Winter had been brutal this year, and although you hated it it had meant that your annual trip to the Lake District was even more beautiful. The lakes were frozen, the hills covered in billows of snow as the flakes fell like icing sugar over a multi tiered cake.
It was a wonderful sight to behold as you glanced out of the window of the cabin you frequented with your new husband, but not as much so as that which sat by the fire. Reflection of the flames licked across the horn-rimmed glasses, his fingers dancing across the page of Hamlet as he tilted his head to acknowledge you moving closer. You sat down on the couch opposite him as you sipped your red wine, and as you placed the glass back down on the mahogany coffee table, azure hues met your own.
"Is it still coming down, love?" He spoke, Shakespearean pronunciation capturing every syllable.
"Yeah, I think we're going to be stuck here for a while." You spoke, mind tumbling into the gutter before you moved to lay on the couch, eyes moving over the short beard he had taken to sporting. You had always thought you preferred men clean shaven, but the second he had let his stubble grow for more than a day you knew it was otherwise when it came to him.
"Would you like me to read to you?" He questioned, sipping his own glass carefully as he watched your eyes wash over his collar bones, moving down his bare chest and resting on the red flannel pyjama bottoms he wore for only a moment before nodding.
It would have been strange for any other couple, but you had told him that you loved being read to only six months into your relationship. It had been a comfort thing as a child, and now it not only made you feel safe, but it wrapped you up in a world where it was only the two of you. Together you fought Lady Macbeth, gorged in the madness of Dorian Gray and danced across the lunacy of Alex Delarge.
"Alas, poor Yorick.." he started, "I knew him well.."
You listened to him recite words in the way Shakespeare had intended, his baritone voice making every syllable sound more delicious than the last, and once you had finished your glass of wine you found yourself wanting his lips to wrap around more than words. And so you would do so first.
Slipping softly onto the rug covered floor, you crawled the small distance between you, his eyes darting to you with a small smirk.
"Must there no more be done?" He continued, although his eyes moved more from the page as you ran your hands from his knees up his thighs, a devilish plan in your mind and he licked his lips softly, "something on your mind, kitten?"
You bit down on your lip, the mischievous glint in your eyes matching his own and you shook your head with an innocent expression. "You can keep reading.."
He looked down at you, lust clouding beautiful orbs and for a moment he thought to contravene. Instead, he continued.
"No more be done. We should profane the service of the dead to sing a.." he paused with a small smirk as small hands hooked inside his pyjama bottoms and tugged them down, the smirk growing as he watched your eyes take in his length. It was as if you hadn't know he was bare beneath them, but of course this wasn't the first time you had pulled down this fabric with nefarious intentions.
"...To sing a requiem and such rest to her as to peace-parted so-oh.." his eyes fluttered closed as you closed your lips around the head of his shaft, his hand moving to your hair but you didn't move. Looking down at you, he smirked once more as he realised your game, and he pressed his thumb down into the spine of the book harder than he would have usually as he tried to focus.
"Lay her in the earth," his brow furrowed momentarily as plump lips moved down his shaft, "and from her fair and unpolluted flesh may violets spring..f-fuck.."
