Loving Night
"There... it's done."
Finished with her knitting, Euphemia gazed at the pair of pure-white socks sized for a baby's tiny feet and smiled, faintly. She stroked her lower belly with care. She could not know whether the child would be a boy or a girl, so she had made them in a color and shape that would suit either; then she rose and went to the window.
He's a little late. There was the matter of the advancement verification, yes, but it was nearly eight. When would he come home?
"Ah..."
The manor's front gate opened, and through it came a carriage bearing the crest of Brutein. Only one person could be riding inside. Euphemia drew a simple outer robe over her white negligee and went out to meet him.
She might have waited on the first floor. Instead she opened the door, unfurled an umbrella, and stepped out toward the carriage court at the rear of the house. He had promised to be a good husband. Then she, too, ought to do her part as a wife.
The carriage door swung open at just that moment. Euphemia quickened her pace, rose onto her toes before the descending Ferzen, and held the umbrella over him.
"Welcome... home."
"I have returned."
It did not show in his voice, but Ferzen was faintly taken aback. Less by the gesture itself than by the fact that Uriel's scent still clung to him, faint and lingering. He had not meant to see Euphemia until he had washed the perfume away and bathed.
"Are you just going to keep standing there?"
Still on her toes, holding the umbrella up to his considerable height, Euphemia complained as her arms began to ache. Watching her, Ferzen's thoughts grew briefly tangled. If he suggested they each take an umbrella, she would only sulk.
"No. Let us go."
He took the umbrella from her, set a hand at her waist, and drew her in so the rain would not reach her. Then he started toward the flower beds at the rear.
"You're going in through the back?"
"Yes."
The smell of rain-soaked earth and flowers might cover the faint trace of Uriel still on him. That calculation lay beneath the gesture. Euphemia, who could not know it, took it simply as a wish to walk the rainy garden with her.
Ah... She did not particularly mind. As they walked the beds in silence, she watched his right shoulder growing wet. Was the umbrella a little small? A quiet flutter rose in her chest, tangled with guilt that she had not noticed sooner. She pressed closer, laid her hand over his on the handle, and tipped the umbrella slightly to the right.
And then, within Ferzen's familiar scent, she caught clearly a strange, faintly sweet smell that had soaked into it. A woman? No man would wear a perfume like this. For it to cling so softly, so thoroughly, he must have remained a long while in the same room, or there had been physical contact.
This is... Jealousy? Euphemia did not know that the sweetness was Uriel's own scent, altered into perfume. She had no choice but to misread the heat rising in one corner of her heart as something else. Why, even when she tried to ignore it, did it keep catching at her?
"Euphemia."
He spoke her name as she stopped, but she gave no answer. She reached out carefully, caught the tie with its beautiful brooch, and drew his head down. Then, where his throat shifted beneath the skin, she rose on her toes, buried her face, and breathed hot breath in and out, as if she meant not to forget that sweet smell clinging like dust.
Ferzen, of course, knew why. He kept his head bowed in silence and held the umbrella against the pouring rain.
"Hh... nn..."
Far from calming, she traced his body with slender, suggestive hands and pressed her full breasts firmly against him. What reached her was only a much-diluted trace. To see her like this, had the want been building in her for some time?
"Euphemia. Is there something you want of me now?"
"My belly..."
"You would like me to touch your belly."
"No..."
Even as she shook her head, she kept rubbing herself lewdly against his firm body. A dim awareness that she should not be doing this lingered, but the flame growing little by little in her chest made her honest to her desire.
"If you kissed... my navel, I'd like that..."
"Is that so."
"Mm..."
He resettled the umbrella and stroked her back.
"Let us go to the bath. It is raining, and the air outside is cold. Think of the child."
Euphemia nodded. She drew his free left hand into the cleft of her breasts and led him in through the manor's rear door.
Not quite as he had intended, the two slipped past the maids' eyes and into the bathroom. They stripped bare and sank into the warm tub. Flushed a faint pink, Euphemia nestled against him and nuzzled like a dog greeting a master home after a long absence. She had never taken the lead so boldly before, and privately Ferzen did not find the situation unpleasant.
"Ah..."
Then, as he had promised, he caught her slender waist, lifted her, and sat her on the rim of the tub. A soft kiss. He kissed her navel gently, and the act itself pleased her beyond words.
"Haah... nn! Aahn..."
It felt as if she were being loved together with the baby growing in her womb. Water splashed. Slipping back into the tub, she settled astride his thighs, clung to him tightly, and slowly rubbed his firmly erect cock against her lower belly. Feeling it like this, she found it strange that something so thick and long had ever filled her completely.
A press.
"Huaan..."
Each time the head nudged her navel, Euphemia let out a breaking moan, tipped his body slightly back, and—I, too...—laid clumsy kisses around his nape, marking him with a trace of her own.
It is pleasant, yes, but... She looked painfully unskilled at easing the appetite her body craved, like a child who knows nothing of sex and, climbing a bar, happens upon a sensation and then keeps returning to it. At this rate there was no telling how long it would take. Ferzen turned her forward and nipped lightly at her earlobe.
"Nnn!"
Only a little. He brought himself just far enough that her plump, fleshy outer lips could take the head, and gently twisted the nipples of breasts grown fuller with the pregnancy.
"Haahk... nn!"
Her waist and both legs trembled. Had there not been a child in her womb, she would surely have dropped her hips and taken all of him inside. In truth she nearly seized him herself and sank down, but Ferzen stopped her. Her reason knew he had done right. Even so, she looked back at him with eyes stained full of grievance, like a child forbidden to play.
Then, carefully, she felt her way down from near her womb and, as if searching out a safety line, marked a place only a little above the entrance.
"Here... it won't reach the baby... only this far..."
"..."
"Just... th-three times... p-put it in..."
She begged in a voice gone desperate. Was there a lewder sight in the world? His mouth felt parched. Unable to endure the thirst, he drew her from the tub, laid her down, and licked along her collarbones to slake what he lacked. Then he lifted his head.
"Point to it again."
He gave the order to Euphemia, who had gathered both hands rather meekly near her chest.
"Only... this far..."
She obeyed very meekly. With her left hand she lightly marked the place above her sex, and with her right she spread the entrance herself, baring the pink flesh within.
"Ah..."
A wet sound. The moment the head—what her heated body had wanted so badly—slipped in a little, she clenched the entrance tight from the very start, without meaning to. She knew she ought to loosen so he could enter more easily. It simply would not obey her.
He forced her wider and pushed in, and her sex, slick with lewd wetness, made an obscene sound. When he had gone in only as far as the place she had marked—not even a third of his length—he stopped.
"Euphemia."
"N-nn..."
"You will count."
She understood without difficulty. Then, very slowly, unhurriedly, what had entered began to draw back.
"A-ahn..."
Her clinging inner flesh was drawn along with it. He retraced the way he had come and pushed in once more, and Euphemia curled her toes tight and opened her mouth.
"O-one..."
No small regret clung to that single word. Ferzen smiled and stroked her cheek. Her fresh green hair, as if it held the spring, clung wet and disordered all over her body, and her snow-white skin was flushed in places.
"Ht... hnn!"
When he filled her again and began to withdraw, she wrapped both legs around his waist. It was a struggle to slow his leaving as much as she could, but she could not overcome the strength of his hips. All she could do was cling, with that sticky pink flesh, to the head alone, and refuse to let it go. That was not desperation so much as tenderness, and because he found it lovely he kissed her cheek and moved gently.
A wet sound.
"Ht, nnn...!"
The sensation of a body grown terribly sensitive would not settle into anything familiar. His cock, sunk inside her, gave off a heat as if warming her from within, and the folds of her passage clung to him as stickily as cloth gone damp with sweat, tracing his shape so lewdly she could have drawn it in her mind.
"T-two..."
Two of three already. With only one left of this pleasure, she pulled the neck of the man kissing her cheek into her arms. Only this far, she had told him—and the hand that had been marking the place was draped around his neck now.
"Hk!"
The last. The third time he pushed in, he went deeper than the first or the second—fully half his length—and filled her. Both of them knew this was meant to be the end, and for a moment they said nothing, only feeling each other's warmth.
In silence Ferzen waited for her final signal. Euphemia kept her mouth shut tight. She did not announce the end of three. He said nothing of it either.
A wet, dragging sound.
"Ahn...!"
And their sex went on.
"Ht, nnnn..."
Sometime later Euphemia, gone limp, had turned away and was only lifting her hips, trembling. Thick, viscous wetness spilled out along him as he withdrew. He rubbed himself in the cleft of her backside and scattered his seed across her white back.
"Nn!"
It had been a long time since he last came, and a great deal of semen fell over her like candlewax, giving off a raw smell. He had heard there were animals that marked what was theirs by spilling their fluid along the back. In that sense, the Euphemia of this moment was—yes. Nothing less than Ferzen's woman, and his wife.
When the pleasure ebbed and reason returned, Euphemia lay in his arms in the tub, breathing so faintly she made almost no sound, and said nothing. The red staining her ears was proof she was deeply ashamed.
"Euphemia."
"..."
"I do not particularly think you lewd. Or base."
"..."
"Ah..."
For a moment she thought she had misheard, and meant to turn her head. A soft kiss landed near her back.
"Nn..."
At that gentle kiss she drew her knees in and accepted the affection, shyly.
Euphemia El Lorraine Ruerug.
...I am his wife.
Ferzen von Schweig Ruerug.
...He is my husband.
The night deepened, little by little. Tenderly. And beautifully.