Jewel of the Desert

"Welcome to Monte d'Or - my name is Angela Ledore. Please, let me know if I can help in any way. Otherwise, I hope your stay fares you well." ((Indie RP account for Angela Ledore, spoilers won't be tagged so please be careful!))

[hennersledore-blog]

(Henry swallows back his quickened breath and slight trembling and forces himself to be calm. On one hand, it’s fairly easy in this point in time, lying here with a lady he loves dearly is a very good feeling indeed, despite the slight discomfort from the now cold sweat and… other things. As lovely as Angela looks right now lain against him, he pulls his coat over them both, of course oversized like most of his garments, so it manages to cover them both. 

He can’t tell what Angela’s thinking, but the same denial is pattering around his mind. If they didn’t acknowledge it, went home and never spoke of this again, perhaps it would go away. It almost physically hurts to think it, but perhaps what Randall didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Or maybe he would understand if they chose to confess. Even if it took a while, he’d been a while. Seventeen years was such a long while. Maybe… maybe if it was just this once… It didn’t mean nearly as much to Angela after all, and that was the main thing. There was no danger of Angela falling for another man, and while Henry was truly smitten, even more so after tonight, it was only dangerous if both parties felt the same way.

So he breathes out and stays calm. They’d be plenty of time to panic by himself in his office when they got home. Right now, Angela is in his arms, and neither of them show much sign of wanting to move. One more night.

He glances down as Angela speaks, still stroking her golden hair, and nods in agreement. God, how lovely it would be to bathe together. Or maybe not, Henry rather prefers quicker and more convenient showers, and he doubts he would look very appealing hunched up in a bathtub. Maybe not indeed.)

"…I think I’ll have a shower after you. I-I’m much the same. But please take as long as you need."

(He strokes down her soft back with his free hand, allowing his lips to grace and gently kiss her ear tenderly, before holding her close again, allowing themselves to bask in the affection for a little longer, just a night longer.)

"…We probably should… the train doesn’t leave until the late afternoon, but… I… I think we both need the rest… And… goodness, you’re right. P-perhaps that would be the best solution."

(He’s sort of glad Angela is on top of him, and therefore has to make the first move to leave, or indeed to stay. Henry wouldn’t know what to do. He certainly knows what he wants to do, but if tonight has taught him anything, its that those two things are very different.

His companion doesn’t move, and Henry doesn’t want to let her go, he’s silent for a very long time, but then he speaks again, quietly and hesitantly.)

"… Do you perhaps think… this is what it’s like for…for… couples that aren’t pretending…? N-not that… I’m saying anything… j-just…just this, I mean…"

[gildeddamsel]

(Angela stares out at the gloom of their surroundings dully, and she nods slightly as Henry tells her he'll shower after her. He still sounds a little shaken, although she can't blame him - she probably sounds much the same. Her breath hitches with emotion as the tall blonde shifts to hold her close, pressing a kiss at her ear, and Angela is struck by the thought of how comfortable it feels to be in the moment and to be held by the person only pretending to be her husband and she his wife. Perhaps it's just the sense of satisfied exhaustion, but it feels almost right.

It's especially silly, really, given that everything is most certainly not right, and that Angela shouldn't even be here in Henry's arms, not like a wife, in any case, or at all, in... in that unspoken third party's case. But all the same, she doesn't feel like she wants to cry like she wanted to last time.

She's very lucky that Henry is eager to excuse as much as she wants to, if not more so. The way they're talking they might have just been up talking for too late into the night rather than anything more physical and unforgivable. She only nods in reply and listens to him stammer on as he agrees with her and stumbles over her vague suggestion they retire together. It's not what they should be doing, but it's what she feels like she might want to do, If only what she should do and what she wants were one and the same, things might be much easier.)

"Y-yes, I think rest might... might do the two of us some good."

(It does feel wrong saying all of these things when she's still naked and on top of him, but it's strange how easy it is to feel disassociated with everything but still feel very much in the moment, so to speak. She should probably go and bathe now, try to soak her shame away and try to wring back some semblance of normality, but Henry's arms are still around her, and the air of longing is still making her movements thick and heavy.)

… Do you perhaps think… this is what it’s like for…for… couples that aren’t pretending…? N-not that… I’m saying anything… j-just…just this, I mean…

(Henry, as always, is finally the one to break the silence, but his usual layer of capability seems to falter as he asks her if what they've done - what they're like - if any of this might be normal in some circumstance. It catches Angela off guard, and she withdraws slightly, unable to look at him and instead directing her gaze to somewhere over his shoulder. The problem is that this is probably exactly what it's like for proper married couples, what it should be like for normal people existing in just another normal evening. But Angela's - and likely Henry's - guilt is too severe to ever truly relax into that kind of normality, and there's a very real fear that this... that this could be comfortable. That in time they might forget- forget about-)

"I... I suppose it might be. I can't really... I'm not sure."

(Is he looking for validation? Or does Henry really just not know? Angela doesn't really know herself, everything about their coupling isn't easy to describe.)

"...I think it might be... what it's like for... for people who aren't just... just waiting. But I.... I suppose it's just not something we can think about."

(She leans forward to press a slightly uncertain kiss to his mouth, and she lingers there for a few moments. it would be nice, she thinks guiltily, to just have a normal life without all the waiting.)

"...thank you. I'm not sure I could do any of this without you."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Angela still feels very tense, undoubtedly so, but it's a different tension to before; it's a kind of tension comes from not quite knowing what to do, or if there really is anything left to say except to babble like she has tiredly been already. Henry allows them a moment of rest to slump against the couch, which Angela thankfully joins him in, and even though it suddenly feels like the most uncomfortable and embarrassing thing in the world again for them both to be naked and against each other, it does feel nice to be held.

While Angela just feels embarrassed and worried, Henry slips back into his usual flustered anxiousness, although he certainly sounds a lot less frantic than he's prone to being. There's certainly less tension in him, or at least it feels that way, and even Angela can feel the satisfied tiredness forcing her to calm much more than she feels. It feels like they're simply settled into the moment. It's hard to want to leave.

I-I… I feel fine. H-How about you…?

Well, there's no easy way of answering that, much less even thinking about it. Physically she feels very delicate, although heavily sated,  but otherwise... Angela isn't even sure what she thinks herself. After the heat of the moment she just feels cold and wet and uncomfortable, although Henry's warmth is much nicer than it should be. So instead she simply skips over it and desperately tries to rationalize everything. This was horrible, absolutely unforgivable, but as long as they didn't acknowledge it, as long as it didn't happen again... then maybe they would be able to make it through this.

Henry responds awkwardly, although at this point it's hard to tell if it's because of her words, his own personal hang-ups, or simply because he's having trouble comprehending that they've just made love. Even despite what they've just done, Angela's face burns with something that's not quite embarrassment.)

"Y-yes... I'm glad. ...thank you."

(This had been Henry's first time doing anything intimate, hadn't it been? Wasn't it? He'd been surprisingly capable, but then it wasn't very hard to... to try out this sort of thing, and besides... it's been a very long time since Angela herself has...)

"I might- I might take a bath soon."

(She's almost telling herself rather than Henry, even though she's still resting heavily in his arms with him against her. She has to break the moment, even though she doesn't feel like she wants to leave it.)

"I- I haven't had one yet today, I just c-can't seem to sleep without one. Especially... especially if we have to go back tomorrow."

(It feels almost easy babbling away, even though it's not very effective when she's still resting almost-comfortably with... with Henry. The thought of going back to Monte d'Or and resuming the same cloying life with the same degrees of loneliness and waiting both relieves her and makes a lump in her throat that threatens some heavier emotion if allowed to linger.)

"and maybe... maybe we could... sleep after that... since we, ah, since we haven't had the time to heat any of the rooms and it would be... it would be warmer.

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Everything is suddenly very quiet and tense as Angela feels her body tighten up and voice choke out save for panting, and her eyes squeeze shut both from the intensity and a desperate flicker of shame as her thighs press tight around Henry's own and the sharp heat inside her shudders through her so hard it aches. She almost has to bite down on her tongue as she buries her face into Henry's shoulder and digs her fingers into his back, but all she manages to hold back are a few choked whimpers.

In all the years of waiting, of dull living and long-quietening searches and very lonely nights, she's never felt anything as sharply as this, has never been able to achieve anything like this on her own. Henry is already shifting urgently and tightening his embrace when Angela's head begins to clear, and he's settled deep and hot inside her when he seems to crumple from under her with a sudden and strained mumble of her name. Angela simply lets him, unable to release her desperate grip while she tries to catch her breath and trembling sending her deep stings of remnant heat smoothly through her body. It feels so good, it all feels so good. It feels much better than it ever should.

Exhausted. A heavy tiredness washes over the smaller blonde almost as soon as Henry's tense body slackens slightly under her, and their closeness in the sweating, gasping aftermath almost feels more intimate than their joining. Angela can't bear to look just yet, but she does turn her head to stare blearily out at the room, head resting heavily against Henry's chest. Every sense feels completely filled. She aches, and she can feel every shudder and twitch Henry makes as he comes awake from his daze, but it's not unpleasant and it's not painful. Everything still feels like a daze, really, and a hard lump settles in her throat as she wishes it was.

Henry leans back gently and Angela welcomes the distraction to shift back as he accommodates her. It does hurt a little, but it's mainly the intensity of the feeling that makes her gasp, and she gingerly shifts next to him, mostly tiredness guiding her back into his arms. Shame should be bubbling through her like tar right now, but she welcomes the distraction, sighs softly as he traces her curves. Slides an arm around his waist. Receives the kisses and returns them gently. It feels dangerously easy to simply accept it all; and to enjoy it.

It would be so easy to rest like this forever, not to have to say anything or break anything. It feels comfortable. And it's something that can never happen again.

Angela tries to speak many times in the next few moments, during the quiet and the dim glow of the fire's now-embers, but neither the words nor the will appears. What is there to say? Everything feels too comfortably blissful and tired and heavy, even despite the great shame they've committed. What is there to do now? What does Henry think?)

"Th- that... that was..."

(What? It felt unimaginably good, even her intensely embarrassing shift in position towards the final desperate movements. But it wasn't a good thing to have happened at all, not after their pretences of marriage and vows of strict companionship and dedication to a missing third party. She cringes at how improperly she must have been acting, at the memory of all the embarrassing shifts and arches and sounds and how wet she is in the aftermath. God. This can't happen again. They can... they can rationalise this. Even if they'd sworn not to do anything the last time, this time is different. They can rationalise their feverish and desperate coupling on a refreshing holiday away from normal life. But once they go back to Monte d'Or tomorrow... things have to go back to how they are.

But for now...)

"G-good. Did you, ah... was it...? ...How are you feeling?"

(She slumps back against him, cheeks burning as she sighs softly.)

"I-I suppose we just... got caught up in this holiday. I... th-that felt so good."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Even like this, Henry still manages to look a little cowed and anxious and softly embarrassed, even through the thicker haze of desperation and deeper embarrassment. Whenever she half-unwillingly lets slip anything endearing or complimentary, Henry withdraws a little, even when Angela is on top of him and he's holding her close and she's-

Angela presses closer to Henry as she digs her fingers more tightly into his flushed skin, desperate to secure her positioning more tightly as compulsion urges her to keep moving. It feels painfully good like this, even with the hot sliding embarrassment and desperation coursing through her mind and her skin.

It gets worse when Henry tries to stammer out compliments as the pressure seems to become far too much for him and he lets himself get carried away, hands dancing across her skin and holding her closer, closer- It's all Angela can to to keep her head above the surface of the intense wave of feeling, because she knows that if she gives in, she'll either return to her senses, or drown completely in everything that Henry is.

Henry soon starts to stammer out a different form of praise, and one that sends a certain kind of surge through Angela's smaller frame, although it's also an important one.)

"It's okay-"

(Angela stills as much as she can, although the slick friction between them is hard to ignore and to stop entirely. God.)

"...It's okay, I can- ...You don't need to hold back... anymore, I mean."

(With a small grunt of determination, Angela hooks one arm around Henry's shoulders and resumes her desperate rocking as her other hand clumsily slides across the available contours of her own body, suddenly very concerned with being rather selfish. It's attractive enough seeing Henry like this, imagining him being like this because of her - and it doesn't take a great deal more to indulge in that completely. All it takes is one slide that catches her of guard and-

and-)

"Oh- ohhenry I- a-ah—!"

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(For perhaps the fifth time this evening Angela wonders how she's managed to reach this point despite everything telling her not to and all of her preconceived ideas of how a lady of her status should act and how she relates to Henry. And for the hundredth time this evening it's pushed aside in favour of just feeling, panting out the heat and pressure as she clings to her- well, her husband as the heavy arousal continues to swell. It's very hard to maintain anything light in the position they're... they're currently in, and Angela keeps her face pressed into Henry's shoulder as she takes small breaths and shudders at how deep Henry- ...at how deep it all feels.

Henry doesn't say anything, simply slides a hand into her hair and holds her closer as they both try to get used to the feeling of- of being like this so suddenly. Angela is almost dazed with shock, both at the feeling and the fact that everything has happened so suddenly that the both of them are still trying to catch their breath.

Angela finally seems to manage to gasp a proper breath as Henry suddenly shifts, trembling body relenting to leaning back against the sofa as Angela pulls back a little, red faced and panting but fingers still grasping at his skin. With Henry pressed back further from her the pressure is even more intense, but it's also incredibly good, and Angela arches with a sharp intake of breath. Fuck. The taller blonde seems to be having a hard time dealing with everything too, although he still manages to slide his hands to rest firmly on her hips and sends a further rush of arousal through her frame.)

"H- h-henry..."

(She swallows nervously as she tries to settle more surely, although it's hard when Henry is swearing and panting and t-telling her how amazing she is. Fuck. It's even worse when Henry is the first to come out of their daze and starts to move, and it's so easy to follow, to move as well, both to relieve and intensify the pressure. It does hurt, but it's manageable, and it quickly becomes apparent that it's more manageable if Angela does move as well as Henry.

They can't move as much as they were before; everything feels too strong and too hard and too intense. It's too hard for Angela to keep quiet now too, small moans slipping between gasps as she finally manages to glance at Henry, to take in the sight of his normally pin-neat appearance completely destroyed and messy and staring up at her with those intense eyes, although for once they're only staring with concentration and not with anger, or concern, or grief.

Something catches her more deeply than... than the other things, and Angela bites her bottom lip as she shifts forward to messily brush Henry's hair out of his eyes. It feels unimaginably good, something she's not quite felt in a very, very long time, and it's even better seeing... seeing Henry like this. That's what she's always liked the most, really. Everything else that comes with the fierce businessman and aloof husband, the way he is when he isn't always pretending.)

"G-god it's... it's so good. Henry, it's... it's so good seeing you like this."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(If Angela feels mortified, Henry clearly feels ten times worse than she does, and the sudden shift in mood only makes the awkwardness of their positioning more uncomfortable. She can practically feel him shuddering with embarrassment, and she slumps, swallowing hard and trying her best not to have the enormous wave of guilt and anguish and shame come crashing down on her. Not just yet. Not so hard.

Henry pulls out and they both gasp, everything's still so hot and raw and the uncomfortable pressure of arousal is still very much there and wanting, and it's generally embarrassing and unpleasant. Angela only now realises how tense and sore she feels, although certainly not in pain, and she looks away with further shame, unable to glance at the man she's been desperately clinging to only moments before. Henry himself only stammers, still panicking as he kisses her on the neck and touches her hair and tries his best to salvage the situation.

O-One moment, dear- I… I’ll be right back.

He stumbles only slightly over calling her 'dear' and Angela does look up then for a moment, half-lidded eyes staring up at Henry as he hurriedly gets up and partially redresses. Fuck. How did the evening derail so quickly? How? She looks down again as Henry turns to cover her with his coat, and she takes it gratefully. Despite her body still fizzing with want and aching with shame, the embarrassment has suddenly made things very cold, and it is genuinely cool in the room. What time is it? It probably doesn't matter anymore, not really. It's happened now, even if they didn't complete it.

Angela presses her head back against the sofa and stares numbly up at the ceiling as Henry dashes away. Alright. What was done has been done. And... and despite everything, there isn't much to be done about it. Nothing can be changed. And it's only... it's only once so far, really. One fleeting moment earlier, and now this. There isn't any reason to allow it to continue again. That's all. And even... even if they do, is there anything... is there anything wholly wrong with it, really...?

It's not something she wants to think about now. Henry is gone for some time, and she takes the time to catch her breath as the tension continues to swell within her. God.  She almost feels feverish; dazed and hot and uncomfortable sitting there on the sofa, still sticky and wet, and she draws the coat closer to herself, casting her gaze back down to her feet. When is Henry coming back...? What is he even doing...? Perhaps Henry left to finish himself off on his own, and Angela flinches with embarrassment even thinking it, although her thoughts and fingers dance over the possibility of completion herself. Perhaps...

She snaps to mortified attention as Henry dashes back into the room, face flushed red as she draws the coat more securely around herself.)

"Oh, no it- it's... really all alright."

(Out of the heat of the moment everything is painfully awkward, and there's a stilted uncomfortableness that had been quickly shed over the course of the evening along with their clothes but now remains stronger than ever. Henry and Angela look at eachother for moments before Henry cautiously sits down next to her, and that electrical pull still pulses dangerously within the smaller blonde as the taller draws closer despite the discomfort. It's terribly embarrassing, but she can't deny the strong pull between them and... and everything they've already done either.

She doesn't really want to think about what Henry entirely means, even if the idea of Henry struggling with something he's probably rarely even thought about or needed to worry about is almost a funny one. Embarrassed glances tell her that Henry has very much not finished himself off and is still experiencing those uncomfortable pulses of desire much like she is herself, and it sends another electrical shudder down through her core.

…Shall… well, would you like to finish…?

Henry sounds like he's twenty years younger than he actually is, nervous and cautious as he tries to stroke her hair and presses forward to kiss her, and Angela does press forward to kiss him softly in return then. It feels good. Henry is far too endearing for his own good, especially given the circumstances, but the shy cautiousness is genuine and it mirrors her own feelings far too well.)

"Y- yes, I... I'd like that very much."

(It's been apparent for much longer than just this night that they're far too similar people. Their feelings and their friendship with... well, their reasons for being brought together in the first place are close enough, and even now Angela is struck by how similar Henry is. Perhaps this is why she's been so thoroughly charmed this week, for the past months, maybe years. Or perhaps...)

"Thank you."

(Angela presses forward to kiss him once again, and this time she lets Henry's coat slide away as she shifts forward, shakily retracing her fingers along his sides with the embarrassment pausing has brought her. Perhaps the uncomfortable, unspeakable truth about Henry and all the things she feels for him is really very simple. Perhaps she simply feels a strange, impossible way about him in the same way she's felt - she feels - a strange, impossible sense about- about Randall. It's the same feeling. It's just... it's Henry.

The desperate hunger of before claws at her and has her touching at him, tiny fingers sliding down to aide the tension and slide his boxers down with it, although she's far from smooth and her embarrassment is still clear, especially as she glances down in momentary curiosity and has to look away, clinging to Henry tightly as she draws closer again.

An electrical shudder roars back along her spine as their skin touches, fingers grasping for more, and this time she presses her forehead against one of Henry's slender shoulders as she presses further forward, brushing against his arousal with a horrendous shudder. Fuck. It really does feel good, and with her body over-begging for release the temptation really just is too great as she shakily slides a hand down to touch at him again for a moment before pressing down to join them once again. Then it's not her forehead but her teeth pressing at the crook of Henry's shoulder as Angela tries to adjust to the sharp, intense pressure and the searing warmth, and she swears shakily and gasps his name under her suddenly very tight breath.)

"A-ah I- g-god..."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Everything's getting to be far too much very suddenly and Angela finds herself struggling to keep up, both with Henry and with herself. She can barely find the energy to think; everything is sectioned up into bare feeling rather than anything else, even the heavy guilt is simply an underlying tension now; a tension that in its current form still just feels unimaginably good.

The air is damp with sweat and tension as the slight man on top of her cautiously grasps at her tighter and moves harder within her at her own insistence, and the giddy compliance despite the wrongness just makes her skin burn even more hotly. Henry looks almost completely overcome and he finally makes sound apart from the mortifying sounds of their joining, and yet he's still cautious, still attentive and desperate to comply to Angela's feverish wishes. And it feels good like this, with Henry. It feels easier to admit it to herself now while she's half-mad with feeling, how comfortable she is with Henry and the idea of being with him. A wicked part of her still nags that perhaps this is just a temporary thing, perhaps she's just fallen for him because of this week, this desperate attempt at living a week like normal people - and that part cuts deeply, has her swallowing back confused anguish with every moan. But it's hardly enough to stop her.

Henry swears furiously under his breath, movements slowing for some cruel reason Angela can't really fathom in her current state, No. It feels so good, why is he slowing? Don't stop. She clings more tightly to him, rocks against him on her own as firmly as she can, pants heavily, but Henry suddenly seems miles away.)

"...p-please don't stop..."

(She slides a hand up to cover her eyes in shame at the momentary burst of embarrassment, especially as Henry still seems to be wrestling with something. Perhaps it's finally hit him now, perhaps all the shame has cut through him, and now he can't go on, can't-)

A-Angela…? D-Darling. I… I may have overlooked… I… I’m so sorry, but I-I’ll have to pull out soon. I-I… I-are you close?

(Oh. Oh. Angela's face goes redder than it was before, and she twists and squirms under the sudden nature of Henry's admission, which of course doesn't really help. Of course. She's been so close and feeling so good herself that anything else hasn't crossed her mind. Of course.)

"O-oh. Yes, of course Henry, s-sorry-"

(She's so keyed up it's painful, and it's even more so with the cold chill of embarrassment and realisation of how dangerous what they're doing really is, and the very sudden denial of everything they've been indulging in. But it's the right thing to do - something they should have done much earlier - and Angela shifts backward, wincing.)

"...It's alright. Really, I-it- it's really good, I-"

"R-really good. I... I can just... c-can just take care of myself. Thank you, Henry. H-honestly."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Angela only dumbly listens to Henry's stammered agreement; at his attempts at putting what he currently feels into words. She doesn't think over much else, as moments later they're kissing again, wet and slick and desperate. It's vaguely surprising Henry is already lasting this long, but Angela is hardly an expert. Maybe this is normal. Although there's nothing about their frantic shifting and scrabbling at the sofa that could possibly feel very normal. Or, at least, like it should be normal, because there is something frighteningly comforting in coupling here like a normal husband and wife might, even when they aren't anything like husband and wife.)

"F-fuck-"

(Suddenly Henry presses in more deeply and she can't even breathe; every fibre of Angela's body is drawn taut and tense and it does hurt then quite a lot, but she doesn't pull away. Instead she clings to the taller blonde more tightly with one hand as she digs the other elbow deeper into the sofa and pants heavily, shifting her hips in attempt to acclimatise to the heavy pressure. It's not even like Henry feels terribly big, out of the sum total of two l-lovers she's ever had, but the desperation of their movements and the tightness of their exact position and Henry's fingers grasping at her thighs is horribly overwhelming. God.

Henry seems to use his newfound angle to indulge himself in her wholly, and much like Angela's struggle to deal with the intensity of their movements, Henry is certainly struggling to deal with how good it feels. His movements quickly become faster and deeper, and Angela groans mortifyingly loudly as the movement shifts into a pleasant burn; still not perfect, but good enough to be more than bearable, and it shudders a definite itch deep within her that has her soon pushing back clumsily into Henry's own desperate movements.)

"A-ah-"

(Henry's voice becomes much tighter as his movements become faster, babbling desperate words as his body is hot against her - a-and in her - hands tight at her thighs. It tenses something funny within her to hear straight-laced Henry talking like that, to hear the embarrassed quaver in his voice and the intense strain.)

"It's so... it's so good to hear that- t-to hear you saying that-"

(Except it's not good, it's not good at all that Henry is stuttering these things, that he's telling her he's been lusting after her for so long, that he's telling her how pretty she is. It's not good at all, but it feels heavenly.)

"Y-you're so good at this- I-it feels so good like this. Henry-"

(Angela swallows deeply and kisses messily at his mouth, digging her fingers into the sofa to steady herself as their movements continue to rock sharply against each other, keening her hips ever upwards to better catch the tightest fit or deepest thrust, now fully able to accommodate to the depth, so slick she's dripping.)

"F-fuck i-it's good; please move... please move faster, ah I- I n-need you so badly, Henry-"

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

"A-ah- Henry-"

(Angela shudders as Henry gasps out how tight she feels, both with embarrassed surprise at his words and with the increased pressure as she him deeper in. Every shake and shift feels even more intense, and Angela does choke out small breaths as she tries to adjust to the burst of feeling within her.

Henry covers his mouth, disheveled and mortified and looking far too appealing nonetheless as he hurriedly tries to apologise, but it's hard to focus altogether because despite Henry's awkwardness and despite his reservations he doesn't stop moving, doesn't stop the deep rocking within her, even as she stills and tries her best to get used to the feeling.)

"No- no, it's alright- it's... it's good."

(She shifts forward gingerly, pressing closer and gasping again at the intensity, at how eager Henry is. It's a need she can easily understand, the heavy desperation that makes it impossible to stop, that even when she does try to stop has the pressure building up again within moments and has her desperate for more. What has Henry done to her?

Somewhere along the way, over the days- weeks- years- somehow Henry seems to have charmed her, and it's this subtly quiet but heavy feeling that's perhaps the most frightening of their entire situation. Angela doesn't want just anyone, no insincere rich suitors or suggestive lovers. She's only ever fully wanted one person, but now, perhaps, she desperately wants awkward and anxious Henry too.)

"G-god- it- I- I've never felt..."

(Don't think about anything else, not right now. With a tight gasp Angela leans backward so she's more upright, propping herself up on her elbows as she shakily presses up more firmly into Henry's own movements with more decisive strength and a tighter shift which she does choke back a moan at. It feels so good. She can't quite look at Henry properly and casts her gaze sloppily somewhere to the side, but there's no ignoring his touch and the too-slick slide inside of her, even if it's too embarrassing to look at his face and face up to the fact that she really is with Henry and they really are fucking on a sofa. It sounds so ridiculous in her head but it feels far too right in their circumstance.)

"It- hah- d-does it feel good? For you too...?"

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Henry doesn't move for a long time; he just trembles and touches her almost far too cautiously, and Angela is thankful. Even in the feverish heat of... of what they're doing, it's still very strange and difficult to adjust to the intense feeling. It's not painful, certainly not painful, but it's not entirely like anything else she's felt in a very, very long time. God.

Their movements are very cautious, and Henry still tries his best not to move at all, although he curls inwards and presses his head into the crook of her neck as Angela carefully moves herself, slickness making it almost impossible not to move at all, heat burning from within and radiating out in an embarrassingly pleasant shudder, drawing her in all over again.

It really is finished now, the idea of how they've been for so long. No matter how much she's been trying to convince herself, there's no denying anything now. The time previous was bad enough, but it might have been excused as a stupid mistake, which is what it was. But a second time meant that it was more than just a mistake, that there was something awfully premeditated and personal about it. She can't deny she's thought about this. She can't take something like this back. It feels terribly embarrassing, how weak she's become, but that's all there is. There's no going back now.)

"A-ah-"

(It sounds strange to here neat and proper Henry swearing so intensely, but it feels right anyway, even if the very strangeness of it makes her burn. Angela shifts more surely and gulps back sound, panting heavily as she clings to the taller blonde. Henry does start moving gently then and it sends a deep shudder through her all over again, body tensing as she gasps out a soft moan. She dimly thinks on how this must be Henry's first time doing anything like this, about how amazed he sounds, how amazing he feels. The deep burn feels less harsh now, but it's also awfully good, and just feeling Henry rocking back to meet her feels much better than it rightfully should.)

"It's good- it's good for me too."

(Everything feels very, very slow; shallow movements and strained voices, broken up by slick sounds as they slowly find their way, embarrassed and wanting. Angela looks deliriously up at Henry, messy-haired and face flushed, and she tightens her hold at his sides, at once struck with a sharp pull of want and the sudden panic of what they're doing and how they've not- they've not even taken proper precautions.)

"We- we shouldn't-"

(She does still a moment then to shift away, but the burning itch deep within her shudders even more sharply as she digs her heels into the plush sofa, and instead Angela presses her legs more tightly around the man on top of her, shivering and panting as she runs her fingers down his back and closes her eyes once more. It feels too good to stop. Even if they stopped now there was no changing things, no going back now. So maybe- maybe they were allowed this.)

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Angela gulps noisily as she pushes down, one hand steadying herself as she shifts against Henry's own hand, deeply embarrassed but more cautious to the slide and reach of Henry's fingers. She's so slick by now that she can barely even feel the glide, but there's a hot burn every time she rocks into his touch that presses deeper within her and has her panting for more. It's almost frightening how hard it is to even think of stopping, much less actually being able to do it, and right now she's so feverishly wanting that it's impossible to turn from this into any semblance of rational thought.

She's not entirely sure whether the fact that Henry is even worse than she is at the moment is a good thing or not, but it certainly sends a further rush down her spine at his enthusiastic reactions to her, at how marvelling and pleased and desperate he is. It feels good, in a confusing way, and Henry's slender fingers feel even better. God it's good.

Henry breathes her name and it only serves to send another rush of arousal through her flushed body, pressing closer and hips rolling firmly as he presses his mouth to her neck. It's so good. It feels terribly good to just be feeling instead of thinking and worrying, years of thinking and worrying and resisting.

Despite all of it, Angela does balk suddenly when Henry awkwardly whispers intent, sudden concerns of waiting and resisting and protection and Henry all rushing back to the forefront, but the feeling still overrides it all, every sense, and she shudders and tenses in her core and around Henry's fingers terribly.)

"A- alright. Please."

(The heat still pulses through her - perhaps even worse than before - but Angela's body tenses once again even as she tries to lean back gently at Henry's wordless insistence. It feels terribly awkward, and her heavy concerns still linger at the back of her mind, but Henry takes care of her as best he can, fingers shifting of his own accord and kissing her neck with a desperate heaviness. It's astounding how far he's come in such a short while, how much more sure his touches and kisses are, how confident his movements feel even if his words bely his actions.

Their gaze connects and although no words are spoken Angela feels the most mortified and exposed of the entire experience, wordless cautiousness and wanting and tension stirring up equal parts arousal and shame. But there's a third feeling behind it all, a swelling warmth sort of feeling that she can't place but which carries her heat and desire deep within her very core, and which affects her even more deeply when Henry presses closer and touches her hair gently. Angela feels quite overcome although she can't quite explain why, and she runs a shaking hand gently down his back.

Angela can suddenly feel Henry's hardness pressed against her soft skin as he shifts forward to gaze at her, a tender fondness in his eyes contrasting with his clear arousal. It feels shamefully exciting, especially whenever hardness brushes up against hot slickness, She tenses and shifts gently as Henry tries to position himself as best he can, clumsiness and unsure movements nothing terribly new to Angela, especially given her own relative inexperience. She hasn't... done anything like this very much; not for a long, long while. Not with Henrno. No, not now. Right now she wants- needs this, right now she's even enjoying and pulsing with want as Henry presses and slides anxiously to press into place. Right now she thrills and presses upwards desperately, shifts and tries to accommodate Henry as he tries his best to-)

"A-ah-! ah- god. God-"

(Angela grabs suddenly at Henry's sides as she shudders at the sudden and strong sensation. Her cheeks burn and her stomach tenses as Henry awkwardly slides into her, shameful slickness making it far too easy to draw him in. Fuck. Fuck. It's one thing to have been moving at her own pace with the aide of the taller blonde's careful fingers, and Henry certainly doesn't feel painful, but the sensation is a long-foreign one, and he's much thicker than a few fingers in any case. And much hotter with a throbbing pulse she can feel..)

"H-Henry- y-you're in-"

(She almost feels surprised, stunned at the sudden feeling of fullness, the heat and the ease with which her body welcomes him. The fact that she's laying back on the sofa of their holiday home with Henry inside of her, trembling and sweating, is strange enough, but the entire throbbing pulse of it is enough to rocket her arousal even more intensely.)

"Fuck."

(Fingers grasp for better hold as Angela shifts beneath her- her... her whatever Henry is now - beneath Henry - and she gulps and moans openly then, rocking her hips slightly to simply test and feel. It feels so good it's impossible to even imagine stopping now, even though this is the wrongest Angela has also ever felt in her life. But the slick friction within her is far too much to bear or to ignore in favour of less pleasant feelings and thoughts, and the small blonde instead simply clings to her partner and rocks shallowly against him as best she can.)

"O-oh i-it's good. It's... really good, Henry."

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(He might be terribly hard to read normally, but with his body taut and tense as it is now and his hardness in hand, it's not very difficult for Angela to gather what he must be thinking and feeling, especially as he gasps and shifts, his own fingers still pressed against her.

It's still terribly embarrassing, but at this point even the sordidness of it all feels intoxicating, heat shaking through her with every twist and touch, especially when Henry reaffirms her actions and enjoys her touch. It just... feels good. Terribly good. Even when she'd been younger and more excitable and brave the guilt had still been there, but now it settles in heavily and yet doesn't linger enough to destroy her either. She'd like to rationalize that it's simply the lack of contact that's spurred her on, but in all honesty she's given up trying to tell herself she doesn't like Henry and doesn't like doing these sorts of things with him much earlier in the evening.

Very much like last time, things still feel difficult and a little uncomfortable, and there's a great swelling desperation to keep going within her, but despite it all, it does feel very different from last time. She feels... more sure, although whether that's because of her prior experience with Henry, or because she feels more comfortable with him, she isn't certain. It's still a little off-putting, doing this, breaking every single vow and ideal and sense of who she is, but there is enough in the electrifying spark between them already that it offsets all the concern and wondering.

Wh-what should I do now…?

The fact that Henry looks to her for confirmation of what to do is both difficult and pleasurable; on one hand she really doesn't have enough experience with... with these sorts of things herself to be telling him what to do, on another there's a guilty little buzz deep within her that pleases her being trusted and respected, even for something like this.)

"Ah, you don't have to..."

(Angela stills as she tries to think for a few moments. There are many things coursing through her mind that she desperately wants Henry to do, but asking him in particular makes her reluctant, and some things she still has enough self control to avoid.)

"P-perhaps... touch here more-"

(She slides a hand down to Henry's own, guiding more carefully at slick heat as she tries to encourage him to press, flushed with embarrassment as she resumes touching Henry's own arousal with her other hand. It's difficult trying to work in tandem, especially with their natural differences in height, but even with the realised embarrassment of the situation the desperate wanting doesn't fade.)

"G-god-"

(Gently but firmly guiding him on, Angela presses her hips downwards and gasps with shuddering breath, rolling against and into his fingers. It feels shameful and embarrassing and difficult, but as with Henry's eagerness to listen and comply, it's feels awfully good, too.) 

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(The heat is becoming more desperate and the pressure more intense with every moment, it almost feels like there's no room for thought anymore and every fibre of her being, of their being, is searching desperately for contact and their entirely irrational desperation. It's incredibly dangerous, and Angela can still feel the sharp press in the pit of her stomach of embarrassment and concern, but she can't seem to bring herself to stop. It's terribly hard to, especially with Henry desperately kissing at her, touching her, their bodies shifting so that she knows she'll be regretting this day and her shameful actions for a long, long time.

She can't hold back sound as they kiss again and Henry's fingers slide lewdly down past the waistband of her underwear to stroke at her, horribly slick and wet as she recoils initially in shame and then presses shakily close to him. God it feels good, and she presses closer, legs drawing up at his sides and gazing up at him through lidded eyes, drinking in the guilty sight of Henry so embarrassed but wanting.

Henry clumsily shifts to remove his pants, now baggy without the support of the braces, likely to alleviate the... the rather visible pressure, and Angela reaches to assist him, pawing at him through his boxers as the tall blonde gently kisses her skin again. It's still so hot, and it gets harder and harder to focus as Henry gently and uncomfortably dithers over what they could do and what she would like to do about... about this, but it still manages to throw her enough to shudder and still with embarrassment.)

"Ah, I... well, I..."

(What does she say? Amidst her fevered demeanour Angela does remember how Henry had said that he had never been with anyone, that he hadn't pursued any other girls or even strayed while they were married, and Henry is that peculiar and precise that she doesn't doubt him. But it does catch her somehow, and his increased unsure behaviour despite their desperate movements is very clear given his inexperience. Well, not like she's terribly experienced in this sort of thing herself, of course...! But compared to Henry... she's reminded to be more considerate, that's all.)

"I-it doesn't, ah, have to be in any order...  We can just go on as we like. B-but we... you're doing very well, Henry."

(It's difficult to properly put into words what she means, and so Angela simply presses on, shifting forwards and gently claiming temporary control as she slides a hand back between her partner's legs. She tries not to think about her state of undress, or Henry's, or the fact that she feels this way about Henry at all, and simply focuses on stroking and retracing everything that had made his body sing only a few nights before. She can't be as thorough as Henry is, makes an effort to be, but she tries, and she kisses again at his neck and down his chest, still a little uncertain but quickly picking up her enthusiasm once again. It really isn't fair expecting to lay back and have Henry do everything to and for her with little expectation for anything in return, but even moreso than that Angela feels like she simply wants to. And that feeling is confusing enough to urge her back to what she is doing.

It's almost difficult keeping track of what she's doing, what Henry's reactions are, and how Henry might be feeling inwardly, and Angela is struck wondering how Henry manages to worry about so much so easily, although she doesn't wonder for long. Seeing Henry like this is also worryingly pleasant to her, and that's something she wants to think about even less, despite the heady shiver that runs through her as she presses her fingertips into the soft skin at his waist, sliding to rest at his waistband. Henry's general tense demeanour and difficult ways springs to mind with some concern, and Angela does look up then, flushed with embarrassment and emotion.)

"Is this alright... with you...?"

(The embarrassment is still there but she tries to push it aside, tries to ignore how wrong and unladylike and sordid she feels and tries to slip back into that giddy heat and the welcoming feelings of mindless passion as she nudges his boxers down enough regardless and takes him properly in hand.)

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(There's a strange appeal to things as Angela gives Henry due attention; perhaps it's some strange kind of satisfaction as the tall blonde reacts very favourably, gasping and shivering as she presses kisses to warm skin and undresses him. In a horrible way, tucked away in some darker recess of her mind, it is Henry's desperate wanting and his dependance on Angela that appeals to her very deeply. She tries not to think about it too much, she already feels uncomfortable enough with her own feelings.

She's already terribly keyed up when Henry gently shifts and slides his hands up her back to slide her dress up, further rush of heat running flush through her body at the contact and the excitement of every shift, every movement, and she joins in to help remove it, shivering at the headiness of the moment and the enticing embarrassment of being nearly entirely naked in front of Henry of all people.

Like with everything else in his life, Henry is very careful and very, very thorough. Perhaps not very comfortable with their previous arrangement, Henry turns his attention back to her, kissing and mouthing and touching so that Angela has to close her eyes again and simply feel, the tense heat within her tightening far too much when she does look upon him more surely. It feels so good, even though what they're doing - and continue to do - couldn't get worse. Henry might not have had a great deal of experience but he is thorough, and the mere fact that he's clearly remembered what she liked that first uncomfortable night sends a great throbbing heat southwards. It's that tenderness and care that is perhaps the most appealing of all, that desire to do the right thing even whilst they're very much doing the wrong thing, and Angela sinks into the moment, running her fingertips along his thin frame and coaxing him on, on on.

It's hard to even recall her past experiences of this kind, and unfair to do so, so long ago and separated by grief. But even now it would be hard to compare Henry with anything else, he's simply so different and so uniquely Henry, even with... with what they're doing now. Not Randall nor her own touch can quite compare; the aching longing and excitement she feels now is completely alien to her. But it feels unbelievably good all the same, if still very confusing.

They pause again, natural time allowing for catching of breath and collection of dizzied thoughts, and Angela shudders as Henry rests his head gently against her chest, the closeness and the warmth still blossoming deep within her. She strokes the back of his head and his back in comforting gesture, although her heart is racing and the heat within her still rages on, and she feels Henry's similarly warm body and still-clothed hardness against her. It's all very embarrassing, but the warmth of the moment feels comforting all the same, and they kiss once more.

…I… d-do you… do you want to…

Henry's heavy and embarrassed gaze belies his nervousness as he stumbles out a half-spoken request, eyes pleading but tongue tied, and Angela flushes deeply before she even comprehends what he's trying to phrase. Did Henry really need to ask now, when they'd already gone so horribly far with very little resistance? He hadn't vocalised asking the first time they had... had made their mistakes, so surely...)

"...O-oh, ah, I... d-do you mean to say..."

(She doesn't like stumbling over her words herself, but Angela can barely speak as a wave of arousal spikes over her and momentarily clouds her thought, especially as Henry stammers out a heady plea, voice thick with want. God. The embarrassment is almost visible and yet her desire is settled deeply within her, begging and clawing its way to the surface. Perhaps it would be alright. Perhaps everything could end after this. Perhaps Randall would never need to know. Not now.)

"Yes,"

(Angela is shaking as she regards Henry before she pulls up to kiss him heavily, pressing closer as her trembling hands run feverishly down his back and at his sides and even as close between his legs as she can, shifting and panting desperately at the heaviness of the decision and the shivering waves of desire that don't seem to want to shake free from her small frame.)

"Yes, please Henry. I-I... I want you too. W-want this so, I-I can hardly stand it."

(Pressing another brief kiss to his wet mouth she withdraws and regards him, still burning with want and eyes heavily lidded with both desire and embarrassment, before she looks away, trying to gather her thoughts and perhaps steel herself. Eventually she leans back a little, looking up at Henry with both desire and reluctant embarrassment, cautious of their current situation and Henry's own experiences. It's far too late to pretend she's cautious of how wrong what they're doing is.)

"How do... how do you want to do this...?"

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(It really does feel like everything isn't real, or like Angela is there and experiencing it, but she isn't quite feeling everything wholly. Either way it manages to be utterly intoxicating, the heady shift and heat and caress of the moment. She slides her hands down to rest at his neck, at his shoulders, and she sighs shakily as Henry tugs at her dress, chest heaving with shorter breaths as Henry draws back a little and glances down at her.

Another flush of heat runs over her and she finds she can't look up at him, it feels so improper like this and letting Henry see her this way, and the dangerous heat only serves to make it all the more enticing, especially as she can easily feel his tension.

She arches back into his touch with a tense frame, eyes fluttering open again as Henry slides a hand down to reach for the clasp of her bra, heat traveling firmly southwards as the tension continues to build. It's a little embarrassing, and that embarrassment builds as much as the pleasant feeling of being touched as it becomes clear Henry can't undo it. Angela wants to offer to undo and shrug it off herself, but somehow that feels like offering that would be much, much worse than it already is, and she cringes enough for the two of them, the moment temporarily lost, although the heat doesn't feel like it will ever diminish-)

"Ah."

(Angela arches with a sharp gasp as Henry finally manages and presses down to kiss her breasts with gentle care, the suddenness sending heat rushing back through her body alarmingly, so much so that she almost aches. She sighs again when Henry withdraws once more, and this time she does look up at him. Please don't stop, Please keep going.

Y-you can remove my shirt too if you like.

Angela almost laughs at how funny it sounds and how awkwardly Henry carries himself, although she's very proud of herself for resisting, especially given how embarrassed Henry is as he painfully continues.

Is that honestly how Henry thinks all the time? It's hardly surprising, and a smile tugs lazily at her lips as she shifts gently, still inherently embarrassed at her state of undress. Perhaps Henry was just trying to rationalize something he wanted, but knowing Henry that probably wasn't the case either. Either way, despite his immense embarrassment Angela can feel how aroused he is and how tense, and instead she shifts up a little more again, shrugging off her bra properly and pressing closely against him, shivering once more at their combined heat before she rests her hands properly at his shoulders again and reaches up to kiss him.

She really just wants to reassure him somehow and isn't sure how to say it, but this will do for now, and being so close and even feeling him feels good enough for her. God. It shouldn't feel so good; not this. Angela breaks off the kiss and instead presses her lips to the crook of his neck as she leans against him and sets to undoing the buttons of his shirt ill-fitting cardigan, fingers finding their way by touch as she breathes in his scent. It's much easier to do than poor Henry's task was, although she has to pause a little to gather her bearings and finish it off, looking cautiously back at him before pushing his shirt away to expose pale skin.

Henry is right, in an awful way, because he really doesn't have a very amazing physique, and without his stern glances and ill-fitting suits he's as thin and uncomfortable and awkward as he ever was when he was still a servant. But it doesn't matter, he isn't repulsive and his manner is the most appealing of all. Angela doesn't know many handsome men who could claim the same.)

"...d-don't worry. I feel the same too. So... so thank you."

(She arches closer to him again, pressing close as electric sparks of want run shivering through her core, gently pressing kisses down his neck and collarbone. God.)

[hennersledore-blog]

Read More

[gildeddamsel]

(Angela's make believe that everything will be alright for now and that somehow things will be acceptable and easy to forget about is terribly fragile, but she clings tightly to that thought to quash out all the other concerns because it feels too good to resist it. It feels good when she presses into Henry's mostly sure touch. It feels good as slender fingers touch bare skin and her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. It feels good not to think about everything else.

It's almost alarming how quickly and how heavily the heat has built up within her, skin flush with wanting and arching with gasps as Henry - Henry - slides his hands up her sides and they continue to kiss. She pants for air and dazedly looks at him as he pulls away, somewhat out of breath himself and seemingly lost for a moment, and Angela suddenly wonders whether all of this is a bit too much for Henry, whether it really is very kind or not to cling to him so when he clearly isn't very comfortable, and might even be more ashamed than she is. The concern does nothing to quell her wanting, but she stills herself for that same moment, touch firm but gentle.

Their sight connects, Henry's gaze as intense as it is always is in any situation, and Angela's eyes flutter closed as she tightens her hold at his shoulders at his sudden movement, at the horribly sordid and incredibly intoxicating rush as he cautiously unzips her dress and she feels the mixed surge of embarrassment and want. She glances back at him in expectant curiosity and shivers as their gaze connects once more, and she shifts back in wordless answer almost at the same time as Henry presses down to kiss at exposed skin.

She clings to him increasingly more tightly as the pressure within her builds and builds, the raw excitement of contact and perhaps even the shivering of the sordidness of the situation. It certainly feels exciting, and soon Angela slips her eyes closed again as she threads her fingers through Henry's hair and presses him downwards and coaxes him on. It really does feel so good.)

[hennersledore-blog]

(Henry takes a brief moment to admire how appealing Angela looks so tousled and flushed and wanting. For him. God. Henry tries to press as close as Angela does and he result is a somewhat desperate fumble that just keys him up more as they kiss. 

This boldness is wonderful. Henry is fairly sure the wine is helping a lot here, but the fact that Angela is so eager spurs him on too. A woman like Angela wants him. Even if it’s just for a night, two nights now, it feels so wonderful. He doesn’t care that he’s destroying eighteen years of discipline, Randall doesn’t ripple through his thoughts, all he can think about, all his senses, are just focused on Angela.)

"God…"

(He presses kisses all over the skin of her neck and collar, her reactions from last time still fresh in his mind. Henry finds that he can use the information he gained before to touch her with more skill and certainty now. This was just like anything else, practice makes perfect.

A very selfish part of him that is hidden away at the back of his mind pipes up about that fact that they could have been indulging in this earlier. They could have been making each other happy instead of just waiting and searching for a man that might neve-

No, he wasn’t going to think about anything else, for once, it’s easy to distract himself as he slips his hand gently up Angela’s thigh, still careful and thorough despite his eagerness. Though it’s the eagerness from Angela that burns him up inside like he’s never felt before. Their indiscretion nights ago had been amazing, but it had also been awkward and shameful and uncomfortable. Tonight was… tonight was… it was different. Undeniably more selfish, but undeniably more pleasurable too.

He leans back a little and kisses Angela a little more tenderly, brushing her hair well out of her face so it doesn’t falls back over her eyes, before sighing and kissing her deeply once more. It’s like a set of gears that keep shifting as affection and lust roll over each over in his mind.)

[gildeddamsel]

(Their movements are anything but graceful, but the bursts of awkward shifting and grasping only serves to make it feel just that much more exciting. God, god. Why had she kissed him? Why did she do that? Why did she do that when she knew things would go this way? Things are already spiralling dangerously out of hand as Angela can almost feel Henry's giddy eagerness. Why why why?

Henry feels a lot more certain than the shameful memory of their past indiscretion, and if they weren't doing something like this Angela might laugh at how typical it is that Henry is as careful and attentive as ever, even when that usually calm image has already been thoroughly shattered. Instead she shifts and arches and gulps in air as he kisses the soft skin around her neck. This is enough.

The heat between them pulses with dark longing, strong beat shivering through Angela's small body and pooling southwards, especially when Henry's slender fingers slide up the side of her leg and she presses closely to him without much thought further than wanting more of it all.

She briefly wonders how terrible her own self control must be to succumb so easily, to break eighteen years of promises and care so badly, but there's no answer for that. Perhaps it's a result of so long without Randall, perhaps more so a result of Angela having fallen into an especially melancholy place over the past week. But whatever it is, she can't muster up the same resolve now to stop. If only she could, but she doesn't feel like she wants to.

Angela leans more forward as Henry leans back, and it's once again concerning how eagerly she reaches to meet his soft kiss, slipping her eyes closed as he brushes her hair back for her and sends another shudder down her spine. The smaller affectionate gestures almost cause a deeper reaction than the rest, and Angela vaguely thinks that maybe that's the root of the problem, of their indiscretion; that previous lack of affection.)

"Thank you."

(She breathes almost emptily and lets his lips claim hers again, willing herself away from other thought as she presses close again and grasps at his shoulders, willing him closer, closer. She wouldn't be able to deal with this if she finished now or finished later; they might as well enjoy the present. Worrying and shame would have to wait, at least for now.)