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Starting the Jest

Summary:

Dirtied and tired; Messmer dragged his wife for a bath.

Notes:

I love to imagine clingy messmer, can you tell??

Work Text:

“Thou aren’t scheming, I hope?”

The man is sat, with knees spread as bubbles move vicariously through one another.
The bath was small, his chest lay on display as the younger woman coddles about the tub.

“Nay, dear husband,” she all but giggled out.

White foam is dusted across her delicate hands, she carefully but intently moves it across his form.

Messmer; the almighty
Messmer; the everliving flame…

Is currently being covered and buried in a vast amount of bubbles.

“It seemeth,” a sigh pushed its way past his lips.
With eyes trained onto the lady, big hands found their way across her waist.

“Thou is.”

The woman lightly shushed her husband, getting the foam to dance across both lips.
He grimaced and with brows knitted began his assault on the woman; to her ticklish sides.

“Mess— husband— please!” She managed to get out a couple words before pushing the large knight away. And although she backed up completely; the tub was too small to get any where far.

Messmer smiled, it pushed his cheeks up and dusted a light pink across his features.
And although it was from the ethereal woman he got to call his wife, he would never admit.
Instead, say how hot the chambers have gotten; blaming it on her need for incessant heat.
With a simple lift to the hand, he pulled the woman against him, shushing her moans with a kiss.
Fingernails dug into the man’s scalp, but ever used to such a pressure the man continued.

His tongue molded against hers, he noticed quickly, that she tasted like apples and fine aged wine.
The need for air was rising, her chest heaved as the man broke away hesitantly.

“My love, oh how it pains me to be pushed away so,”
Her arms sat on the maroon knights shoulders, lightly brushing the man’s hair back as her orbs rolled back with feign annoyance.

The room was indeed hot, steam rose from every crevice, and although the large window beside them lay open; it had little opportunity to help.
From the two of them moving, water had splashed and soaked the golden tiles on display, which Messmer eyed carefully.

“Dear wife,” he began
His forehead touched hers, an action he was addicted to.

And could you blame him? He thought, carefully touching the woman before him.

To have such a goddess for a wife, why wouldn’t he want to be mere inches away?

“If thou is quite done, I would like to return to bed, hm?”

“Me? I’ve done nothing but bathe and dote on my husband!”

A noise left the man out of pure defiance and his fingers found the outline of her jaw.

“I shall engulf you; enjoy you slowly dear wife, for lying to your lord.”

Such a comment startled her out of rationalized thought.
Mouth agape she could only stare back at the man as her cheeks warmed with a light burn.

“Do not jest with me, Messmer,”

With an increase of strength, his palm closed around her cheeks, squeezing her puffy lips out for him.

He eyed them shamelessly, mesmerized by such complete and udder perfection.

“A—Are you done?”

With squished features her R’s began to sound like W’s, and such a simple thing garnished a laugh out of the flame.
Two hands came out to grab at his one, yet they stood powerless against such a strength.

“Say please, pretty wife.”
He stared once more

“Say it, and I’ll let you go, that you have my word.”

Water droplets drooped down her neck and dribbled past the expansion of her chest.
Messmer, ever distracted by such a feat, laid his other hand upon her breasts.

“Say it,” he begged.

The girls cheeks were sore, no longer did the silly antics seem so fun with all this teasing that came back at her.
“—please,”

“Please what?” The flame demanded as his head inched closer to hers, wanting to hear— to memorize the words that crawled out of her lips.

“Please, my husband,” she whispered, cheeks still aflame.
Instantly the hand left her features, and instead found home on her backside.

“That wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Stroking her spine it went down further, until the line of her buttocks was in his hold.
It gripped and squeezed the area, to which his wife begrudgingly allowed.
Her frame lay across his, with her neck crammed into his neck, too embarrassed to show her face.

“Let’s return, darling, my trip to the capital lay for the morning before us.”

Kissing her head he stood, with his wife atop his arms, ready for a warm bed and good nights rest.

For Messmer the Impaler could not begin his rein of terror without cuddling his wife prior.

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