"I do speak Antivan, you know," Bull said conversationally.
"I know," Josephine said, a little breathless but otherwise undisturbed, despite the fact that she was bent over the war table with Bull behind her.
"Then you know I can understand every little word you say when you're babbling underneath me," Bull said, leaning close to whisper in her ear.
"Mind the hair," she said, softening it by wrapping a hand around the base of Bull's horn, holding him in place to kiss him. "If I did not want you to hear it, I would not say it." She let go, pushing back against him. "But hardly anyone else here speaks more than a tiny bit."
Bull laughed. "I like that," he said. "All for me." He covered Josephine's hands with his own, fingers spread out against the table; they were the only flaw in her carefully designed armor, the rest of her untouchable and pristine even when she was stretched out under him, her breath coming fast, her body shaking with every deep thrust.
She put her forehead down on the table, groaning. "Right there, caro, and harder," she said, canting her hips up, and Bull happily obliged her, daring to put his hands around her waist. It definitely paid off, because she let out a string of Antivan so filthy that Bull hardly understood certain parts of it.
He growled appreciatively, slipping his hand underneath them to play with her clit. "That's it, dolcezza, give it up for me."
"Your accent is terrible," Josephine said mildly, though it came out more like a moan.
"I know," Bull said, with a laugh. "I'd never pass for an Antivan no matter how good it was."
Josephine didn't seem to have a response to that one, but Bull didn't care, not when she was shaking underneath him, working for more, begging for it.
"I'm so close," she panted, her back arching. "Prego, Bull, please-"
She let out the most amazing little gasp when she came, like it was a shock, and Bull wouldn't trade it for a thousand theatrical moans. He didn't try not to follow, thrusting in a few more times before he came, bending down over her, kissing the back of her neck sweetly while they both recovered.
After a long moment, he let her up; he would have gladly cuddled, especially after a fuck that good, but unfortunately, this wasn't the right venue. He pulled up his pants, already putting his belt back on when Josephine stood up. With practiced speed, she carefully set her clothing to rights and smoothed her hair down.
"Hold on," Bull said, and she paused. He carefully teased a lock of hair from behind her ear with one big finger, settling it in its accustomed spot, framing her face. "There." He stroked her cheek. "Bellissima."
That was where they stood when the door opened. Cullen walked straight in, still reading a report; he glanced up and stopped, looking at the two of them in confusion.
"What were you doing in here?" Cullen asked slowly.
Bull grinned. "Well, I just came in-" He stopped short when Josephine suddenly jabbed him in the ribs with a very sharp elbow.
Cullen sighed heavily. "I don't want to know, do I?"
"I think you already do," Bull said.
"I know I do," Cullen said, sounding defeated. "I'm just going to pretend I don't. I have to work at that table."
"Oh, trust me, we were certainly working," Bull said.
"You cannot leave well enough alone, can you?" Josephine said, though it sounded fond.
"He very much cannot," Cullen said. "Now, if you don't mind?"
"After you, ambassador," Bull said, extending a hand, and Josephine gave him just a hint of a smile, somehow still filthy for how subtle it was. She walked out, looking as if nothing ever happened, perfectly put together, as pretty as a present.
He couldn't wait to unwrap her again. That was a gift that never got old.