It was a compromise.

Sex may be out, but, as Esmé had emphasized in the most physical way, everything else was most certainly in.

Jerome was now on his back, still handcuffed to the bedposts and still very aroused. Esmé was almost completely on top of him, straddling one leg, whilst gently caressing his jaw with a hand, kissing him with surprising tenderness. The other hand roamed languidly over his chest, toying with his nipples, tracing the patterns of his chest hair down to his groin. She suddenly stilled her hand at his belly button.

"Ah ah," she tutted breathily, as Jerome thrust his hips once more. She rubbed her hand firmly against his belly, and he groaned with desire.

"I don't like to argue, and I understand that you'd want to take things slow-" His breath hitched as she bit his neck and began sucking, one hand sliding dangerously close to his aching shaft. "But it's been half an hour of this and dear God, Esmé, I just need you."

She stopped sucking and whispered, "And you have me."

Jerome hesitated, knowing she was skirting his request, taking his words literally.

"Esmé," he started, unsure of how to continue. She made a noise in her throat as she continued attacking his neck, and suddenly, she slid a soft wrist over his shaft, continuing onwards to caress his thigh. "Esmé," he groaned. "Esmé, dear God, just fuck me."

She responded by biting his neck, once, quite painfully. He winced, and she immediately pulled herself up to look at him directly in the eyes. She was unaccustomed to direct Jerome. She was much more used to soft, meandering Jerome. She wasn't sure how it made her feel.

"Blowjobs are out." She leaned in closer and bit one of his lips, chewing gently.

Jerome pulled away, eyes filled with almost desperation.

"That is completely fine, dear. Anything you want."

Esmé made the same pensive noise in her throat, before sliding her hand up a thigh. Jerome moaned at the touch of her soft, smooth palm – oh, how it'd feel wrapped around his length – convinced that it was finally his turn to be shattered. He quivered, having had dreamt about this moment upon first meeting Esmé. He had to clench himself to prevent himself from climaxing already; he had been waiting for so long, and she was so close.

He groaned with pain when she continued to run her hand up his torso, fondling instead with his chest hair and his nipples.

"Esmé," he moaned. "Please." His eyes were already unfocused, and he thrust again, involuntarily.

She sighed, before lazily wrapping one hand around him. He immediately started thrusting against her hand, his silky flesh made smoother through the pre-cum coating the tip of his member. Esmé smiled and slowly started pumping, pushing his hips down with the other hand so that she was in sole control. Jerome's eyes rolled back as she picked up speed, the sound of flesh on flesh spurring him quicker to his release. All the pent-up pleasure from the beginning of this whole play came building up deep within his stomach, before a sudden warmth ran through his base; his breath hitched-

Head tilted back, he gave a long groan as his back arched, his seed spurting powerfully and erratically out from the tip of his member to coat his wife's hand and his own stomach thickly. Esmé viciously wiped away some that had gotten onto her face before casually wiping it on her husband's chest, making pensive noises as she scrawled a sticky finger through his chest hair.

"Very nice," she murmured, coyly playing with one of his erect nipples, the other hand still wrapped around his shaft. Jerome was panting now, still throbbing in Esmé's hand, and his body went limp, head thrown back as he savoured the immense pleasure – and even the relief – that Esmé had given to him. She slid her hand up his wet member, covered thickly with his semen, and he immediately twitched, sitting up with a moan, sensitive from having prolonged his release for so long.

"Very nice," she repeated, deliberately stroking him again, and he let out a sharp breath, pulling against his handcuffs as she continued to slide her hand up and down mercilessly. It was like he couldn't breathe.

"Esmé," he panted, head lolling back and forth. "Esmé. Ah. Stop." She gave it one last squeeze before crawling towards him, and kissing him again on the mouth. She smirked without an obvious reason, but he was still soaring on his high, and he allowed himself to be selfish for just once, letting the question expire between his lips. She nibbled his ear, and Jerome felt nothing but happiness. They sank back into the pillows, his head still swimming with pleasure and aching love. Hers was already thinking of the next night.

Maybe this time she'll say male orgasms are out.