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2015

It was the weekend at last. In the three weeks he'd been back, she'd noticed that the weekends were so wonderfully easier that it was barely believable, and that ease began with the morning, as early as they woke. It wasn't just the extra sleep and not having to dash out of the flat before it was properly light and having to leave him, it was the lack of the reminder that she was working and he was not allowed to; that she had walked away from the job that he was now itching to do.

But it would be wrong to imply that the fact that she simply did not have to physically leave him was not the most persuasive factor motivating her suddenly renewed love for weekends. Being able to wake up and stay beside him in this little room, in this bed, the first bed they'd bought together, the bed where they'd slept together after they were married, the bed they'd made love in countless times, was literally all she'd really wanted for years now.

She liked it so much that now they barely opened the curtains on a Saturday.

Their limbs tangled insistently together. They had woken up not much differently to the way they lay now, with their arms cradling one another and their faces close together, they woke like that most days, expect now they were kissing each other; slowly and sweetly, and then a little more insistently, then hungrily. He already had her pyjama shirt off, he had got very good now at slipping the buttons off almost without her noticing. Well, it had once been his, she thought to herself, and she was sure she had never been that good at it.

"What are you smiling at?" he enquired of her.

"Just thinking about how these used to be yours," she replied, taking advantage of him moment's stillness to slip off the pyjama bottoms too, letting them fall out of the bed onto the floor.

"Yes, I had noticed you appropriating my clothing," he replied, then, pressing another kiss to her mouth, "I don't mind."

"Good," she replied, "Because I took a few of your ties too."

He snorted softly with laughter, pressing his mouth back to hers, letting his hands roam freely over her naked body.

"You've still got your pyjamas on," she pointed out, half complaining.

"So I have," he agreed, as if just noticing as much himself.

She groaned as he pressed his erection against her hip, then again against her centre through the flannel trousers.

"Take them off," she murmured in his ear.

He grinned at her, whipping the shirt off over his head so swiftly that he almost bashed his head against hers, discarding it on the floor as she had done with hers. She slipped her hands beneath the waistband of his trousers, cupping his buttocks in her hands, pressing herself against him again, making sure it was her teasing him this time. He kissed her hard, his hands in her hair. She nudged gently away from his hands though, softly moving down his body, leaving a slow trail of open-mouthed kisses on his flesh. She paused just above his waistband, gently gathering the fabric and pushing it down, gathering the trousers off his legs and quickly kicking them out of bed. Her hands settled softly on his buttocks again as she took him in her mouth. She felt him tense a little, and his hand in her hair. Immediately, she drew away, looking up at his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked him.

There was a look of strain on his face. He did not respond.

"Joseph?" she pressed, "Don't you like it?"

"It's just-… It sounds odd."

"No it won't," she insisted, straightening up so that they were on the same level, "Tell me."

Still, he hesitated.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," he asked her softly.

"I won't," she replied in a beat, "Please, Joseph, you have to tell me," for some reason her heart was beating out of her chest, "I don't want to do anything that you don't want me to. I don't want to-… hurt you."

"I know you don't," he told her, "But it's just a bit difficult for me, when you-…"

Whatever she had been expecting, it was not that. It had never been that way before, quite the reverse in fact. She tried not to think of what horrifying reason might lie behind that. Over the last few weeks she had been certain to scan him for signs of injury in his trouser area. There were some visible scars on his hips, but thankfully no more than that.

"Oh?" was all she could say, her voice weak and uncertain.

He could obvious sense her confusion, and explained in a soft voice;

"It's just-… Being that passive feels different for me now, after-…"

Comprehension dawned upon her. Of course that would be difficult for him, she should have known as much. She swallowed, hard.

"So, when I've tried to do that for you before, since you've come back, that was why you wouldn't let me?" she asked him.

He nodded.

"I didn't really know how to explain," he said to her, "I wish I could have told you properly."

"It doesn't matter," she replied, "I know now."

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked her tentatively. His arm wrapped around her body, resting in her lower back, slowly stroking a row of parallel lines with the pad of his thumb, "You don't find me less of a man?"

"You fool," she murmured softly, leaning in to kiss him.

Their mouths met and they kissed each other slowly, reassuringly. Things were coming out now, gradually, bit by bit. His experiences were manifesting themselves in their daily life, and little by little she was gain insights into what had happened to him, and sometimes explanations. She had learned not to push him to explain if he did not want to. But she noticed things. The enhanced sensitivity to bright lights, the aversion to pressure on his shoulders, the pressing need he seemed to feel stop dripping taps. She noticed the tiny physical ticks that he forgot or did not know to suppress. And now this dislike of passivity; she supposed it made sense, thinking about their lovemaking since he returned. She let out a quiet sigh against his lips. A very little wave of relief swept over her. She was gaining ground slowly but surely.

She pulled her mouth gently away from his.

"Would it feel any better if you did the same for me at the same time?" she asked him.

"Yes," he replied softly, smiling at her, "That would be alright."

She gently shifted around in the bed so that she was lying on her side facing his penis. She took him firmly in her hand first, bending her leg at the knee, resting herself open for him to explore. She felt his hands on the top of her thighs as she swept her hands around his lower back and took him into her mouth again. She felt his cock swell a little with arousal as she had not before, and she was consoled that he was more comfortable than he had been before. The feeling of his fingers pressing her folds apart, and then a second later his tongue, made her sigh gently around him. Her arms were wrapped around his hips, there was barely any need for him to thrust, he was already so close to her, so deep within her. She liked having him like this, and not only because she could feel his tongue pressing indelible strokes on her soft intimate flesh. She swirled her mouth thoroughly around his head as he flicked his tongue playfully inside her. His hands had her pegged in place too; her knees pressed around his ear to avoid his shoulders, his hands moving in soft circles, kneading her buttocks gently. A moment later, his tongue began playing with her clitoris, making her moan against him again, his fingers moving to delve deep inside her, filling her completely. She swallowed, and he came. Quickly, she swallowed again, letting out a deep sigh as she felt him bury his face against her. He rested for a few moments, and then she felt his tongue resume its moments against her, dipping deep inside her, his fingers working carefully against her clitoris until she came too, gasping, her knees clamping around his ears.

His hands stroked gently over her behind, soothing her as her climax abated. There was a moment's pause.

"How was that for you?" she asked him, cautiously.

She heard him give a soft, sighing smile and twisted round to look at him. He gave a little snort at the sight of her.

"You don't have to worry about me, you know," he told her, "Not when we're like this."

She bit back the instinct to say that it was difficult not to.

"I think I've always have, a little bit," she told him after a moment.

"And you've always taken very good care of me because of it," he replied.

She blinked at him with unusual meekness, smiling at him almost over her own shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so," she replied, quietly, "It's only what you've done for me."

She was still leaning up and twisting around to look at him.

"For God's sakes, Phil," he told her gently, "Come back up here, you'll put your neck out if you do that much longer."

She righted herself, moving around to lie back beside him again.

"Come here," he told her quietly, reaching his arms out for her, and she did, burying her head against his chest again.

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