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“You shine with the light of the moon,” Peter said, running a finger over the curve of his love’s bare breast, “and she pales in comparison to you.”
Lydia turned to look at him, propping herself up on one arm as her fire-red curls tumbled over her uncovered shoulder. “So sex makes you sappy,” she answered with a smirk, “good to know.”
Peter merely glanced at her unfazed, drawing his nail lightly across her nipple and watching as it puckered in response to the sensation. He loved seeing his bride in their bed, ready for him. “The moon controls all were-creatures,” he responded, “I know you know this.”
“Mmm, I do know.” Lydia grabbed the hand that was now threatening to trail lower down her body and laced her fingers though his; “and I take it as the high complement you meant it to be, even though moonlight is actually reflected sunlight.”
“Yes, and you remain as obnoxiously literal as ever. Clearly I haven’t been doing my job of keeping you satisfied well enough tonight. Good thing I never run out of ideas, queen of my heart.”
“You should get on that then,” Lydia teased, her eyes darkening with renewed lust; “what ever did you have in mind?” She turned to face him fully, the shadowy whisper of silken sheets against her skin still muted in the large room as she bared herself to his gaze once again.
“Oh you meant for me to please you,” Peter gasped, his eyes widening in mock surprise, “I just meant that I could tire myself out so I could sleep without guilt in this wonderful bed.”
“You never feel guilt,” Lydia said as she brought their joined hands to her mouth and nipped as his fingers. “Now come. Attend your queen as promised.”
“Of course, my lady,” Peter growled, rolling on top of her, “you know me so well.”
