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Coaxing Hands

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  • Daine is constantly stealing Numair’s giant shirts. She doesn't want to go back to skirts, too many memories surround those things and most aren’t very pleasant, but it's too hot to wear breeches all the time. 
  • So she takes to wearing his shirt and nothing else when they're alone at their tower. Numair does not mind this arrangement in the slightest big surprise, he 100% supports it.
  • Daine despises putting her hair up, she always ends up ripping out a handful or breaking the tie. So Numair takes pity on his impatient, ridiculously stubborn wife. And, after she finally takes him up on his offer, begins fixing her hair each morning.
  • Running his fingers softly through each snarl, fingertips scratching against her scalp gently, reveling in the quiet content murmurs she utters. 
  • Dropping soft kisses below her ear down to where her shoulder and neck meet. His nose scraping the underside of Daine’s jaw, prompting that soft laugh that never fails to make his breath catch.
  • At night Daine has taken to rubbing Numair’s shoulders. It started one lazy afternoon after he’d fallen asleep at his desk and she’d simply ran her hands over the taut muscles affectionately.
  • She certainly hadn’t anticipated his reaction.
  • Numair had woken and arched into her touch with the lazy grace of a giant cat, sleep-heavy eyes shimmering with pleasure as she palmed a particularly stubborn knot between his shoulder blades. 
  • “Good Gods.” He’d all but purred, “Magelet, darling, my dearest love where in the hell did you learn how to do that?”
  • She’d laughed it off then, telling him it was no special skill to push on some sore muscles. After all she’d been doing it to Cloud for years. 
  • However Daine did pocket that wonderfully useful information and had made sure to let her hands find their way to Numair’s back whenever possible.