Chapter Text
He is really starting to regret saving that kitten- well, not really, he would never deny her the happiness it brought her- but he is becoming quite annoyed at no longer being the center of her attentions as he had been before bringing the creature home.
He slumps back in a chair across the bedroom, wine sloshing from the cup in his hand as his legs part, watching her pamper her dear 'Stormy'.
"My wife..." He grumbles, finishing his drink and setting the now-empty goblet on her vanity. He saunters over and snatches the cat in one hand, holding it up above her head and glaring at it, "Little bastard."
"My love?"
"What does he have that I do not?" He huffs, climbing onto the large bed and clambering over her, still glaring at the kitten in his large hand, "I have whiskers, striking eyes, sharp teeth- Do you not find me affectionate enough that you must search elsewhere?"
He sets the cat aside and leans in close, his beard and mustache scratching as his lips ghost along her neck. He presses his chest to hers, silently begging for her love, as though he's gone without it- which he hasn't- but, it seems, he's an extremely jealous man when it comes to her.
"It's my turn, my darling," He insists, hands finding her hips to press her into the mattress. "I, too, would gladly purr under your attention."
Nāenelle giggles, burying her hands in his hair, kissing his head, "Are you jealous of the kitten you gave me?"
He simply grunts, pressing closer, laying his weight atop her like a needy animal.
"Lyonel!" She shrieks in laughter, tumbling back amongst the pillows. She sighs when he gently sinks his teeth into her throat before lavishing the spot with his lips and tongue.
"I adore you." He growls, "My pretty, loving, goddess."
He freezes when she giggles again, looking up to find that damned cat nuzzling into her cheek and he lets out a loud bark at it, startling it into running off.
"Lyonel!" She snaps.
"What? He was stealing your attention again!"
She doesn't like when he's angry with her- not that he's ever truly angry with her, but she doesn't like when he's fake angry either.
It had been a slip of the tongue, a jest, a habit she'd acquired growing up with brothers and male cousins. She hadn't meant to insult his manhood- especially not when it kept her so satiated in the dark, quiet of night.
"Lyonel," She pouts, her arms wrapping his neck from behind. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet since the jab, brooding even, one might say, as he sat at his desk, doing his lordly duties, "Please don't be cross with me. I truly meant nothing by it."
He simply grunts, not paying her any mind.
Proud, stubborn, fool of a man.
"Please, my heart," She groans, stepping around his chair and hopping up into the desk, knocking aside papers and taking his entire view, "My stomach churns when you act as though you don't love me."
Is she being a tad dramatic? Perhaps. But she needs his voice like she needs air, it's her sunshine, and it's absence is making the gloom of Storm's End even more dreary.
He grumbles when she drapes herself across his lap, her hand stroking his jaw.
"Tell me you love me." She begs, tilting his face toward hers, "Before my heart gives out completely to the melancholy that is your silence. Lyonel, please."
A deep, bitter sounding chuckle rumbles from his throat as he leans his head back, throat bared, looking at the ceiling and shaking his head.
"Lyonel?"
"By the gods- how do men neglect their women? I cannot even go one damned afternoon without yearning to tell you exactly what you wish to hear!" He growls, turning back to look at her again. "Of course, I love you."
"My love," She sighs in relief when he kisses her, as if she'd never expected to feel his lips again, and her hands grip his face, keeping him there.
He nips at her lip, keeping her pressed close, even when she pulls away.
"You're not allowed to be cross with me anymore," She frowns, "It hurts far too much."
He simply chuckles and nods, leaning in to kiss her again.