."

"Paul-"

"I said it because I wanted to...hurt your feelings."

For a moment, he thought that she hadn't heard him. Or something. She went silent, anyways, before replying, "That's really shitty to hear from my husband."

Frowning, he said, "You did the same thing."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" He turned to glare at the curtain, her shadowed form facing away from him behind. "You told me that you hated me shaving."

"So?"

"That… That hurt my feelings."

"Oh." Steph paused. "I'm sorry. I didn't know that would hurt your feelings. Really, baby. I shouldn't have said that."

But this only made him glare more.

"If you didn't," he griped, "say it to hurt my feelings, Stephanie, then why did you say it?"

"I meant it."

"You just hurt my feelings again!"

Her pause was longer then and the water even turned off. Pulling back the curtain, Steph reached for a nearby towel on her quick way over to him.

"Oh, baby," she was cooing as she hardly even wrapped the towel around herself, far more concerned with falling all over him. "I really didn't know-"

The towel caught between them as the man squeezed his eyes shut. "Steph, I don't want-"

"-that it hurt your feelings."

"It didn't." He huffed. "I just said that to point out your hypocrisy-"

"I thought you were doing it because you knew I didn't like it," she admitted then. This time his frown was less put on and even included an eyebrow raise. But Steph only shrugged as she insisted, "That thing you were doing, where you were shaving more, down here and not up top? I liked that. But oh, I love it when you try something new too."

He couldn't help it. His chest swelled a bit and he forget most everything else as he remarked, "Well, this time I'm thinking of switching it up again. I-"

"No, no, I like for it to be a surprise." She was quick to press one final kiss to his lips before taking a bounce of a step back before turning ot the sink. When he lingered, she offered over her shoulder, "You can have next."

Glaring, he griped, "How did you get the sink, babe?"

"I don't have time-"

"I'm sorry." He took in a breath after this before adding, "Steph."

She was drying out her hair with the towel and didn't take time out for him now, but through this prodded, "For?"

"You cannot-"

"What are you sorry for, Paul?"

He felt like he had many options and each was equally as wrong as right.

"For what I said about your hair" he tried and could tell it wasn't the right one by the way she merely shrugged her shoulders.

"It happens," she replied.

"And," he stalled, using his own towel to continue to idly clean off. "I'm sorry for...hurting your feelings."

But again, she shrugged. "I get it. You're all good."

He could tell he wasn't though and tried, "I'm sorry I tossed you into the wall?"

"Paul-"

"Fuck, Steph, I'm sorry I've been a little uptight, okay?" He stomped away. Over to the shower. "Is that what-"

"Up," she laughed, but he could tell it wasn't the good kind and quickly stepped into the shower, regardless of the shift in temperature, "tight?"

"I said me. Steph, I said, me." He thought she'd misunderstood. Again. But no. "I said that I've been uptight."

"You've been a raging asshole."

"You are over-"

"I didn't even fucking decide," Steph insisted to him, "anything that you're so upset about, so-"

"I didn't say," he retorted, "that you did."

"Then-"

"I'm not upset with you. Stephanie. I'm...pissed at work." He huffed. "Yes, you happen to be a part of that, but no it's not directly you. If you didn't work with me we'd probably still be having this conversation."

Which, he realized at this admission hardly would make the woman feel any better about the situation.

"So you're just going to be an ass towards me when work gets hard now, why? What changed?"

"Steph-"

"I mean we've been married now, how long?"

"It's not-"

"No, seriously, Paul, how long?"

"W-Well… Wait, what-"

"I mean if you don't know-"

"I do! I-"

"Or is something else that makes me, what?" She wasn't giving him a chance to answer. "Not fun anymore?"

Paul frowned. "Who said that?"

But she couldn't see him. And didn't seem to care for his words, regardless.

"Or," she continued, "do you just hate the color of my hair?"

"Stephanie," he complained, "you're being-"

"Like you the past two weeks," she finished for him, not truly caring for his assessment then. The man had used up all his chances at finishing things; it was her turn now. "No matter what I say, everythings been a problem."

"Yeah, but…" He frowned up at the shower, squinting his eyes closed as the water splashed in them, "It's funny when I do it."

"To you."

"Uh, yeah, Steph, that's the point."

"Paul-"

"I'm sorry." And he didn't qualify the statement. "Really, Steph, I am."

This hung around them as he showered off and the woman hurried through getting ready. A towel was around his waist now and, as Steph disappeared off into the actual room, he reclaimed his spot at the sink to begin shaving once more.

He was just finishing up when Steph came to press a kiss first to his bare shoulder and then his cheek. Sighing, she insisted to his cheek, "I'll be back around before it gets too late, huh?"

Nodding, he still thought to ask, "where were you this morning?"

But it was the second time now that the topic had been brought up and Steph found it hard to still dodge.

"If you're accusing me of something-"

"Of course not." He even frowned, glancing to the side at her. "But if you were...avoiding me-"

"Baby-"

"I'm just trying to figure it all out, alright?" He tapped her chin with a curled thumb, but Steph was dressed for the day again, soft blond locks pulled back into a tight bun, and while he wished he could take back their argument, he was thankful for where it had gotten them. "Balance it all. Calm down. I've always been able to, you know, stew alone. And you're here now, you've been here, but right now specifically-"

"You needed space. I gave it to you." Steph smiled, but it was with a step backwards. For all the solitude he'd desired before, he wished his wife could blow the rest of his off day with him. Watch stupid shit in bed before going out that evening. Her grin felt mocking, maybe just a bit, as she added, "Now you have even more."

He raised a hand, but she was gone then, leaving the bathroom and all he could do was point after her.

"When you finish all the shit you gotta do today," he insisted to her giggle as, after gathering her purse, the woman headed to the door, "it's me and you. Okay? Go out, stay in, I don't care."

"As long as," Steph finished for him, hand on the front door knob, "we fuck again, right?"

He wanted to chide her for, again, missing the funny mark, but smiled through his critique as he insisted instead to the leaving woman, "Just so long as we're talking, I'm good." And when he didn't hear her open the door, he knew she was waiting, so added, "But I mean if you're offering-"

"Goodbye, Paul."

He smiled hard enough it hurt as the door shut behind the woman and he could hardly wait until she returned.