A recap for readers who didn't read TtLW: A year or so out of law school, Elinor got Santana a job working for a congresswoman who was writing the Ohio Marriage Equality bill. Santana, Elinor and her current boss Denton (that's how they met), were part of the bill writing team. Like any piece of civil rights legislation, there was no trial or legal dispute; the battle was purely political. Although Santana is no longer working in politics, she is somewhat of a public figure (though certainly not famous) for her work on the bill, which passed two years ago in this 'verse.
A/N: Thank you so much to terriblemuriel and FrogsRcool for their help and encouragement with this chapter. It was tough to get through and I definitely relied on them a lot. I think beta-ing can be a pretty thankless job, so after you review, send them a note as well. They work really hard. Thanks also to VenusComb for her feedback and support with this chapter.
Chapter 10: Pride
I locked the car and strapped Caleb into his stroller. He's a good little walker, but I didn't want to risk him getting too tired to walk back to the car. That happens sometimes, and I love holding him, but after about twenty seconds my arms start to ache. How did our boy get so heavy, Santana? Who told him it was okay to grow up so fast? I feel like just yesterday we were walking through our neighborhood with him strapped to my chest, his tiny, curled body covered with a blanket so the wind wouldn't upset him. But now he's okay with the wind. He blinks when it blows against his face, then smiles and chases leaves. Sometimes the things that scare us become sources of joy.
Much to your dismay, Caleb had outgrown his "Hatched By Two Chicks" onesie quickly, so today he was wearing a shirt Danielle and Elinor gave us before they left on their honeymoon that just said "I Love My Moms." I gave him a little rainbow flag to wave, but I probably should have waited, because he spent the entire car ride waving it and now seemed to have lost interest in it entirely.
You had left the house two hours before us, planning to meet Denton and Marcía - Elinor would have been there if she hadn't been on her honeymoon - for breakfast before marching in the parade. Well, not marching. You get to ride on the back of a convertible with them. This was the second year Marcía was the celebrity grand marshall of Columbus Pride, and I really couldn't wait to see you, beaming and giggling and waving at the crowd as they cheered for you. I still cannot believe that I'm married to someone who helped write one of the most influential pieces of legislation in Ohio. Whenever I tell you how proud I am of you for doing that work, you quickly tell me that you just fell into working on the bill by accident, knowing the right people and being available at the right time. But I always point out that you worked hard for it too. You faced your fears about coming out. You worked your ass off in law school and then took a chance going into politics even though you knew nothing about it. That was brave. And it certainly wasn't mandatory for you to out yourself on National TV during a press conference about the marriage bill. You worked hard and you deserve every single round of applause and cheer you'll get today as Marcía's parade contingent rolls down the parade route. Maybe with the help of everyone at Columbus Pride, you'll finally understand how much admiration, appreciation, and joy I have for you. You have done so much for me, for Caleb, and for countless other people in the world, and my body and voice and words alone are too small to show you just how amazing you are.
As Caleb and I ambled towards the parade route, the crowd thickened. I was worried Caleb would get overwhelmed and start to cry or squirm, but he was sitting calmly, letting the stroller jostle him as he looked around, intrigued by the bright colors and different smells and sounds. Considering Caleb got overwhelmed when you took him to the zoo once, he was certain to get overwhelmed here. That's why we didn't plan to ride with you in the parade. Last year we had planned to ride together, but then I got sick and Caleb was so small, you ended up riding alone and Elinor sent me pictures. When I saw the pictures I burst into tears because I felt like the worst wife ever. You were getting some deserved recognition for all your work and I couldn't even make it out of the house to celebrate with you. But you knew what was happening with me, and you told me that right then my job was to take care of myself and Caleb, and that you looked forward to marching together next year. That made me cry even more because I don't think I deserved that kind of forgiveness.
This year, not only had Pride been moved to October, but I was feeling so much better and Caleb was bigger. I was anxious and excited to see you the way others see you: my celebrity politician wife. I called you that once and you laughed and told me you were neither a celebrity nor a politician. But I think you are. Just because you're not a household name doesn't mean you're not an important public figure.
When we got to the parade route, the parade hadn't started yet. I was glad, because that would give Caleb a little time to adjust, and give me time to put on his sunscreen. I stopped the stroller and texted you, letting you know we were watching from outside the bank. After I put on his sunscreen, Caleb looked up at me before lifting his arms and saying "up, up!" I unbuckled him and let him toddle around for a bit. Mostly he took a few steps and then stared at someone nearby, taking in their outfit and watching as they talked to the person next to them. Then he'd move a few paces again and stare at something new. Sometimes I wish I could hear his thoughts, because I'm sure they are the most fascinating thoughts in the world.
Caleb had walked a few paces from me when we both heard the motorcycles rumbling in the distance. He turned to me, suddenly afraid, but his feet were frozen to the sidewalk. I walked towards him, not too fast because I didn't want to scare him, and picked him up. He grabbed at my shirt, which he only does when he's scared.
"It's okay, Caleb," I hushed, rubbing his back. "The motorcycles are loud, but they won't hurt you. After the motorcycles we'll see Mama riding in a shiny car."
Caleb grew more frantic in my arms as the motorcycles approached, but when I pointed out that the people on the motorcycles had rainbow flags just like him, he calmed down a little bit and even waved his flag back and forth a few times.
Here's the funny thing about Pride: I always thought it was strange to have a celebration of something normal. To me, who I love is just part of my everyday life and I celebrate it every time I kiss you or check the "married" box on a form or tuck our son in at night. I don't feel different than other people. Lots of people are married and have kids. From day to day, our life is pretty average and often boring. But I realize we're different when I'm in a crowd of people like us celebrating who we are. It's interesting how our sameness can make us feel different.
After the motorcycles passed, Caleb grew more spirited. He waved his flag a little more and kept pointing at things he liked and looking at me with a smile. I was glad to see he wasn't overstimulated by all the sounds and sights and smells. At least not yet. When a marching band walked past, Caleb started clapping. He wasn't quite in time with the beat, but it was cute. He was happy. Some bicyclists and a sponsor float rolled past us, playing music and tossing candy. Then the Columbus Police Department passed us. I didn't have to look to know Tim wasn't marching with them. Nevertheless, I decided to distract Caleb - well, mostly myself - by offering him a snack. I didn't want to put faces to anyone associated with Tim. Caleb ate a few crackers but then lost interest when he heard the clapping and cheering crescendo around us. I looked down the parade route and saw a row of convertibles rolling towards us.
"I think Mama's almost here, buddy!" I grinned and held him up higher so he could see.
Sure enough, I saw a banner that read "Celebrity Grand Marshall Congresswoman Marcía Hernandez" approaching. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket and shifted Caleb in my arms so I could fish it out. You were calling.
"We're right in front of the bank and Caleb is waving his flag," I smiled into the phone.
Then I saw the car you were in - navy blue and very shiny - and saw you perched on the back, knees pinned together and to the side, waving to the crowd, taking turns with each arm and smiling your shiniest smile. Your hair was catching the light and I'm sure it felt hot against your neck. You looked so stunning in your red shirt and black dress pants, I wanted to take you home right then and throw you on our bed. I'd take a few pictures before undressing you, though, because I wanted to remember how beautiful and happy you looked forever.
I could see you craning your neck, looking for us us. "Look, Caleb, Mama's in the shiny car! Wave your flag!"
He looked for a moment, his face serious, before his concentration split in a toothy grin. A second later you spotted us and swiveled your legs out of the car, trotting over to where we were watching. You leaned over the railing and hugged us and gave me a lipstick-wet smooch on the lips before planting a kiss on Caleb, which left a soft red blotch on his cheek.
Several people around us cooed and clapped and my heart swelled. I think I know why they call it Pride now.
"He's doing okay?" you asked.
I nodded, hoisting Caleb higher up on my hip. "The motorcycles were a little scary, but he liked the bicyclists and the marching band."
You giggled and took Caleb's hand in yours. "How do you like your first Pride, Caleb?" you asked.
Caleb just grinned and jerked his flag up and down a few times, which made you laugh.
"Come march with us!" you suggested. "Just for a few blocks."
I wasn't sure how Caleb would respond to being the center of attention, but you were so giddy and excited and proud, I couldn't say no. I would never dampen your fire when it dances so brightly.
As you heaved Caleb over the railing into your arms, I was glad I'd brought the "travel" stroller. I collapsed it and managed to squeeze between two pieces of railing to join you as you walked alongside Marcía's contingent of two convertibles and a banner. You took the stroller out of my hand and the enormous purse/diaper bag off my shoulder placed them in the backseat of one of the cars. I felt a little self-conscious that I wasn't wearing politician clothes or a blue "Thank You Congresswoman Hernandez" shirt and passing out stickers like the other people in the contingent. But as soon as you took my hand and raised it between us, the crowd cheered and I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I am so proud to be your wife.
To my surprise, Caleb didn't get overwhelmed or fussy as we walked down the parade route. He was content to stay in your arms and watch the people watching him. Your arms grew tired eventually and we got the stroller out of the car and he rode in front of us. You'd bump your hip against mine from time to time and give me that grin where you look from my eyes to my lips to my eyes again. All three of us were having such a great time. Sometimes Caleb would laugh and sometimes he would be utterly disinterested in the crowd. At one point he lifted up his shirt to just check on his belly button, making sure it was still there. It was. I'm glad he takes comfort in small, predictable things.
The whole experience of marching was surreal. As the parade rolled on and the cheers and clapping didn't die down, it felt less and less like something that would actually happen in my life. At one point I turned to you and said, "Everyone is clapping for you, Santana." I wanted to make sure you knew it was real and why people were so happy.
"And for you," you said, soft enough that only myself and Caleb could hear. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't had someone I wanted to marry."
And the giant proud feeling in my chest pushed up into my throat and I had to blink so I wouldn't cry in the middle of the street.
At last the parade came to an end. My feet were sore and my stomach was growling. The crackers I'd brought for Caleb weren't enough to satisfy all three of us, and I was relieved the parade ended near the food tents. It was busy - brightly colored tents with giant menus lined an entire street that was swarming with hungry parade-watchers, fighting through the clouds of barbecue smoke to get places in line.
"Want me to get some teriyaki bowls for us?" you offered when you saw my hesitation to take Caleb into the throngs of people.
"That'd be great," I said, exhaling in relief.
You patted me on the shoulder. "Let's meet up in the Family Pride area," you said, pointing away from the food aisle towards a more subdued block that contained part of the city park. I nodded and kissed you on the cheek before wheeling Caleb towards the tent with the Family Pride Area banner on it.
Amidst dozens of other couples with kids, I changed Caleb's diaper and then waited so he could have a turn on the swings. It was nice to see that there were same-sex couples and opposite-sex couples in the area designated for Family Pride. I even saw an opposite-sex couple sitting on the grass eating sandwiches with their teenage son and what must have been his boyfriend and younger siblings. That's what family pride should be; being proud of all families.
Right after Caleb got his turn on the swings, you arrived with two heaping bowls of rice and chicken teriyaki. The smell of the food aisle had made me so hungry, and the smell of the teriyaki made my mouth water as we found a spot on the grass and settled down to eat. Caleb sat between us and we took turns feeding him bites of rice soaked in sauce, which he loved, and little pieces of chicken, which he took forever to chew, but enjoyed nonetheless.
There was another couple sitting near us that had a little Asian boy who looked about a year older than Caleb. He had two moms and was very focused on dipping his pita bread into a container of hummus they were all sharing. I noticed one of his moms was pregnant, probably about seven or eight months. The other mom, who had dark skin and short, curly hair, caught my eye and smiled.
"Is he your first?" she asked, nodding towards Caleb.
I grinned and nodded back. "He's our only. For now."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw you pinch your mouth together. We hadn't talked about the second baby since after Elinor's wedding the weekend before. I'm sure we meant to talk about it, but we got so busy with work and everything, we hadn't had a solid block of time to ourselves.
The lady with the curly hair smiled. "Nineteen months?" she asked.
"Almost to the day!" I said in amazement.
"He's cute," she smiled. "I'm Carla and this is Charlene," she said, nodding to her wife. "And this is Camden."
"Three Cs," I smiled. "You'll have to pick another C name for the new one," I added, nodding towards Charlene's pregnant belly. "I'm Brittany and this is Santana and Caleb," I said, pointing.
"Nice to meet you," Carla said, setting down her sandwich and leaning on her elbow so she could reach across the grass to shake my hand. I shook it and you leaned out to shake her hand too.
"So did you two adopt or use a donor?" Carla asked.
"We used a donor," I said. I never specify that I carried Caleb unless someone asks.
"Well, your boy is gorgeous," Carla said, shaking her head back and forth. "We adopted Camden and used an anonymous donor for baby number two," she said, grinning at Charlene.
"Do you mind me asking what donor service you used?" you piped up as you spooned up another bite for Caleb, who was waiting in anxious anticipation with his mouth open. I was surprised you were so direct with your question, but I had been curious myself, so I was glad you asked.
"CryoBiology," Charlene answered. "We looked at another bank in Pittsburg, but we liked CryoBio better."
"Was it a good experience?" you asked.
Both Charlene and Carla nodded emphatically.
"They were so professional and welcoming," Carla said. "They have a booth right over there if you're interested."
"Cool," you said, nodding down at your bowl of chicken. You were acting casual, but I could see the wheels in your head were turning.
After we ate, Caleb started to get a little fussy, rubbing his face against your arm and swatting away bites to tell us he was full. When he's not fussy he uses his words. I checked his diaper, but he was still clean and dry. I was surprised he had lasted so long before getting fussy, to be honest. I was getting overwhelmed with all the people and smells and sounds myself.
After saying a polite goodbye to Carla and Charlene and Camden, we walked toward the car. On our way to the car, I saw you eye the Cryobiology booth. I nudged you and you gave me a sheepish smile before taking a brochure and tucking it in your purse.
We got home ten minutes after you did - buckling Caleb in and collapsing the stroller, etc, always takes longer than I think it will - and you were already in your sweats, brushing your hair. I had concentrated on keeping Caleb awake in the car in hopes that he would take a long afternoon nap and I could sleep too. I had been victorious and was all too happy to tuck him into his big-boy bed after one short reading of Where Is Baby's Bellybutton? That book sure is a page-turner.
Back in the bedroom you were already half asleep. When I slid in bed beside you, you mumbled, "I juss wanna take a nap b'fore the party t'night."
I nodded and made a kissing noise, already half asleep myself. It's amazing how tired I was after only half a day of walking and taking in everything around me.
The three of us had a long, satisfying nap, although I was still a bit groggy when I felt Caleb crawling into bed between us. I felt Wabbit being tucked against my collarbone and grinned, pulling Caleb into me, keeping him snug and warm.
Soon enough he grew restless and you told me Hayley would be here in an hour to watch Caleb while we went to the fancy cocktail reception Marcía invited us to. To be honest, I was kind of dreading it. I don't know much about politics or law and no one knows who I am unless you introduce me as your wife. I love being married to you, but parties like that are a reminder that aside from being your wife and Caleb's Mom-ny, I don't really know who I am. At least I'm happy being those things. I have time to figure out that rest. Someday at a party I'll have a fascinating introduction.
But tonight was different than it had been in the past. Tonight I felt like people actually wanted to talk to me and know me aside from who I am with you. Everyone seemed spirited and light and happy. I sat with some people who had done canvassing for the bill but weren't politicians or lawyers or "hah suh-sAH-tee people" as my mom always says, and they kept me laughing all night. I actually had a great time. When the party was winding down, you came and put your arm around me and beamed as if you were the wife of the famous person, not me. I smiled back and instantly wanted to take you home.
When we got in the car I sighed. "That was fun," I declared. "I don't think I'll complain so much about your lawyer parties anymore."
You took my hand and squeezed and drove us home.
When we got inside, you paid Hayley and gave her a quick hug. As soon as she had left, assuring us Caleb had been an "angel like usual" and had been sound asleep for a few hours, you kicked your shoes off, dropped your purse by the coffee table, and flopped down on the couch. I slid down next to you and you sat up so you could put your head in my lap.
You looked up at me, smiling. You were happy and wanted to be close to me and despite our long, exhausting day, you weren't tired at all. There was a moment of silence as I smiled down at you, wondering what was on your mind.
But then I saw the pamphlet from the cryobank in your purse just a few feet away and knew.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked.
"Yeah," you said, giving me a shy smile.
"You can bring it up whenever you want, you know," I said.
You shrugged. "I wasn't sure if you'd changed your mind," you admitted. "You didn't sound like you wanted another baby the other night."
My forehead creased. I hadn't meant to come across as hesitant to have another baby. I really do. I just don't want to carry it, and I don't want you to do it just because I don't want to. But now I knew that wasn't why. "I absolutely want another baby," I said, making my voice solid so you knew I was telling the truth. "It's what we both always said we wanted and I'm looking forward to it."
You grinned. "Good."
I remembered the way your face had flickered with hope and fear and sadness when we talked about it. And I remembered how my heart had quivered when I realized what you were offering. "The way you said it that night…" I added, "I think my heart almost broke in half when you said you wanted to carry our baby." I grinned, leaning sideways as much as I could, puckering my lips.
You smiled and lifted yourself up off my lap, meeting my lips before laying back down.
"Are you really sure about this?" I asked. I had been so surprised when you offered, I hadn't asked all the questions I had for you.
As I waited for you to reply, my eyes scanned up and down your body. I didn't mean to imply anything by it. Well maybe I did. Actually I'm sure I did. The simple fact is that pregnancy changes your body. I will love you and your body no matter how your body changes. But it had been harder to learn to love my own after I gave birth to Caleb. Even though I exercise just as much as I used to, my body will never go back to what it was. We both knew you could have the same experience. I don't want you to go through that, because I know no matter how much someone else can be reassuring, what we think of our own bodies has the biggest effect on our confidence.
"I'm sure," you said. You looked me in the eye. "I want Caleb to have a little brother or sister and I want us to have our second perfect baby."
You didn't say anything about your body changing, but I figured you didn't want to think about it. We can deal with it if it happens.
Reassured by your confidence, I ran my hand over your stomach, feeling the flat plane under your black cocktail dress. "You're going to make a very beautiful, sexy pregnant lady," I purred.
"I sure hope so," you said, raising your eyebrows.
"So," I said, patting your legs and taking a businesslike tone. "Who's gonna get you knocked up?"
"You," you said, your grin spreading.
"Obviously," I said, rolling my eyes over a smile.
You grinned and shifted on the couch, snuggling your neck against my thigh. "I want to use the Cryobank, I think. I don't really like the idea of manjuice from someone I know, like, all up in there..."
I nodded. I'd expected as much. I don't have any obvious relatives we could use to try for an almost-bio-baby like Caleb, so it made sense.
I know having an almost-bio-baby was really important to us when we were planning Caleb, but now that we've met him, I think we feel differently. Even if his DNA came from a martian, I would love him to the moon and back a billion times, and so would you. If we are lucky enough to be blessed with another child, I'll feel the same way. However you feel most comfortable getting pregnant is fine with me.
"So what's this Cryobank all about," I mused, leaning forward, trying not to squish you as I reached for the brochure you'd tried to act nonchalant about picking up.
"I just flipped through the brochure once," you shrugged, trying to act casual, "but it seems pretty legit. We get to choose all the physical and personality traits we want in a donor, and we have access to medical info and information about their education level and sometimes even their baby photos. They're all screened extensively and you can sign up to have someone match the donor photo with one of your partner. So we could find a male version of you, maybe, and select him as the donor."
"Do we get to see the pictures?" I asked.
You shook your head. "That'd be weird," you said. "I'm having a baby with you, not some strange guy who jerked off in a cup."
"Santana!" I giggled, a bit surprised at your crass description, but still amused.
"What?" you mirrored my laughter. "It's true."
I sighed and gave you a smile to let you know I wasn't too surprised by your comment. But I knew there was a lot of thinking going on in your head that I didn't have access to. "So do you want to go check it out? Have a consultation or something?"
You nodded, your smile fading a bit so that I would know you were serious.
"When?" I asked.
"I was thinking sometime this week or next..." you said, your eyes darting around the room as you tried to sound casual.
"You want to start trying now?" I asked.
You nodded and your energy settled even more. "Who knows how long it will take. Even if I got pregnant tomorrow, Caleb would be two and half when the baby arrived... and if it takes a while, he could be three or four."
I nodded and smoothed your hair over my thigh. I know that it could take us just as long to make another baby as it took us to make Caleb. We aren't in control of our bodies the way we think we are sometimes. Trying so long for Caleb taught me that the way nothing else could.
But just because we're not in control doesn't mean we can't enjoy our bodies. All night, watching you talking and laughing across the room in your black dress, I'd been thinking about just how sexy you are. All day, actually. Your brilliant smile in the parade and the way your hair shone glossy and hot in the sun captivated me just like it had on the cheer tryout field in high school. The bright crimson of your shirt as we sat on the grass made your skin glow and the pink of your cheeks warm. The way you held your champagne glass at the party - delicately, so we could see the deep red of your nails, but firm enough that the glass wouldn't get knocked out if you'd been bumped - made me think of all the other things I want your hands to do with the same graceful certainty.
I looked at your hands now where they rested on your belly as you looked up at me. I took your left hand between mine and examined your fingers, relaxed and thin and not the least bit weathered from chores or gardening or sun. Your manicure was fresh and made your wedding ring stand out and sparkle more than usual. I know that wedding ring isn't actually a part of me, but it's reassuring to know that as you file and type and drive throughout the day, that symbol of me is with you. Even when you're not thinking about it consciously, I'm with you. Whenever I look at the ring on my own left hand and admire the deep red of the ruby, I feel a little echo of you and I know I'm not alone. You are my jewel, and the red of the ruby is as passionate and genuine as you are.
"You have really pretty hands," I murmured. I wasn't sure if I had ever told you. Your body is so familiar to me, I love when I see it as if for the first time. If there was a way to make that happen every time, I would.
You smiled and your hand stiffened as you flexed your fingers to examine them. "They're looking pretty good right now, if I do say so myself," you grinned.
I smoothed my hands over yours to get it to relax again. "No, they're sexy all the time. Especially when you're deep in thought."
You gave me an amused smile. "You can tell I'm deep in thought by what my hands are doing?"
I shook my head. "You just don't pay attention to them then and you're really beautiful when you're not self-conscious."
You smiled and I thought about all the things I've watched your hands do. Suddenly I remembered this dance your hands used to do when we were young, back when we were just fooling around and had no idea that what we were feeling was love and fear and desperation all rolled into one. Your hands would dance on your sheets as we climbed into bed at one of our countless sleepovers. It wasn't loud enough to make a drumming noise. It was barely enough for me to notice, but I did. Your fingers would be so restless, I knew something inside you was restless too. Your fingers would slide and tap and flex and sometimes your short nails would scrape an inch over the thin cotton. When I saw your fingers dancing I knew they wanted to be somewhere else, and I wanted them there too. Remembering that feeling from those teenage nights made my belly tighten and my breath grow more shallow. Even though you were afraid then, you were beyond sexy to me. And just when I thought you couldn't get any sexier, you would touch me and I would realize I had never been so wrong; you were a million times sexier with your hand inside my pajama bottoms or when you were whimpering into my neck when you let me touch you after. You still make that same whimper right before you come. I heard that noise in my mind and swallowed.
As I saw the fingers of your right hand dance for just a moment on your stomach, I realized you were afraid now, though not in the same way. You were afraid of the journey we were about to begin again together. I wanted to hold that fear in the same way I did fifteen years ago - with all of me.
I lifted your hand to my face and without thinking, slipped two of your fingers into my mouth and sucked. Your eyes flashed wide open and darted up to me. As I drew your fingers deeper into my mouth, feeling your nails scratch just a bit against the roof of my mouth, your eyes fluttered closed and I hummed.
"Someone's feeling frisky," you breathed, opening your eyes as you lifted an eyebrow at me.
I let your fingers go with a soft smack. I nodded and ran my fingers into your hair against your scalp, scraping gently and bunching your hair to show you how pent-up I felt inside.
As soon as I released my grasp, you sat up and swiveled around so your thigh was pressed against mine and your chest was pressed to me. You hovered for one hot second over my lips, which made my stomach tighten further still at the momentary tease.
Then you kissed me, holding nothing back. I felt the heat of the sun from our picnic in your hair as I threaded my hand through again, and the power of your parade smile in your lips. Your mouth was hot and I swear your lips were softer and wetter than they ever had been before. The smoothness of your tongue against mine soothed the little scratch from your nails on the roof of my mouth. I could taste just a faint hint of champagne residue on your tongue and felt tiny, sparkling bubbles in my belly.
After just a few moments you pulled away, panting as you closed your eyes and let your lips spread in a hazy smudged-lipstick smile. I felt as though you were a mirror for the way I felt. All my passion and love for you was mixing with the pride I take in being your wife and spilling out of me in any way it could. Together we were overflowing.
"What did you have in mind?" you whispered, sliding your cheek against mine, nudging my ear with your nose.
I put my mouth against your ear as I trailed my fingers up your thigh. "I want to practice getting you pregnant," I whispered.
"Fuck, B..." You let out a shaky exhale. You grabbed my hand and slid it up your leg under your skirt, but I didn't let you pull it all the way to your center. I held firm just a hand's width from the lace of your panties. You trembled and sucked your lip under your teeth when you realized I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to tease. "You too," you whispered.
I chuckled. "Once was enough." I placed a long, wet kiss under your ear and then licked the kiss off, tasting the salt before placing another kiss a few inches down, right where I know your sweet spot is. I sucked just enough to make your breath catch but not enough to leave a mark.
You exhaled through your arousal. "I wish I could fuck you right here on the couch..." you gasped.
Your voice matched how my lungs felt - hot and thick and desperately trying to circulate air. I licked the soft skin I had just kissed and husked, "So fuck me right here..."
I felt you wince as you squeaked, "B, we can't..."
"Says who?" I teased, my kisses inching down your neck.
"Says..." you swallowed and I felt your throat move against my lips, "Says our adorable son who doesn't want to wake up from a nightmare and come downstairs to find his Mom-ny screaming."
I lifted my head and cocked my eyebrow, looking at your trembling mouth as I murmured, "Oh really..."
You licked your lips and gave me a quick, certain nod.
I scrambled up from the couch and pulled you with me. You adjusted your dress just a bit as you hopped over your purse, heading for the stairs. I held back so you could trot up before me. When we reached the top I swatted you on the ass and you let out a soft shriek.
After locking our bedroom door, we fell onto the bed, me on top with our legs dangling off the end. You pulled my dress up to bunch around my waist as I fitted my hips to yours, sliding my thigh between your legs, bunching your skirt as I pressed against the warmest part of you. You exhaled and pulled me down onto you harder with your hands on my backside. We started kissing again, the same big, overflowing kisses we'd shared on the couch. All day I'd been wanting to be this close to you. Seeing you so happy and confident and proud makes my ribcage feel too small to contain my love for you, and the only way to make that feeling go away is to show you with my body. I needed to feel as close to you as possible, just like when we were teenagers and your hands told me you needed to be close by the way they moved on the sheets. And now I can look into your eyes and let some of the feelings that are overflowing in me pour out through my gaze as well.
Our hands worked quickly to unzip and shimmy out of our dresses. No matter how fine or soft fabric is, it can never compare to the warmth of your dampening skin as we move together. I had seen you pick out nice lingerie as we got ready for the cocktail party, and I could feel the rough lace of your panties scratching my thigh as you rocked up and down against me as we paused from undressing to kiss some more.
You took my bra off with what felt like a flick of your fingers and I lifted up so you could pull it out from between us. You rose up onto your elbows so I could reach around behind you, fingers trailing over the rouched satin of your lingerie before unclasping it. You slid yourself up toward the headboard so we weren't dangling off the end of the bed, and then pulled me down on top of you again. From top to bottom, it felt so good, as though each inch of skin had been matched to a part of you that would both soothe and excite me all at once. Your tongue was warm but the air cooled the trail you left as you nipped and kissed my throat.
When I reached down to slide off my panties before removing yours, your hands started doing an open-close dance against the sheets. You were just as eager as I was. But before I slid my thigh back between your legs, I took a good look at your body. As quickly as I could, I tried to capture the images of the little creases on your hips from your panties, the uneven tousled look of your hair, and the smudge of lipstick on your chin. As I took them in, your hands danced and you whimpered. I knew your hands were anxious to touch me. I wanted to touch you too. Whenever I touch you with my fingers, the ache between my legs grows stronger until I feel almost as if I'm touching myself.
As my legs slid on either side of your thigh, I had to close my eyes and exhale. You shuddered and rocked up into me, and we began our exquisite rhythm.
What makes this kind of sex with you so beautiful is that we don't simply rock back and forth or move against each other in a straight line. We let our bodies slide together, inspired by the wetness and excitement and pleasure we feel. We move in little circles or big circles or quick thrusts, but the movement ebbs and flows as we loosen and tighten or grasp onto each other and the tightness in our centers builds. Some people call it grinding, but that sounds harsh and graceless. What we do is so much more than that. It is the ultimate dance. We take turns leading and following. At some point we usually pull apart just enough to add one of our hands, signalling the dance is almost done.
I thought about your hands, the ones I had been unaware I knew so well, and shuddered at the sense memory, knowing what it would feel like when you finally touched me and drew me higher and higher.
As I was thinking about your hands against me, you pulled your mouth off me with a little grunt and gasped, "Touch me."
I slid myself down your thigh so I could still rock against you as I moved my hand across your stomach. I slid it down into your sticky, hot center that had just been sliding against my thigh, and just like always, touching you made the ache between my own legs sharpen. It's amazing what the contact of just a few fingers can do.
You whimpered and I barely understood when you said inside. I angled my wrist so I could slide two fingers inside you. Yes.
You shuddered and bucked up into me, urging me to let the rhythm of our hips flow into my hand as well. But I had to take a moment to pause and let my fingers soak into you, to feel every inch inside you I could. Suddenly I wished that I could feel you even more, feel just how wet and warm and soft you are all the way inside, beyond where my fingers can reach. I wished I could be with you the way a man could be with you; giving and receiving at the same time, fitting together as tightly as possible.
It's not that I wanted to be a man. I didn't. I like being a woman very much. But sometimes I ache, knowing there are experiences I can't have with you. I will never be able to fit every inch of me with every inch of you, or be able to leave a part of me inside you and watch as a life springs forth. I wish I could. Thinking about you carrying our next baby made me wish that even more.
But I was determined to work with what we have. I fluttered my fingers in and out of you, sliding my thumb over your most sensitive spot as your moans and gasps got louder. I love watching you climb. I'm certain that if I were a man, I'd try as hard as I could to make sure you always came first, because for me, watching you let go is the most beautiful part of being together. I guess one of the advantages of being girls is it doesn't matter who comes first. But I would love to know what it feels like all the way inside you. No matter how close we get when we make love, I will always want to be closer.
I could tell you were close. My fingers were being squeezed together and even though you were so slick and wet, it was getting harder to slide in and out. I wanted to give you just that extra nudge and feel you clench and arch beneath me, but I needed my other hand to prop me up so my arm didn't get smashed between us. I lowered my head to take your nipple between my lips, and after just a hint of suction, you cried out and I felt you arch your stomach up into mine as my knuckles were squeezed together inside you. You held your breath and arched higher as I tried to keep my fingers moving.
Your arch broke and you gasped as you brought us both back down on the bed. Your breathing was frantic and shaky and your lips started to turn up at the corners as your arms and hands fell from my back onto the sheets. Each breath was so loud and rasping I could almost hear notes in it. You lifted a hand to brush your hair from your forehead as your breathing slowed just a bit through your parted lips.
"Fuck, B," you panted. "Give me a second..."
I lowered my lips to your face and place gentle kisses on the sweat beads on your upper lip and brow. "Take your time," I murmured, pressing a smile against your mouth. "I'll still be good to go..."
Your breathing softened but grew no less shaky as I tried to keep myself from rocking against you. I was still so pent up, so turned on, but I also wanted to watch the ripples in your body fan out and settle.
You bit your lip just a second before opening your eyes and looking up at me with a determined playfulness. I had only a moment to smile back before you flipped me over and started pressing circles into me with your thigh. The new angle made the desire in my belly turn over and double itself.
"You looked so sexy today, B," you crooned in my ear. "From the minute I saw you at the parade I wanted to bring you home and do this."
Your pace started to mount and even though I knew you'd already finished, you had the same determination I'd seen in your face as you were approaching your own climax as you pushed me towards mine. Our hips were sticky and our skin was damp and hot, and through the haze of heat and want it seemed impossible that anything could ever feel better.
You gripped my hair and lowered your head to my chest. After lapping once with your tongue, you took my nipple in your mouth and sucked. It was harder than you'd sucked in a long time and it felt like sparks were coursing through me into your mouth. When you slid your hand down between us and rubbed frantic circles against my most sensitive spot, my whole body tensed. You lifted your mouth just long enough to mumble come for me, B. I pushed my center up against your fingers and firm, sticky thigh and felt the first inkling of the free-fall in my belly. As I tipped into that feeling, it picked up and my body seized as I let the bursting spread up through my legs into my gut and chest and arms. You rocked against me and sucked even harder for as long as I could bear it.
When I finally gasped and nudged your shoulder, letting you know I felt too sharp and tender, you popped your mouth up and slowed your hips, grinning down at me through a curtain of your hair. I put my hands on your hips to still them and although you stopped, I still felt as though our bodies were swirling together. You settled down flat against me and placed gentle, almost-silent kisses on the damp skin of my neck. Your breathing was still deep and a little shaky, but you were settling as I tried to settle too.
I felt your nose nudge my ear and then felt the hot words, "I think that definitely got me pregnant."
I chuckled beneath you and wrapped my arms around your back. I turned my head just enough to kiss your temple and mumbled, "Good."
After a few minutes, when breathing didn't take all my energy any more, I opened my eyes and shifted a bit under you. You lifted up and smirked down at me. Then your smirk softened.
"I'm really happy we're doing this," you murmured, brushing my hair away from where it stuck to the side of my face. Your words weren't raspy or shaky anymore, just smooth and quiet.
"Having sex like teenagers?" I smiled. I knew what you were talking about, but I was also pretty glad we were having sex as passionately as we just did.
You let your smile grow impish again for a moment before it returned to sweet. "Well yes, but I meant building our family."
My heart swelled and I ran my hands over your back. "Me too."
"I'm really proud of our family," you murmured. "Not just because today is Pride and everyone got to see how cute Caleb is." Your eyes softened and I knew the images of the parade and our son in the stroller with his Pride flag were flickering through your mind. "But because we worked really hard to build it and today put things in perspective."
I nodded up at you and squeezed your back in agreement.
Your eyes danced over my face, which I'm sure was flushed, for a minute and your gaze rested on my lips. You bent down and placed a gentle kiss on my mouth before whispering, "I'm so proud to be your wife." The words were so delicate, I knew they came from the softest, most genuine part of you.
I pulled you tighter to me, feeling my heart swell against you through our sweat-sticky skin. I saw flashes of images of you from throughout the day - your celebrity smile in the parade, your proud Mama smile as you carried Caleb, your sheepish smile as you picked up a flier from the cryobank, and your cocktail party flirtatious smile. But I think of all your smiles, the one I get when I'm alone with you like this, sticky and tired and feeling closer than ever, is my favorite.
"I'm so proud to be with you too," I murmured. I cupped your cheek and drew you down to my mouth. Our lips moved slow and soft together, as one dances when there is no music playing anywhere but inside the dancer. We kissed until even that music faded.
At last you sighed, a light sigh that felt turned up at the ends like a smile. You slowly lifted your hips up off of me and I felt where our juices had started to dry against us. You walked to the door and unlocked it as I pulled back the covers and slid beneath them. My body was heavy and warm and loose. When you climbed into the bed with me, our dampness now faint as the air in the room cooled, you wrapped your arms around me and gave me a sleepy squeeze.
Even though parades and parties and announcements are certainly wonderful ways to show pride, I think soft and private celebrations are just as powerful. As I lay against you, drifting into sleep, I was certain I had never felt prouder of anything.
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