Deepwood Weald you waiting at ho[m]e for me saying what time do you call this?

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Arturo was genuinely interested in her response, wanted to hear that she enjoyed it as he had though he also knew that the first time came as bit of a shock. For him, so very long ago, it had. There was little that shocked (or embarrassed for that matter) Arturo Fearghal these days. “As I need you,” He admitted, allowing himself the vulnerability of his confession; but it was true and as he believed their relationship was one of equality it only seemed fair that he allow her inside the walls that protected him. Admitting that he needed her on more levels than just the physical wasn’t easy for him but with Lotte he did not fear speaking it, neither did he fear she couldn’t handle the burden. He craved her companionship, her opinions, her love in a way he had never craved anything before. It was this that was new to Arturo and though he some pessimistic part of him told him to be cautious he paid it no heed. Lotte had plenty of opportunities to strike him down, literally and figuratively. He inhaled deeply at the words that followed on her whine, feeling his heart clench at the knowledge that they would have to part with one another. Not forever, but it might as well have been for he knew the days and weeks and months would pass like a slow ache beneath a bruise. “I want you to come home with me, and I want it now,” He murmured, his lips seeking her ear to nibble lightly at it. “and while I am accustomed to getting what I want —” a devilish grin followed that statement. “— you should see Donnelaith through the winter.” That was harder to say than he thought it would be.

Arturo laughed heartedly when Lotte asked when they could do it again and told him that he created a monster. “As often as you like,” The gangster promised her, answering her mischief with a glint of it in his own eyes. “It’s not just about my pleasure, you know.” He reminded her with a playful click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

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