It’s rare they get a night alone together, but when they do, Robin savours them. Each one is different – sometimes they will just enjoy each other’s company, chatting about this and that until sleep claims them. Sometimes they will curl up side by side as Robin reads aloud, Chrom’s head in her lap.
And sometimes they make love. More than often, they make love because time alone is so rare for the both of them. And each time they do that, it’s different. Sometimes it’s in broad daylight, when anyone can hear their moans; other times, under the cover of darkness, with gasps and grunts that send quivers through her just thinking about it.
Each encounter is so damn good that she takes each memory and stores them away in the back of her mind, pulls them out every once in a while – blushing from both the recollection and her own perversion.
The first time she and Chrom laid together, it was fumbling and a little awkward, as expected with two people learning what the other liked. He’d slipped into her, both of them gasping and slightly giggly from the wine they had drank.
At first, Chrom had been awkward, soft and gentle. He was afraid he would hurt her, but she assured him he wasn’t and even when he was inside her, the minor discomfort was soon masked by coiling pressure in her groin and fluttering in her chest.
And by the gods was he a fast learner, she reflects, as her husband pushes her against the bedsheets, lacing his fingers through hers, gripping her tightly.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” Chrom whispers against her mouth. “We have to start reducing the amount of council meetings.”
“You saw me just this morning,” Robin laughs, and helps to relieve Chrom of his underclothes; runs her hands along his collarbone. “And besides, I don’t want to be the one to blame once Ylisse goes to pot.”
Chrom just chuckles, one she feels deep in her own chest, and surges forward to kiss her again, his hand wandering to her breast, gently squeezing it through the linen of her nightgown.
Robin sighs, the familiar pressure sending a small tremor to her stomach. “You can go a little harder, I won’t mind.”
“Hmm…don’t want to,” he whispers. Chrom relaxes his grip, moves his hand to the place where her heart beats, palm flat. “I want to make this slow, draw it out for you, make it so good, so amazing. Do you think you can help me with that?”
She steals one more kiss from him before she asks for clarification. “How?”
“I touch you. You don’t touch me. And you don’t come until I say you can.”
Good gods. “Oh.”
Chrom leans in, presses his forehead against hers and looks at her with serious blue eyes. “Is that all right? Can I touch you, Robin? Can you hold back until I tell you to let go?”
Slowly, she nods, and Chrom sighs, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Good. If you’re uncomfortable…or if you don’t like something I do…tell me, all right?”
“Of course,” Robin murmurs. “But I trust you.” She does, without a doubt, the same way he trusts her to keep an axe out of his skull on the battlefield.
He cups her face with his hands, and pulls her into a kiss so deep it makes her toes curl. Chrom’s tongue swipes against the seam of her lips and she opens her mouth obligingly, sighing gently.
With a groan, her husband withdraws, lets his hand trail down to the ties that hold her nightgown together. “You look so pretty like this, Robin…all clean and soft and all mine…”
He leans into her, straddling her body, and Robin feels her breath catch. Chrom mouths at the place where her neck meets her shoulder, languidly pressing soft kisses to the skin.
Normally at this point, she would be reciprocating, doing the same or tugging gently on his hair the way he likes. However, she promised to let him take control, to stay still, but she wants to touch him as well.
Robin’s hands twitch at her side, betraying her thoughts, and she feels Chrom smile against her skin. “Hands to yourself, my love.”
She pouts, but Chrom is too busy untying the strings holding her nightdress together. He slips it off her shoulders, leaving her naked from the waist up and takes the sight of her in, a pretty pink blush painting her face and chest. “It’s a little late to be getting embarrassed on me, isn’t it?”
“I’m not embarrassed,” she mumbles, making eye contact to prove her point.
“Good.” And he lowers his head and gives her nipple a brief suckle, letting go just as suddenly. Robin gasps out loud into the night air.
Her thighs part slightly underneath his weight, her pelvis pushing forward just a bit. “Chrom…”
He doesn’t reply, instead, he pulls the white nightdress down over her hips, leaving her completely bare. He presses his hand against her stomach, feeling the muscle flex instinctively under the touch.
Chrom looks back up at his wife, who watches him with those wide, chocolate brown eyes. “You all right?”
“Uh huh,” Robin breathes. “Can you keep going…please?”
A small smile graces his lips, before he presses kisses onto her ribcage and continues downward, to her hipbone, and pauses, just long enough to make her twitch with impatience, and then moves again, suckling a red splotch onto the inside of her thigh.
“S – Seriously?” Robin groans, her brow furrowing. Her voice is higher than she expected it to be.
He delivers a little bite to the soft skin, and she gasps once more, the sting of the bite immediately soothed by the gentle press of his lips. “I’m just getting started, love.”
And Chrom makes good on his promise.
He explores every inch of her with his mouth and hands, except the one place she wants it the most. He bites, licks, kisses, sucks, caresses her skin until Robin is quivering under him, her thighs fully spread and her skin prickling with pleasure.
“Chrom, please, please – oh,” she whimpers, arching her back as for the first time that night, he presses fully against her, his arousal evident. She fists her hands into the bedsheets, but she wants to touch him, oh gods, she wants to touch him; this is torture.
“So impatient,” Chrom teases, but his pupils are blown wide with lust and adoration; he’d once admitted to Robin that watching her writhe underneath him was one of his favourite sights.
“Chrom, I w – want you to,” she whispers. “Please, I’ll do anything, can you just touch me?”
He trails his hand down her stomach, agonizingly slow, and goosebumps raise and finally he parts her folds and slowly slides his forefinger in, up to the first knuckle.
She stifles her moan as her legs tremble involuntarily, the muscles burning in the most delicious way.
He slowly pumps his finger in and out, and Robin tosses her head to the side, pressing her hot cheek against the pillow. “It’s not…I want…”
“I know, Robin. I know what you want.” Chrom gently adds another finger, swiping at the wetness between her thighs, and presses his thumb to her clit.
Robin rolls her hips into his touch. It’s good, it’s so good, and she can’t help but let out a moan.
It echoes in the room, louder than she realized, and she claps a hand over her mouth.
“No,” Chrom says, moving her hand away with his free one, even as he continues to work at her. His hand is large enough to pin both her wrists above her head, keeping her from smothering her cries. “I want to hear you. I want to hear all the beautiful noises you make for me. They’re mine. You keep nothing from me.”
He does something with his fingers then that makes her keen again, bucking against him.
He moves faster, and pleasure sends bright white lights dancing across her vision and she gasps, a heady sound that Chrom returns with his own groan.
Robin thrusts her hips harder, faster, almost desperately as she feels a knot coiling in her belly, and tears start to prick at her eyes. “Chrom, I can’t – I can’t –“ She wails out loud in frustration, and the tears spill over. “I won’t be able to – I’m gonna – can I please, can I – oh – “
“Go ahead, Robin.”
She lets go, letting pleasure wash over her in waves, lets herself be pulled under by it. “Chrom!” Everything goes blank for a moment, her mind wiped clean as she shakes through her orgasm. As she comes back to herself, she becomes aware of Chrom wiping the wetness away from her cheeks.
“Robin…are you all right?”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He sounds remorseful, almost angry at himself. “That’s why I…let you…I mean, that’s why I –“ Robin knows how hard he can be on himself. She cups his cheek with her still trembling palm, tries to reassure him.
“It was good…it was so good…I liked it. A lot.” She brushes the pad of her thumb over his lips, smiling as he presses a gentle kiss against it. “Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too.” Chrom places another kiss on her thumb, then on her other four fingers.
As she shifts underneath him, he lets out a tiny whimper and she gives him a smile, like a cat sitting in a pile of feathers. “Oh?” He’s rock hard in his small clothes, and Robin rocks teasingly under him, shuddering slightly from her sensitivity.
“I told you I liked watching you.”
She touches her lips to his, runs her hand down his chest, stomach, and slips it into his briefs, strokes him gently. “Really?”
The blue of his eyes are thin rings around wide black pupils; Chrom breathes sharply in. He’d obviously been holding back, waiting for her to reach her release before he addressed his own needs. Affection and lust blooms in her chest, and she looks up at him coquettishly.
Her husband blinks in surprise as she surges up, lets her flip them, push him down into the mattress. A grin creeps over his face as she straddles him, hands braced against his chest.
“I’d like to watch you, too,” Robin proclaims.
And he puts on quite a show.