Chapter Text
‘John?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Are you awake?’
‘No.’
He heard her laugh. Her amusement, even just the sound of it, never ceased to lift his lips into a smile. And then her hand was at his cheek and stroking down along the silky softness of his beard; the beard she had insisted he grow back again not long after their wedding, preferring it to the scraping of his stubbled chin against her skin. His eyes flickered open and he tried to focus in the almost total darkness, with only the barest sliver of a waning crescent moon to illuminate their bedroom.
‘The baby is asleep,’ she whispered, nuzzling her nose into his hair, her breath against his ear causing little sparks to ignite his innate desire for her.
‘I know. That’s why we should be too,’ he said, pretending to be unaffected by her, but her fingers were trailing little circles upon his shoulder, then to his chest, from one side – very slowly – to the other. And now, her fingertips wandered further south still … to his stomach to idly play there for a moment before continuing their meandering …
His mind had travelled to where he wanted to touch her. His lips twitched as he imagined nibbling little kisses from her ankles to the sensitive place behind her knees that made her giggle as his beard tickled. And then as he journeyed north, and his lips reached the inside of her thigh her giggles would turn to sighs, and she would push her hands through his hair, her fingernails roughly scraping his scalp.
He murmured his contentment. Life was good. So good he almost had to pinch himself that he wasn’t dreaming. He barely recognised the man he had been before Margaret had chosen to love him, and had cast her light upon his dismal solitary existence. She had transformed his world to one of kindness, friendship and affection generously given and received.
He raised himself onto his elbow to face his wife who was just a shadowy shape in the inky blackness of their bed, but his mouth instinctively found hers. He pulled her to him so that she might entwine herself with him in their sometimes gentle and comforting, sometimes fierce and passionate, dance of love.
Gurgles from the cradle at the foot of the bed turned into whimpers that swiftly escalated into a lusty cry.
Margaret disentangled herself from her husband and lay on her back with a huff.
‘He can’t see us,’ said John, attempting to continue the seduction his wife had started.
‘I can’t,’ she said.
John sighed and flopped onto his back.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said guiltily.
She heard him give short laugh. She could imagine his smirk, and then her hand was enveloped in his.
‘Don’t be daft. Our boy just has peculiar timing. Me and him will have to have words; man to man,’ he said, then got out of bed and tenderly picked up his son to calm him. But a cuddle in his father’s familiar arms wasn’t enough to pacify the little mite, and John brought him into bed so that Margaret could feed him.
Margaret lay in her husband’s embrace, their baby at her breast, and it was all too much. She felt her emotions rising, as they often did at times like this.
‘You're crying again,’ he said with wonder, and he wiped away her tears with his fingers.
‘I can’t help it,’ she laughed, feeling a bit silly. She couldn’t seem to put into words the overflowing of feelings she had, that manifested as tears spilling from her eyes. She was simply too full of love.
‘I know. I love you,’ he whispered into her hair, and she turned her face to him, to kiss him her reply.
~~~ The End ~~~