René d'Herblay, alias Aramis (
afineseamstress) wrote2014-12-11 03:30 pm
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It's an old nightmare, and if the reversal of roles is new, Aramis has no knowledge of it. In her dreams her belly swells, her parents rage, but in the end, Aramis feels happiness bloom within her, and in time, she sees it in the features of her husband to be. But the dream turns as it always does, from hope and to despair. She reaches for him with hands only freshly washed of blood, but Étienne still turns from her.
It's an old dream, an awful dream, but bearable for the long years of its endurance. Aramis believes that, right until Étienne turns for one last look, and his face becomes Porthos'.
Aramis wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed with tears still streaming down her face. With a soft curse, she lifts her hands and wipes them away, crawling as carefully as she can out of bed and towards the kitchen.
It's an old dream, an awful dream, but bearable for the long years of its endurance. Aramis believes that, right until Étienne turns for one last look, and his face becomes Porthos'.
Aramis wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed with tears still streaming down her face. With a soft curse, she lifts her hands and wipes them away, crawling as carefully as she can out of bed and towards the kitchen.
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Of course, he's probably wrong, but he has no experience in this.
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"I suppose a house first is a good plan," she concedes, frowning deeply into his hair. "With a room ready for a baby."
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She leans back, tracing her fingers over his heart. "There are wounds here, yet," Aramis murmurs. "These orphaned children may heal them."
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"You've already starting mending them up. I'm not surprised, though," he murmurs with a sleepy smile. "You patch me up, always."
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It can't hurt to have a little unprotected sex, can it? It's not like anything could carry over.
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"First, though, let's make sure you don't have any more nightmares."
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"Just one little favour, precious. Spread your thighs a tad, will you?"
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Laying soft kisses to her skin, he eases back to stare up adoringly. "You're a goddess of beauty and so damn sexy," he growls. "I need my cock in you. Please. Please, oh god, please."
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He's actually trembling, right down to his toes, and is utterly useless. She's in control and he's content to lie back and let her take him as she likes. And god, but it's intoxicating what it feels like as he thrusts up into her. "I love you," he says, when no other words are there for him.
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