"Husband," Tianlong said.
She went still.
He could feel it against his chest—the change in her breathing. The small catch before she exhaled.
His fingers found her. Slow—not cruel, not demanding, just 'present', moving between her thighs in the way that someone handles something they own without anxiety. Her breath fractured immediately, her grip on his robe tightening.
"'Mnnh—'"
Her sightless eyes couldn't find his face, so she tracked him by heat, by breath, by the sound of him. When he leaned close to her neck she felt it before his lips touched skin—the warmth preceding contact. He kissed the side of her throat. Unhurried. Like he had nowhere to be.
"H... husband..." she said again, like she was testing the word's weight in her mouth.
Her free hand found his cock through his robe. Grabbed it. Not stroking, just holding, like an anchor.
"Don't leave," she said. Low. Almost inaudible.
He withdrew his hand. Stepped back slightly.
