I work her slowly. Long, lazy licks that make her gasp. Focused attention on her clit that has her fisting the sheets. When I slide two fingers inside her and curl them just right, her back arches off the bed.
"Oh god!"
I don't let up. Work her steadily higher, watching her face as the pleasure builds. Her head thrashes on the pillow. Her thighs tremble around my ears. When she finally comes, it's with a cry that echoes off the walls.
Before she can recover, I'm kissing my way back up her body. Position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her.
"Look at me." I wait until her eyes focus on mine. "Want to see you when I'm inside you."
I push in slowly. So slowly. Watching her face as she stretches around me, as her mouth falls open, as her eyes go dark. The morning light catches on her flushed skin and she's never been more beautiful.
I make love to her with long, deep strokes that make her gasp with each thrust. There's no urgency this time. No desperation. Just the slide of our bodies, the building pleasure, the connection between us.
I shift the angle and she cries out.
"There?" I hit the same spot again. "That's it, isn't it?"
"Yes, right there! Don't stop!"
I don't. Keep hitting that spot with every thrust while her nails dig into my shoulders. Watch her face as the pleasure builds, as she gets closer and closer to the edge.
"Touch yourself," I tell her. "Want to feel you come on my cock."
Her hand slides between us and she circles her clit. The added pressure makes her tighten around me and I groan.
"That's it. Just like that."
She's close. I can feel it in the way her walls flutter around me, the way her breathing gets ragged. I thrust harder, deeper, chasing that edge with her.
"Come for me," I demand. "Let me feel it."
She shatters. Her whole body goes rigid, clenching around me rhythmically, and the sensation drags me over with her. I bury myself deep and pulse inside her, groaning against her throat as I fill her with my load.
We collapse together in the tangle of sheets, both breathing hard. The morning light is warm on our skin. Outside I can hear the settlement coming to life—voices, laughter, the sound of normalcy.
After a long moment, she props herself up on her elbow, looking down at me with soft eyes.
"We should do this every morning," she says. "While Allie's at lessons."
"I'm completely on board with this plan."
She traces patterns on my chest, her touch light. "Do you ever think about having more kids?"
The question catches me off guard. I turn my head to look at her properly.
"You mean?"
"A baby." Her hand moves to rest on my stomach. "Our baby.I know it's crazy. I know the world is…fucked." She gestures vaguely. "But watching you with Allie. The way you are with her. It makes me wonder."
My chest tightens. The image forms before I can stop it—Iris round with my child, a baby with her eyes and my stubbornness. Another chance. Another beginning.
"It's dangerous," I say carefully.
"Everything is dangerous now."
"Pregnancy complications. Childbirth without proper medical care. Keeping an infant quiet when the dead are everywhere."
"I know." She meets my eyes. "I'm not saying now. Maybe not for a while. But someday? If we're still here? Still safe?"
