Emi/Jacob drabble thing

It's times like this they feel young again.

When he lays her on their bed, hands so warm and rough over her soft skin, arching his body over hers. When he kisses her in that soft, shy way he always has, lips just barely brushing hers as he moves to tug away her clothing. The way her dress and the sheets rustle ever so slightly as he moves them aside...

Those hands of his are still so curious and gentle as they were the first time he had her, touching over the body of the woman he knows so well, the woman who took him home, saved him, taught him all she could, carried and birthed his children. His sunflower, glowing in the soft light of the bedside lamp. He gently gathers her into his arms and holds her close, hands in her long hair.  He never stops being so very gentle, mindful of her safety, but she knows she's safe with him, always, no matter what.

Then he slides a single hand down her front, briefly pausing to feel over her soft, round breasts, then moving down to gently touch between her legs, pressing his finger gently into that enticing warmth, drawing a gasp from her lips as the thick digit enters her there. She grips onto his arms, his name escaping her lips, followed by a mewled plea, and he answers eagerly, but slowly, by adding another.  He keeps drawing mewls and gasps from those soft lips, palm flat to her softness as his fingers work her gently.

But he soon decides that's enough of that, drawing his hand away from her and shyly wiping it on the sheets, before burying both in her soft hair. The black curls are streaked with silver now, but still just as beautiful as it was when they were both so young. Her face, too, bears lines and creases that weren't there before, but she's not less beautiful to him, he thinks, as she smiles that sweet smile up at him. He kisses her, this time deeply and lovingly, before moving to tug at her hips, pulling her close enough to grind on her wet heat.

And then he's inside her, grunting and moaning as he thrusts firmly and steadily, his forehead against hers. It's no longer the frantic rush for climax it was when they were young, a desperate race to the finish. Oh no, now it's all about the slow buildup, the wonderful, all-consuming burn of pleasure deep inside them both as he drives deep as he can into her belly, hands gripping her hips, body ample from her three children's births, a far cry from the rail-thin thing she weas when they met. She's healthy now, his beautiful wife, a loving mother... even though their little ones are gone now, families of their own, she's still the perfect example of womanhood in his eyes.

And he can't stop pushing his hips to hers, drawing back then pressing forward again, over and over and over until there's nothing but the white-hot pleasure for either of them, teetering on the edge of release. And he falls over first, growling her name as he spills deep inside her, finding something thrilling about this, even if he knows she can no longer bear him and more children. She follows soon after, gripping into his shoulders as she shudders and mewls for him, her body squeezing over him tightly.

After the powerful wave of climax ebbs away, the pair lay panting in eachothers' arms, a warm tangle of hair and limbs, but so very content. He quickly dozes off against her bosom, not being the young thing he used to be, but she doesn't mind. She's content to gently run her fingers through his greying blond hair until she follows him into dreams.