[ This loss feels insurmountable. Her experience with grief is slim, the one exception being her father, and she'd been all of six at the time of his abrupt demise. A horrible loss, a void that haunted her family and much of her life, but softened by time and childhood.
This one is her baby, their baby. Initially, she cries for days, and self-medicates to sleep the rest of the time. She doesn't want to be awake. Her thoughts turn dark, and though she's not actively suicidal, there's a part of her that doesn't want to live -- that feels a part of her died in that hospital room.
They bury him together. It helps. As do the calves, the sweet things. They follow her around like small children, demanding her almost undivided attention. She names them Federico (Fred) and Cat, rather cleverly she thinks, after the characters in A Farewell to Arms.
Guiltily, much of her attention is devoted to the calves when it was once focused on her husband. It's mostly not on purpose, but intimacy has turned into an issue since the miscarriage. More than once kissing becomes heavy petting becomes fingering, but her cunt goes dry and loses interest both times.
Her libido had become close to nonexistent. Her doctor tells her it's normal. They had been advised, too, to not have penetrative sex for a few weeks while she healed. She just hasn't been interested in sex. Or almost anything.
His hand on her ass, though. Bending down to trim rosemary, Fran stills, now quite unused to her husband fondling her since the miscarriage -- but mostly unsure how to respond. She's frozen like a doe caught in headlights, really, and looks back at him with big eyes. Her stomach clenches, but she tries to be playful. ]
[The freeze is just long enough that Nate nearly pulls away and apologises for getting fresh with her. That thought makes him pause, because it's so contrary to the way they've been before.
He can see the uncertainty in her eyes and realises, perhaps, he's given her mixed signals by slowing things down instead of guiding her. It makes him more resolute, wanting to encourage her rather than fussing over her. He circles his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him so he can brush his lips up her neck and murmur in her ear]
Always hungry for you, Bambi. [And he nearly tries to seek obvious interest or consent from her but he bites it back, turning it into an order.]
I want you naked, on all fours on the bed when I get up stairs. [He pulls back, smacking her ass as he walks away.]
[ It's the first time a shiver has run up her spine in weeks, what feels like the time Before. Her skin goes blistering hot.
She is nervous, incredibly so, but she slips out of her clothes and onto the king sized bed, in the position he ordered her to be. She's already a little wet, her mind running between fantasies and memories of him pounding into her, and her fear of messing this up like the other times they tried.
She glances back when she hears his footsteps coming up the hallway, her hips rocking involuntarily at the promise. ]
[Nate plays his role with confidence, though inside there's a little niggling uncertainty about whether she'll like it. He can never fully shut off the part of him that worries about her.
His heart races as he gets closer to the bedroom, but he keeps his gait casual. He says nothing when he walks in the room to see her. He feels a tiny flutter of glee just knowing she's still interested.
He peels his shirt off, coming to walk around her so he can grab her chin and tilt her face up to look at him.]
Good girl. [He bends down, kissing her deeply before standing back up.]
[ She noticeably preens at the praise, butterflies taking flight in her belly, a feeling she'd started to forget in her misery. His praise, whether generous or rare, always does this to her, and never more than when they are doing this.
Post-kiss, breathless, she opens her mouth and her pink tongue thrusts out, sticking out for him. Her curious eyes remain fixed on him, as if forbidden to look elsewhere. Saliva starts to pool in her mouth. ]
[It's a little test to see how game she really is. The way she thrusts her tongue out is very promising, reminiscent of the power-play they engage in when they're really egging each other on.
He doesn't hide his pleased look (sometimes he'll stay stoic to rile her up more). It's a non-verbal good girl. He cups her face, pressing his thumb firmly on her chin and dragging her bottom lip down. He leans in, taking his time to turn her head so he can visually inspect her. With one hand on her chin, he uses the other hand to trace his fingers around the inside of her lips and mouth and the tip of her tongue.
With his fingers curled on the tip of his tongue, he looks her in the eye.]
[ Francesca stays very, very still while he looks her over, her fingers curling into the topmost blanket. She's a precious jewel being inspected, assessed and judged.
He gives a directive. Suck, he says.
She does. Her mouth automatically closes around his fingers, just the tips of them, and starts to suck. Her body is on high alert; this is just the beginning of whatever is to come, that she knows. It's an easy entry point, after her body has failed to respond to his touch, and she hasn't been wanting to fuck for the last month.
[So far, so good. She's not as openly receptive as she normally would be, but he's not sensing discomfort. He hums as she sucks at his fingers, cock firming up all the more as he watches her. His fingers withdraw and he guides her face to press against the outline of his cock, so she can feel how hard he is.
His hand slides under her, taking her breast in his hand and kneading it.]
I want to make you feel good. Fuck you good. [His cock twitches under her cheek, eager.]
I want you so wet you drip. [Which has been something of a difficulty, but he's confident if he takes charge and takes time, he'll find her pleasure again. He pulls back with a meaningful look. He needs a towel and lube-- he can work her up to being wet with encouragement.
When he returns, he reaches under her to tuck the towel on the bed. They're going to need it. He lubes his fingers and warms them, wanting everything to feel good for her when he touches her.]
Face down, ass up.
[He reaches under again, this time running his fingers over the lips of her pussy. He starts light, exploring over the shapes and folds before circling his finger over her clit.]
[ His every word is encouragement, as is the responses of his cock against her cheek. She nuzzles into the imprint. When he steps away, she feels the mildest twinges of discomfort, and desperately hopes and tries to will away her anxiety.
The moment of truth will be when it comes to that point.
She has questions when he whips out the towel, but she doesn't ask, to save herself from stressing over it.
The lube helps his fingers slip around her clit, a hum building in the base of her throat. Her knees nudge further apart, cunt flaring, pink and puffy with mounting arousal. ]
Yes sir.
[ But when he dips a finger into her needy cunt, she begins to panic. ]
[He can intuit that she's fretting inside, but she's doing incredibly well in his eyes. He pets her backside with his other hand, dragging his thumb over her ass cheek and spreading her a little more.
Still, this is his favourite place and his favourite thing. He loves her soft, pink cunt. Loves having his mouth and fingers there. He feels impossibly thirsty for it and he wants to lap at her cunt and bury his face in it.
Small steps.]
Feels nice, bambi.
[He doesn't want to tell her to relax, she knows what she needs to do and if it were that easy, she would. He needs to relax her. He presses a thick finger inside her and feels her walls clench in resistance. He doesn't panic, pumping his finger in and out of her slowly.]
[ She appreciates that he's not voicing his concerns aloud or hesitating. Since hospital, he's been incredibly patient and gentle with her, uncharacteristically so in some respects. It had been necessary, for a time, but now she realizes she doesn't want that. She doesn't need that from him.
She needs this. She needs to be ordered around, pushed to her limits. Let her mentally and physically work through it via pleasure. Let him take over her body and mind so she can leave both behind for a while.
That said, initially it isn't comfortable. The lubricant aids some, but not fully. She bears it, forces her body to grow accustomed again to the pumping motion, the withdrawal and re-entry.
Eventually, she relaxes into it, and her body starts to self-lubricate, her juices joining silicone, letting him add a second. Her ass arches, swaying back, joining the rhythm. ]
[Nate can feel her getting wetter, warmer against his fingers. It's enough to make him drool, especially when she arches and sways. Her ass looks very tempting, as much as it did when he grabbed it the first time.
He curls his finger in her, working her up to a second. His other hand skims under her to squeeze her breast, pinching a nipple.]
Your body makes me fucking crazy. [Which she knows by now, but he wants her to know the depth of it as he pumps two fingers in and out of her.]
When you came out in your little dress this morning, I wanted to bend you over the table and bury my cock in you. [He squeezes her breast firmly, like he's scolding her for being beautiful.]
[ The second addition brings her head to a bend, her long hair falling over one shoulder, revealing the back of her neck. Her cunt spasms wildly when he mentions bending her over.
That gets a moan out of her, a small half-choked thing, her lip sucking into her mouth. It feels good, feels magical to have his fingers inside her again.
He's told her to advocate for what she wants, and she thinks -- she's pretty sure -- he'll indulge her now. Her fingers curl and uncurl in the bedding. ]
[Nate smiles to himself as he feels her relax even more. She's closer than she's been before and she wants more, that's good.
His hand leaves her breast, spreading his fingers over the back of her neck and gripping firmly. He complies happily with the request, adding another finger and pressing them all deep inside her. He drags them in and out slowly.]
[ Her breath hitches out, her teeth baring with sheer pleasure.
The question is simple, takes no contemplation on her part, and she doesn't feel like denying him the satisfaction of hearing it right now. Not that she regularly does -- but especially when she hasn't wanted him to touch her in weeks.
But ... she tenses for a moment; she hasn't had the desire to use this name, has been unable to ask him whether he wants to hear it.
A long stretch of silence is broken. ] Daddy's. [ Her voice is wobbly, her eyes suddenly damp. Her orgasm is rising, albeit slowly. ] This pussy is Daddy's.
[In this moment, Nate feels no conflict about the name. He was her daddy before, he'll be her daddy as long as she allows it.
What he does feel is incredibly fucking horny. He's not close to finishing, but he knows he'll feel truly satisfied if he can get her to come.]
Come, bambi. [Soft, but authoritative. He hopes her obedience overrules any fear or doubt.]
Come for daddy.
[It hits the mark, apparently. He feels the familiar tremble and sudden clench around his fingers. He groans low in his throat, curling against her walls and rubbing her.]
Her knees tremble and the small of her back arches as she teeters, her brain initially fearful before even it cannot overcome her body's need: she crests, throbbing around his fingers, rutting against his wrist. She doesn't make much noise in spite of it: biting down on her bottom lip, blood drawn.
It's a drawn out climax, her body shuddering, her hips slowly stopping their roll.
Finished, Francesca is quiet, but she's trembling still. Her shoulders begin to shake with tears. ]
[Her quietness is noted, but he's lost in how excited he is to feel her unwinding around him. Even if the absence of sound is strange, the movements of her body are familiar.
He almost doesn't notice her cry, since it's normal for her to shake a little. Once he realises, he can't help panicking. His fingers slide out and he winds his arms around her middle, leaning over her.]
Oh-- you alright, bambi? [He sounds genuinely concerned despite himself, slipping out of character as he presses his lips to her temple.]
[ There are few people Francesca will allow herself to willingly cry around. He's never shamed her for it, he never would, but she's spent the last week trying to compartmentalize the trauma, loathe to put that further burden on him. She'd wept and felt sorry for herself enough.
Her release has undone her completely. Diminished that last stronghold. Her tears slip into sobs, and she turns, arms winding around his neck so he can gather her to him. ]
[His arms loosen enough so that she can turn, then tighten again around her. He nuzzles his head against hers, pressing his lips firmly against the side of her head.
He's worried, of course, but he's optimistic that there's important catharsis in this moment. Something she needs.]
I'm here. [Simple, he knows there's been distance between them but he's never for a second worried that it would last forever. He rubs slow circles on her back, drawing her into his lap so they're a tangle of limbs again.]
[ She whimpers, her tears a noisy torrent. It recedes quickly. Emotionally exhausted and thereby calmer, her face still pressed into his shoulder.
She feels safe here. She always has.
After a while, her hands rub along his back, up and down. Her forehead lightly bumps his chin when she resurfaces. She imagines she doesn't look very seductive, her eyes bloodshot and her nose wet, but she brushes her mouth against his, then presses into it. Reinitiating.
[Perhaps not traditionally seductive, but when he looks at her, he just sees his beautiful wife and feels lucky. He hums gratefully into the kiss, smoothing his hand over her hair.
He can feel her re-initiating and hopes it means she's just experiencing the catharsis of release.
He guides her down to lie on her back, kissing her again once she's lying flat. His fingers find her pussy again, spreading her open for him.]
I missed you too. [He murmurs it against her lips. He guides the head of his cock into her hole and relishes the feeling of being almost inside her. A low groan escapes him as he presses his hips against her, cock pushing inside her at a slow pace. He feels like he's been bereft of this for centuries rather than weeks, whole body aching from how badly he wants to be inside of her.]
[ She's still wet with her climax when he pulls the lips of her sex apart, her cunt fluttering for him.
Her hips lift, arching into the push of his body into hers, the slow slide of his cock. Simultaneously, tension flares in the back of her mind, nerves white behind her eyes, but she pointedly chooses to ignore it by throwing herself into the kiss. He hasn't been inside her for weeks; she needs to readjust to him. That's it. That's all. ]
[So far, Nate feels he's done a good job of reading her. It gets significantly more challenging once he's inside her. He's focusing on being slow but purposeful, his cock is aching to move faster and feel friction.
She's certainly tight around him, not to an extent that he feels discomfort and probably just because it's been a while. He's certain his memories of her pussy involve times when she's already been fucked or when he's teased her into a near frenzied state. It's just different.
His hand scoops around her to rest on her lower back, the other hooks her thigh over his hip. He groans once more into the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers as he starts to rock his hips into her.]
[ Her hips widen and give him more space to move -- and she thinks this will work, feels a degree of warmth. It ends in the next second.
Any other time, that throaty groan would be a turn on, had always been. But all she can think of now is the fear of him pouring himself into her, and then of everything else. Her body locks around him, a cry forced free of her mouth into his with the next inward press. It is distinctly not of pleasure. ]
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selfeffacingly) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sundown2025-04-27 08:43 pm
no subject
This one is her baby, their baby. Initially, she cries for days, and self-medicates to sleep the rest of the time. She doesn't want to be awake. Her thoughts turn dark, and though she's not actively suicidal, there's a part of her that doesn't want to live -- that feels a part of her died in that hospital room.
They bury him together. It helps. As do the calves, the sweet things. They follow her around like small children, demanding her almost undivided attention. She names them Federico (Fred) and Cat, rather cleverly she thinks, after the characters in A Farewell to Arms.
Guiltily, much of her attention is devoted to the calves when it was once focused on her husband. It's mostly not on purpose, but intimacy has turned into an issue since the miscarriage. More than once kissing becomes heavy petting becomes fingering, but her cunt goes dry and loses interest both times.
Her libido had become close to nonexistent. Her doctor tells her it's normal. They had been advised, too, to not have penetrative sex for a few weeks while she healed. She just hasn't been interested in sex. Or almost anything.
His hand on her ass, though. Bending down to trim rosemary, Fran stills, now quite unused to her husband fondling her since the miscarriage -- but mostly unsure how to respond. She's frozen like a doe caught in headlights, really, and looks back at him with big eyes. Her stomach clenches, but she tries to be playful. ]
I thought you took dinner before dessert.
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He can see the uncertainty in her eyes and realises, perhaps, he's given her mixed signals by slowing things down instead of guiding her. It makes him more resolute, wanting to encourage her rather than fussing over her. He circles his arm around her waist, pulling her back against him so he can brush his lips up her neck and murmur in her ear]
Always hungry for you, Bambi. [And he nearly tries to seek obvious interest or consent from her but he bites it back, turning it into an order.]
I want you naked, on all fours on the bed when I get up stairs. [He pulls back, smacking her ass as he walks away.]
I'm going to lock up.
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She is nervous, incredibly so, but she slips out of her clothes and onto the king sized bed, in the position he ordered her to be. She's already a little wet, her mind running between fantasies and memories of him pounding into her, and her fear of messing this up like the other times they tried.
She glances back when she hears his footsteps coming up the hallway, her hips rocking involuntarily at the promise. ]
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His heart races as he gets closer to the bedroom, but he keeps his gait casual. He says nothing when he walks in the room to see her. He feels a tiny flutter of glee just knowing she's still interested.
He peels his shirt off, coming to walk around her so he can grab her chin and tilt her face up to look at him.]
Good girl. [He bends down, kissing her deeply before standing back up.]
Open your mouth, stick out your tongue for me.
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Post-kiss, breathless, she opens her mouth and her pink tongue thrusts out, sticking out for him. Her curious eyes remain fixed on him, as if forbidden to look elsewhere. Saliva starts to pool in her mouth. ]
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He doesn't hide his pleased look (sometimes he'll stay stoic to rile her up more). It's a non-verbal good girl. He cups her face, pressing his thumb firmly on her chin and dragging her bottom lip down. He leans in, taking his time to turn her head so he can visually inspect her. With one hand on her chin, he uses the other hand to trace his fingers around the inside of her lips and mouth and the tip of her tongue.
With his fingers curled on the tip of his tongue, he looks her in the eye.]
Suck.
no subject
He gives a directive. Suck, he says.
She does. Her mouth automatically closes around his fingers, just the tips of them, and starts to suck. Her body is on high alert; this is just the beginning of whatever is to come, that she knows. It's an easy entry point, after her body has failed to respond to his touch, and she hasn't been wanting to fuck for the last month.
Eventually, her eyes flutter shut. ]
no subject
His hand slides under her, taking her breast in his hand and kneading it.]
I want to make you feel good. Fuck you good. [His cock twitches under her cheek, eager.]
I want you so wet you drip. [Which has been something of a difficulty, but he's confident if he takes charge and takes time, he'll find her pleasure again. He pulls back with a meaningful look. He needs a towel and lube-- he can work her up to being wet with encouragement.
When he returns, he reaches under her to tuck the towel on the bed. They're going to need it. He lubes his fingers and warms them, wanting everything to feel good for her when he touches her.]
Face down, ass up.
[He reaches under again, this time running his fingers over the lips of her pussy. He starts light, exploring over the shapes and folds before circling his finger over her clit.]
Every part of you is perfect. And it's mine.
no subject
The moment of truth will be when it comes to that point.
She has questions when he whips out the towel, but she doesn't ask, to save herself from stressing over it.
The lube helps his fingers slip around her clit, a hum building in the base of her throat. Her knees nudge further apart, cunt flaring, pink and puffy with mounting arousal. ]
Yes sir.
[ But when he dips a finger into her needy cunt, she begins to panic. ]
no subject
Still, this is his favourite place and his favourite thing. He loves her soft, pink cunt. Loves having his mouth and fingers there. He feels impossibly thirsty for it and he wants to lap at her cunt and bury his face in it.
Small steps.]
Feels nice, bambi.
[He doesn't want to tell her to relax, she knows what she needs to do and if it were that easy, she would. He needs to relax her. He presses a thick finger inside her and feels her walls clench in resistance. He doesn't panic, pumping his finger in and out of her slowly.]
no subject
She needs this. She needs to be ordered around, pushed to her limits. Let her mentally and physically work through it via pleasure. Let him take over her body and mind so she can leave both behind for a while.
That said, initially it isn't comfortable. The lubricant aids some, but not fully. She bears it, forces her body to grow accustomed again to the pumping motion, the withdrawal and re-entry.
Eventually, she relaxes into it, and her body starts to self-lubricate, her juices joining silicone, letting him add a second. Her ass arches, swaying back, joining the rhythm. ]
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He curls his finger in her, working her up to a second. His other hand skims under her to squeeze her breast, pinching a nipple.]
Your body makes me fucking crazy. [Which she knows by now, but he wants her to know the depth of it as he pumps two fingers in and out of her.]
When you came out in your little dress this morning, I wanted to bend you over the table and bury my cock in you. [He squeezes her breast firmly, like he's scolding her for being beautiful.]
Been thinking about your pussy all day.
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That gets a moan out of her, a small half-choked thing, her lip sucking into her mouth. It feels good, feels magical to have his fingers inside her again.
He's told her to advocate for what she wants, and she thinks -- she's pretty sure -- he'll indulge her now. Her fingers curl and uncurl in the bedding. ]
Another, please.
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His hand leaves her breast, spreading his fingers over the back of her neck and gripping firmly. He complies happily with the request, adding another finger and pressing them all deep inside her. He drags them in and out slowly.]
Whose pussy is this?
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The question is simple, takes no contemplation on her part, and she doesn't feel like denying him the satisfaction of hearing it right now. Not that she regularly does -- but especially when she hasn't wanted him to touch her in weeks.
But ... she tenses for a moment; she hasn't had the desire to use this name, has been unable to ask him whether he wants to hear it.
A long stretch of silence is broken. ] Daddy's. [ Her voice is wobbly, her eyes suddenly damp. Her orgasm is rising, albeit slowly. ] This pussy is Daddy's.
no subject
What he does feel is incredibly fucking horny. He's not close to finishing, but he knows he'll feel truly satisfied if he can get her to come.]
Come, bambi. [Soft, but authoritative. He hopes her obedience overrules any fear or doubt.]
Come for daddy.
[It hits the mark, apparently. He feels the familiar tremble and sudden clench around his fingers. He groans low in his throat, curling against her walls and rubbing her.]
That's a good girl. Good girl.
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Her knees tremble and the small of her back arches as she teeters, her brain initially fearful before even it cannot overcome her body's need: she crests, throbbing around his fingers, rutting against his wrist. She doesn't make much noise in spite of it: biting down on her bottom lip, blood drawn.
It's a drawn out climax, her body shuddering, her hips slowly stopping their roll.
Finished, Francesca is quiet, but she's trembling still. Her shoulders begin to shake with tears. ]
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He almost doesn't notice her cry, since it's normal for her to shake a little. Once he realises, he can't help panicking. His fingers slide out and he winds his arms around her middle, leaning over her.]
Oh-- you alright, bambi? [He sounds genuinely concerned despite himself, slipping out of character as he presses his lips to her temple.]
Hey, hey. I've got you.
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Her release has undone her completely. Diminished that last stronghold. Her tears slip into sobs, and she turns, arms winding around his neck so he can gather her to him. ]
I miss you.
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He's worried, of course, but he's optimistic that there's important catharsis in this moment. Something she needs.]
I'm here. [Simple, he knows there's been distance between them but he's never for a second worried that it would last forever. He rubs slow circles on her back, drawing her into his lap so they're a tangle of limbs again.]
Good girl. Get it out.
no subject
She feels safe here. She always has.
After a while, her hands rub along his back, up and down. Her forehead lightly bumps his chin when she resurfaces. She imagines she doesn't look very seductive, her eyes bloodshot and her nose wet, but she brushes her mouth against his, then presses into it. Reinitiating.
She wants him to fuck her. ]
no subject
He can feel her re-initiating and hopes it means she's just experiencing the catharsis of release.
He guides her down to lie on her back, kissing her again once she's lying flat. His fingers find her pussy again, spreading her open for him.]
I missed you too. [He murmurs it against her lips. He guides the head of his cock into her hole and relishes the feeling of being almost inside her. A low groan escapes him as he presses his hips against her, cock pushing inside her at a slow pace. He feels like he's been bereft of this for centuries rather than weeks, whole body aching from how badly he wants to be inside of her.]
God-- bambi.
no subject
Her hips lift, arching into the push of his body into hers, the slow slide of his cock. Simultaneously, tension flares in the back of her mind, nerves white behind her eyes, but she pointedly chooses to ignore it by throwing herself into the kiss. He hasn't been inside her for weeks; she needs to readjust to him. That's it. That's all. ]
no subject
She's certainly tight around him, not to an extent that he feels discomfort and probably just because it's been a while. He's certain his memories of her pussy involve times when she's already been fucked or when he's teased her into a near frenzied state. It's just different.
His hand scoops around her to rest on her lower back, the other hooks her thigh over his hip. He groans once more into the kiss, sliding his tongue against hers as he starts to rock his hips into her.]
no subject
Any other time, that throaty groan would be a turn on, had always been. But all she can think of now is the fear of him pouring himself into her, and then of everything else. Her body locks around him, a cry forced free of her mouth into his with the next inward press. It is distinctly not of pleasure. ]
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