Chapter Text
The community centre in Kensington hums with the soft chatter of expectant couples as Colin and Penelope settle onto the cushioned mats in the brightly lit room. The instructor, a serene woman with a ponytail and flowing tunic, demonstrates the first breathing exercise, her voice calm and rhythmic. Penelope, at seven months pregnant now, sits cross-legged with some effort, her belly a prominent curve under the loose maternity blouse. She glances at Colin beside her, his strong frame relaxed in joggers and a fitted tee that hugs his broad shoulders. He catches her eye and winks, his hand already resting lightly on her lower back, a steady anchor.
The class begins with basic inhales and exhales, but Penelope's breaths come shallow, her mind racing with the what-ifs of labor. The instructor calls for deeper diaphragmatic breathing, and Penelope tries, but tension knots her shoulders. Colin leans in close, his breath warm against her ear.
“Hey, control the breath, and it controls the body.” His voice is low, reassuring, fingers pressing gently into her back to guide her posture.
She nods, closing her eyes as he takes over, his hand sliding to her abdomen, palm flat against the swell where their baby girl stirs faintly.
“In through the nose, slow and deep. Fill your belly first,” he murmurs, demonstrating with his own steady inhale.
Penelope mirrors him, air expanding her lungs under his touch.
“Hold it... feel the expansion,” he continues.
She exhales long and controlled, the release easing the tightness in her chest. Colin's other hand cups her knee, thumb tracing circles that send subtle warmth up her thigh.
“Good. Now shorter breaths, in and out, like ocean waves lapping the shore.” He breathes with her, their rhythms aligning, his chest rising and falling in sync. Around them, other couples practice, but in this bubble, it's just them.
“Where did you learn that?” Penelope asks, sitting down on her haunches.
“Yoga retreat in India,” Colin replies. “Helps with panic attacks. Again?”
She nods before following his instructions a second time. The instructor moves to partner-assisted poses, and Colin helps Penelope into a supported child's pose, kneeling behind her to cradle her hips. His hands firm on her sides, he whispers encouragements, adjusting her form.
“Breathe into the stretch. Let it open you up,” the instructor says, pacing the room.
Penelope sighs into the mat, the position pressing into the cushion. Colin curls around her She feels his body heat, the subtle press against her as he leans forward, handling her with delicate care.
By the end of the session, Penelope's face glows with relaxation, the earlier anxiety melted away. As they pack up, she turns to him, pulling his collar to draw him down for a quick kiss. Colin grins, slinging their bag over his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her waist, hand splaying possessively over her bump.
They walk out into the crisp London evening, the streetlights flickering on. The evening air in Kensington Gardens carries the scent of damp earth and blooming night jasmine as Colin and Penelope stroll along the winding path, their fingers intertwined like any ordinary couple out for a leisurely walk. Street lamps cast a golden glow over the manicured lawns, and in the distance, the faint hum of traffic blends with the rustle of leaves. Penelope's free hand rests on her belly, the baby giving a soft kick that makes her smile despite the swirl of emotions inside her. Colin walks with an easy stride, his arm brushing hers, pulling her closer now and then as if he can't bear even an inch of space between them.
They've left the community centre behind, the parenting class's calm still lingering in Penelope's relaxed posture, but her mind races ahead to the uncertainties of their future. Colin glances at her, his blue eyes soft in the twilight, and squeezes her hand. He stops under a canopy of ancient oaks, turning to face her fully, his thumb tracing the back of her knuckles.
“I can’t believe this is us now,” he says softly. “Parenting classes. Benedict’s not stopped teasing me but…I’m really fucking happy, Pen. More than I have been in a very long time.”
Penelope's heart stutters, her green eyes widening as she searches his face for any hint of obligation masked as affection. The words precious but still stirring the doubts she's buried deep. She pulls her hand away gently, wrapping her arms around her middle as if to shield herself from potential heartbreak.
“Really?” She asks. Her voice trembles, the vulnerability cracking through her usual composure, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You know the baby won’t just do breathing exercises. It will be loud and messy and exhausting.”
Colin's expression shifts from tender to urgent, his brows furrowing as he steps closer, cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the dampness that escapes.
“Pen,” he says softly. “I really wish you’d believe me when I tell you how ready I am for all of this. I’ve spent so much time chasing something…I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. But…you and the baby. That’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”
His plea hangs in the air, raw and earnest, his forehead resting against hers as he waits, breath mingling with hers. Penelope's resolve wavers, the warmth of his touch melting the ice of her fears. She nods slowly, a tentative smile breaking through as she leans into him, her lips brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss that speaks of forgiveness and budding trust.
“I promise you,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods fervently, pulling her into his arms, careful of her bump as he holds her close. They resume their walk, arms linked, the park's serenity wrapping around as Penelope continues to wrestle with her thoughts. Her own doubts and anxiety about the baby settling in once again. She tries the breathing exercises again, long slow inhales and exhales.
Back at their flat, Colin’s hands continue to linger on her body. Earlier Colin’s touch offered guidance but now his hands are hot on her skin as he helps her out of her coat and leans down to untie her shoes. Penelope can’t help but want him, torn between the heaviness of their earlier conversation and the deep adoration she has for him. Her hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that drips with urgency.
When he rises to his feet again, his mouth claims hers in a deep kiss. His hands roam, one cupping her breast through the blouse, thumb flicking her nipple until she gasps into his mouth.
“Colin,” she breathes, but her fingers tug at his shirt, pulling it up to expose his abs.
He rises, guiding her to the bedroom with gentle urgency, the space lit softly by the bedside lamp. They undress each other slowly, savoring the reveal. Her full breasts spill free, heavy with and sensitive. He lifts her carefully, mindful of her belly. Kneeling between her legs, he peels off her pants, hot pants across her thighs as he lowers his head.
His tongue explores her, lapping slow and deliberate, tasting her wetness. Penelope arches, propped up on her elbows, as he sucks her clit gently, then firmer, alternating with broad strokes. He murmurs something unintelligible against her, the vibration sending sparks through her. She inhales sharply, exhaling on a moan as his finger slides inside, curling to hit that spot while his mouth works her relentlessly.
He adds a second finger, pumping steadily, his free hand rubbing her belly in soothing circles. The dual sensation builds pleasure that pushes her over as her head tips back, copper curls dangling just above the bedsheets. She comes with a cry, thighs quivering around his head, flooding his tongue with her release. Colin laps it up, kissing her inner thighs before rising to strip.
He positions himself carefully, sliding into her with a groan at the tight grip. They move together, slow rolls of his hips, his hand between them to circle her clit. She wraps her legs around him as best she can before giving up a suggesting a new position.
Colin lays her back on the pillows, propping them to support her back and the bump that rounds her middle. Inching her toward the edge of the bed, he positions himself carefully, straddling one of her thighs while lifting the other to hook over his hip, angling so his body doesn't press against her abdomen.
“This okay?” he asks, voice husky, his tip nudging her slickness.
Penelope nods, aching for him, wet from the emotional release and his tender care. She guides him in, gasping as he stretches her with that perfect burn. He thrusts shallowly at first, mindful of her position, his hips rolling in a rhythm that grinds against her inner walls without jarring her belly. One hand braces himself against the bed, the other cups her breast, as he leans down to suck the other into his mouth, tongue laving the bud until she arches, moaning.
The pace builds gradually, Colin's control evident in the way he watches her face, adjusting when she winces or sighs in pleasure. He shifts to his side, pulling her leg higher, allowing deeper penetration while keeping space between their torsos.
“Harder.”
Penelope tilts her head back, eyes squeezed shut as he hits the spot that makes her come quickly. She trusts him completely now, her body yielding to his touch. He obliges, pounding into her with controlled force, the slap of skin echoing softly, as her walls flutter around him.
She comes first, crying out his name, her release pulses through her, a rhythmic sensation that draws a groan from deep in Colin’s chest. They stay connected, breaths syncing as he eases out carefully. Fully spent and glistening with sweat, he slumps forward, one hand supporting his weight to protect her belly. Panting, he leaves a trail of kisses along her shoulder. His hand cups her belly as her breaths slow back down to normal and he leans forward to whisper in her ear.
“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for her response, doesn’t pressure her. Instead he just says. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Penelope's doubts linger like shadows in the fading light, but Colin's words pierce through them. Her body still shakes and she struggles to form any sort of words. She wants to reciprocate, wants to tell him that she’s loved him for years but this moment feels like an illusion that could be shattered at any second. The baby makes it too fragile, too real.
Colin slips out to draw her a bath, not too hot, and then returns to help her into the soapy water. When she is safely contained in the tub, he kneels beside her, washing her back with gentle strokes that turn heated. His words a pounding melody in her mind. I love you. I love you. I love you. Penelope sighs as his hands work magic along her fiery skin and need builds between her thighs as he cleans her. Just like in class, her breathing grows long and deep, trying to stave off the lustful thoughts but as Colin wipes a cloth along her breasts she groans.
“Lower,” she pleads.
His eyes darken and the washcloth disappears, replaced by his hand which glides along her belly before parting her thighs under the water. His fingers find her clit and circle slowly, drawing a gasp from her lips. She arches into his touch, water sloshing as she grinds into his hand, searching for that release.
His earnest gaze holding hers, fingers pulsing where she needs them most until the walls she's built start to crumble. She searches his eyes one last time, seeing the truth there. A love that's bloomed quietly over years, not born of obligation but of something deeper, truer. A soft sob escapes her, and she reaches for him, her fingers threading into his hair as she pulls him down for a kiss that's fierce and forgiving.
“I love you too,” she breathes against his lips, the admission freeing her like a weight lifted.
She recoils from his hand before she unravels, desperate for him. Penelope rises to her knees, making room for Colin in the tub as a devilish smile crosses her lips.
“Finish me off?”
He grins and settles behind her, resting his hands on the side of the tub before finding the right angle. The water relieves the weight of Penelope’s belly as she takes him, making love to a chorus of I love yous.