Work Text:
After months of trying to conceive a baby, your own baby with Abbacchio, after trying out every technique and tip from parenting magazines, your efforts finally paid off.
You noticed something was off when your period was one month late. Your immediate reaction was to grab a pregnancy test from your bathroom drawer.
After an excruciating 2 minute wait, you finally took a peek at the test, revealing 2 thin lines on the small window display. You choked, tears of happiness flowing when you learn that you have a baby growing in you right now. You were too overwhelmed by sheer happiness, knowing that soon you will be a mother. It took you a while to compose yourself before you stood up from your seat, thinking of how to surprise your husband when he returned from work.
Evening came and Abbacchio returned, a bouquet of roses in hand. He closed the door behind him, shuffling towards you to hold you in a warm embrace. He greeted you with endearment, calling you pet names through small kisses he peppered across your face. It’s uncommon for him to be sappy and clingy towards you despite how long you’ve been together. And even more so to show up after work with a bouquet of roses in his grasp.
“Wow, you even bought me flowers? What has gotten into you? Have you run into trouble?” you quipped, earning a quirked brow from him.
“I’m hurt. You were on my mind the whole day, so I bought you flowers. This is the thanks I get?” He feigned hurt, but a small smile graced his face.
“Oh, is that so?” You tilted you head, staring at him, waiting for his response.
“Fine, it was on clearance. But the thought counts!“
He defended himself and you giggled before getting on your tip toes and leave a peck on his cheek and nose
“I love it, Leone. Thank you.”
You both start to exchange kisses, going from small pecks to deep, passionate kisses. You wanted to just push him onto the couch and straddle him, but something’s distracting you. So, you pulled away, breaking the kiss, not wanting to miss the chance of telling the news to him.
“I have something to tell you,” you say as you pulled him into your shared room. He shot an inquisitive gaze at you, but nevertheless he still follows you.
“Tell me,” he commanded, albeit softly, his eyes following your movement.
“No! I want you to guess! This is odd but.. can you use your stand to replay me 2 hours ago in the bathroom?”
He looked at you quizzically. “Erm… okay, if that’s what you want.”
He stood still, a luminous blue aura resonating around him before a purple figure emerged from his body.
A whirring noise can be heard as Moody Blues starts to shape-shift into you, copying every feature on your body. It was surreal to see at the very least, seeing yourself before your eyes. You never really told Leone, but you’re always amazed by his stand’s abilities, especially at how accurate his copy is from head to toe, only the display on the forehead being the sign of a dupe.
“Moody Blues, replay Y/N two hours ago.” He commanded his stand.
Click.
‘You’ leaned over the bathroom door, arms folded, looking a bit anxious, as if you are anticipating something. A result?
“Well, here goes,” your copy’s voice cracks in a whisper. She then approached the sink, picking up something from the counter.
She took a deep breath, her fingers fiddling with what it seems to be an invisible stick. Abbacchio squinted at your copy, curious to see what you were holding. Your copy then took a peek at her hand, before covering her mouth in shock and freezing. A few seconds later she started weeping. By now Abbacchio’s face etched with worry, he pauses the replay, checking up on you.
“Y/N what’s wrong?”
“Please, continue the replay,” you insisted, trying to hold back your excitement by putting a palm over your mouth, copying your clone’s pose.
Click.
Your copy continues to sob, mumbling incoherent words. And it took her a moment before she finally says, through choked words:
“Oh my god, I’m having a baby.”
“What?” Abbacchio asked, quickly turning to you as tears begin to form in his eyes. “I’m going to be a dad?” He barely finished his sentence as you pulled him into a hug, repeating ‘yes’ over and over again.
He reciprocates your embrace, kissing your cheek again and again, overwhelmingly happy to know he is going to be the father to your child. He repeated ‘thank you’ through his sobs, thanking you for giving him a chance to start a family with you.
—
The first trimester has passed and you’re glad it’s over. It was pretty much a blur, as you were tired and aching the whole month. Abbacchio felt bad that you had to go through all of this, as you were hunched and hurling over the sink every morning, sometimes glued to the toilet bowl. He wished he could do something, anything, to make you feel better. But all he can do is to hold your hair, patting your back to ease you. You know how he beats himself up, feeling useless that he couldn’t do much to help you out, thinking about how much of a terrible husband he is for not being able to do much when you bear his child.
You are aware of how much he tends to have dark thoughts when facing something out of his control, and so you kept assuring him, taking his hand to brush the smooth skin of your belly;
“Amore mio, you’re doing a great job.”
And that is enough to snap him back to reality, enough to convince him that you won’t leave him despite his belief that he’s worthless and it’s only a matter of time before you realize you better off with someone else. Just like how you convinced him countless times throughout your relationship with him that yes, he is loved and yes, you don’t care about all the terrible things he did in the past. You were glad he accepted you for who you are and you were glad that he was there with you through it all. The least you could do was go through the same for him.
When the second trimester hit, you noticed how much your body began to change. As opposed to feeling sluggish, slow, and tired like the previous month, you felt a sudden surge of energy coursing through you, so much so, you suddenly want to revamp your house at 11 p.m. Thankfully Abbacchio shot that idea down, telling you that you should calm down and channel the urge through decorating the nursery room instead.
Now, food you wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot pole suddenly became irresistible to you. This amused Abbacchio, who watched you finish a jar of olives in minutes. He heard about weird food cravings during pregnancy, but he wasn’t mentally prepared to see his wife gorging on a bowl of vanilla ice cream and olives in one sitting. There were times he had to run around town at odd hours looking for food because of your wild cravings, but he didn’t mind, you are currently bearing his child after all. He’d do anything to satisfy you, but not before chiding your baby teasingly for keeping mommy awake. He loves rubbing your gradually swelling belly before kissing it.
You also noticed another thing, but you were too embarrassed to admit it to your husband. You were, simply put, touch starved. Sure, you both were happy and with a baby on the way, who wouldn’t be? But he seemed to be hesitant of intimacy, as if he’s restraining himself.
At first you thought that maybe your hormones were messing you up, as it’s not uncommon for you to suddenly feel extremely needy for him.
His kisses were always so deep and passionate, but his hand stayed put on your waist, rarely snaking his way down your ass, cheekily squeezing it like he used too.
There were times when things were getting hot and heavy at one point after an innocent peck turns into intense deep kissing. His lips leaving your warm mouth to plant more kisses all over your face, leaving his mark on your jawline down to your collar bones. You were boneless under his touch, only able to bury your fingers in his scalp, mewling softly under him as he continued peppering more kisses on you.
“Amore mio, you’re so soft under my touch. I only kissed you and you’re already a mess,” he purred, his hot breath tickling your skin. A soft "aahhnnnn” escaped from your frail throat, as he kept on with his ministration, not missing an inch of your bare skin.
You were happy he finally decided to give in to you, satisfying your needs for him, although you wished he’ll go further down to your lower half. And he probably would have gone further than that, if it weren’t for the bump keeping him from doing so.
As he was about to reach his hand under your shirt, his palm grazed the tiny bump on your belly, snapping him back to reality. He pulled away, stopping his tracks altogether. You whined when his lips left you, his eyes looking for yours.
“I- I don’t think we should do this now,” Abbacchio whispered, worried that he’d hurt you and the baby, knowing how rough he can be during intimate moment. You wished you could tell him that it’s fine, that you could admit to him how starved you were for him, but all those words got caught in your throat, disappearing as he placed a kiss on your forehead before wrapping his strong arms around you and his head resting on your shoulder, going to sleep.
You were upset that you let your chance to confess to him slip, missing your chance to get what you’ve been craving. You were so upset, you slipped away from your sleeping husband’s grasp, as you excused yourself to the bathroom to satisfy your carnal desire. You only roll your shorts down low enough for you to dig your finger into your wet cunt, muffling his name into your free hand as you imagine it was his fingers thrusting in and out, pleasuring you over and over again.
After the incident, the sexual tension between you and Abbacchio intensified, but neither of you did anything to acknowledge it. He became more daring with his touches, his kisses somehow were rougher than before, and his fingers digs into your waist harder. But he pulls away moments later, kissing the tip of your nose afterwards, clearly showing his restraint from going deeper, leaving you thinking that maybe, just maybe, he too yearns you just as much as you miss his touches.
After days of sexual tension hanging in the air, it came to a head one day when you were least expecting. You were at home, resting on the couch, your hand pressing a button on the remote control, channels by channels flashing right before your eyes. It was a slow day for you, and nothing on the TV managed to catch your attention. After going through the whole catalogue, you sighed before you went back to the previous channel you were on, settling on a cooking show. Abbacchio wasn’t home, as Buccellati called him earlier, wanting to see him at a cafe nearby. If Abbacchio was home though, he probably would’ve chided you for watching the food channel since it always leaves you craving more food, forcing Abbacchio to look for it (despite your assurances you don’t actually need it). You lightly laugh at the mini scenario that plays in your mind when you think of it.
You tried watching the TV, your eyes following the chef’s hand chopping the ingredients meticulously, but suddenly you feel sore, especially on your breast. Lately, your breasts grew bigger – and admittedly, you were excited. Before you were pregnant, you always joked about how Abbacchio’s pecs were larger than your breasts, squeezing his chest to put an emphasis on it. He only stared at your with a quirked eyebrow, calling you weird before dropping his act altogether and laughing.
It’s not always sunshine and rainbows though. You ended up needing larger bras since your old ones doesn’t fit anymore. Your breasts also tend to be sore and tender, sometimes requiring a gentle massage to help you through the pain.
You sighed again, the show on the TV can no longer distracts your discomfort. You were ready to palm your chest through your camisole, but your action was disrupted when you heard the sound of keys jiggling from the front door. Your husband appears with a paper bag in his hand.
He hangs his coat on a nearby coat hanger, doing the same to the keys before walking into the living room and greeting you with a quick kiss.
“So, uh, what’s that?” you asked him, your eyes focused on the paper bag.
“Oh, this? It’s for you,” Abbacchio answered, raising the bag and checking it before gently placing it on the ground.
“For me?” you asked with a curious look. Your hand started to go through the bag’s content, revealing two jars of cookies and a polka dotted gift box with blue and gold bow tied neatly around it.
“It’s from Buccellati,” Abbacchio revealed, although you already guess it right, judging by the gift box’s aesthetic. You didn’t bother to open the box, planning to check it out later at night. You made a mental note to thank him later when you see him.
Abbacchio plopped down on the couch next to you, his body relaxing as he sinks into it. He then scoots his body closer to you, his arm snaking around your waist, while his hand grabs the remote control resting on your thigh.
“Food channel again?” he was ready to chastise you, giving you a look of disapproval, but when he sees you giggling nervously, telling him that you couldn’t help it, his act falters and he chuckles. He before pinched your nose, calling you a brat. You shriek, feigning hurt but he ignores you, choosing to change the channel instead.
It took him a few clicks before he settles on a channel airing a modelling competition show, a favorite of his. You loved the way his eyes light up when he sees the models walking gracefully on the runaway with their ridiculously tall heels and even more so when one of them falls flat on the cold floor, his hearty laughter follows. You always knew he’s the kind of person who feeds on other’s misfortune, as you’ve been at the receiving end when you acquainted him years ago, remembering how much you feared and disliked him. You can only laugh at your distant memories now.
As you both watched the show, with him preoccupied by it, you couldn’t ignore the aching pain on your breast, shifting uncomfortably back and forth instinctively. It didn’t take too long for him to notice your state, his face slightly shifted into worry.
“Tesoro, are you okay?” he asked, his big hand holding yours. You tried to brush him off, but your face revealed your pain.
“I’ve… kinda been aching here for a while now,” you admitted, pointing your chest.
“I usually massage it when you’re away. It makes me feel better but I’m too embarrassed to do it when you’re around.“
He blinked, staying silent before he snorted, causing you to elbow his stomach, thinking he’s making fun of you.
"Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help it. We’ve been married for more than a year now and that’s what you were embarrassed of?”
You nodded slowly, making him laugh even more. You nudged him again to make him stop. It took a while for his laugh to die down, wiping away a stray tear from the corner of his eyes.
He then leant closer to your ears, and suddenly you remember his grip on your waist.
“I can help you with that if you want.” He whispered, his hot breath tickles your earlobe, sending goosebumps over your spine.
Your face was tinted red, but you stammered a tiny “yes” anyway, receiving a chuckle from Abbacchio.
He moved away from you, shifting closer to the arm rest, before settling there.
“Here, come lean on me,” he beckoned, hand patting his lap. You scooted yourself to him, closing the distance between him before leaning your back on his chest, your hip snuggled comfortably between his lap.
He starts to rub your shoulder, squeezing it firmly left to right, warming you up. You groaned when his fingers worked on your muscle.
“You’re so tense, tesoro. Try to relax, okay?” he cooed, his fingers still working on you. You slumped your shoulder down, giving yourself into his touch. He lets out a contented hum, as he continued squeezing you from the base of your neck down to your shoulder blade.
You groaned when he starts to press on your sore muscle, feeling the pain fade away as he worked more on it. He kept on with his pace, earning a few soft groans from you before he stopped.
“May I?” he asked, resting his hand rests on your bra hook. You murmured a “yes”, your face heating up, knowing this could lead to what you’ve been wanted for months.
He unhooks your bra, before getting his hands under your camisole, his nimble fingers dancing across your bare chest, sending tiny shocks to your core. You inhale sharply when his hands cup both of your breasts, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“Tell me when to stop, alright?” he purrs into your ear.
You only nodded, as he started to palm your breasts, kneading them slowly in a circular motion, moving sideways to top a couple times. You softly moaned in each of his squeezes, unsure if it’s from the soreness slowly sizzling away, or from the pleasure being touched by your husband. However, you notice you’re not the only one making noises, as you hear tiny groans escaping from his mouth as he continued.
After minutes of kneading your plush breasts, Abbacchio abandons your chest, lifting your camisole away, before his hands snakes its way back to your chest, now focusing on your swollen nub.
“Y/n, fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He growls into your ear, his finger rubs your nipples eagerly, and suddenly you notice his hardness poking through your rear. Now you know you’re not the only person getting excited.
He starts to plant kisses on your neck, gently nipping and marking your pulse point.
“L-Leone,-” your moan gradually becomes louder and louder, all thanks to Abbacchio’s assault on your neck and your bosom. You start to feel the familiar tightness in at the pit of your core bubbling, something you missed so dearly.
You didn’t notice you were leaking milk until Abbacchio stops, his hand suddenly became sticky and wet.
“I guess you’re good to go now,” he whispered.
You felt him shifting behind you, leaving a quick kiss behind your neck before he gets up, ready to leave. You were baffled, confused as to why he, after kissing and touching you, building up your arousal, leaving you so needy for him, would get up and leave you in such a state? Why won’t he stay and let him indulge in his carnal desires?
You had enough. You need him so badly, and you know he wanted you so terribly much too, judging by the straining bulge on his pants.
You grabbed his wrist, your soft voice calling him caught his attention.
"I- I still need your help,” you murmured as you pulled him back into the couch, your pleading eyes staring into his’s.
His expression of confusion softened as his lips tugged into a smirk. “And where do you need me?” His voice was low, sending a pleasant tiny wave to the pit of your lower half.
“H-here,” you pointed at your chest sheepishly. “I still wish you would um, do something about the leaking.”
He caught on onto your plan, now slowly hovering over you.
“And what do you want me to do with it?” he teased, his hand returning back to palming your pillowy breast.
Your face tinted scarlet, and you’re still embarrassed to say so, but you mustered through it, facing away from Abbacchio, before you commanded him in a whisper,
“P-please, suck me off.”
He chuckled and thumbed your chin, making you face him again, his eyes are dark, clouded by lust.
“God, you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate.”
He bent down, lowering you body onto the couch and claiming your sweet lips as his. He wasted no time and slipped his tongue into your wanting mouth, no longer hiding his intention to be intimate with you. His wet muscle desperately glides in you, tracing every grooves of your mouth, while his hands pumps your chests with fervent yet care as to not hurt you. He drinks in all your needy moans into his mouth, responding by slowly grinding his hip onto your thighs. You were putty under his hands, your body feeling hotter than ever despite the cold air idly fanning the living room.
He finally broke his kiss, his full-blown eyes stares hungrily into yours as he tries to catch a breath or two with you. You barely manage to calm your breathing as he began to pepper kisses from your jawline all down to your collarbone.
“I missed you,” he sighed as he slowly trails down lower towards your torso, marking you and leaving slight wet patch between each kisses.
“I missed touching your bare skin, I missed feeling your curves, and fuck–” he pulls away, abandoning your chest, you didn’t notice how much you leaked from arouse and Abbacchio’s ministration.
“I missed tasting you,” he confessed, before diving down and taking your supple breast into his warm mouth, lapping on it feverishly, while his hand fondles your free mound. You threw your head back, crying out his name in hitched breath, as his tongue swirls on your swollen nub, before licking your milk.
“Fuck, you taste so fucking sweet, so delicious-” he moans between sucking, and you can only quiver and squirm in pleasure as he continues to suck you deliciously. Satisfied, he released your mound with an audible pop, a wet string of his saliva forming before it disappears. He then shifts his attention to your other breast, his mouth quickly latching on while his hand continues squeezing.
His tongue continues swirling on your nub, meticulously repeating actions that draws the lewdest voice from your throat, while his hand starts to roam you curiously, pressing and touching every inch of your body. But when his hand starts to brush the skin of your belly, his mouth broke away from you, and you know exactly why.
Abbacchio draws his face towards yours, tilting your chin with his thumb before kissing your quivering mouth, letting you taste your sweet essence lingering in his mouth. He then pulls away again, cupping your face in his palm while brushing strands of hair away from your face.
“I really want to taste you. But I don’t want to hurt you, nor the baby,” he admits, his eyebrow furrowing, eyes full of guilt. Your heart felt strange seeing that even in the throes of passion, he still prioritized you and your baby’s comfort.
Your hand copied the position of his before placing a small kiss on his forehead.
“No, you won’t. I promise,” you said softly, smiling with assurance.
With your blessing, Leone slowly rolled your shorts down, leaving you only in your panties. You then took his hand, kissing it before guiding it slowly towards your soaked underwear.
“I want you to know I really missed you too,” you whispered, pressing his palm onto your crotch, feeling the sticky patch on your panties.
“Don’t you want to do something with it?” you breathed, gazing him with half-lidded eyes. You’re not always bold, but you know what to do to lure him in. It seemed to work when he starts to cup your clothed pussy, his eyes looking down on you as if he’s ready to ravage you.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet…” he murmured before leaning down to kiss you passionately, claiming your lips once again. He regains his confidence, his finger rubbing your covered sex meticulously, drawing tiny mewls from you. He then breaks away from you, keeping his eyes focused on your form. He longed to see yourself unraveled beneath him, to see your face contorted into pure bliss calling out his name in a desperate mantra, and he wants to see it all before him as his fingers now slip into your panties, dragging it slowly onto your lower lips. You arched into his hand, gasping when his digits dances across your labia.
“How long have you been craving for this?” Abbacchio purrs. His pace didn’t falter, his finger teases your skin slowly, sending jolts to your spine.
“S-so fucking long….” you groaned, bucking into his palm when he starts to rhythmically tap your clit. He chuckled, seeing how you rutted against him so desperately.
You inhale sharply when his nimble finger teases your entrance, circling around your hole before plunging his finger deep into your slick. He started his pace slow but gradually picks up speed, wet noises follows suit with each pump.
“Ahhnnnn, L-leone,” you cried, as his finger thrusts into you in and out on a steady pace. You bit your lower lips instinctively, your eyes rolls back just by the sheer pleasure of having your husband’s fingers drilling inside you, bringing you closer and closer to cloud nine. Abbacchio can feel his cock twitching in his pants seeing how much you’ve melted, like putty.
And putty you are when he added one more of his thick fingers inside, his eyes never leaving yours, not wanting to miss every lewd expression etched on your face. You let out another cry of his name when he hit a sweet spot inside you that made you see stars, a lone tear rolls down your cheek.
“Cara, fuck, I need to taste you,” he begged, looking at you with his pleading eyes, his hand still busy fucking your sopping cunt feverishly, while his other plays with your stiff nipple.
“Yes, Leone, please, I need you-” you whimpered, matching his needy tone. He parted his fingers away from you, a whine escaped from your mouth from the loss of sensation. He brings his fingers to his face, cloudy gloss of your sweet nectar coating his fingers. He stared into you with his lusty eyes, while he licked your juices clean from his fingers except his index finger. He then licked his lips, leaving no traces of you behind.
He glides his index finger across your lips, covering your pucker in your own juices. You licked your lips, making sure you made eye contacts with Abbacchio. You then parted your lips, welcoming his finger into your warm mouth. You sucked his finger eagerly, tasting the sweet tang of your arousal, before releasing him, a pop came from your mouth.
He leans forward, capturing your lips in a fiery kiss, his tongue everywhere before he leaves you again.
“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable, alright?” he whispered softly, leaving a peck on your nose before he moves downwards, lining kisses from top to bottom. You only able to nod, your eyes following his movements.
He stopped at your swollen belly, casting a soft look on it, before placing another wet kiss on it. “Be a good baby for daddy, alright?” he murmurs, brushing it gently and continuing downward. You giggled at how gentle he is to the baby, despite being in the midst of passionate love making.
He nips your waist gingerly, being very close to your body part he missed spoiling so dearly. He breathes out a hoarse groan with each of his kiss plastered on your skin, gradually working his way to your crotch. He quivered when he reached your crotch, drinking in your sweet musk deeply, blowing cool air against your warm cunt.
“Cara mia, Y/N, you smell so divine, so sweet….” he sighed, his hand having a stronghold on your thighs. You buried yourself into the couch when he the tip of his nose poked your crotch, his plump lips following suit, guzzling your drenched pussy hungrily, kissing and sucking it sloppily. You writhe, wailing in pure ecstasy, trying to grind more and more on his ravenous mouth.
“Leone, please, I need you, I need you-” you sobbed, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, begging him for that sweet release from your husband. He replies in a repeated yet silent ‘yes’, his hand quickly worked on getting your panties off of you, tossing it somewhere on the floor.
He marvels your body, thinking how sexy and beautiful you are, despite having an obvious bump and stretch marks decorating your body.
“You’re so damn gorgeous, how did I ever deserve you?” he murmurs, sweet praises flowing out his mouth as his hand brushes your skin from top to bottom, emphasizing his point. Your face has been flushed throughout the heavy petting session, but his honeyed words turns your face even redder.
His warm mouth immediately latches onto your lower lips, rolling his tongue between your slit all the way to your swollen clit, poking it lightly, stirring your core even more. You moaned out loud when he inserted two of his thick fingers back into your sopping cunt, doubling his effort on you.
“Y/N, fuck, how can you be this fucking wet for me?” he groans, his fingers moving languidly between your pulsing walls while his tongue worked magic between your folds.
You tried forming sentences but to no avail you can only whine, as you’re too washed away by the waves of euphoria Abbacchio brought upon you, and even more so when he finally made his way through your weeping hole, his wet muscle replacing his thick fingers. You sunk more into your couch as his skillful tongue twirls inside you, grazing your walls and sweet spots that made your jaw slack open blissfully.
His thumb toyed around your clit, thumbing it lightly while he tongue fucking you mercilessly. The wet noise of him slurping and sucking you with fervor is driving you wild, and you can feel the coil inside you tightens and tightens with each of his haste thrust.
“Do you want to cum?” he asked, almost teasingly. He didn’t need to ask, judging by how your walls desperately tries to cling on his tongue, how you howled in high pitch and how tight your grip on the couch is but he enjoyed seeing you begging for release, bucking his face more into your hip as you begged him.
“Y-yes! Please! Please, make me cum Leone!” you pleaded with shaky voice.
Leone curls his lips, speeding up his pace, his thumb pressing you clit firmly to welcome your hot release.
“Cum on my face, Y/N,” he moaned hoarsely.
With a frail cry of his name, the tightened coil inside you finally snaps and you gush, your walls pulsing violently and massaging his tongue, his face thoroughly soaked in your essence. You curled your toes and your body shakes pleasantly, riding through the high. He hummed in pleasure, eating your drenched pussy sloppily, collecting all you offered in his mouth.
He continued lapping up your spent cunt, helping you through your high before you pushed his head away, having enough of him overstimulating your already swollen clit.
He pulls away from you, but not before kissing both of your inner thighs and then your bump, before he climbs up to press his plump lips on you, licking your lower lips asking for permission. You parted your lips, inviting his mouth molding with yours. He passes your juice into your mouth, letting you savor in your own essence, before passing it back and forth until he finally swallows it. He breaks the kiss and lick his lips clean, peering into your eyes affectionately.
“I love you,” he breathes softly under his ragged breath, stroking your face lovingly.
“I love you to,” you whispered, your breathing matches his.
He lifts away from you, straightening himself before checking on you, asking if you’re alright, his eyes wander your bare body to see if he left any bruises on you. It’s been a while since you both have been intimate and with you being pregnant, he took extra step to make sure you are fine.
You insist that you’re fine, and you definitely are, you felt light and satisfied, but you couldn’t deny feeling a pang of guilt that you didn’t get to return his favor. He did everything to satisfy your need, even when you didn’t ask for it and he’s been extremely patient and loving towards you, especially throughout your pregnancy. And so, you made up your mind to repay his generosity.
He was about to rise from the couch, looking for towels to wipe your body but you pulled him back in, straddling and settling yourself on his crotch. He was caught off guard by you, his eyes widening by how bold you are.
“Let me take care of you….” you rumbled under your breath, trailing your finger from his jawline down to his chest. He grins slyly, lifting his arm above him to remove his shirt, before tossing it on the floor mixing in your clothes.
And throughout the evening, you both have been busy exploring each other’s body like new lovers, as the wall between both of you finally collapsed, finally being honest to one another and no longer needing to restrain your desire.