Operatio Interpellandi

As the tournament on TV approaches the final round, Paul looks down at his wife as she appears to be in final contemplation of her task. While he’s really enjoyed watching her wiggle at his feet with her bare skin rubbing up and down his legs, it's been near **** holding back from interrupting her work multiple times, but he’s ensured she finishes it completely. “How goes, hun?”

She turns to him and rubs her manicured paw along the inner thigh of his shorts, “almost done, Sir!” she responds enthusastically before turning back to her work after receiving an approving nod from him.

Suddenly a pain racks through her brain as she screams out a “FUCK!”

Reaching down to put a hand on her shoulder, “hun?” Followed shortly by an alarm from their TV warning of severe thunderstorms entering there area. “damn. Migraine?”

She nods silently with her eyes closed in totally frustration at her body.

“Do you want me to go get you something, hun?”

“No,” she responds, “let me just finish this and save it, then I’ll find a quiet space.”

As she attempts to focus through gritted eyes, Paul looks on as he watches one of the major things he’s been unable to protect her from. Knowing the “quiet space” means the bedroom with sound proofing and possibly eye & ear coverage, he knew this was a bad sign.

Her work saved, she slams the laptop closed and stands up to proceed to their bedroom.

While enjoying watching her nude form move, knowing she’s being tormented by her brain causes deflation.

Hearing her open her nightstand, the distinct sound of pill bottles is heard. This must be bad if she’s pulling out her “take as needed” meds. Signaling the end of their relaxing time and cancelling any future play today, he proceeds to grab her some water from the kitchen as she’ll need it for her meds.

Seeing him come in with the water she is extremely thankful for, she can see the mutual disappointment in his eyes.

“Pretty bad?” he asks.

She nods as she takes the offered drink. “Thank you,” and proceeds to down her pills.

She reaches for her pressure blindfold and ear cover, “maybe it will pass soon and we can do something later?” she asks hopefully.

Not to add to her stress he tries a sympathy smile knowing she’ll likely be in no good mood when she next awakens, “only if you’re a good slut,” and lightly touches her hair.

Smiling in response knowing he’s just placating her, she tries to put on her escapism and asks the calming audio to start as she lays down in the dreading what's coming and the small hope that her mind shuts off for most of it.

Knowing she’s going to be in a touch-me-not phase, he gently kisses the top of her forehead telling her to rest well, before sealing the door as he looks for something constructive to do with his time.

He grabs some of his workout clothes from the week to get thoroughly washed and does them things around the house. After generally tidying things, he heads to get the treadmill from the garage into his office so he can train tomorrow.

Trying vainly to be quiet and get the overgrown device into the office, he really hopes Molly is knocked out by this put.

Lining up the machine with a clear view from the laptop on his desk he clears out some extra clutter around his office before grabbing the finished laundry to be tucked away.

Realizing its past sunset and getting quickly into late night with no sign of his angel rousing, he makes a simple dinner for himself, and leaves a sandwich on her nightstand before sliding into bed and going to sleep himself.