Frankly, he's not so sure he would want to. Angel comes first and she doesn't need to ask for that, even if he's glad that she feels comfortable enough around him that she can do that. When, in the past, she'd seemed to think that he was settling for less than what he wanted with her.
His first instinct is still to reassure her, but the next moment he realises that she's not selling herself short by telling him this. She's truly beginning to understand how important she is to him.
"Same to you," he says instead, because that only seems fair.
As much as Angel tries to hide it, her body language tends to speak for itself, not to mention the few occasions she even growls. She couldn't have kept it from him if she tried.
She hides her face with a guilty little laugh. Nuzzling into him in comfort as much as the twinge of that shame. She really hoped he hadn't. She never wanted to make him feel uncomfortable. Which was probably ridiculous in hindsight but, still.
"It gets worse when my hunger gets bad. Or when I'm in animal form. It just doesn't trust anyone else near you... if I don't know them, anyway. It just wants to keep you safe with me, always, where I can... well I think mostly just lick your face and groom your hair" Though, she never considered that, "someone mentioned I look like a uhm... like a bull? Or a ... deer? Or something? That they like to be together in groups? Not that I think so, now that I've seen your Stag. He looked more like Nisha."
"Herd traits." She can't help another giggle. "How does that work for a person that comes from a planet with nothing but predators?"
But she supposed it made sense, that she wanted to be around people. Keep them safe. Keep them near, when she was never allowed to be near anyone.
"Well, as long as everyone knows you're mine, if not, I'll nip them." She clicked her teeth in a snap next to his ear. Joking, mostly. It's not like Connor ever invited anyone to touch him that he didn't want and that he wasn't really, that interested in sex unless he cared about a person.
Predators would move in packs, but then again, considering how often it seems that predators eat their own on Pandora ... Perhaps the herd and pack traits he's used to don't really apply to Pandora.
He huffs quietly in amusement with a shake of his head, and then leans in to nip her ear.
Guiltlessly, at least for this, she sighs when he does. Her body going lax into the bed below her. Warm and comfortable she doesn't want to move, not least because of him.
"I love when you're on top of me. You're so warm and comfortable and heavy. It makes me feel so... Still." It's not deliberately teasing or suggestive, even if it's a whisper next to his ear. It's just how she feels, and that it is all she wants.
Good to know, because otherwise he might worry he's too heavy. There's a quiet hum of thought as he wraps his arms tighter around her, almost squeezing her against himself.
"Perhaps I should lie on your more often."
Especially when she's having a bad day. He'll remember that.
She puffs out a happy little noise against his ear as he grips her. Hours ago, she'd felt miserable and alone... but then, he was there. Like he was always there, and it still hurt. It still hurt to know so much, that she'd lost a friend.
But no longer was she alone.
"I feel like this is going to backfire on me one day... but yes, definitely. You can't squish me too much, after all, my bones are denser than yours."
Here in lay the good thing about having a monster for a girlfriend: she was damn sturdy.
"That is very convenient, because your fur is comfortable."
So that sounds great to him. He sleeps better on top of her too, if only because he can bury his nose in that fur and it soothes any storm raging inside him and quiets any racing thoughts.
There's a pause, as he racks his brain trying to recall if he's read or heard that term before. The City's library and Angel's movies introduced him to a lot of unfamiliar concepts, but he doesn't think ...
Sometimes, she feels a little bit bad for the things she has to explain to him. He shouldn't have to know about it. But like always she answered. Wrinkling her nose about how to think to describe it.
"A trophy wife, or husband, to be fair - is when someone very old and rich marries some one very attractive and younger than them exclusively to make themselves look good and to have lots of sex with them. A trophy wife does a lot of lounging around in not a lot of clothes going 'honey I love you, do you love my boobs in this bikini? You should buy me more gold and diamond decorated underwear to have fuck me in.' Then giggle, really stupidly like - " she does her best impression, a high pitched little obnoxious laugh like she'd never had an intelligent thought in her life." The older, richer half feels young again, the trophy wife gets as much money as they want." She shrugs, it was what it wants.
As the explanation goes on, his expression slowly shifts from a confused frown to disbelief, eyebrows raised as high as they can go. That explanation really sounds nothing at all like them. Of course he knows she was just joking, especially because of that, but ... That's such a strange phenomenon.
Is that what wealth does to people?
After a few seconds' worth of silence, he says blankly:
"I'm not that old."
If the situation were a bit different, he might have had a blank expression to match it, but he doesn't want her to think that he took offense and it's been a long night. Instead, he offers the slightest smile, just a quirk to his lips, to make it obvious he's joking too.
She grins, at his blank face. It was always a little bit fun to tease his stoicism. Shock him a little bit about the rest of the world - and in doing the same, she forget her own worries for a little while. It was just hard... Hard to remember why she was so hateful of herself, when she was near him.
"No, but that's a maybe. You don't have to be old. But we've got lots of other things. Let's see... You spoil me rotten. I don't wear a lot of clothes, and I know you like that... And I think I'm pretty cute."
He exhales with a fond shake of his head and laughter teasing in his chest that doesn't quite escape but she can surely feel it, as close together as they are. Leaning forward to press a kiss to her hair, to bury his nose into it.
Spoils her? Maybe. But as far as he's concerned, she deserves to have every good thing he can think to give her. She's been through enough. She's paid for her mistakes enough.
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His first instinct is still to reassure her, but the next moment he realises that she's not selling herself short by telling him this. She's truly beginning to understand how important she is to him.
"Same to you," he says instead, because that only seems fair.
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But it is one, and she insists to herself, that's not nothing after the kind of day she's had.
"Ok. But, I'm really not joking about the monster bit. It really, really likes you, and it really, really gets clingy about that fact."
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As much as Angel tries to hide it, her body language tends to speak for itself, not to mention the few occasions she even growls. She couldn't have kept it from him if she tried.
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"It gets worse when my hunger gets bad. Or when I'm in animal form. It just doesn't trust anyone else near you... if I don't know them, anyway. It just wants to keep you safe with me, always, where I can... well I think mostly just lick your face and groom your hair" Though, she never considered that, "someone mentioned I look like a uhm... like a bull? Or a ... deer? Or something? That they like to be together in groups? Not that I think so, now that I've seen your Stag. He looked more like Nisha."
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"I would say you exhibit herd traits, yes."
Whether she looks like a herd animal or not, especially considering the reindire that she's claimed.
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But she supposed it made sense, that she wanted to be around people. Keep them safe. Keep them near, when she was never allowed to be near anyone.
"Well, as long as everyone knows you're mine, if not, I'll nip them." She clicked her teeth in a snap next to his ear. Joking, mostly. It's not like Connor ever invited anyone to touch him that he didn't want and that he wasn't really, that interested in sex unless he cared about a person.
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He huffs quietly in amusement with a shake of his head, and then leans in to nip her ear.
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"I love when you're on top of me. You're so warm and comfortable and heavy. It makes me feel so... Still." It's not deliberately teasing or suggestive, even if it's a whisper next to his ear. It's just how she feels, and that it is all she wants.
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"Perhaps I should lie on your more often."
Especially when she's having a bad day. He'll remember that.
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But no longer was she alone.
"I feel like this is going to backfire on me one day... but yes, definitely. You can't squish me too much, after all, my bones are denser than yours."
Here in lay the good thing about having a monster for a girlfriend: she was damn sturdy.
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So that sounds great to him. He sleeps better on top of her too, if only because he can bury his nose in that fur and it soothes any storm raging inside him and quiets any racing thoughts.
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"Aha! I knew you thought of me like a pillow."
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"I do not believe I ever tried to keep it secret."
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"I mean I am your hot trophy wife. I guess that's fair. Though I need bigger boobs for that."
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"What is a trophy wife?"
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"A trophy wife, or husband, to be fair - is when someone very old and rich marries some one very attractive and younger than them exclusively to make themselves look good and to have lots of sex with them. A trophy wife does a lot of lounging around in not a lot of clothes going 'honey I love you, do you love my boobs in this bikini? You should buy me more gold and diamond decorated underwear to have fuck me in.' Then giggle, really stupidly like - " she does her best impression, a high pitched little obnoxious laugh like she'd never had an intelligent thought in her life." The older, richer half feels young again, the trophy wife gets as much money as they want." She shrugs, it was what it wants.
no subject
Is that what wealth does to people?
After a few seconds' worth of silence, he says blankly:
"I'm not that old."
If the situation were a bit different, he might have had a blank expression to match it, but he doesn't want her to think that he took offense and it's been a long night. Instead, he offers the slightest smile, just a quirk to his lips, to make it obvious he's joking too.
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"No, but that's a maybe. You don't have to be old. But we've got lots of other things. Let's see... You spoil me rotten. I don't wear a lot of clothes, and I know you like that... And I think I'm pretty cute."
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Spoils her? Maybe. But as far as he's concerned, she deserves to have every good thing he can think to give her. She's been through enough. She's paid for her mistakes enough.
"You are very cute."