[ She sighs against his mouth in contentment for it. Her eyes shut, taking slowing calmly breaths as she presses her lips together. A brief conjure up of that pressure as he moves back. His compliment as easily given as he kissed her, soft, almost and she doesn't expect it. Doesn't expect up it flushes warmth up her, into her features. Would he like her - her marred skin, her calloused fingers. Her husband called her such, yes, once, but that was before war came and scarred her body, before Lycans ripped into her skin, before Hasting's vampire kin clawed her flesh. It had been a long time since she ever thought of herself like that. Would Duv still find all of her such? Most men wouldn't, she knows, she's not a soft woman anymore. A little, little noise because it almost hurts. ] It's been some time since anyone called me that.
[ Which is to say - she doesn't need it, but to know that he looks at her and sees something he likes - well, that she might want to herself, greedily taken. ]
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[ Which is to say - she doesn't need it, but to know that he looks at her and sees something he likes - well, that she might want to herself, greedily taken. ]