She kept smiling and he lifted his hand, hooked her behind the neck and brought her closer. As he did so, her smile faltered but her eyelids lowered, her cheeks started to pink for a different reason and he heard her breath catch with anticipation.
He liked that, all of it, very much, but she mistook his intent.
He brought her close but stopped her when her face was an inch away and then he whispered his order in an attempt to soften it, “It is not wise, my wife, to sleep with the candles burning. Do not do this again.”
She stared in his eyes and she whispered back, “I was trying to wait up for you. I was so excited about the… uh, return of the elves I didn’t think I’d fall asleep.”
“Well you did,” he pointed out and she bit her lip. “They’re easily relit, Finnie. Extinguish them next time. I like you as you are, that is to say, alive and breathing not burnt to a cinder.”
Her eyes locked with his, hope flared before she hid it and then she whispered breathlessly, “You like me as I am?”
By the gods, he’d been a bastard.
Then again, in his defense, he did not know she was who she was and all that she was.
“Yes, Finnie,” he replied gently.
She pulled in a breath he felt as her chest contracted against his.
Then she said, “Well, I’m with you. I like myself alive and breathing and not burned to a cinder so I promise to blow out the candles next time.”
He pulled her close enough to touch her mouth to his then loosened his grip to allow her to move back an inch.
Then he muttered, “Good.”
Then he used his hand at her neck and his other arm around her to settle her at his side, cheek to his shoulder and ordered, “Cradle my thigh.”
He felt her body still even as her hand drifted to rest on his chest. “What?” she asked.
“I wish to sleep and do it with you curled into me as you did last night. Cradle my thigh.”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Sleep?”
Frey felt his mouth twitch as he looked at the firelight flickering on the ceiling. At the same time he gave his bride a squeeze.
She’d enjoyed what they shared earlier, very much, and wished to have his mouth back, his hands and likely more.
He liked that she wished this and he would give it to her.
But after he gave her a few more meals in order for her to be comfortable with her new husband.
“Yes, wife, sleep,” he gave her another squeeze. “Your husband is weary,” he lied for he would be dead before he’d be weary, lying with her next to him not having taken her at least once. “Now, do as you’re told and cradle my thigh.”
She hesitated again. Then she lifted her thigh and rested it on his, her weight settling into his side.
However she did this muttering, “Apparently, Raiders are bossy.”
That earned Finnie another squeeze and a, “Bossy?”
“Domineering. Dictatorial. Imperious. Commanding. Bossy.” The chuckle that caused was both audible and physical and Frey knew she heard it when she grumbled, “I wasn’t being funny.”
“No,” Frey replied after he contained his mirth, “but you were talking and I told you to sleep.”
Her body tightened then it relaxed with a sigh.
Then she muttered, “Whatever.”