The chill wakes her up.
Francis' arm is loosely draped over her waist, his breath just a whisper on her neck, the warmth of it contrasting sharply with the cold of the room. The duvet is down to her waist, she must have pushed it off in her sleep, and through her thin nightgown the faint cold of the room bothers her. The fire must have died in the middle of the night, she reasons, still half asleep. She's far too comfortable in the silky sheets and between Francis' arms to want to get up, but she doesn't want either of them to catch a cold that would spoil their honeymoon. And so with a groan she raises her head and looks around for her robe, and when she locates it she tries to slip out of bed. Tries.
"Where are you going?" Francis mumbles, his voice laced with sleep.
"I'm going to call for a servant to stock the fire." She whispers to him. "It's dying."
"I can keep you warm." It's his answer, as he drops a kiss on her naked shoulder.
"You know I'm coming back, right?" She reminds him, laugther forming in her throat at his adorable tone of voice. She can nearly hear the pout.
"Don't leave in the first place." He tells her. His leg comes between her own then, effectively locking her inside the bed.
"Francis!" She complains half-heartedly, becoming convinced that she doesn't really need to get up before she remembers that it's not as if she would take more than two minutes, or was asking him to give up his firstborn.
"Far too early for my wife to leave our bed." He complains, leaving a sloppy kiss on her neck, his beard scratching the sensitive skin, making desire begin to stir low on her belly as sleep leaves her.
" It'll just take me a second." She tells him then, low, teasing him. She moves back to grind against him before trying to get up again, and he groans at her antics, tightening his arms around her.
"No." He insists, kissing her cheek over and over again. "You're staying," kiss, "right," kiss, "here." His mouth finds her lips then, and as his tongue traces her lips he makes a good case of why not getting up-ever- is a fantastic idea.
"I suppose you'll really have to keep me warm then." She tells him boldly, seeing as they're both very awake now; and he growls against her shoulder which elicits a laugh from her lips.
"I think I can manage that." He says pulling the duvet to cover her, and before she turns around to tell him she wasn't really speaking about the cold she feels his hand roughly pulling up her nightgown beneath the sheets. She gasps, and tries to roll over to look at him but he keeps her facing away from him and it's different than anything they've done so far. His mouth isn't there to swallow her moan when his hand slides between her legs so she bites her lip to keep the sound inside. He's not restrained now, not as he knows exactly how to touch her to make her come apart.
"Don't hold back," he whispers huskily against her neck and she's not quite sure when her eyes slipped closed. "I want to hear you." His mouth is hot against her neck ad his fingers are insistent at her core, caressing her so expertly she can't help but comply and let her mouth fall open in a silent o. She starts to move against his hand so wantonly she'd be ashamed but she can't because this is Francis, her husband, who knows her and her body inside and out. A long, low moan leaves her throat as her whole body tightens when she reaches her climax; hot, wanting, pulsating.
They're so close she can feel him push his breeches down and it only makes her more impatient, but he doesn't let her turn on her back; instead he pulls her leg open so she can feel his hardness nestled against her heat. Her hands grasps the sheets before he enters her with a quick thrust of his hips. Her faint gasps as he pushes into her again and again fill the room. They move slowly; gentle and lucid and still a little groggy with the fading cover of sleep.
She loves this, oh how she does. It's only their sound that she can hear, their combined moans and the movement of their bodies; caught in that peaceful moment before the sun rises. He moves faster against her, his hand on her hip guiding her in this new position; and soon enough she's pushing back agaisnt him, lost in this, in him. His hand sneaks down her body once more right above where they're joined, and his fingers caress her in tandem with his thrusts.
"Oh God," She moans, her head thrown back to rest against his shoulder as they chase their climax together. Her whole body trembles, and moments later he hears his grunt as he spills inside of her, deep and hot. They slow down, exhausted, yet more awake than ever. He slips out of her gently, and she finally turns around to face him.
She brings his head down to hers for a long kiss, a smile on her lips.
"I should call a servant about the fire." He says pulling back suddenly, but her arm firmly wraps around him and keeps him in place.
"Don't you dare leave this bed."