"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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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.
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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."