The Carsons Universe

their first anniversary (2) : Coming Home

The light from the fire dances over her skin, highlighting every dip and curve of her newly altered body. She is so beautiful as she lies there, waiting for him to join her in their bed, the covers pulled back, covering her belly - he can tell she is insecure about it, worried even, though there is no need: he's never seen her as beautiful as she is now: her breasts full and heavy, her face slightly less angular, her skin healthy and glowing. Her belly is a reminder of their love, the fact that between them they have created magic, something he had never thought possible before he met her.

She has given him all a man could want: love, affection, respect and all of it without losing herself. She is as independent, as witty, practical and strong-minded as she ever was. She has not changed in all the time he has known her, though their circumstances have. Their courtship - not the demure, shy kind you read about in novels, but a sensible time filled with plans and hopes that they are now trying to make reality. They have been married a year and soon they will be a family.

The thought fills him with joy and a happiness he has seldom experienced.

"Are you not coming to bed?" She asks, biting her lip in that way she has that never fails to make him want to kiss her.

"I've been waiting…" She adds and subtly shifts so he gets a wonderful view of her.

"Can't have that…" He manages to say, love and lust coursing through his veins. He pulls off his tails, his waistcoat, kicks off his shoes. He peels off his shirt and his trousers, quickly gets rid of his socks and finally he takes off his vest and slides under the sheets next to her.

She is warm and soft, her skin against his makes him tingle. He kisses her, tenderly first, but she is not having it. She pulls him flush against her - he feels her bump press against his lower belly - and ravishes his mouth, her hips already rocking slightly against his and he comes to life between them, his hands finding the roundness of her breasts, flicking her nipples to attention whilst their kiss becomes a dance, a duel and he has to have her closer.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she embraces him. "Happy anniversary…" She whispers in his ear. The soft wisps of air send shivers down his spine.

"God woman… what you do to me…" He mumbles against her collarbone, kissing and nipping his way to her breast. She presses herself against him when he softly sucks on her nipple and allows his hand to travel further down. He gently nudges her legs apart and she moans deeply when he slides the pad of his middle finger over the soft nub at the top of her folds. She is slippery, she has been so receptive since… Well, he cannot think of that now, he cannot think she is carrying his child, he needs her to be his wife right now, to be the object of his affection and his desire: they are celebrating who they are together, not what they will be soon.

She has manoeuvred to her knees, her head thrown back as he touches her deliberately. She pants, holding on to him, allowing one hand to run through his chest hair, but she seems unable to do much more, caught in pleasure. He kisses the long column of her throat, her shoulder and pulls away his hand from her center. She whimpers, even pouts. She lets him push her back against the mattress and lets her legs fall open, ready to welcome him into her warmth.

He realises that every time she allows him to take her, it feels safe and he feels loved and happy and it's Elsie who makes him feels this way. To finally feel like he belongs. But he's not quite ready to come home to her. He wants to touch her first, to run his hands over her calves and the underside of her knees, to stroke the impossibly soft skin of her inner thighs, the creases where her legs meet her body. He wants to lay his hands over her hipbones - though they are starting to become hidden, obscured from sight by his child, to softly press the sides of his thumbs over her sides towards her breasts (he cannot get enough of her breasts - they have never been so perfect) and he wants to kiss every inch of her.

She is impatient, she lays her hands around his arms, trying to get close, kissing him where she can, curling her legs around his, pulling him into her heat and he cannot deny her - he can never deny her anything - and he plunges in, the pair of them crying out in unison. He thinks he can hear her whisper 'finally', but he is too wrapped up in the sensations to take much notice. He looks at her, pinned under him, a happy smile on her lips, her eyes bright, glinting in the dim light of the glowing embers. They have been taking their time, it appears, but he has lost all sense of time, of place. All he knows he has to be with her.

Forever.

A/N: So here's the thing: I cannot write smutty drabbles. I need many words to convey what is going on. But it's less than a thousand at least? And they are not quite done yet…

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