#i hear heirloom engagement rings and galas

[zhongrin]

sometimes i forget how my friend is rich due to their down-to-earth nature and their tendency to be frugal, but then one day they would say stuff like "my chef praised my cooking the other day!" and i'd be like........ bestie you have a what-

[10millionyearsdungeon]

Praesidium

A/N: Back to our regularly scheduled bullshit...We went into this with zero plan, zero ambition, and came out the other end with something resembling a drabble featuring Hitoshi Shinsou as a hot-shit, Kennedy-esque politician trying to escape from the “family business.” I’d like to thank @dymphnasprose​ for the inspiration, the banner, and for putting up with my crazed plot bunny hunting sessions in her DMs. Proudly part of The Smut Pile Mafia Collab-- huge thanks to @pleasantanathema​ and @present-mel​ for organizing it and keeping us degenerates on time for once. You’re the real heroes.

TW: Wax play, orgasm denial, tobacco use, death threats, graphic violence

=====================================================

You were always used to protection. Your family's name and wealth brought its own Kevlar shield; whether it was the broad shouldered bodyguards flanking you and your entourage during every frivolous shopping excursion or impromptu escape to one of the many vacation homes that dotted the globe, or the mere mention of your father and the weight of his near omnipresence in the highest echelons of high society, protection was almost always guaranteed. You could hear it in the hushed voices of the real estate giants and their trophy wives when you made your grand entrance to every socialite gathering. 

"There she is, Yanai's precious pearl…" 

Dripping in envy and awe, it was no surprise to you when you caught his eye. Heir and only daughter of the wealthiest family in the country, you knew your worth among the elite and so did he. You only knew of Shinsou Hitoshi by virtue of his reputation as a newcomer to the world of national-level politics, but his charm and charisma were undersold by every inch devoted to him in the papers. By all accounts, he left you dazzled by his lazy, almost sleepy smile and the low rumble of his succinct one-liners. 

He played the part of the laid-back Playboy to the hilt, and by the night of your first fundraiser gala Shinsou had you practically eating from the palm of his hand like a hungry stray. By your second date, you could practically taste the Harry Winston hiding in his Tom Ford smoking jacket by the time dessert arrived. Back then you never questioned how he managed to afford the heirloom, four carat diamond he slid onto your finger, nor did it occur to you how he managed to slither his way into the House of Councilors. Blinded by the magnetic sway he held over you and your well-paid collection of sycophants, the how and why seemed largely irrelevant so long as he kept you on his arm. In your waking moments, you could almost catch pieces of a broken conversation from your insomniac lover. 

"Find someone else...I'm done being your enforcer. I have an image to maintain now…"

Many a night he'd stumble in reeking of sweat and sulfur, dark liquor still burning on his lips when he pressed a kiss to your warm cheek as you slept in your shared bed. Morning invariably gave way to bruised knuckles and heavy dark circles as Shinsou hid his fading scars under his slate gray Armani suit. Prior to your wedding night, you thought you caught the rip of his silk and gravel voice grunting from a crooked alley. Following those familiar thunderclap grunts was the crunch of something hard and then a pulpy squilch that made your stomach twist in on itself. The begging that followed was unintelligible from your way to the nightclub, but his voice, your Shinsou's voice snarling a loaded promise of breathing tubes and chronic pain if the offending party didn't pay their due stayed with you until your bodyguard ushered you into the safety of your car. 

"Daddy, I can't do this," you cried. Your father dabbed at your eyes and shook his head at your tantrum. He wouldn't be so blasé about the arrangement or your uproar if he was the one who heard your groom's fist shattering bones just the night before. A vision in white brocade, the four carats on your left hand felt like ten tons weighing you down the aisle as your father all but dragged you to meet your husband at the end. As the crowd rose to receive your grand entrance, you couldn't help but stifle a quiet sob at the sight of Shinsou's surrogate fathers standing in the front pew. Yamada couldn't contain his excitement for his boy, but Aizawa glared on coldly when you met his gaze. Your father kissed your cheek and gave your hands a squeeze before abandoning you before your audience. Shinsou held out his hand, and you choked back another hiccuping sob-- how could you hold those hands the same way when they were capable of such senseless violence? Knuckles cracked and discolored with aging bruises, he groped for your hands and pulled you the extra two steps onto the altar, flashing you that same lackadaisical grin. It was a blur, a bad dream you couldn't wake from. Beyond the sporadic flashbulbs blinking in the crowd, you couldn't pull away from him. 

"I do…" Your voice didn't sound like your own, even as you felt it leave your throat. Shinsou pulled closer and rasped against your lips. 

"This is only the beginning, kitten." 

Kitten...

You couldn't deny how his pet name made you shiver. The single word held a scintillating promise of the night to come, yet all you could focus on were those hands and the crunch of anonymous bones under his blows. Would he ever turn those hands on you? As he gently slid his platinum wedding band over your ring finger, the mate to the ostentatious engagement ring occupying the spot, you melted under the tenderness of his touch. Your Hitoshi couldn't be capable of such violence. Your Hitoshi was a man of change, of reform who wanted to help bring his countrymen into a golden age. Your fingers numbly slid your ring onto your husband's hand and with the action sealed your own fate. The world swam out of view when he overtook you with a blistering kiss, hungry and needy against your lips. He didn't taste like smoke and scotch this time, a flavor you had grown to appreciate the longer you entangled yourself with him. He lingered for what felt like an eternity, the roar of applause and shared joy for the union a soundtrack erasing any fears you might have had prior. 

Your bridesmaids swooned over the intensity of Shinsou’s gaze throughout your opulent reception-- your father sparing no expense when giving away his precious pearl. Shinsou’s family kept to themselves mostly, with Aizawa only stepping from their shadowy corner to address your father over travel arrangements. Hitoshi’s eyes narrowed and that same cocksure grin blossomed over his features as you inched closer, hip pulled closer by that massive hand. “Hey,” you breathed with a soft smile. He returned it in kind and squeezed your hip through the eggshell Vera Wang gown and leaned in to whisper in your ear. Hair slicked back, all that tickled you was the heat from his breath as it fanned against your skin. “I can’t wait to get you out of that, kitten. Gorgeous as you are with it on, the thought of you in nothing but your jewelry has my mouth practically watering.” Predatory gaze amplified by that sex and gravel voice had you melting. He took you by the hand and bade you follow him across the floor of the resort ballroom. Cautiously, you glanced around the room, anxious that someone from the party would notice your sudden escape. Before you had a chance to object, Hitoshi held a finger to his lips and pulled you through the crowd and out of the room. “You really think I can wait any longer when you’re looking like that?” The wait staff cast cursory glances at you and your husband as he continued to guide you away from the noise and bodies keeping him from tearing your gown off and claiming you. “Hitoshi…” you whimpered, pinned with your back to the door of your honeymoon suite. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and nearly purred at the gasp that left your lips. Fumbling for the key, Shinsou held you from falling into the open door and nudged you over the threshold with an eagerness you couldn’t place. Words were swallowed by hungry mouths and replaced with an exchange of passion tempered only by the quiet frustration of fingering over buttons and parting fabric to unwrap the prize of feeling your skin under his fingertips. Once released from your prison of beaded white silk and delicate lace, Hitoshi pulled away, raking his ultraviolet eyes over your nearly bare frame to further appreciate his prize. 

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more perfect.” Instead of shying away from his words, you moved with a certainty that was far from your own. Automatically reaching for his tie, you pulled him down to resume your heated devouring, earning a chuckle and a light spank on your lace-covered cheek in reply. “Impatient, kitten?”

Your fingers worked the buttons of his shirt nimbly, practically digging your nails into his chest just to feel him hiss into your mouth. Tongues waged a war to stalemate status as your husband gave your buttocks a squeeze before hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his hips. Your sex practically drooled against his toned abs through your useless lace panties. The trail of your gyrating on the ridges of washboard muscle pulled wanton moans from your kiss-bruised lips.

“Feels like you are. Drenched for me already. Who knew my heiress was such a needy slut.” You whined under the degradation he heaped on you as he placed you on the pillow-top bed and guided your hands above your head. Shinsou pulled his tie over his head and wrapped it lovingly around your wrists, brushing his lips and teeth along the gently blushing skin along your blue-blood veins as he finished securing you to the headboard. He moved slowly, teasing every inch of exposed skin with languid grace. A panther in human skin, Shinsou sunk his teeth and sucked purple bruises along your ribs and thighs, parting your squirming legs casually. You felt the weight of his wedding band on your inner thigh and wriggled away from the cold of it. Hitoshi tsked from below, grin tugging on his lips as he pulled your panties down with his teeth. Tenderly, he rubbed a sole finger along your drenched folds. You bucked into the sensation and writhed for more, only to have your husband pull away and drag the slick-stained digit along his tongue. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you a lesson, kitten.” He blew on your clit, earning a choked moan. “You’re on my time now.” He withdrew, leaving you to whine for him to return, only to be answered by the closing of the bathroom door. You stared at the gold leaf ceiling, seconds dragging on like hours until he finally returned holding a candle, lit cigarette caught between his teeth. Hitoshi took a drag and guarded the flame from his dark red candle as he took a seat beside your whimpering form. He set the candle on the headboard and gently held your face in his hand, blowing smoke into your mouth. The intimate gesture, sharing the air in his lungs made you swoon. Distracted, you barely registered him removing your bra or how he grazed your pert nipples with scarred thumbs. You opened and melted into his attention, desperate for more. You caught his gaze, eyes glazed over with unadulterated adoration, and let out a strangled wail when the first drops of scarlet wax dripped over your shivering breasts. 

The shock of sudden warmth encasing your tender flesh in candy apple red kept you reeling into the next pour. Your Hitoshi leered above you, rapt in your reactions as he brought his free hand to rest on your bare mons. His long fingers grazing along your sopping clit and the continued dripping of hot wax on your skin had you writhing in place. His dark, rumbling chuckle made your blood sizzle under your skin as he admired his work. 

"I think she likes it," he purred, now moving with intent. Arching into the duvet, you pouted sweetly at your husband, legs gently rubbing together as if it would further entice him to continue. "Who knew my kitten was such a kinky slut?" 

"'Toshi, touch me more!" 

His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline, and he pulled his hand away from your glistening sex. Frustrated whimpers echoing through the suite, you were cut short by another trail of red wax burning down to your navel. He took another slow drag from his slow-dying cigarette and smirked. If it weren't for his hardening cock poking your hip through his tuxedo pants you would have never known how hopelessly he needed every moan and whine he pulled from your tight body. Past games, he would have blinded you, muffled his voice behind black silk and noise cancelling headphones, but tonight was different. 

"Know your place, kitten. You're in no position to make demands."

You bit your lip and stifled another whine as the wax cooled in the mold of your belly button. Shinsou kept the candle hovering just over your bound body, constantly watching you with the same, slow-simmering lust burning in his deep violet eyes. He stopped short over your dripping pussy and licked the nicotine from his lips. You could see the plan unfold in his head before he had a chance to put it in action. Anticipation had every hair tingling as you waited for his next move. Before he could act, there was a stern rap at the door. With all the petulance and frustration of a child forced to share his favorite toy, Shinsou rose from the bed and trudged to the door. 

"Little busy in here."

"Business waits for no one." The intruder's voice was black ice on a fall morning, cold and sharp as Hitoshi shrank back from the door. His shoulders tensed as he scratched the back of his neck, an anxious tic he couldn't shake from childhood. "You can play with your toy when we're done."

"I told you I've gone straight. No more back alley deals, no more blood on my hands. I'm done."

Your blood ran cold and it crept into your belly to make a new home gnawing through the viscera. Unable to make out much more than the broad back of your husband at the door, you strained to listen to the conversation before the cocking of a gun took your breath away. 

"You're done when I say you're done. Never forget who bought you those votes, how you skated into your parliament chair, high councilor." The voice's tone was harsh, mockingly so with an edge of condescension that earned a defeated growl from your Shinsou. The owner of the voice stepped closer, peering over your husband's shoulder with a frigid smirk that nearly made your heart stop. Aizawa raked his dark, abyssal eyes over your exposed body, resting hungrily on your sex drooling into the plum duvet, and turned back to his surrogate son. "Be a shame if something happened to her. All those billions siphoned away…" From your spot on the bed you could feel the noose tightening around both your necks the longer Boss Aizawa spoke. 

"...all to attend a funeral as the dutiful, lovesick widower with his wife's blood on his hands." 

"Enough! That's enough...you win."

Shinsou buttoned his shirt quickly and cast a longing glance over his shoulder at your quiet sobbing. He never wanted you to know the underworld he clawed out of to finally live in the light. It wasn't enough to want change and leave the bloody past where it belonged. Some ghosts had a way of coming back to their old haunts. Tuxedo jacket slung over his shoulder, Shinsou slicked his hair back and turned his back on you, leaving you bound to the headboard with wax, his own Jackson Pollock masterpiece drying on your skin. You could feel your heart breaking with the gentle closing of the door, and the barely audible, "I'm sorry," whispered ruefully by your retreating husband. Protection was something you used to take for granted, but as you found that night and many after, it was something few in your precarious position could do without. 

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 31

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle.  It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes.  With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays.  Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3  |  Masterlist

—

Previously (for the smut-averse):

“I have something for you,” Malcolm murmured, kissing her ear.

“Huh?”

They were snuggled together under the blankets, her back to his front, their arms entangled and folded together beneath her breasts.  Thoroughly sated, warm, comfortable, and happy, she was almost asleep when he spoke.

He rolled away from her, and by the time he came back she had turned to face him, pillowing her head on her arm as she watched him.  His hands appeared, one clenched around something, and her breath caught.  “What-”

“Rose,” he cut her off, not unkindly, “you… you are a breath of fresh air.  You-”

Unable to help it she yawned, face scrunching with the size of it- it seemed to go on forever, and by the time it was over, he was biting his lip, watching her with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Mhmm, you’re not,” she promised, snuggling closer, “but I’m exhausted.  My husband had me up ridiculously early to watch the sunrise this morning, then he shagged my brains out.”

“Sounds like quite the catch.”

“He is.”  She grinned up at him.  “And I’m going to return the favor and blow his mind- well, something- as soon as I’ve gotten a kip.”

Malcolm hummed.  “Well, I’ll let you get to it, but first- I’ll save the drawn-out romantic speech for when you’re more awake, but…”  Holding out his clenched hand in front of him, he turned it over and opened it to reveal a ring, with a decent sapphire stone set in gold.  It was beautiful, and delicate, and she loved it.

“Oh, babe,” Rose gasped softly.  “That’s wonderful.”

“Do you really think so?”  Surprisingly shy, he held it out to her.  “If so, I want you to have it.  If not, there’s plenty more in the family vault, but- I wanted you to have this one.  I’ve wanted you to have it for… a while.”

“Are you sure?”  She took in carefully, holding it up to her eye to examine it better.  “It looks old.  Not in a bad way, just in a valuable way.”

Her husband slid his hand over her waist, pulling her closer.  “Yes.  I didn’t give you an engagement ring, because… but now that our feelings have been resolved, that it’s all out in the open, I want you to have a pretty ring to show off.”

Rose looked down at the simple gold band she’d been wearing for the last week, and felt her heart melt.  “I’m very happy with the ring I already have,” she told him softly, “because you gave it to me.  I think this will be a perfect addition.”  Then she handed it back.

“Wait, what?”

Rolling her eyes, she held out her left hand to him, grinning.  “Go ahead, put it on me.  ‘S only right.”

He did, carefully guiding it up her finger and over her knuckles, settling it at the base of her wedding band before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing both rings gently.  “Perfect.”

“I agree.”  Bringing her hand to her face, she admired how they looked together – like they belonged next to each other.  “That wasn’t necessary, but… thank you.”

“You deserve the world,” he shrugged one shoulder.  “A ring- a family heirloom at that- is nothing.”

Smiling, she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly.  “Let’s get some sleep,” she sighed against his lips.  “Then when we wake up, I’ll thank you properly.”

He kissed her back.  “No thanks necessary.”

“Oh, I think it’s very necessary.”

-

Friday evening

“Do you think I look okay?” Rose fussed, critically examining her reflection in the mirror.  Sarah Jane would shortly be arriving for dinner, and she wanted her first hosting event to go smoothly, looking and acting the part.  She’d chosen a cocktail dress, one of the nicer ones she owned – it was a dark navy, with silver threaded accents, paired with sapphire studs Malcolm had gifted her with the night before the wedding.  Those and her rings were the only jewelry she wore, and she fingered the neckline of the dress.  “Is it missing something?  Something that might make it better?”

Malcolm grunted, and she watched in the full-length mirror as he finished tying his laces and stood, coming up behind her.  “Well,” he considered, setting his hands on her hips and rucking up the fabric slightly, enough to show the tops of her thigh-high stockings, “I do have one thought…”

“Oh, do you?” she rolled her eyes, grinning.  “What’s that?”

“I think- and this is just my opinion, mind, what do I know about fashion- but, it seems to me it might look better on the floor.”

Rose burst into laughter, spinning out of his grip.  “Later,” she promised, smoothing the fabric back down her thighs.  “For now, behave.  Our guest will be here any minute.”  Even as she spoke, the sound of crunching gravel echoed up from below.

Her husband held his hands up in response, backing away with an incorrigible smirk.  “Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that,” he warned, returning to the bed to pull on his sport coat. “But in all seriousness, you look incredible.”

“Thank you.”  She offered him a smile in return, letting her eyes drag over him.  “And may I say, you clean up well.”

“Yes, well, one must look one’s best for company,” he affected a terribly posh accent, making her giggle.  “Now, would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you to dinner, my lady?”

-

Rose snorted, half-choking on her glass of wine.  “I’m sorry, you what?” she gasped, head spinning to stare at her husband.  “No.  No way.”

“He did!” Sarah Jane laughed, looking smug.  “And it was his idea!  All we said was-”

“Bullshit,” Malcolm snapped back, eyes pleading with Rose.  “Bull.  Shit.  I have no memory of this!”

“Because you were absolutely plastered!”

“And even if this ridiculous accusation were true- which it’s not- it would solely be because someone called me more boring than plain toast!”

“Sorry, what did we miss?” Jack asked, as he and Ianto slid back into their seats.  “We had some Estate business to attend to.”

Watching Ianto discreetly wipe at his mouth with his napkin, Rose arched an eyebrow at her cousin-in-law.  “Is that so?”

He merely gave her a bawdy wink in response, making his buttoned-up boyfriend’s ears go pink.  “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Malcolm stole a police horse at uni,” Rose blurted, even as her husband denied it.

“Rose!”

Jack gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest.  “Malcolm Tucker!  I don’t believe it.  D’you have any evidence?”

Rose laughed as Malcolm pouted, his lower lip protruding further when no one came to his defense.  Though the conversation continued around her she just watched him, reaching out for his hand.  He stared at it for a moment before his expression softened, and he took it, thumb rubbing over the bands of her rings, straightening the newer one as the stone had listed to the right.  Their eyes met, and she smiled, growing lost in his gaze.  It was so freeing, to be able to show her love with him, to not have to hide her adoring looks or make up excuses to see him or be with him.  They could just be, and she hoped it never changed.

“So, Rose, is this your first trip to Scotland?”

Sarah Jane’s voice broke the spell, and Rose had to blink several times to bring the rest of the room back into focus.  “Sorry?  Oh, uh, yes, it is.”

“What do you think?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she smiled, leaning forward.  “I mean, I’ve mostly been on the property other than the trip into town the other day when we met and the drive up from Inverness Airport, but…  I think we will be making frequent trips back here.  I’d love to see more.”

Malcolm cleared his throat, and she glanced over to find him wiping his mouth.  “Actually…”

“What?”

His thumb moved over the back of her hand, the only giveaway that he was nervous about what he was going to say.

“Well, I was thinking about our conversation the other day, and… what would you say to leaving here early?  I think Jack and I have pretty much wrapped up our business, and while it would be nice to just hang out here, what if instead we went on a driving tour?”

“A driving tour?” she repeated, heart leaping in her chest.

He nodded.  “You, me, your twenty-three suitcases and Bessie on the open road.  We’ll stay at B&Bs, and see everything you want to.”

Rose stared at him, nearly overwhelmed with joy at his suggestion.  “That sounds wonderful,” she breathed, “but no- not everything.  Let’s leave some for our next trip.”

“You like the idea?”  He looked so earnest, eager to please and hopeful, her heart nearly gave out with love.

Throwing down her napkin, she stood and walked to him, settling across his lap and wrapping her arms around him.  “I love the idea,” she whispered, kissing him.  “Absolutely.  Let’s do it.”

-

Like a switch had been flipped, the energy and conversation in the room changed as they started planning – Jack went running for his laptop while Sarah pulled a tablet out of her purse, and within minutes they were planning routes and must-sees, calling out suggestions of things Rose might be interested in.

Sitting back in his seat Malcolm watched Rose bounce between Sarah and Jack to hear their ideas, Ianto plugging everything into Google Maps and finding the optimal itinerary.  She looked happy, her face flushed and eyes sparkling, like a general commanding her troops just as she did every year during the Gala.  He’d always found that sexy, how she could be so confident and in charge when the moment called for it, despite her always fretting if she was the best person for the job.

Perhaps he was biased, but he felt she was the best person for any job, wholly capable of doing anything she set her mind to.

“Hey, Malc,” Jack called, breaking him from his reverie.  “How far south do you want to go?”

Malcolm waited a beat to be sure Jack wasn’t being fresh, but when his cousin didn’t break into a smirk, he shrugged.  “I was thinking of a large loop, staying just above Edinburgh and Glasgow.  Going along the eastern coast, then as far down as Stirling, maybe, if she wanted to see the castle?  Through the Trossachs then up to Glencoe, then out to Skye.  Return to Inverness, meet someone there to take the car, and we fly home.”

Rose made a soft noise, and he grinned.  “Yes, dear, we can stop by Loch Ness – even go to the museum, if you like.  We’ll drive up along it from Skye.”

“Yes!” she gave a little fist pump, before blushing.  “I mean, sure, that sounds fine I suppose.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a rite of passage,” Sarah said soothingly, patting her hand.  “I know I had to go when I first got here – of course, I was only coming for uni, fully intending to return to London at the time.  Still, I was quite excited – and I swear I saw something.”

Malcolm scoffed, rolling his eyes despite his grin.  “It was probably the sleep deprivation,” he retorted.  “You were the one insisting we bring the baby.  Poor wee Clara cried the whole night through.”

“The whole trip through,” his friend shuddered.  “Six twenty-year-olds and an infant.  Two hundred kilometers each way.”  Then she smiled.  “It was terrible fun.  God, I miss being that age.”

“Clara and I did stuff like that,” Rose grinned, sinking into the nearest chair.  “Friday afternoon after our last class- or sometimes before- we’d just hop on a train and go somewhere.  Rent a room for a night or two, do some exploring, then head back for Monday classes.  Sometimes it was just into London – funny how you can live there your whole life and have no interest in it, then move away for uni and just to want to go explore there.”

“We only travelled as a group a few times – no money – but it was always fun,” Malcolm said.  “Especially when Missy would get her nose out of joint and insist on staying home with Clara, awful as that sounds.”

Sarah, Rose, and Jack snorted as one.  “We’ve all met Missy,” Jack said reassuringly.  “We understand.”

Ianto looked around, uncertain.  “Er, I haven’t.”

“Count your blessings,” Rose said dryly, before looking down at her list.  “Right, now be honest- is there time to see all of this in the remaining week we’re off?”

Malcolm just laughed.  “You know, I bet if you ask really nicely, your boss will let you take more time.”

“Is that so?” she asked, giving him that grin that always made his pants tighten – the one where her tongue gets caught between her teeth, sparking eyes laughing at him, and he would give her the world if she asked.

He just smiled back, holding her gaze, until Sarah felt the need to groan.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, get a room you two!”

-

“So, honestly,” Malcolm asked when they were once again alone, curled up together in their bed, bodies sated for the moment.  “Is this how you’d like to spend the rest of our honeymoon?”

“What, in bed?”  Rose chuckled, rolling over to face him.  “No, seriously.  I think this… driving tour is a brilliant idea.  Just you and me, playing tourist…  I mean, I wouldn’t have said no to bikinis and fruity cocktails and white sand, but yeah, this is good too.”  Snuggling closer, she rested her head on his chest.  “I love the idea.  I’m so excited.  I’m sorry to be leaving here, but… we can always come back, right?”

“As often as you like.”

She sighed in contentment, leaning forward to press her lips over his heart.  “Then, often enough – at least every year or two.  It’s so beautiful, and peaceful.  And you might make an equestrian of me yet.”

Malcolm bit his lip, chewing over his words before tentatively offering, “You know, we can travel wherever you want.  Whenever you want.  I mean, much of our work at the Foundation can be done from anywhere with an internet connection.  Whether that’s the Scottish Highlands or the Maldives.”

“I will take that under advisement,” Rose nodded, walking her fingers along his sternum.  “How about I make a list, and you make a list, and then we’ll compare them and go from there?”

He breathed out.  “Sounds like a good idea.”

“Do I hear a ‘but’?”

He stayed silent, unsure if it was worth bringing up, before deciding to broach the subject from a non-direct angle.  “Maybe we should expand that list not to just travel, but to… other things we may or may not want to experience together?”

“D’you mean like sex stuff?”

“No- I mean, sure, that’s fine, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.”  Just say it, you coward.

She looked up at him, eyes searching his, and after a moment, she said, “If you mean babies, that is definitely happening.  Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

“I haven’t!  But, I don’t want to pressure you,” he hurried to say, grateful that she had been able to read him, hadn’t made him say it.  “But, yes, that is something I would like.  With you.  If you want.”

Shifting under the blankets, Rose clambered on top of him, straddling his waist and leaning down, kissing him slowly, decadently, the kind of kiss that lingers long after the lips part.  “Like I said, definitely happening.  Though, like, in a year or two, if that’s okay.  I want some time to just be an us first, you know?  Deal?”

“Deal.”

They sealed it with a kiss.