Enough people have wondered about this that I thought I might as well try writing. So here it is, my first attempt at smut. Enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.
Joaquin's told himself over and over that he doesn't need the medal anymore. At the moment, however, a heavy dose of courage sounds perfect. Along with something more alcoholic.
His heart pounds against his ribs as he stares at his reflection in the old vanity. It had been decided a few weeks ago that they would move into his parents' old room, but now he's beginning to regret it. Stepping into Casa de Mondragon's master bedroom is like opening a tomb long sealed - it hasn't seen any use since the last time there was a master and mistress in the house.
Thoughts run through his mind at random, one of them being if Manolo was this nervous on his own wedding night. I should have asked him. That and a bunch of other things. But he's not Manolo, and the woman slowly undressing behind him certainly isn't Maria.
Ixa has already kicked off her shoes and discarded her stockings and veil, and now she is struggling to reach the buttons on the back of her dress. She mutters to herself as they slip past her fingers yet again. "Why must they be so small…?"
Joaquin smiles as he watches her through the mirror. "Need some help?"
"I can manage…" She trips on the hem of the large white dress and falls to the floor with a yelp.
He helps her up and turns her around. "Hold still." Brushing her hair out of the way, he undoes the buttons, exposing the top of her corset and the smooth, light brown skin of her shoulders and back.
Ixa sighs with relief. "Oh, thank you," she quickly says before gathering up her skirts and slipping behind the wooden room divider in the corner. "I'll just be a moment."
"Take your time." Joaquin flops onto the bed, hearing the mahogany frame creak under his weight. Closing his eyes, he tries to let some of her calm flow into him. The word wife is still unfamiliar on his lips, but he has a feeling it won't be for long.
A quiet, lilting noise joins the scuffle coming from behind the divider - Ixa is singing. The language of the words is indecipherable, but the melody is soft and slow, and her voice is like a crystal clear spring in the middle of a desert. Joaquin thinks he could stay right here and listen to it for the rest of his life. If it wasn't making his blood flow downwards into a very inconvenient spot, that is.
Grimacing, he tries to think about punching bandits, his left eye, anything sufficiently repulsive. Come on, go away. Go away. It doesn't - if anything, his pants only grow tighter, as though his desire is mocking his logic.
He can't deny that he wants her in that way. Whether or not she feels the same is something he isn't sure of. It's the one thing they've never talked about, even though he knows they should - he can't think of the right way to begin, or anything afterwards. Maria borrowed Ixa for an afternoon shortly after the engagement, presumably to discuss the matter, but neither of them said a word about it to him when they returned. In the end he decided to wait until she was ready to bring it up, even if she never was. Whatever she wants.
Groaning, he rolls onto his side and rubs his face. It's fine. You can handle this.
Then he hears a melodious giggle and a finger trail down his chest, and all hope of that vanishes. "Shall I help you now?" his wife whispers.
Joaquin opens his eyes, and the air flies out of his lungs. Ixa is sitting next to him wearing a white, lacy, silk nightgown that bares her shoulders and stops just above her knees. She casts a glance at his waist and blushes at what she sees. "You like it."
He tries to speak, but his throat has gone dry and there is only one word in his mind. "Yes." He can't react when she gently rolls him onto his back and straddles him, not until she's pressing her lips to his and unbuttoning his shirt. Sitting up, he reluctantly pushes her away. "Wait."
Ixa bites her lip and looks at him with confusion and worry. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no! I just…we don't have to do anything if you don't know."
"I know how it is done, Joaquin."
"I mean not if you don't know if you want to or not. Like…" He takes a breath. "…if you're afraid, you just have to say so. I'd understand."
She pauses, briefly contemplating him. Then she smiles at him, the smile that always makes him stop and think about how lucky he is, and reaches out to stroke his face. "There is nothing to fear in it so long as I am with you." She moves closer to him. "I love you. I wish to love you in every way there is."
Joaquin puts his hand over her outstretched one, dwarfing it. "Are you sure?"
Her blue eyes shine as she nods with purpose. They seem deep enough to drown a man, and Joaquin can feel them washing away his fears, urging him to dive in.
He brings her hand to his lips and lightly brushes them. His smile suddenly turns mischievous as he grabs her hips and pulls her up to him for a deep kiss. "Love me, then."
It starts with caresses and wandering hands uncovering and exploring every inch of skin they can find. She traces his muscles and kisses his scars and lazily draws designs on his chest. His callused fingers glide across her breasts, around her curves, down and then between her legs. She gasps for breath at the sensation and frantically nods when he pauses to look up for her approval.
Her nightgown joins his shirt and pants on the floor. Once the rest of their clothes have followed, he wraps his arms around her and flips them over. "You okay?" he asks, his voice barely more than a gasp.
She nods. "More."
He goes in slowly, watching intently for her reaction. The moment he enters her, she stiffens. Her eyes snap open, and she lets out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.
"Sorry!" He starts to pull out, but she wraps her legs around him with a speed he didn't know she was capable of and pulls him back.
"Don't stop," she commands, her face alight with wonder.
If only he could obey her. He lasts two minutes, three at the most. It's barely enough time for them to find a rhythm in their haphazard thrusts. When the release comes, he can't hold it back. Nearly all his senses seem to abruptly shut down: he feels only the intense wave of pleasure that comes at the cost of his strength, hears only the sound of her crying out as she is overwhelmed by the same feelings.
Then he is falling, landing back on the bed with a soft thud.
Joaquin blinks as the room rematerializes around him. He feels beads of sweat trickle down his forehead as he takes several deep breaths, trying to regain lost air.
"Are you alright?"
He looks to his right and finds himself staring into Ixa's eyes. She glows in the flickering candlelight, and her gaze is overflowing with love and amazement. "Yeah," he answers, finding his voice again. "You?"
She grins as she wraps her arms around him. "I think I am more fortunate than all the gods."
He covers them both with a sheet, then snuggles in next to her. "Mein perle," he whispers in her ear.
"Husband," she murmurs back, savoring the word.
Not even the rain can wake them from their slumber.