seveninchmotto | Saint James Paris Hotel, Paris, Sunday

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Saint James Paris Hotel, Paris, Sunday

So, Isabelle Lightwood was a married woman. At least according to the customs of the mundane world.

And more importantly -- okay, maybe not more importantly, but pretty importantly all the same, she was a married woman who was yet to have a proper honeymoon. Oh, sure, they'd had those few days in Vegas, but they'd also had Beth around for most of it. And while Isabelle loved Flick's mother from the bottom of her heart, it didn't really make for what her understanding of a real honeymoon was.

And then she'd had to go back to New York and Flick had had to return to the Academy, cutting their married bliss short.

But, now, almost two whole months later, they'd managed to find a few days' worth of time to actually see each other (because there was nothing like starting a marriage with almost two months of not being able to meet at all), and Isabelle had jumped at the chance to just go and whisk Flick away to somewhere far away.

So here they were, in Paris, at an exceedingly fancy hotel, entering not their room but their own private three-story villa because Isabelle didn't do things in half-measures, and also because she'd somehow scored a very good deal, because sometimes she was very, very lucky.

And if her wide-eyed looks around were anything to go by, she at least approved of her choice, herself."Oh it's so pretty."

[ooc: NFB, for the husband, what. And also massively massive SP.]

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"You already took your pants off for me," Flick pointed out before he moved to slip one finger inside of her. "You're already in 'listen to the husband' mode."

Isabelle wrapped her arms around his shoulders while shifting her feet to spread her stance just a little wider to accommodate his hand. Purely for his benefit, of course, and not her own.

Right.

"Oh, am I?" she sighed, tilting her head as she looked at him. "Am I being a good little wifey?"

"You are," he said and pressed his fingers a little deeper. "Next thing you'll know, you'll be making me sandwiches."

Isabelle went from looking sultry to looking unimpressed in about half a second. Like a little fingering would keep her from being affronted, fake or not!

"I should headbutt you in the face right now for even suggesting that."

"Oh my god," Flick said, sighing and shaking his head. "You know I'm not serious. If you headbutt me, you're gonna get nothing."

"I would get the pleasure of breaking your nose," Isabelle replied, all too cheerily. She hadn't been serious either, but that wasn't going to stop her from being so Isabelle about it. "Don't underestimate the pleasure of causing pain, baby."

"You break my nose and you don't get to do anything with me because I'll be recovering from said broken nose," Flick pointed out, eyeing her. "Is that what you want?"

"No, of course it's not what I want, dont be stupid," Isabelle replied, rolling her eyes. "Did I say it was? I did not."

And so she leaned in to kiss him.

Oh, it's a good thing you kissed him because he was going to argue with you. So no, he was going to return that kiss, grabbing her and pulling her closer to him.

Isabelle didn't object in the slightest, even if she did make a (very muffled) noise of amusement at the grabbing. But it came with leaning heavily against him, so it probably wasn't that bad to hear.

Definitely wasn't bad. He still planned on arguing at some point when she least expected it but he could just kiss and pull her against him for now. That worked too. That worked really well, in fact.

And what about Isabelle hiking one of her legs up to wrap around his hip? Because that happened.

The fact that he still had pants on was regrettable.

Well, she'd gotten him a little sidetracked so the pants were a pitfall of that. Maybe they'd both remember that in a second and take them off.

Or maybe they'd forget until the last minute. Only time would tell!

To be fair, Isabelle herself was still also wearing a shirt. So it wasn't as if they'd made much progress on undressing yet to begin with.

And it didn't seem as though Isabelle was doing much to move that along now. Because she was still kissing him, and trying to move one of his hands to where he could grab her thigh and help support it.

She did not need the support. She just wanted his hand on her bare skin.

Oh, Flick didn't need much encouragement. He reached down and curved a hand around her thigh, bringing her closer, bringing their hips in line so he can lean into her and press her back into the wall.

He hasn't stopped kissing her either, getting closer and closer to needing to breath but not wanting separate until the last moment.

Isabelle was pretty sure his lung capacity must've increased during his training at the Academy. Or maybe it just felt that way. Regardless, she hummed in a pleased way when her back pressed against the wall and he pressed against her front.

It was pretty convenient for reaching around his hip and groping his ass, too.

"You feeling me up?" Yeah, he needed to take a breath now. He inhaled quickly, blinking at her and pressing back into her hands. "How scandalous."

"I already married you, and it's not as if we're in public," Isabelle retorted, giving his ass a hearty squeeze. She might've done that in public too, though. "It's not that scandalous. The real scandal would be if I was to ignore your ass."

"You would grope me in public if you saw the chance," Flick pointed out. "You know it and I know it. You're not shy."

That earned him another squeeze.

Also kind of a pat.

"Yes." There was no doubt about it to such a degree that she didn't even see reason to claim otherwise. "But we're not in public right now, so it's still not scandalous."

A beat.

"And even if I was groping your ass in public, I think people would probably pay more attention to how I have no pants on."

Flick rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're always so literal. I think we wouldn't get very far if you were wearing pants. People would stop you and demand you put clothing on. And forgive me but I'd support that decision since I'd want you to not be arrested or anything."

"I'm not literal, I'm just smarter than you," Isabelle retorted. "Which is not very hard, though, because you'd rather argue than focus on my pantslessness."

"This is the nature of our relationship, baby," he said, reaching down to rub her thighs. "We argue when we're naked."

Isabelle couldn't help snickering.

"Okay, fair," she said, nodding. "Not that clothes keep us from arguing, either."

They were just big on arguing, in general. And she wouldn't have had it any other way, no matter how much of a better idea that might have seemed to some.

She stole a quick kiss. "I love you, Jon."

"I think we just like to argue," he murmured against her lips, smiling. "I think it's foreplay. I love you too."

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