He's always cosseted you with dulcet scrupulousness, in acquiesce to abiding by the saying, “a gentleman must be gentle.”, but a moment of metanoia struck him, if not to be a little selfish to get what he wants, what will he make out of being so considerate all the time?

If you could just take a peek into his mind, peel away the layers of acting like the comely man he was, what'd you think?

Which is why this opportunity would be integral—a step closer to unnerving you to complete subservience. He repeated your words, a hand on his chin as his index finger, tapping on the tip of his nose. “What I want?” He mumbled, taking the time to suck in some air, a noticeable sigh heard as he flashed a condescending smile.

Nanami chuckles, a low, deep hum escaping his larynx as one of his strong arms cage your sitting frame on the island's counter. With a tilt of his head, his gaze narrowed down to linger on your expression, a smirk tugging on his lips. He felt giddy, excited to finally have some action. You were his wife after all, and seeing all his co-workers during 'bring-your-daughter-to-work-day' unfortunately, was the instigation of his baby fever.

“I want this up,” He tugs on your bra, his fingers tilting up the fabric hovering over your sternum. The vestige trail of his touch sent tingles down your spine, butterflies erupting as the pad of his palm squeezed your hip. Erotic, and incredibly sensual this innuendo was, and he was going to make sure by the end of the night you're sprawled on the bed(or kitchen island) underneath him.

“And this, down.” Nanami's voice was deep, his tone laced with penury, a sick pining he hasn't been able to ignore for the past few days. If you were ovulating you'd get pregnant for sure. Isn't that just enthralling?