The transformation in him is remarkable. Sergei has always been loyal, competent, and professional. But this—this softness, this patience, this willingness to wait—this is new.
After he leaves, I turn to Maksim. "You knew. About Sergei and Natasha."
"I suspected. He's been different since she started staying here. More careful, more present. The way I was with you in the beginning."
"And you approve?"
"She's good for him. Brings out the human under the soldier." He crosses to the bed, sits beside me. "The same way you did for me."
I take his hand, press it to my bump. "We're all healing together. Building something new from the ruins."
"Two ghosts and two futures," he murmurs, the phrase that's become our mantra.
"And a whole new generation to protect."
The careful intimacy begins on Thursday.
"I need to feel you," I say that evening after dinner. "It's been a week since we've—"
"Penetration is risky," he interrupts gently. "Doctor said to avoid it until you're cleared."
"Then don't. But I need something. I need you to touch me."
Understanding fills his expression. He moves to kneel beside the bed, helps me shimmy out of my sleep pants and underwear.
"Open for me," he says quietly.
I do.
He settles between my legs, and the first touch of his tongue makes me gasp. He works slowly, carefully, building pleasure without urgency. His hands rest on my hips, thumbs stroking the small bump, connecting with both of us.
"You're so strong," he murmurs against me. "Growing our child. Surviving bed rest again. Being patient when you want to fight."
"Keep talking," I gasp, hands in his hair.
He does. Between strokes of his tongue, he talks to my stomach, to the baby growing there.
"Your mother is magnificent. Brave and stubborn and perfect. You're lucky to have her."
I come gently, waves of pleasure that don't strain anything, just release tension and affirm life.
He doesn't stop. Builds me up again, slower this time, talking throughout.
"Ten weeks now. Growing strong. We can't wait to meet you. To watch you become whoever you're meant to be."
The second orgasm is even gentler, a soft wave that leaves me boneless and grateful.
He continues for over an hour—multiple gentle climaxes, hands on my bump, voice whispering to the baby between pleasuring me. By the time he finally stops, I'm exhausted and satisfied and deeply loved.
"Thank you," I whisper as he climbs into bed beside me, still fully clothed.
"Always."
We do this every evening for the next three days. Careful arousal, oral only, him between my legs for hours while talking to ourchild. It becomes ritual—affirming life, celebrating each day the baby stays, connecting without risk.
By Sunday, December 5th, I've gone seven full days without any bleeding.
Dr. Volkov does a follow-up exam that afternoon—comes to the mansion since I'm still on modified bed rest. Ultrasound shows the baby thriving at ten weeks, heartbeat strong, development on track.
