[ He bucks and she yelps, biting her fist to stop from straight screaming. It feels so good, too good, she knows she'll come soon. Again. Likely more than once, if he has any say in it.
It's filth he's spilling into her ear -- and though he's fucking her, it washes over her that she's not interested in it being pure bedroom talk saved for when he wants to paint her cunt with release. That it's not just something that turns her on, but aches in her chest and throat with the crushing weight of longing. That she's spent the past few hours imagining that very thing.
Being his. For the rest of her life. Her breath shudders out of her.
Her fingers find his, interlacing and squeezing. There's steel under her sweet voice. ]
[Once again, there's a pained tinge to his groan. Once again, this is crossing right over the line of dirty talk. He knows deep down he is being absolutely ridiculous, but his dick is telling him that the best thing for both of them is for her to be carrying his child.
He breathes hard against her neck, almost sighing as he grazes his teeth over her skin. She sounds so sure and he's still deep in her, angling himself to hilt into her sensitive spots.]
I remember what happened the last time I came in you.
[He manages to reason that out.]
You keep gripping me like that and it's gonna happen again.
[And despite remembering what happened before, the ball is back in her court. Even though she's clearly a little vixen here to torture him with her pussy and she's going to ask for it.]
What if I want to marry you first?
[Breathless, stupid, absolutely brainless but somehow completely earnest. Maybe he'd be a fucking moron if he didn't lock her down now.]
[ Francesca laughs. It's a light, breathless giggle, her fingers draw his up to nestle against his knuckles. His thrusts are still unhurried; her squirming and mewls of pleasure continue, gripping him, trying to rile him up. ]
Oh. Well. I didn't take you to be so old-fashioned.
[ She reaches for his hair, lacing her fingers in it and drawing him close, his chin over her shoulder so that she may kiss him. Her nose playfully nudges his, gasping aloud, her lashes fluttering.
Compromising: ]
You can come in me and then marry me. In that order.
[The slower he takes it, the longer he lasts. And he wants to last forever, because he wants to feel her clenching and tensing around his cock forever.
He grumbles with appreciation when she brings him in closer and touches him so sweetly. Eagerly, he catches her lips and kisses her deeply. It all overwhelms him, makes his mind swim and his hips buck into her. Now he's starting to lose control of his pacing.
Incredible to him that seems so perfect would be equally interested in being impregnated by him and married to him. There's a catch, surely, but it's not something he's even contemplating. He's just thinking about how wet she is and how much he wants her body to belong to him.
He shifts more of his weight on her, pinning her as he fucks her harder, faster and urgently. He thrusts his tongue in her mouth as he comes in her, groaning in ecstasy. He fucks her though it, swirling his fingers over her clit.]
You drive me fucking insane. [He breathes it out against her mouth, meeting her eyes intensely.]
[ Francesca enjoys this brutal usage of her body, without reservation. He comes inside her in his frenzy. She could cry for how sweet it all is: the pulse of his cock, the flood of him, the noise spilling into her mouth.
She trembles like a leaf in his arms, still keyed up, her cunt clenching over and over as he softens.
She meets his eyes with an impossible sureness. ]
I know.
[ Her mind has run back over the past few days, the weeks before it. The moments that seemed driven from enmity, some intrinsic dislike.
And the way he held her, and nursed her, and lost sleep over her.
Her eyes do well now, too wrung out to stop the tears. ]
[Nate has never felt so impulsive, stupid and so painfully in love until this moment. Even with his dick in her, it's the searing earnestness in her eyes that feels so painfully intimate. He holds her gaze, looking a mix of confused, hopeful (hopeless) and adoring. Somehow it still has the blistering intensity of his glares.
But it softens when the tears start to build. He clasps at her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. His mouth moves like he wants to express concern, but instead he's kissing her. His arm wraps around her, holding her up against him and supporting her weight.
He withdraws, regrettably but with bigger things in mind. He turns her toward him.
Softly, and sincerely, he speaks while sliding his hands down to hold her finger tips and shifting to his knees.]
[ His embrace is a reprieve she didn't know before. It encapsulates all the love that she has been privy to her whole life, yet differently. Better. It's hard to comprehend. It's new. It's special. She knows it belongs solely to her. She knows she belongs here.
She understands her mother in a way she had not previously. All those stories about finding love where and when one least expects it.
She sniffles, shifting her weigh from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the cool air on her pussy, all that seed sliding down her inner thighs. What a waste.
He gets to his knees before her like a supplicant. She cocks her head at him in such a way that questions what he's doing.
In the next moment, she lets him guide her, hands on the back of her knees. Obediently, her legs slip apart, one hooking over his shoulder. Her cunt is a wreck he's laid waste to -- her opening flares and clenches in a needy rhythm, spilling more of what was gifted. She reaches to find purchase in his hair, carding through it, all tenderness and anticipation. ]
[Getting on his knees in reverence to her seems perfectly appropriate to Nate, who is positive that she deserves some form of worship. She's obviously some sort of angel if she's got the patience to put up with him.
He watches intently as she lowers herself over him, eyes lingering on hers. The state of her cunt makes him extremely proud, knowing it has and will only know his cock. It means he's now careful to ensure she is satisfied by him and will never need to wonder what else is out there.
His tongue flicks diligently over the mess on her thighs, building up to the lips of her cunt. It starts methodical but unravels into hungry lapping at her hole and sucking at her clit. He makes determined, eager sounds and flicks his eyes up to her every so often. He looks adoringly at her, admiring the view of her from his position.]
[ She has to use his head and shoulders to not crumple to her feet, undone by the ferocity of his mouth on her. Her nails bite through the material of the shirt covering his broad shoulders.
They maintain eye contact, which just adds to the eroticism of it all. Watching as he cleans himself off and out of her, determination and passion strung across his face. It's filthy.
And becomes too much -- plunges her headfirst into a stronger climax than the first, sobbing as it wracks through her. Too much in her weakened condition.
When it ends, she does lose her balance, knees giving out. ]
[As she crests, Nate notices the shakiness and winds his hands around her to support her. He tips her gently in his lap and holds her there, letting her nuzzle into the crook of his neck. They sit in silence for a long time, then they eat.
What follows is a couple of days so perfect, they could well be fever dreams. Francesca seems to attach herself to his hip and he welcomes it, going through his normal rituals with her by his side. Months of barely contained longing mean that even gentle or accidental touches often end with her with her legs spread and him with his cock deep in her. Sometimes it feels like their own method of communication, since they seem to anticipate one another's desires so well.
He's also fallen into the habit of finishing inside her more often than not, something he ought to mention. But as always, it seems like such a good thing that he hates to question it.
On this particular morning, they wake up intertwined. She's barely awake before he's helping himself to her cunt and fucking her as a friendly morning greeting. They shower together and eat together and he leads her to his greenhouse to show her his plants. There's a considerable array, but he's particularly interested in showing her the flowers he's cultivated. The ones he's presenting to her are soft whites and pastel blue and he guides her hand toward them so she can feel how soft the petals are.]
They remind me of you.
[He murmurs it, a little surprised he said it out loud but trying not to look embarrassed.]
[ This is a part of his routine she has yet to partake in. She walks, mostly in step with him, but a little behind when he shows her through the front of his greenhouse. A wooden structure, bursting with life and carefully maintained. She hadn't taken him for somebody who tended to plants, but it made sense the more she thought on it.
Everything about him delights her, makes her more smitten and comfortably sure.
It feels like they have time to make up for, months' worth of it, which means she is never far from his side or vice versa. As if they cannot tolerate much more than a few minutes apart from each other. The morning before, they had made the drive to her flat to retrieve some of her belongings. Ten minutes into packing, he'd joined her, pinned her to her bedroom door, and had his way with her there, grumbling in her ear about how she was away too long.
Unworldly in love, Francesca has never experienced this -- never really thought she would, never aspired to it -- and she knows, with a certainty that is inexplicable but unshakable, that she never will again. This is it. She is a creature of habits, not moved to big showy acts, but in this she has settled with total conviction. On him.
She knows some of the plants in his greenhouse, stooping to smell this one and that. When he shows her the flowers in question, she is bending, rubbing the petals between her fingertips, rewarded by its perfume. At his words, she pinkens.
After a moment, she glances over to gently ask: ]
What do they mean?
[ She isn't very knowledgable about flowers, they're not her hyperfixation, just some idle facts she's learned from her mother's extensive gardening. But she knows they have meanings behind them. ]
[It is gratifying to watch her lean over and smell the flowers he grew with her in mind. Something that was meant to take his mind off her and be cathartic. Now she's here and, for all he worries about their vast difference in age, he has no trouble understanding her. She feels the same as he does, he thinks. He's so hopelessly in love with her that it hurts to breathe.
There are parts of him that still feel wary, still worry she'll get bored or regret this. He's learning quickly that she's remarkably steadfast when she's made a decision. He notes that she doesn't fidget or shy away, she seems completely at ease. It makes him quietly hopeful that it's because she's very happy here. He just wants her to be happy for a long time, he'd like it if she was happy with him for a long time.]
Well-- visually they reminded me of you. The colours-- and the smell. [He tried to cling to the memory of the way her hair smelled for a long time, too.]
Blue for apology, purple for understanding, white for purity and pink for sincerity. [And love.
He picks off one of the flowers of each, tucking the tiny bouquet behind her ear. He reaches to cup her face with both hands, brushing his thumbs over her jaw and kissing her softly.
But he has a thought and he pulls back, curiously.]
[ Apology. Understanding. Purity. Sincerity. Her smile is a gentle but unquestionable thing, just like her love.
This kiss isn't hungry, at least not yet; it could easily become so. He had already dutifully washed himself out of her a couple of hours ago, but Fran has discovered she's insatiable for him, coming on average three times since he made love to her on the kitchen counter. He's discovering all the spots that get her excited, and helped her realize there are more she had yet to tap into. She never knew men in their fifties would still be so virile, but there are lots of things she doesn't know in general.
But he pulls back from her mouth before they get any ideas. She rocks back on her heels. The question receives a crinkled nose and quizzical expression, equally curious as to why he would ask that. She strokes up and down his arms through the sleeves. ]
I told you that night, before we started.
[ She tilts her head in his palms, trying to puzzle out if he forgot or ... ]
Did you think I was fibbing for your ego? [ It's an amusing thought. She isn't one to do that. ]
[Nate doesn't smother the surprised laugh he makes at her question. He's smiled and laughed more in the last couple of days than he has since he was a kid, he thinks.
He does need a moment to think back on that night, retracing the conversation and remembering an offhand comment. He now realises he completely misinterpreted it, which prompts him to close his eyes and bump their foreheads together.]
No, not that. [He's not sure, franky, why it's so surprising.]
Could've meant a lot of things, you know. First time taking and old man from the bar and having sex in his truck? It's very specific. [He teases his thumb over her chin.]
And you were very sure of yourself. And very good, by the way.
[ Her eyes flutter shut when his forehead knocks into hers. She snorts at the part about having sex in his truck. She hadn't exactly planned that out. It was spur of the moment.
She's more happy to know she had pleased him than abashed at the grading. ]
Mm. Well. [ Squints her eyes open. ] I had a good teacher. The best, really.
[ Teasing. She ducks her head quickly and catches his thumb between her teeth, sliding her wet tongue over it. Eyes wide and innocent. He likes that, always gets hard when she does something coquettish. Intentionally or not. And being this close to him, the romance of the flowers he grew in her name -- it all starts a familiar ache. ]
[A soft sound escapes Nate, clearly enchanted by her trick. He can immediately see where her mind is going and the corner of his mouth quirks upward. The secret to male virility at his age, apparently, is to have a 23 year old girl become obsessed with you. Better still when the feeling is mutual, gives him the energy for many activities.
He presses a firm kiss to her temple, his hand winding around her so it can possessively grip her backside. He squeezes his hand over the flesh, pressing her into him so she can feel that she's achieving her goal.
When he thinks through his next moves, a thought itches in the back of his brain. She definitely hasn't had the pill, she's not on birth control and with the amount they've fucked and he's finished inside of her. Well. The outcome seems so plainly obvious it feels almost stupid to ask, but he's reminded again of how young she is and how set she is on him. It's a big decision regardless of the circumstances, feels particularly big when they think about the distance in their ages and life experience.]
You trying to get pregnant? [The question isn't accusatory, more a gentle challenge as a way of gently bringing it up.]
You keep at it, you will be. [And he realises he probably does need to draw a line between dirty talk and reality, so he tilts her chin up sternly.]
[ Her body turns molten in his arms, curves melting into his chest. He's halfway hardened -- she can work with this. Maybe with her hands. She rubs his arms, sneaking her fingers under the collar of his shirt, over the cords of muscles in his throat.
She blinks at the question. It was bound to come up. A matter of time. She carefully chooses her words, not because she's upset, but because it's so sensitive a subject they are broaching.
They haven't talked, really had a conversation about this. And she has not raised the issue either. And she has been nothing but encouraging when he comes inside of her, which is more often than not. In the heat of the moment, it always seems like a good idea. ]
I'm not opposed to it. [ That's not a very clarifying answer, but first she needs to know. ]
Well, it hasn't come up-- but I already have a daughter. And she's not much older than you.
[So it's kind of a "been there, done that" but in the sense that he's experienced some of the more difficult parts of raising a child. It's also an attempt to gently emphasise the gaps in their age.]
I'm not, I think it's a stupid idea. But I'm not opposed. [Against all reason, like it's a biological imperative. He supposes it makes sense, maybe acting on instinct is what he should do more often.]
I think you need to be more than not opposed when it comes to a baby. [The talk of an actual prospective child instead of the general act of getting her pregnant does kind of ignite his excitement.]
And I'd be very lucky if you wanted it the way I do.
I know. [ She's done sufficient snooping in the way of looking at the rare photo in his house and parsing that the young woman in them is his daughter. There's the family resemblance, for one.
It does bring home their difference in age. For once, she worries that he is put off by it, that it will be too weird for him. It is weird, when she takes a step back and looks at it from the outside -- in that she just knows so quickly and so firmly what she wants. She's lain roots down already.
She shifts, fingering the hem of his collar, avoiding eye contact for a moment before she sighs, the worries about his uncertainty slipping away. The honest truth spills out of her, her heart warm at the thought. ]
I do. I want to have a baby with you.
[ She owes him more of an explanation, she thinks, so: ]
I love children. I have many nieces and nephews already. And I've always wanted my own. I thought -- well, I always thought it would never happen. For me. I'm not like the rest of my family. I -- [ She swallows. This is the part where she looks anguished, her eyes sad. Her fingers fall from him. She steps away. ] I have a medical condition that will probably interfere with falling pregnant. It's not -- serious, it is well managed now, but I've been warned.
[Maybe he should be annoyed that she knows, but he finds himself more proud that she did her research on him. Certainly feels less and less like they're going into this blind and naive.
He allows her space when she steps back. His expression softens when she explains. He's already starting to think ahead to conversations they can have and options they can pursue, but he puts that aside. He nods somberly, so she knows he's understood that it's a source of pain and it's serious.
He takes her fingers in his hands, drawing her closer to him again. His arms draw firmly around her, fingers spanning over her back.]
If my girl wants a baby, I'm going to give her a baby. [It veers back into sweet talk, but he means it. He hopes she can see that he's serious about what he says, that this is something they'll work together on. Not something he'll leave her to manage.]
I know plenty of ways we can try. Think you might like what I'm thinking of.
[He brushes his lips against her temple, nudging their heads together so he can intensify his protectiveness.]
[ He says the right words to quell her fears, but her eyes still well with salt water and her bottom lip trembles. She has rarely spoken on this, reigned her fears in about her reproductive problems, but she feels the rare ability to confide and be vulnerable around him. To let him protect her.
She whimpers without intending to, the sound just spills out of her now that somebody else knows and will carry that weight with her. The wound that she may be unable to conceive, when it hurts how badly she wants it when she thinks about it.
Crowding into his chest, she sets her head against it, letting the rawness of the moment settle until her shoulders stop quivering. Her face is wet when she lifts it, pressing her mouth to the corner of his. ]
I love you. [ Her breath is hot when she kisses him truly. Her fingers tighten in his shirt and pull him down. ] Need you.
[She kisses him too quickly for him to react to her words, so he startles briefly before he melts into the kiss. His arms wind tightly around her, a little breathless when she breaks the kiss.]
I love you too. [Softly, his eyes tracing over her face. He looks reverent and he brushes the wet trails of tears aside with the back of his finger.]
I'll do anything for you. [Even the things she doesn't ask for.
His hands slide down, starting to slowly hitch her long skirt upward. Like he's unwrapping a fragile gift.]
Been fantasising about knocking you up since the first night.
[ The noise that comes out of her throat now is pure adoration and amazement at her own fortune. Mostly to have found him. He had just fallen into her lap when least expected. She's accepted life is sometimes funny like that.
By now she knows he loves her, but the last part ... well, that is a tasty revelation that leaves her tingling with equal parts joy and desire. ]
Yeah? [ She bites her lip, sliding her arms around his neck while he pulls her skirt up. She's dressed for the weather, which meas she's wearing long knee-high socks underneath said skirt. Taking the initiative, she walks them backward until her back bumps into one of the tables overflowing with life. ] Should we recreate one of them?
Yeah. [Nate is firm when he echoes her, stalking her backward. He hooks his arms down to lift her up so she can perch, meaning the view of her is framed by flowers.]
Are you ovulating? [He does not pull punches when it comes to asking personal questions. She has been near insatiable and interested in being bred to completion, but that could be her baseline.
He reaches to rub his palm over her belly curiously, wondering if something has been growing already. It's also just another reverent, encouraging touch. He likes the softness of it, he traces his thumb over her belly button. She'd look very nice with a bump, he thinks. Like a goddess of nature and fertility that picked him to sire children for her.
His palm shifts up, palming her breast and rolling her shirt up to reveal them.]
You'd look good pregnant. Be hard to stop at one. [He murmurs, leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth and suck it.]
No. At least... I don't think I am. It's hard to tell because you come so much. [ It actually is her baseline. She has a high libido, completely at odds with how shy she typically is.
Her breaths come heavy but shaky, past a hard swallow. She makes room for him to step in between her legs now that he has mostly peeled her skirt up so it settles around her hips and thighs.
Her stomach ripples under his fingertips. She follows the path of his hand, afraid to hope life has decided to spark inside there, but imagining the same thing. A bump and his large hand to cover it. She would like being pregnant, she thinks. She would savor the experience if it ever were to happen to her.
Her short nails bite into unpolished wood when his palm rounds her breast, tipping herself into his eager mouth. She cradles the back of his head with one hand as he suckles; the other reaches to brush over the bulge of his erection. Her eyes are almost black, all pupil. ]
I want to give Daddy a baby. However many babies Daddy wants to pump inside me.
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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
It's filth he's spilling into her ear -- and though he's fucking her, it washes over her that she's not interested in it being pure bedroom talk saved for when he wants to paint her cunt with release. That it's not just something that turns her on, but aches in her chest and throat with the crushing weight of longing. That she's spent the past few hours imagining that very thing.
Being his. For the rest of her life. Her breath shudders out of her.
Her fingers find his, interlacing and squeezing. There's steel under her sweet voice. ]
Then do it. With me. All of it. Everything.
no subject
He breathes hard against her neck, almost sighing as he grazes his teeth over her skin. She sounds so sure and he's still deep in her, angling himself to hilt into her sensitive spots.]
I remember what happened the last time I came in you.
[He manages to reason that out.]
You keep gripping me like that and it's gonna happen again.
[And despite remembering what happened before, the ball is back in her court. Even though she's clearly a little vixen here to torture him with her pussy and she's going to ask for it.]
What if I want to marry you first?
[Breathless, stupid, absolutely brainless but somehow completely earnest. Maybe he'd be a fucking moron if he didn't lock her down now.]
no subject
Oh. Well. I didn't take you to be so old-fashioned.
[ She reaches for his hair, lacing her fingers in it and drawing him close, his chin over her shoulder so that she may kiss him. Her nose playfully nudges his, gasping aloud, her lashes fluttering.
Compromising: ]
You can come in me and then marry me. In that order.
no subject
He grumbles with appreciation when she brings him in closer and touches him so sweetly. Eagerly, he catches her lips and kisses her deeply. It all overwhelms him, makes his mind swim and his hips buck into her. Now he's starting to lose control of his pacing.
Incredible to him that seems so perfect would be equally interested in being impregnated by him and married to him. There's a catch, surely, but it's not something he's even contemplating. He's just thinking about how wet she is and how much he wants her body to belong to him.
He shifts more of his weight on her, pinning her as he fucks her harder, faster and urgently. He thrusts his tongue in her mouth as he comes in her, groaning in ecstasy. He fucks her though it, swirling his fingers over her clit.]
You drive me fucking insane. [He breathes it out against her mouth, meeting her eyes intensely.]
I love you.
no subject
She trembles like a leaf in his arms, still keyed up, her cunt clenching over and over as he softens.
She meets his eyes with an impossible sureness. ]
I know.
[ Her mind has run back over the past few days, the weeks before it. The moments that seemed driven from enmity, some intrinsic dislike.
And the way he held her, and nursed her, and lost sleep over her.
Her eyes do well now, too wrung out to stop the tears. ]
I love you.
no subject
But it softens when the tears start to build. He clasps at her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. His mouth moves like he wants to express concern, but instead he's kissing her. His arm wraps around her, holding her up against him and supporting her weight.
He withdraws, regrettably but with bigger things in mind. He turns her toward him.
Softly, and sincerely, he speaks while sliding his hands down to hold her finger tips and shifting to his knees.]
I want you to sit on my face.
no subject
She understands her mother in a way she had not previously. All those stories about finding love where and when one least expects it.
She sniffles, shifting her weigh from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the cool air on her pussy, all that seed sliding down her inner thighs. What a waste.
He gets to his knees before her like a supplicant. She cocks her head at him in such a way that questions what he's doing.
In the next moment, she lets him guide her, hands on the back of her knees. Obediently, her legs slip apart, one hooking over his shoulder. Her cunt is a wreck he's laid waste to -- her opening flares and clenches in a needy rhythm, spilling more of what was gifted. She reaches to find purchase in his hair, carding through it, all tenderness and anticipation. ]
no subject
He watches intently as she lowers herself over him, eyes lingering on hers. The state of her cunt makes him extremely proud, knowing it has and will only know his cock. It means he's now careful to ensure she is satisfied by him and will never need to wonder what else is out there.
His tongue flicks diligently over the mess on her thighs, building up to the lips of her cunt. It starts methodical but unravels into hungry lapping at her hole and sucking at her clit. He makes determined, eager sounds and flicks his eyes up to her every so often. He looks adoringly at her, admiring the view of her from his position.]
no subject
They maintain eye contact, which just adds to the eroticism of it all. Watching as he cleans himself off and out of her, determination and passion strung across his face. It's filthy.
And becomes too much -- plunges her headfirst into a stronger climax than the first, sobbing as it wracks through her. Too much in her weakened condition.
When it ends, she does lose her balance, knees giving out. ]
no subject
What follows is a couple of days so perfect, they could well be fever dreams. Francesca seems to attach herself to his hip and he welcomes it, going through his normal rituals with her by his side. Months of barely contained longing mean that even gentle or accidental touches often end with her with her legs spread and him with his cock deep in her. Sometimes it feels like their own method of communication, since they seem to anticipate one another's desires so well.
He's also fallen into the habit of finishing inside her more often than not, something he ought to mention. But as always, it seems like such a good thing that he hates to question it.
On this particular morning, they wake up intertwined. She's barely awake before he's helping himself to her cunt and fucking her as a friendly morning greeting. They shower together and eat together and he leads her to his greenhouse to show her his plants. There's a considerable array, but he's particularly interested in showing her the flowers he's cultivated. The ones he's presenting to her are soft whites and pastel blue and he guides her hand toward them so she can feel how soft the petals are.]
They remind me of you.
[He murmurs it, a little surprised he said it out loud but trying not to look embarrassed.]
Soft. Elegant.
no subject
Everything about him delights her, makes her more smitten and comfortably sure.
It feels like they have time to make up for, months' worth of it, which means she is never far from his side or vice versa. As if they cannot tolerate much more than a few minutes apart from each other. The morning before, they had made the drive to her flat to retrieve some of her belongings. Ten minutes into packing, he'd joined her, pinned her to her bedroom door, and had his way with her there, grumbling in her ear about how she was away too long.
Unworldly in love, Francesca has never experienced this -- never really thought she would, never aspired to it -- and she knows, with a certainty that is inexplicable but unshakable, that she never will again. This is it. She is a creature of habits, not moved to big showy acts, but in this she has settled with total conviction. On him.
She knows some of the plants in his greenhouse, stooping to smell this one and that. When he shows her the flowers in question, she is bending, rubbing the petals between her fingertips, rewarded by its perfume. At his words, she pinkens.
After a moment, she glances over to gently ask: ]
What do they mean?
[ She isn't very knowledgable about flowers, they're not her hyperfixation, just some idle facts she's learned from her mother's extensive gardening. But she knows they have meanings behind them. ]
no subject
There are parts of him that still feel wary, still worry she'll get bored or regret this. He's learning quickly that she's remarkably steadfast when she's made a decision. He notes that she doesn't fidget or shy away, she seems completely at ease. It makes him quietly hopeful that it's because she's very happy here. He just wants her to be happy for a long time, he'd like it if she was happy with him for a long time.]
Well-- visually they reminded me of you. The colours-- and the smell. [He tried to cling to the memory of the way her hair smelled for a long time, too.]
Blue for apology, purple for understanding, white for purity and pink for sincerity. [And love.
He picks off one of the flowers of each, tucking the tiny bouquet behind her ear. He reaches to cup her face with both hands, brushing his thumbs over her jaw and kissing her softly.
But he has a thought and he pulls back, curiously.]
Did you mean it when you said I was your first?
no subject
This kiss isn't hungry, at least not yet; it could easily become so. He had already dutifully washed himself out of her a couple of hours ago, but Fran has discovered she's insatiable for him, coming on average three times since he made love to her on the kitchen counter. He's discovering all the spots that get her excited, and helped her realize there are more she had yet to tap into. She never knew men in their fifties would still be so virile, but there are lots of things she doesn't know in general.
But he pulls back from her mouth before they get any ideas. She rocks back on her heels. The question receives a crinkled nose and quizzical expression, equally curious as to why he would ask that. She strokes up and down his arms through the sleeves. ]
I told you that night, before we started.
[ She tilts her head in his palms, trying to puzzle out if he forgot or ... ]
Did you think I was fibbing for your ego? [ It's an amusing thought. She isn't one to do that. ]
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He does need a moment to think back on that night, retracing the conversation and remembering an offhand comment. He now realises he completely misinterpreted it, which prompts him to close his eyes and bump their foreheads together.]
No, not that. [He's not sure, franky, why it's so surprising.]
Could've meant a lot of things, you know. First time taking and old man from the bar and having sex in his truck? It's very specific. [He teases his thumb over her chin.]
And you were very sure of yourself. And very good, by the way.
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She's more happy to know she had pleased him than abashed at the grading. ]
Mm. Well. [ Squints her eyes open. ] I had a good teacher. The best, really.
[ Teasing. She ducks her head quickly and catches his thumb between her teeth, sliding her wet tongue over it. Eyes wide and innocent. He likes that, always gets hard when she does something coquettish. Intentionally or not. And being this close to him, the romance of the flowers he grew in her name -- it all starts a familiar ache. ]
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He presses a firm kiss to her temple, his hand winding around her so it can possessively grip her backside. He squeezes his hand over the flesh, pressing her into him so she can feel that she's achieving her goal.
When he thinks through his next moves, a thought itches in the back of his brain. She definitely hasn't had the pill, she's not on birth control and with the amount they've fucked and he's finished inside of her. Well. The outcome seems so plainly obvious it feels almost stupid to ask, but he's reminded again of how young she is and how set she is on him. It's a big decision regardless of the circumstances, feels particularly big when they think about the distance in their ages and life experience.]
You trying to get pregnant? [The question isn't accusatory, more a gentle challenge as a way of gently bringing it up.]
You keep at it, you will be. [And he realises he probably does need to draw a line between dirty talk and reality, so he tilts her chin up sternly.]
We need to talk about it.
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She blinks at the question. It was bound to come up. A matter of time. She carefully chooses her words, not because she's upset, but because it's so sensitive a subject they are broaching.
They haven't talked, really had a conversation about this. And she has not raised the issue either. And she has been nothing but encouraging when he comes inside of her, which is more often than not. In the heat of the moment, it always seems like a good idea. ]
I'm not opposed to it. [ That's not a very clarifying answer, but first she needs to know. ]
Are you?
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[So it's kind of a "been there, done that" but in the sense that he's experienced some of the more difficult parts of raising a child. It's also an attempt to gently emphasise the gaps in their age.]
I'm not, I think it's a stupid idea. But I'm not opposed. [Against all reason, like it's a biological imperative. He supposes it makes sense, maybe acting on instinct is what he should do more often.]
I think you need to be more than not opposed when it comes to a baby. [The talk of an actual prospective child instead of the general act of getting her pregnant does kind of ignite his excitement.]
And I'd be very lucky if you wanted it the way I do.
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It does bring home their difference in age. For once, she worries that he is put off by it, that it will be too weird for him. It is weird, when she takes a step back and looks at it from the outside -- in that she just knows so quickly and so firmly what she wants. She's lain roots down already.
She shifts, fingering the hem of his collar, avoiding eye contact for a moment before she sighs, the worries about his uncertainty slipping away. The honest truth spills out of her, her heart warm at the thought. ]
I do. I want to have a baby with you.
[ She owes him more of an explanation, she thinks, so: ]
I love children. I have many nieces and nephews already. And I've always wanted my own. I thought -- well, I always thought it would never happen. For me. I'm not like the rest of my family. I -- [ She swallows. This is the part where she looks anguished, her eyes sad. Her fingers fall from him. She steps away. ] I have a medical condition that will probably interfere with falling pregnant. It's not -- serious, it is well managed now, but I've been warned.
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He allows her space when she steps back. His expression softens when she explains. He's already starting to think ahead to conversations they can have and options they can pursue, but he puts that aside. He nods somberly, so she knows he's understood that it's a source of pain and it's serious.
He takes her fingers in his hands, drawing her closer to him again. His arms draw firmly around her, fingers spanning over her back.]
If my girl wants a baby, I'm going to give her a baby. [It veers back into sweet talk, but he means it. He hopes she can see that he's serious about what he says, that this is something they'll work together on. Not something he'll leave her to manage.]
I know plenty of ways we can try. Think you might like what I'm thinking of.
[He brushes his lips against her temple, nudging their heads together so he can intensify his protectiveness.]
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She whimpers without intending to, the sound just spills out of her now that somebody else knows and will carry that weight with her. The wound that she may be unable to conceive, when it hurts how badly she wants it when she thinks about it.
Crowding into his chest, she sets her head against it, letting the rawness of the moment settle until her shoulders stop quivering. Her face is wet when she lifts it, pressing her mouth to the corner of his. ]
I love you. [ Her breath is hot when she kisses him truly. Her fingers tighten in his shirt and pull him down. ] Need you.
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I love you too. [Softly, his eyes tracing over her face. He looks reverent and he brushes the wet trails of tears aside with the back of his finger.]
I'll do anything for you. [Even the things she doesn't ask for.
His hands slide down, starting to slowly hitch her long skirt upward. Like he's unwrapping a fragile gift.]
Been fantasising about knocking you up since the first night.
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By now she knows he loves her, but the last part ... well, that is a tasty revelation that leaves her tingling with equal parts joy and desire. ]
Yeah? [ She bites her lip, sliding her arms around his neck while he pulls her skirt up. She's dressed for the weather, which meas she's wearing long knee-high socks underneath said skirt. Taking the initiative, she walks them backward until her back bumps into one of the tables overflowing with life. ] Should we recreate one of them?
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Are you ovulating? [He does not pull punches when it comes to asking personal questions. She has been near insatiable and interested in being bred to completion, but that could be her baseline.
He reaches to rub his palm over her belly curiously, wondering if something has been growing already. It's also just another reverent, encouraging touch. He likes the softness of it, he traces his thumb over her belly button. She'd look very nice with a bump, he thinks. Like a goddess of nature and fertility that picked him to sire children for her.
His palm shifts up, palming her breast and rolling her shirt up to reveal them.]
You'd look good pregnant. Be hard to stop at one. [He murmurs, leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth and suck it.]
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Her breaths come heavy but shaky, past a hard swallow. She makes room for him to step in between her legs now that he has mostly peeled her skirt up so it settles around her hips and thighs.
Her stomach ripples under his fingertips. She follows the path of his hand, afraid to hope life has decided to spark inside there, but imagining the same thing. A bump and his large hand to cover it. She would like being pregnant, she thinks. She would savor the experience if it ever were to happen to her.
Her short nails bite into unpolished wood when his palm rounds her breast, tipping herself into his eager mouth. She cradles the back of his head with one hand as he suckles; the other reaches to brush over the bulge of his erection. Her eyes are almost black, all pupil. ]
I want to give Daddy a baby. However many babies Daddy wants to pump inside me.
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