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She’d almost forgotten what it’s like. No, that’s not true – she didn’t let herself remember. Of all the things about Frederick she didn’t want to forget, the memory of that day – that one time – she didn’t let herself cling to, think of over and over, letting the memory fade from reality into a soft, dreamy haze.
Breathless laughter, soft, passionate kisses, the green trees around them- Frederick holding her hand, an arm around her waist, she sitting in his lap as he kissed her neck-
Now, they are in a bed, at night, light coming from the fireplace and candles all around them, turning everything gold and warm and beautiful. It makes the memory of that bright day even more of a hazy dream. But this- his lips, his kiss, his hands, more weathered and rough than they were – this is all familiar.
And it feels good.
The sun is shining on her face, his face. It’s not nearly as warm as his hands, bunching up her skirts up to her waist, baring herself to him. He’s moving down, sliding backwards onto the ground while encouraging Anne further up his torso.
She’s lying on her back, on their wedding bed, Frederick sliding slowly, so slowly, down her body. It’s nothing like the first, the last, time he did this. Before, it was fast, in an hour they could sneak away to themselves; here, it’s slow, time feasted upon, only themselves to be concerned about.
Only him, and her.
His lips, his warm lips, kissing her skin and making her stomach bubble with excitement. They’ve been here before.
He kisses her legs, her inner thighs, where she is kneeling over his face, not even sure what he’s wanting her to do, but he’s so good to her, she’ll go anywhere he wants her to. She’ll stay where he wants her to.
It’s when his mouth, his tongue, goes there, she has to slap a hand over her mouth, to keep from making noise. It doesn’t work, what Frederick is doing is too much to contain her gasps, but she keeps quiet. They cannot be found here, like this.
He tells her after, a smile on his sweet lips, that he wished to hear her reach her pleasure again, one day soon.
Frederick is settled between her splayed legs, has hooked his arm around her right leg, to keep his hand resting on her belly. He looks at her – a smile in his eyes and upon his mouth, his gaze tracing her body, her belly, her breasts, the blush on Anne’s chest, before matching her eyes with his. Anne can feel where he’s moving his thumb, at the juncture between her belly and her hips.
He says nothing when he breaks their gaze, instead moving directly to his goal.
Anne’s breath catches in her throat – oh, oh, how she’d forgotten the sensation of this! What it felt like, Frederick’s tongue, his lips, creating this feeling in the special space between her legs. Anne moans aloud, once, before pressing her hand to her mouth to keep quiet.
When she moans again, muffled by her palm, Frederick stops. His hand reaches up to her, moving her palm so that Anne has no choice but to gasp a little. She looks at him, her husband.
Frederick laces his fingers between hers, and just says, “I want to hear you.” He kisses her thigh, next to his cheek. The muscle jumps there. “I didn’t get to, the first time. Will you let me hear you, Anne?” He gives that same muscle a soft bite. Anne gasps, groans aloud. He asks again, “Will you let me hear you?”
Anne cannot do anything but oblige.