Things had started off so innocently. Mindy hadn't even realized what she was doing. At first. They'd had their dinner, taking turns keeping their four-week-old son Daniel nestled against them as they ate cold chicken sandwiches. Hot food - hot anything - was out of the question. She'd promised to stop griping about Danny's miserly use of the air conditioning, but it was late July in New York City, and everything had a layer of sticky, damp, grossness attached to it, even their precious baby.
Danny stripped their son down to his diaper, readying him for his bath before handing him back to Mindy so she could nurse him. They made kick-ass parents, tag-teaming the burping, bathing, diapering, and dressing, and it was Mindy's turn to read a story. The thick, warm air and his wife's lilting voice made Danny sleepy as they snuggled together on the couch. He kissed Mindy chastely on the lips and Daniel on the forehead, whispering "I'm just gonna lay down for a little bit" into the baby's hair before padding into the master bedroom.
They had a solid routine down, so a cat nap during story time wasn't cheating. Once little Daniel was asleep, they made sure to have couple's time. Sometimes they talked. Other times they read or watched TV or a movie together. They'd even found a few two-player games they enjoyed. Anything that kept them together and connected.
"Okay, Brown Bear. Good night! Mommy and Daddy love you." Mindy peppered the baby's face with kisses, gently placing him in his bassinet. She spent a few moments more admiring the perfect little boy, who had an exact duplicate of her husband's handsome, scowly face and her luminous brown skin. She hummed a lullaby and ran her fingers through Daniel's silky black hair that she hadn't been able to tame. Danny wouldn't let her use the tiniest bit of product in it. Yet.
"Our gorgeous prince is fast asleep! I don't know how long it will last, but I've got Vince and Owen to knock him back out-" Mindy stopped at the foot of their bed and took in the sight before her: Danny, stripped down to only a pair of sky blue boxers, his reading glasses perched on his forehead, his thick lashes casting shadows where they rested against his cheeks. His hands were up by his head, one barely grasping a copy of Raising Cain : protecting the emotional life of boys. Mindy licked her lips; she couldn't remember the last time she'd had an almost-naked-Danny practically in the palm of her hand. He'd been so good about not being bad and it was making her crazy, though she was convinced she was hiding it well.
They had gone without sex since the seventh month of her pregnancy, thanks to her shortened cervix, and wouldn't be doing any love making for another four weeks. The doctor-ordered end to their sex life had been excruciating. Pure torture. She'd been so horny during while pregnant, and the sex - that has always been excellent, thank you - had been just so hot that Mindy was certain she'd blacked out during an orgasm more than once. And then to have it all come to a sudden and screeching halt- she didn't think she'd survive it. Mindy couldn't stand to be in the same room with Danny if she couldn't have him, in a biblical sense. The almost two months of bed rest seemed like a waste if she couldn't use their bed the way she wanted.
Carefully climbing into bed, she hovered over him, sniffing his hair, his neck, his chest, even under his arms. He'd taken a shower and smelled clean and fresh, but the unmistakable smell of him, the sensual muskiness that drove her absolutely wild, still lingered underneath the notes of peppermint body wash and citrus shampoo.
Crawling to the edge of her side, Mindy grabbed her copy of What to expect the first year and curled up against Danny. He exhaled deeply, but otherwise stayed still. Mindy smiled at him, rubbing lazy circles on his stomach with her left hand.
As she skimmed the chapter on month-old babies, she let her hand creep lower, her fingertips grazing the underside of Danny's waistband. It wouldn't be terrible if I paid Lil' Danny a visit, would it? she thought to herself. To test out her theory, she ran her fingers lightly over the crotch of his shorts, then over the insides of his thighs. His skin was hot and soft and Mindy wanted to feel more of it. She set her book down and lay on her side. "Danny? Danny, if you don't want me to touch your penis, wake up right now," she whispered. His soft snoring was his only response. "Yup, just like I thought."
It was just nice holding it in her hand again, you know? Feeling the weight of it, stroking its length. Danny had a beautiful penis. It was long and thick and perfect. She pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing out loud when she thought about the lies she'd told on Weiner Night. There was nothing gross about him or his body, but she didn't want him to know that back then. "I should have told you what I really thought, Castellano. I would have blown your mind. And then you, probably." She chuckled softly at her own joke.
Mindy loved feeling him grow hard in her hand, knowing his arousal was because of her. She dipped her hand further into his shorts and cupped his balls, while she moved herself forward so that she could easily take him into her mouth. It had been so long; he'd be happy for the surprise and they could make out and dry hump like teenagers and-
"Don't you do it." His voice was rough with sleep and one hand tugged with a gentle firmness on her ponytail. She looked up at him, her mouth and eyes wide open, her fist full of him. "Let me go. Now. And close your mouth."
Mindy sat back with a sigh, raising her hands in surrender. Danny tucked himself back into his shorts and stood up from the bed, carefully placing his book and glasses on his nightstand. He shot her a look that seemed to hold an array of emotions - amusement, annoyance, lust, confusion, a little anger - before he disappeared into the closet without a word.
He came back out dressed in a baggy t-shirt and knee-length basketball shorts - Mindy didn't even bother trying to hide her groan of displeasure - his arms filled with pillows and sheets. He threw them on the bed and marched into the bathroom, coming out with as many towels as he could carry. Mindy narrowed her eyes at him, raising an eyebrow skeptically at his strange behavior. Danny simply stared back at her and grabbed a sheet, folding it in half before tightly rolling it into a log. He laid it on the bed and grabbed Mindy by the shoulders and kissed her, deeply, passionately. She grabbed the back of his head and moaned into his mouth; Danny chose that moment to pull away with a smack of his full, wet lips. Still holding on to Mindy's shoulders, he roughly moved her to her side of the bed. "Hey!" she cried, trying to crawl back towards him.
"Quiet, you. And stay where I put you." He shoved two pillows and his sheet log in between Mindy and his side of the bed before grabbing a towel and continuing to construct his makeshift bricks for his Great Wall.
"There. Six inches of room. Just enough for the Holy Spirit."
Mindy couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't possibly be serious?" she asked, fanning herself with her book. Mindy sat back with a sigh and blew the strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail out of her eyes. She tried to make her face into something that would register as "stern" or "formidable", but found herself unable to hold back the giggle she'd tried in vain to stifle.
"Yeah, I'm absolutely serious. As an OB/GYN-"
"Oh god," Mindy groaned, throwing herself back against the pillows on her side of the bed. Once Danny identified himself by his credentials, all bets were off.
"As an OB/GYN, and your husband, and now a new father," Danny continued, undaunted by Mindy's crossed eyes and pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. He made sure not to pay any attention to her tongue. Or lips. Or mouth area in general. "It's important that we take this seriously. And clearly, based on your actions a few minutes ago, you are not. So, I came up with a plan. Yeah, it was inspired by the nuns who chaperoned the dances at St. Ignatius' Middle School, so what?" He crossed his arms over his chest, the matter settled in his mind.
"So, I'm not allowed to even touch you now? I can't touch my husband? My handsome, ridiculous, nutty-bananas husband?" Mindy sat up and leaned over the barrier of pillows and rolled towels and sheets that Danny had built between them. The thin strap of her lime nightgown fell down her left shoulder. She could feel the heat of Danny's gaze burning against the exposed skin there and she licked her lips. Mindy pulled the elastic from her hair and let her tresses fall against her neck and down her back, the black curtain of silk nearly hitting her waist. It was too hot to wear her hair down, or to wear more than the medically necessary panties to bed. It was also much too hot to argue, even in jest, but she couldn't resist going through the motions of seduction.
Mindy pushed past Danny's holy barrier of bed and bath linens and rubbed her breasts against his shoulder. Nursing baby Daniel made her nipples tender and extra sensitive; she couldn't stop the hiss of pain - twinged pleasure from escaping her lips. "If you don't want me to touch you, husband, you can always touch me" she whispered into Danny's ear, tugging on his lobe with her teeth before pulling away.
Danny tensed, crossing his arms more firmly, and shutting his eyes - tight. His nostrils were flaring wildly and Mindy could see that he was biting the inside of his cheeks. Mindy's heart dropped; she was afraid that she'd taken it too far. This time she'd hurt his feelings and that wasn't her intention. She just wanted to play. Mindy had been trying to get Danny to let her get him off for weeks, but he wanted to wait for her. How many husbands would spend months doing crunches and push ups and burpees, working off the building sexual tension while waiting for their wives to heal, turning down head and hand jobs because they wanted to wait for "the real thing", as he liked to put it? Shit, she thought. I'm a jerk.
"Min, you were on bed rest for two months. You still have a lot of healing to do. Thing is, if I played along with your little game," Danny growled, his voice so low and rumbly that Mindy jumped at the sound, "I wouldn't be able to just turn it off. What if we got carried away and I hurt you? I'd never forgive myself." Danny sighed and turned to look at her, his eyes dark with concern and desire. Mindy felt a familiar flutter in her belly and bit her lip, looking away guiltily from the intensity of his gaze.
"I would think you would have noticed that by now. The effect you have on me. I don't have a lot of self-control when it comes to you." He turned away and closed his eyes again, his arms still crossed protectively against his chest. Mindy wanted to crawl into his lap and attack him with her hands and mouth after hearing his confession. Babe, do you realize the effect you have on me?
"Danny, you're right, you're right, and I'm sorry." She reached out and stroked his arm as modestly as she could. "I'll calm down. I'll try, at least. Four more weeks? We got this, babe!" Mindy grabbed on to his thigh and Danny opened his eyes. He looked at her hands and then back at her. "Sorry, sorry. Six inches." She raised her hands in surrender again. Mindy had a feeling she'd be doing that a lot over the next month.
"Six inches," Danny nodded. "Think of mean, old Catholic nuns and the Holy Spirit."
"What is it, like a spooky Halloween ghost or something?"
Danny took his wife's hand in his and firmly shook it before turning out the lights. "'Night, Min. I love you."
"Danny Castellano, you unbelievable-" She gave up and sighed deeply. "I love you too, you big lug. Good night."
Danny laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, his hands behind his head. Once he was sure Mindy was asleep, he crept out of bed and got down on the floor on his hands and knees. Chest to the floor, one. Back up, two. Think of Mets stats, three. Guinness Book facts, four. How perfect this country would be under a Giuliani presidency, five. Anything except for Mindy's hands on your dick, six. Or her mouth on your dick, seven. Don't think about your dick or Mindy in relation to your dick at all, idiot. Seven. No, eight. Fuck! No, not fuck. No fucking. Shit. Goddammit, Mindy.
AN: Thank you to my beta scarlettblythe for her enthusiastic and indispensable help. Thanks as well to jaythenerdkid for critiquing the first (very) rough draft.