by J. Morgan
The arm came around her shoulders again, pulling her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. It was tempting to bring up that he had seen her ‘preparing’ herself for when he came back inside after his piss by the house, even seen her rubbing herself a little, but figured that would utterly ruin the mood. If she ever brings up why he ‘did those things to her when she was asleep’, THEN he will tell her the embarrassing truth, but until then… meh, best to keep the peace. She looked up to him and smiled, having taken the bottle of rum from the coffee table, and moved her lips as though she wanted to kiss. He obliged; their kiss was pleasant, and he took his time with it, a solid 2 seconds or so if not 3.
“Not gonna get to have any of this for a long time, I think… a swig for the pain?” Bottle in her right hand, she lifted her left while looking at it, wincing a bit at the simple gesture. He pushed her lightly with his shoulder playfully.
“Go for it…” and she tipped the bottle of Lamb’s Navy to her lips, taking the harsh liquid in her mouth and down her throat which he had done with apparent ease. She got it down, but coughed and sputtered like mad. He laughed; she put the bottle back, empty.
“God… fuck… how do you?... fuck!...” the coughing continued, holding her throat, speaking raspily from the burn. She could hardly get her words out as her face screwed up from the heat of the strong liquor, clearly unable to take it with as much grace as he had.
“Well you see; when a man loves a woman…”
“Oh fuck off…” he laughed harder at her reply, giving her a one-armed hug. She laughed as well, though coughing too hard to let it out properly. It would seem likely that the rest of the rum is all his.