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Getting pregnant was somewhat expected, though not planned. The surprising aspect was Saga’s hormones. There was no set schedule to it; it could be right after he opened his eyes in the morning, or in the backseat of their car after work, because she couldn’t wait until they got home. Even when he was bone tired, so much so that he couldn’t get hard. That didn’t stop either of them though, his mouth and fingers always ready for her to use. Just a few hours ago, he had her spread out on their bed, lying on his stomach, her legs over his shoulders as he went to work. He had left her shuddering and crying before climbing up her body to lie at her side, burying his face into her neck.
Now she’s crying for a different reason, after he had bathed her and dried her, before she stopped him from dressing her in her pajamas. She reaches her arms up to wrap around his neck, and he gives a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. She’s so much more emotional, too; it would have embarrassed her if it had been anyone but Casey. She grips the back of his undershirt, tugging lightly, until he pulls back enough so they can pull it over his head together. When he settles between her thighs, he’s careful to keep his weight off of her, and she smiles, dipping her fingers into his dimples. “It’s okay, Alex, the baby is the size of a bean.”
“Still can’t be too careful.” He grumbles back, even as he lets himself get a little closer.
“You’re too sweet.” She pulls him into another kiss, and he settles next to her, placing a hand on her stomach, even though there’s no visible change yet.
He tilts her head up to catch her lips between his, licking at her bottom lip, as he glides his hand from her stomach up to her chest to cup one of her breasts tenderly. She sighs into his kiss, pressing closer to drape a leg over his hips. She’s quick to start rocking her hips, already wet again, needing friction. His free hand tangles itself in the soft curls of her dark hair, angling her closer, licking against the underside of her tongue before nipping at her bottom lip. “Still that eager? You don’t let me spoil you enough.” He sighs.
She knows if he had his way, he’d be back between her thighs until his jaw ached. But she’s impatient and greedy, as evidenced by the way she paws at his boxers. “Spoil me tomorrow.”
He bats her hand away, palms himself through the fabric before pushing his underwear down, just enough to be able to slide against her. She digs her nails into the back of his shoulder, urges for more, but he doesn’t stop teasing her, the backs of two of his knuckles sliding down her slit. “Mean.” She hisses, scoring her nails down his back, which only causes him to grunt.
“You really are,” he turns it back on her, “should be letting me spoil you rotten.”
She whines; it would be too slow for her; she doesn’t want soft and gentle right now. He noses at her jawline before lining himself up and sliding into her. It feels like less than a breath before he’s buried up to the hilt, and she’s full and wet and so loved. She only manages a few thrusts before he’s rolling onto his back, her thighs settling around her hips as she squeaks in surprise. It takes her a couple of minutes to settle herself, readjusting them both, sinking deeper as he sighs his contentment, eyes fluttering shut. She prefers being able to wrap her limbs around him, feeling safe underneath him, but he literally pouts if she doesn’t ride him at least once. It really shouldn’t be as adorable as it is. But at least she can control the speed this way; they both get what they want.
Saga grabs Casey’s hand from her waist and settles it on her breast instead. The splay and dig of his long fingers makes her clench around him, and she hurries her pace. Later can be soft, slow, and sweet—just how she usually likes it—but right now, everything is hurried and loud. So good, it’s got her husband babbling. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that? God, can’t wait to see you swell with my kid.”
She nearly sobs, snaps her hips, and lowers her upper body down until she can reach his mouth. He allows only a few nips of her teeth before he’s pulling back to whisper hot against her temple, “I’m so damn lucky you chose me, that you wanted to marry me.” He always sounds like he’s in disbelief, like she’s the sweetest dream he’s ever had: “fuck, you’re so good to me, good for me, can’t believe you’re carrying my baby.”
Her hips stutter, and she is sobbing now, graceless and frantic, chasing her pleasure. He twists her nipple and drags his teeth down the side of her neck, beginning to suck a bruise into her throat, his mark visible for everyone to see. She uses his shoulders as leverage, desperate to get him to the edge with her. It always feels best when he comes right after her, when she’s still shaking from it. “C’mon, Alex, fuck me already.” His blue eyes darken at her words, her taunt causing him to growl.
He rises up to her challenge, planting his feet underneath him, and he’s pounding into her, a man on a mission. Her entire body shakes from his pace; he’s reaching between them and circling her with a rough thumb, she can’t stop her wail even if she wants to. His grip is bruising as she trembles and clenches, his pants matching his thrusts, before he’s moaning her name like a prayer, burying deep inside of her, emptying as much as he can, and she drapes herself over him again, sweaty and sated. It’s his turn to catch her mouth in a soft kiss, his voice a whisper, “Love you, wife.”
She beams at him, a different sort of heat rushing through her at his words; sometimes she can’t believe they get to be this happy. “Love you too, husband.”