loyalty and sacrifice

“We’re not going to the Lambert’s ball,” Maisy declared. The disgust on her face, the furious fire in her stunning eyes, told her husband everything he needed to know about what kind of evening they were in for.

Marriage hadn’t been anything like he’d imagined or bothered to long for once upon a time. Isaac had never imagined a woman, his wife at that, could hate him so much. He was well aware of the self fulfilling prophecy and endless cycle they lived in. He’d come home drunk before mid-day, having blown off his work in the study to knock back vile imported Irish whiskeys at the gentlemen’s club. He’d only stumbled out when the whores arrived, finding an uncomfortable churning in his stomach at the thought of anything with a gash between its legs. Only the smallest part of him wondered when he’d become such a fucking asshole, but the rest of him sighed a sound of pure exhaustion at the thought of what waited for him at home.

“I don’t give a fuck about the Lamberts or their ball.” It was true. He didn’t give a fuck about much these days. He started off toward the darkened haven of his study just as Maisy started in on him.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Coming home drunk? Smelling like whiskey? You were supposed to finish the estate ledgers today.”

“I will deal with the fucking ledgers,” he spat toward the wall, unwilling to turn around and face her hot wrath. “I’m the man of this house and I don’t need my wife telling me how or when to handle my affairs.”

“The man of the house?” She asked incredulously, a mocking tone in her lilted voice. “Then act like it.”

He’d been close to the breaking point before he ever crossed the threshold to their home and had ignored all the pleading parts of his body that begged him to go anywhere else. Whether it was the built up frustrations or the lubrication of whiskey he wasn’t sure, but he finally snapped at her words.

Drunk or not, the Commandant had spent his life as a soldier and a sailor. The fluid ease with which he turned on her, using his own body to push hers against the nearest wooden paneled wall shocked her and he didn’t attempt to keep her head, piled high with silky dark hair, from smacking against the wall behind her as she scrambled for her own personal space.

Isaac stared his wife down, impressed and aroused by her unflinching nerve. She wouldn’t take it back. She’d never apologize. And god damn him, he loved her for it.

“You want a fucking man, Mase?” His voice dripped with honey, sickeningly sweet, while one hand captured her at the waist, tugging her against him and pushing himself into her at the same time. The other hand snaked up her side, over her heaving breast, grazing her neck before dipping long calloused fingers into her dark hair to yank her head back for his hungry mouth. “You’ve fucking got it, baby,” he growled against her neck.

This dance, too, was one they’d done over and over. He’d take her right there: rip at her skirts, bruise her thighs, leave hickeys across her neck and bosom, shove himself inside her impossibly wet heat and fuck her like an animal until he’d flooded her cunt. Maybe twice. Then they’d part to their separate bedrooms and wait until the next time they came to screaming blows.

Knowing the outcome did nothing to stop the cycle. He tore at her skirts, cussing with the sailor’s mouth as the tattered fabric exposed her pale skin. His hands went straight to her pussy, rubbing at her through what little fabric was left between them while he nibbled on her neck, grazed the shell of her ear with his afternoon stubble, and teased about the desire he felt there.

“This man enough for you, baby?” A heartbeat, a broken, defeated sigh while her nails dug into his shoulders. “I thought so.” He bit her lips, refusing to soothe the sting with a kiss and instead lowering his voice to whisper at her ear. “Wet like a well-paid whore.” He chuckled at her growl, the extra bite of her nails through his fine shirt. “Needy like one too.”

“Fuck you-“ she spat through a panted breath. He only responded by pushing the fabric aside to plunge two fingers into her.

“Fuck me, baby? No, no, no. I’m going to fuck YOU.” A single breath later he’d worked the buttons to his too tight trousers open and pulled his aching cock free. He didn’t care if he remained clothed. If her scent and her wetness would coat his clothing before they finished. If he stripped her naked and refused to reciprocate the vulnerability.

“You’re lucky I don’t push you to your knees and fuck that filthy mouth, Maisy.” He kissed her finally, sliding his tongue into her gasping mouth while he pumped strong fingers in and out of her heated core. “I do love to watch you get your mouth filled.” A free hand stroked himself, precum thick and clear, already beading at his throbbing tip. But it had been a long day. And longer nights since they’d been together this way, both too busy pretending they didn’t want, much less need each other the way they did now.

It was Isaac’s turn to throw his head back when Maisy helped him, moving with him to wrap a leg around his waist and angling her hips to get his fingers deeper. Her small hand wrapped around his velvet length and he thought he might cum right then.

“Put it in, Mase. We both know you need this.” He breathed, attempting a steadied breath and held her darkened eyes. “We both need this.”

For the first time, maybe ever, she didn’t argue. She only grazed her hand over him, and used the head of his cock to stroke through her exposed folds, hesitating at her entrance once she’d lined him up.

It was all the invitation Isaac needed to push into her heat. Her body welcomed him home and the ragged sigh that pulled from his chest only served as a reminder of the hold she had always had over him. Over his complete inability to resist her. Over his sham of a sense of self control.

He freed his hands to tighten at her small waist, pulling her into him with each reciprocal thrust. The last of his reserve faded to ashes as their mouths met, both hungry and desperate.

He wouldn’t last long at the punishing pace he’d set. The bite of her nails digging into his still-clothed skin only served to push him closer to the edge. She gasped his name, stilling before her body exploded its release, her tight heat rolling with the waves of her orgasm around his impossibly hard cock.

“Fuck, Mase-“ his haggard breathing, her whining whimper, and the wet slap of their bodies filled every inch of space around them and Isaac forced himself to hold her gaze when he finally reached his peak. Even with his eyes open stars exploded across his vision. The vision of her. Open. Softer. Aching while he spilled his seed inside her. He held her to him, flexing his hips to press the head of his cock as deeply as possible into her sacred depths. She already carried his child but that was no excuse not to fuck her like he needed her pregnant every time they ended up this way.

Isaac refused to move, even after Maisy had slumped against him. After his throbbing cock had moved to twitching to leaking and finally soft inside her. He refused to let the moment end. Refused to let her off him.

More than anything he wanted to take her to his bed. To hold her tight and kiss her breathless until both of them were ready to do it all again. But she’d turn him down. The way she’d turned him down all those times when he thought marriage might have been a good idea. All those times. He wouldn’t risk further humiliation now so he let himself untangle from her, threw an apologetic grimace at her torn clothing and tucked his cock back behind his buttons and turning away.

London felt very much like a fancy cage. Far from the rolling seas and creaking wooden boats that had become his home, the Countess’ lavish estate and even more decadent ball felt uncomfortably foreign.

Isaac silently bemoaned his mother’s intrusive attempts to introduce him to each and every eligible debutante, finding he couldn’t care less about them or their interests, and ducked out of the party at the first opportunity. The estate was more maze than home and after exploring several empty rooms he came to the refuge of the Countess’ home library.

Long and calloused fingers danced over the thick leather spines of history and politics and war before his dark eyes settled on the smaller section of poetry in the farthest corner from the crackling fireplace. English poets, the language itself, lacked the raw passion of his native tongue but poetry itself was a language he’d always loved. Isaac stood in the darkened corner, turning withered yellow pages in the oldest book he could find when the heavy library door creaked open.

She hadn’t noticed him, he deduced, watching her look around the darkened room. The fireplace glow illuminated the deep green of her skirts and danced over the dark strands of her perfectly placed hair. He cleared his throat, a gentle reminder, and watched her spin toward him.

It was her eyes he noticed first. Full of wary distrust and the hard set to her soft jaw before his eyes drifted down to the silver candlestick she brandished like a finely crafted sword. A small smile overtook his shadowed features. He offered a polite apology for startling the young Miss then smiled again at her snappy reply, laden with disdain and distrust. He knew what the gentlemen of the ton talked about when they thought no one was listening and wasn’t at all surprised to find her bristled and jumpy after sneaking away from the ball.

Her eyes struck him as hard as if she’d decided to whack him with her candlestick and he couldn’t help the steps he took closer. Deep green, somewhere between spring fields and bright emeralds, matched her dress and her jewels. Even the suspicious way they narrowed had a tightness building in his chest. They’d only just met but a part of him despaired at the idea of their inevitable parting. He needed to know her name.

De Lyons, his mind repeated after her offering. De Lyons. His amusement at her demeanor faded into awe as the candlelight between them flickered to life. Her eyes were more stunning in the firelight. She had the most beautiful features and stood taller, stronger than most of the wilting flowers of women in the ballroom far beyond them. The urge to touch her, to take liberties that were not his to take was stronger than he felt comfortable with and stepped back to give her space. Although his body screamed in protest at the distance.

His chivalry was louder and he excused himself to leave her with her peaceful seclusion, the small poetry book still tucked under his arm. The pounding in his chest, the singing in his blood, lit some sort of fire from within. If he hadn’t known beyond all certainty that he would come face to face with Lady De Lyons very soon he might not have had the strength to leave at all.

“It’s quite alright,” he offered to her protest, smiling at what he could only call fate. “I seem to have found what I was looking for.”

She’d teased and seduced her husband all night, first with her perfect make up, elegantly styled hair, and absolutely dangerous dress, but then spent the night brushing against him, leaning over the table to expose the cleft of her milk-swollen breasts, pressing against him on the dance floor and refusing every request he’d made to bail early.

It was calculated, of course, but he figured she wasn’t truly ready for him to tease back.

Isaac pushed her face against the wall harder than was strictly necessary, vividly aware of how much his Amazon could take, before using his grip on her hair to lead her further into the room only to push her face down onto their hotel bed.

“Don’t fucking move, Mase,” he growled, unceremoniously tugging her dress away from his prize before using both of his hands to spread her from behind. “God,” he breathed her in, just barely brushing her clothed cunt with his nose, “You smell like heaven.” She couldn’t see but could hear the smirk in his voice. “I bet you taste even better.”

It was Maisy’s turn to gasp and groan when her husband’s tongue reached out to lick a slow swathe over her lacy panties, shamelessly sucking her juices through the cloth.

“Fuck- Zac-“ she whimpered, struggling to stay still and forcing him to release his two hand hold and use one of them to pin her face down at the neck.

“Shut up.” He never spoke to his wife that way and just as he suspected, her cunt flooded at the command. “This is my turn.”

He took his time tasting her, never lingering in one sensitive place too long. He brushed his nose against her, shamelessly pushing against her folds and breathing her arousal in before one finger crooked into her panties to pull them away.

“Look at that, Mase.” He kissed her lips, flicking his tongue over her clit just to hear her beg for more. “Your pretty cunt is soaking wet, baby.” Another smile crowded into his voice as a finger trailed between her lips in featherlight touches only to pull away and stick that finger in his mouth, shamelessly humming at the taste of her on his fingertip.

His cock ached to fill her. To flood her. But he was determined to resist, intent to tease her just as throughly as she’d spent the night teasing him. But, it occurred to him as he shifted and she thrilled at the signature sound of his buckle coming undone and his trousers being unzipped, that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel her.

It was Isaac’s turn to shiver, lightheaded with arousal at the sight of his cock brushing over her swollen lips. Her juices coated the head of him, leaving him shiny even in the dark.

“Zac,” she pleaded and he chuckled darkly. “I need you.”

“This what you need, baby?” He teased, pressing himself against her hole only to pull away. “You need me to fill your hungry pussy?” He did it again, huffing an amused breath at her mounting irritation. “You need my cock in you, baby?”

“Yes, damnit!” She cursed and he laughed, pulling completely away and tapping at her hip in a silent gesture she knew meant to turn over. He needed to see her face.

Backing away even further, he stroked himself, watching as she moved. She was perfect. Every curve of her body. He’d never loved anything more than every inch of the mother of his children. She watched him carefully, her own mouth watering at the sight of his stroking.

“Suck it,” he commanded, stepping to the edge of the bed to get closer to her greedy mouth. “Suck it and then maybe I’ll decide to fuck you.”

He laughed again at the way her eyes narrowed in silent challenge. He loved their life. Their games. Even after all the years they still found ways to play.

Maisy’s hand reached out to smack Isaac’s hand away from his cock so he used both hands to curl into her hair. She wasn’t tentative or shy when she took him into her mouth and he didn’t hold back when his fingers tightened to hold her head still and fuck her throat. “That’s it, baby. My beautiful cocksucker.” He groaned at her enthusiasm as her nails dug into his ass.

The sight of his cock disappearing between her full lips and her green eyes, brimming with wetness, staring up at him nearly sent him over the edge and he held the grip in her hair when he pulled his dick away from her, chuckling as her hands reached to keep him close.

“You did good.” He bent to kiss her deep, careful to angle himself out of her greedy reach. “Get your ass on the bed.”

Delighted, she complied, scrambling back to plant herself on her back and running her hands across her toned thighs as they fell open to expose his prize.

Not bothering to remove her panties he simply pushed them further to the side, adjusting both of their bodies to watch his cock disappear inside of his wife. All of his instincts screamed to make love. To hold her and kiss her and cum deep inside but the other side of him wasn’t done with her yet.

Maisy smiled when his hand found her neck. His hungry mouth found her nipple, drinking deeply of her sweetness and holding himself still inside her. Her hands brushed his biceps, his shoulders, his back and then drifted lower, trying to pull him into her.

“Needy girl,” he whispered against her lips with a single hard thrust that made the headboard hit the bedroom wall. Maisy gasped and then groaned in frustration when she realized there wasn’t any more. “What is it, baby?” He faked concern backing up just enough to give her a mockingly sympathetic look. “What’s wrong with my girl?”

“You fucking dick,” she ground out through a half smile. She hated it as much as she loved it. Her nails dug into his ass and she tried to pull him closer. “Give it to me.”

Another single thrust that had his cock head poking her cervix and undoubtedly disturbed the neighbors. He pulled back again, smiling at her beneath him. “There.”

“Fuck!” she cursed, all but spitting in rage. “Fuck! Me!”

It was easier to believe the Captain was some version of him than it was to think the Phoenix could ever be his Maisy. The Captain, though, dragged his heavy body to the coffee station and waited patiently for a hot, dark brew in an alliance issued T-shirt with signature sweaty patches between his shoulders and loose running shorts. It was comforting to think that some things never changed.

“Morning, Captain.”

The older man stilled, apparently not expecting another person in the space even though they were both up way before their shifts started and both had drifted to the most remote location with a coffee maker after intentionally avoiding each other on matching morning runs.

“Admiral,” the older man said without looking at him, waiting for his coffee to fill his cup in more way than one. “Trust you’ve been comfortable during your stay.”

“Comfortable as can be,” the Admiral waved a dismissive hand. There was only so much to ask of the bare bones ship. Having his wife in his too small, too hard bed made up for a lot. “How are you, Captain?”

The older man with a lesser rank didn’t open his mouth to answer until after he’d sat down across from his mirror self. Anyone else would have gotten a preprogrammed answer. Something captainy. Something formal. But it seemed pointless to play political games with the Admiral. The man had been nothing but brutally honest since he showed up. “I’m grateful for your presence. We really need all the help we can get.”

“That’s not what I asked,” the admiral fixed him with a flat look.

“Tired,” the captain answered. “Mostly. Also somewhat… horrified.”

The younger man huffed a low chuckle. There was a lot to be horrified about in this world he didn’t belong to. “Understandable.” He sobered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m sorry about Arcturus. About all of them.”

He didn’t dare say the word soldiers for fear it would make it too real for them both. If they really were the same then the Captain wore his dead on his shoulders just the same, even if no one else could see them they were always there.

“Me too,” came the solemn reply.

The admiral watched the older man sip his steaming mug, leaving his own untouched. “You know we’re going to win this, right?”

The captain sighed, trying his hardest to recall the self assurance he was certain he must have had at one point. “I know we must.” He wasn’t sure at what point hope had become such an exercise in imagination.

“We will,” the admiral insisted, his tone leaving no room for confusion. “Now don’t take this the wrong way but far as I can tell all you’ve got is this rickety old boat and a super solider- which I still think is fucked up, by the way. But I have a home. A family. Children. Their grand mother. Their aunt. Their cousins. A life.” His fist hit the table harder than he meant to. “And nothing, not even your reapers, are keeping me from getting back to them.”

The captain tipped his head, a silent acknowledgment layered with respect. He envied the younger man for many reasons, too many to linger on, but found himself bothered by something. “The Phoenix,” he started. “The Huntsman,” he finished.

“It’s not as surprising as you’d think. He’s a good man.”

“He’s not exactly a man,” the admiral countered.

“Listen, son.” The captains sigh was heavy. “Every once in a while you get lucky enough to learn that you don’t know anything. I know how you feel but believe me when I tell you generalizations help no one.”

The men stared each other down from across the small table before the captain sighed and rubbed at his forehead like he was hurting. “They’re not just Phoenix. They’re men,” he said. “Men who’ve been through more than the both of us combined and then more shit than that. At least while you’re here, I need to ask you to respect what they’ve been through, even if you can’t respect them.”

The admiral sat back in his chair, considering the captains argument and realizing that he truly didn’t know much about the Phoenix experience at all. “Alright then,” he answered curtly.

The thought pulled him from his half sleep as he noticed the warmth and soft skin that was missing. Not bothering to dress, Isaac pulled his feet to the cold metal floor to find her.

She faced the viewport. Stunning in only his old T-shirt but gripping the necklace with their children’s initials the way she only did when she was nervous. Stepping silently with bare feet he slid behind her to wrap her in his arms again. She sighed, a contented if not desperate sound, as her head fell back against his solid chest.

“They’ll be okay,” he murmured, already well aware of the worries kept his wife from their bed.

“I know,” she answered confidently. But still her eyes closed. “But meeting Luc-“ She paused, hesitating, carefully rearranging her words. “Is that what our Lucas will be like?”

As much as Isaac loved Luc, and he did - he couldn’t help it - he hoped it wasn’t true. “No.” He said with more confidence than he felt. “The kid is too serious. He’s seen too much.” He bent to press a kiss to what he could reach of her furrowed brow. “Our boy isn’t going to be a soldier. I want more for him than this. He deserves it.”

Her sigh was small. She wasn’t sure, even though she wanted to be. “I hope you’re right.”

A teasing tone filled the Admiral’s voice as his hands drifted lower toward the hem of his old shirt that looked better on her. “I’m always right.” He’d never tire of the feel of her. The lean muscle covered in soft olive skin. The curves of her thighs as he brushed his fingers over them and up her sides. The comforting weight of her breasts as he cupped them in his hands, shamelessly dragging the shirt up, exposing her to the empty viewport. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples and the same arousal that stiffened them at his touch stiffened him too. “Right now I want you to stop worrying about home. We’re here to make sure they have nothing left to worry about and we will get the job done.” He squeezed at her, missing the milk that made her tissues heavy and dripping with sweet cream. “Because that’s what we do.”

“Yes, Sir,” came her teasing reply.

-

Isaac never lasted long the first round. Stamina went out the window at the sights sounds and sensations of this goddess he was blessed enough to call his wife. He’d finished deep inside her in minutes, coating her insides and hoping it’d take as she cradled his hungry mouth to her chest and pleaded for more.

The slopping sounds of his dick pulling out of her only made him hungry and he moved between her legs just as fast. She glistened with their combined mess. Her soft pink lips were swollen and her precious nub erect. She gasped then cursed as his lips locked around it.

Her hands buried in his thick hair, encouraging him to continue as he licked and sucked at her clit, teasing her wet folds with his fingertips as he gathered the cream dripping out of her only to taste it off his fingertips and hum a deeply satisfied sound.

With the combined delays of military transport and a debriefing that could not have ended fast enough, Isaac bit back a weary sigh as he finally approached the farmhouse. Where he’d normally be skipping two steps at a time just to go hug his mother, he took each one of them slowly, listening to the aged creaking of the old wood. It sounded the way his bones had felt since the day he left Sydney.

The whitewashed front door showed its age, creaking open on ancient hinges as he entered. “Ma. I’m home,” he called out. Another sigh left him at the word home. Home. It felt ridiculous to say it now and all he could think of was the way his own hot tears dripped down his face with the last time that Mason was inside him. That was his home. This place was just where the ever aging solider had grown up.

Too tired to haul his pack up the stairs and afraid he might lay face down on his comic book sheets and decide to stay there indefinitely, the paladin set them on the wooden floor boards, leaning them unceremoniously against the banister to the massive staircase that led to the upper floor. “Ma?” He called again. Though he was pretty sure death itself couldn’t get his hands on Mara Cerrillo, some part of his chest twinged in a whole new way in response to the silence. He’d already lost everything that mattered. It’d be a cruel stroke of fate to lose her too.

“Ma! Ya there?” He called up the stairs, hoping she’d pop her head around the corner and chastise his hollering. But nothing.

He headed, legs aching and feet heavy with combat boots, to the only other place she was likely to be, though he wouldn’t let himself think of how disturbed the twinge in his chest was. “Ma, where in the heck-“

“Hush now, boy. There’s no need to be screaming. I’m not deaf yet.”

Isaac finally cracked a sad smile at her sass before he hugged her. She smelled like butter cookies and herbal tea, just the way he remembered and struggled to meet her eyes when her small, weathered hand reached for his gaunt face. “Don’t look so down, son. A homecoming is supposed to be a happy thing, Mijo.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes that Isaac didn’t have the energy to guess at. He only sighed, “yeah.”

“Do me a favor, now, darling. Grab my coffee cup from the kitchen?” She gestured behind her, through the swinging shutters to the farmhouse heart and only smiled when his face twisted to a silent question. She patted him on his wide shoulder, smiling at something he couldn’t understand, though he knew enough to know that she was up to something. “I feel a need for fresh air.”

Mara squeezed her son’s hand, a silent reassurance, before whisking past him to the front door.

He waited, listening to the creak of the old floorboards before all the relief he had drained out of his bones again. Coffee wasn’t the worst idea and the thought made him cross to the doors of the kitchen, only looking for her cup alone on one of the countertops when he finally entered. But the cup was forgotten when brown met steel green. His heart reacted before his mind, fluttering, skipping a beat, then pounding against his rib cage before his thoughts caught up.

“I don’t, Sir,” Isaac answered honestly. He was fairly certain that punishment didn’t come with six figure salaries and command of an entire defense fleet at the Galaxy Alliance’s premier station. Isaac had grown up on Arcturus, just as much or maybe more, than he had grown up under the Terra Nova sun. 

“Still.” Hackett’s weary sigh betrayed him. He didn’t want to be assigning young officers to positions that until fairly recently were held by old friends. “I remember what it’s like. To wish you had boots on the ground.” He turned away from the viewport, glancing at Isaac, who straightened without thinking. “This life isn’t for everyone.”

Isaac paused, processing the Fleet Admiral’s meaning before responding in a classically calm manner. “I understand, Sir.” A heartbeat. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, Son.”

-

The newly minted Rear Admiral had spent the walk to the docks reminding himself that it would be inappropriate for him to hold Commander Maisy Knight’s hand. He’d forgotten all about the shining bar pinned proudly to his chest until her painted fingertips grazed it and all he could do was wish away every scrap of fabric still between them.

He tried to downplay her accolades and congratulations, insisting the promotion a matter of logistical vacancies rather than merits, but she wouldn’t have it. Not wanting to spend their ever too-short time together in petty squabbles, he acquiesced with a quiet thank you as they walked, near shoulder to shoulder, to the small block of high rise apartments turned officer’s quarters he’d inherited from his father years before. Though, admittedly, he spent most of the stroll wishing he could hold her hand.

-

He’d made her one of his favorite childhood meals: paella straight from his grandmother’s ancient cookbook. But it was the stolen kisses and longing, loving looks, the tender touches between them as she sat next to him on the kitchen counter while he flitted back and forth chopping and sauteing and stirring and always offering her another taste. 

“Ma always grew the saffron flowers in her garden. She’d raise hell if anyone touched them before the fall harvest.” Isaac chuckled to himself at the memories of his mother cursing him, his father, the farm hands and anyone else who dared to mess with her crocus flowers before their yearly bloom. He smiled at the memories, well aware of Maisy watching him while he tossed a few strands of the potent, precious spice into the dish he’d spent so long on. “I promise it’s worth the wait.” “I’m not worried about the wait,” she offered simply with an honesty that never failed to wash over the young officer like a breath of Terra Nova’s fresh air. 

It was too easy to get used to the neverending rush of Alliance responsibility, the ever-impending sense of too much to do and never enough time to get it all done. He was grateful, more so every day, for the way all the clocks seemed to stop when she was here with him.

Isaac popped a lid on top of the wide paella pan and slipped himself between Maisy’s legs, delighted to find a complete lack of resistance. Keeping his hands firmly to himself, he leaned to kiss her impossibly soft cheek, to savor the scent of her freshly washed hair. “Twenty minutes to chow.” His heart nearly stopped beating in his chest when her pale green eyes flashed to his with a small smile fit to her full, tinted lips. 

“Whatever shall we do while we wait?” she teased, reaching out to tangle their fingers together and pulling him closer.

“It’s your call, Ma’am. I just work here,” he teased back, grazing his lips against her brow.

-

He wasn’t sure if it was the authentic home cooking still warm in his belly or the taste of Maisy still rich on his tongue, but Isaac hadn’t felt so full or satisfied in months. 

“That was bloody delicious, Zac,” Maisy sighed and let herself relax back into the soft sofa. 

The six pack might have been lost underneath the swell of her growing belly but Maisy still had every bit of the Special Ops grip. Her left hand with a sparkling, vintage, real Earth diamond wound tight in his bed-wild hair. Her other hand held one of her breasts. She clutched at her chest as if it might hold her together when he had every intention of being the reason she fell apart.

He chuckled against her skin, lapping with long, flat licks of his wet tongue across her slick folds and humming with vulgar enjoyment at the taste of her even as she trembled around and beneath him. His lips locked onto her swollen bud and he began to suck on her at the same time two of his thick fingers slipped inside of her tight heat. If heaven was real he was certain it existed between his wife’s thighs. It didn’t take long for his exploratory touches, fingertips brushing against her sensitive inner walls, and greedy mouth to wrest another release from her aching body.

The gush of her juices against his chin, the way she tensed, shook and then froze, it all made the throbbing in his own loins that much harder. He kissed her with that slick mouth, smiling around the kiss as she did her best to lick his tongue clean while one hand reached between them, first to graze the flawless swell of her flawless form, then to grasp himself at his own thick base, lining their bodies up for joining. Between her arousal and his own dripping precum, stirred no doubt by the way he rubbed himself against the comic book character printed sheets of his childhood bed while he brought her to orgasm again and again, her body welcomed him in a way that could only be called coming home.

Happy to fit just the tip of his length in her first, he used his considerable strength to adjust their bodies. The pregnancy had changed a lot about their lives but the way it forced them to find new positions would never be a bother. He smiled down at her, cock still throbbing inside of her, as he pulled her legs to his shoulders and her jeweled hand grazed through the light fuzz on his belly.

They exchanged their, “I love you”s just before the paladin’s grip hardened, pulling his wife’s thighs at the same time his hips thrust forward, burying himself as deep as possible before pulling almost entirely back out again. Isaac was shameless in his affections. He kissed her foot, an ankle, nipped lightly with sharp teeth at her tense calves while his fingers dug would be bruises into her smooth, still muscled thighs. His free hand rubbed her belly, rested there, grazed up to hold and squeeze her swollen breasts, tease her darkened nipples, close around her throat just before another orgasm rocked through them both.

“You’re the love of my life, Mase,” he panted through his final, brutal thrusts as Maisy breathed his nickname over and over again. He all but collapsed, grateful for whatever strength was left in his arms, holding himself above her without squishing his wife or their growing children when every other part of his infamous bulwark resolve had left. Their kiss was deep and warm, though both of them pulled away finally, just to pant for more breath in the humidity of the stifling heat their bodies had created inside the small room.

The paladin had been known for being immovable, had been in combat situations that required every bit of his stoic unflinching strength for hours on end. Sometimes the act of wanting was simply just not an option in his line of work. But there had been no special forces training or arguably heroic resolve needed to wrap himself around her and remain that way for the duration of their first night on Terra Nova.

He’d never looked forward to shore leave as much as he had in the months since Maisy Knight first asked him to breakfast. But even the times they’d spent traversing the galaxy since that first date couldn’t stack up to this one. 

Isaac’s dark eyes traced the lines of her face, reveling in the sight and scent and feel of her warm body tucked against him. Maisy had earned every one of her stripes and the captain had been careful to keep his intentions for their long break away from the surface as much as he could manage. She was more than intelligent. She was clever. Curious. Insightful and incredibly hard to fool. All traits he deeply admired but ones that added new levels of strategy to his secret proposal.

A free hand drifted to brush against her belly, thanking whatever creator might possibly exist for the gift of life blooming inside of her, but the movement made her stir. Her delicate hand found his and a small, proud smile fit her full lips as they both held their hands over her growing womb. As inappropriate as his logic might dictate it, his body responded, cock stiffening at her back.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he uttered without thinking and then smiling at her smile widening even before her stunning green eyes fluttered open.

“I love you, Isaac Cerrillo,” she murmured with a certainty untethered by her voice still thick from sleep.

Keeping his hand over the place where his seed was blooming to life inside of her, Isaac adjusted himself, letting his stiffness settle against the curve of her soft, bare ass to press a trail of kisses along shoulder to her exposed neck. “I love you too, my Maisy,” he whispered back. The day’s long travel to Terra Nova had left his stubble prominent and it tickled the shell of her ear when he pressed his nose into her hair to breathe her in, unconsciously tugging her body even closer. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Mmm.” Her pleased hum made his heart sing. “Best I’ve slept in a while.” 

She shifted, just barely, but just enough and his attention shifted too. She must have sensed his inner turmoil because it was her hand that pulled his to cover her exposed breast. He might have felt embarrassed about the sound of the breath that left him when her tightened, darkening nipple brushed his open palm, but his hand flexed instinctively, cupping her soft breast while his mouth fell back to her neck. She smelled like Terra Nova sunshine and he nipped at her skin gently in an attempt to dissuade his baser urges.

“Know what would make it even better?” She teased and a smile flashed through her grey-green eyes.

“Pancakes and bacon but I promise you, Ma is already working on that,” he teased back. Her increasing appetite was no doubt tugging at her after the prior day’s chaos that was interplanetary transportation. They’d gotten in so late that Mara had only pushed them up the stairs, citing the need to get her grandbabies some rest and relaxation so that the family could catch up over breakfast in the morning.

But Maisy’s other appetite was also growing and the way she shifted, again, against Isaac left no doubt about how wet and ready her supple body had already been for his desire. “You’re not leaving this bed just yet, Captain. And that’s an order.”

Isaac’s warm chuckle reverberated through them both and with an ease he’d never felt in his life, his body responded to her, a simple shift of his weight to line his throbbing erection with the soft heat between her legs. 

A memory of their first time flashed through him as her body parted to accept him. He never thought it would actually happen but, still, every fiber of him wanted this. To claim her this way. To tie them together this way. It mattered more than the sparkling vintage band in the bedside drawer but traditionalists do as traditionalists do and it didn’t diminish a damn thing to know that they’d created two new heartbeats from their love.

“I love you so much, Mase,” Isaac told her with a voice raw and dripping with emotion as much as desire.