Things were so much different these days, you and Khan were married now, not just ambiguously flirting around in the office and sneaking quickies in his office.
You two were officially married.
You were a Mrs. - a fact that still left you reeling and blushing like a schoolgirl even if it’d been a few months. It was so seldom that you took your ring off that you had tan lines on your ring finger and the only today had you realized it, since you’d taken it off so that it wouldn’t tear at your rubber cleaning gloves.
Even then you had it dangling from a delicate silver chain about your neck, the delicate diamond set in the gold band catching the light and sending it scattering all over the kitchen.
Everything is feeling like a warm hazy dream these days, you weren’t working at the office as much, you didn’t mind as much as you would’ve a few months before. You only ever really came in for a day or two, never staying long.
Most of your time away from the office had been spent straightening up Khan’s house, you’d told him sternly you weren’t about to be living in a mancave and he’s capitulated with surprising ease
Now that you two had settled into a comfortable routine (Him leaving in the mornings, you going to have lunch with him and eventually spending the evenings together) you were willing to tackle the next thing that was on your mind.
You were afraid of asking for it outright, afraid he’d be uncomfortable with your probing. Uncomfortable with how eager you were to have a child so soon in your marriage. Now the two of you may not have always used condoms in your sexual escapades but you were on birth control so you were willing to let it slide. But the more you thought of it the more it got to you and your ahem, fantasies were starting to get to you. It’d gotten to the point where you couldn’t even sleep in peace, your dreams taunting you with the tantalizing prospect of your Husband fucking you thoroughly enough to make a mother out of you. Christ it was terrible to wake up sweaty and aching only to have to choke it down because you didn’t want to be inconsiderate and wake up your husband.
You’d had enough.
Tonight was the night that you’d swallow your shame and be honest about it, you’d tell him just how you felt. Your stomach felt a little queasy as you stood up, nervous excitement mingling with your uneasy optimism. He’d be home in an hour and a half, more than enough time for you to clean yourself up a little and get the table set for dinner so you set yourself to doing that instead.
You hear his key in the lock as you’re shrugging a housecoat over the light blue lace babydoll that he’d bought you as a wedding present. You suppress the shiver of anticipation and surprise as you trot to open the door, voice light and cordial,
“Hi Honey how was work today?”
You greet him as usual, a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug as he pulls off his jacket. He hugs you back once his arms are free, squeezing you tight against him so he can plant a slow kiss on your mouth. You sigh against him, feeling warmth run through you as his hands stroke lazily over your back, facial hair tickling you lightly every time your lips come together.
“I’m glad to be home,”
He smiles, voice breathy and you beam up at him, hands on his wrists as you drag him into the kitchen. He falls into step behind you as you guide him to the threshold, a gasp leaving him as he sees the spread of food you’ve laid out. The table was set for two as usual with a candelabra in the center of the table providing warm firelight from three pink beeswax candles. (You’d heard that pink was a symbol of love and fertility) Khan takes his seat with a heavy relieved sigh.
“What the occasion? This all seems awful fancy for a Friday night,”
There’s a knowing twinkling in his eyes, an easy sort of teasing in his words as he fixed himself a plate. You followed along replying neutrally,
“Why not? I can’t spoil my husband sometimes?”
Khan takes a slow sip of his ice water before answering your question with a mirthful look and a slight chuckle that makes your chest bloom with heat,
“You want something in return huh?”
It turns out that your husband’s assumptions are correct and you end up pressed loving under his solid weight on the couch. His lips roaming your neck and shoulders, his big hands slipping under your housecoat, skimming the delicate lace of your babydoll. He kisses your jaw, thigh nudging your own apart to grind against you, making you sigh. He hushes you, peeling off the housecoat even when you whine. He laughs, asking what’s wrong through heavy breathes
“It was supposed to be a surprise…” You pout
He pecks you on the nose, thumbs rubbing just under your breasts. You can pout all you want but you know that you could never keep a secret with your husband. He rubs soothing circles with his thumbs, lips diving back in to nibble and kiss at your neck, knee moving a little more to keep up the pressure as you wiggled. The pressure is just enough to get a fire going in the pit of your belly, your hands grabbing at his shirt to pull him tight to you, pull him further down onto you so that his weight lays comfortably against you. The warm presence makes you sigh, lips seeking and finding his eagerly. The kiss is a little sloppy, broken by your breathy sighs and Khan’s low rumblings.
He kisses you once before pulling back to disrobe, keeping his eyes on you as he sat back on his haunches. He’s fumbling a little hastily, making short work of his tie and dress shirt - both of which end up in a heap along with his pants, belt, and socks. He’s half hard already and you reach to trace your fingers along the outline of him, it earns you a deep throaty sign and you lean up to kiss him full on the mouth. Your voice is light when you finally manage to say something,
“Le-Le’s go lay down,”
The journey to your shared bedroom is a clumsy one, but you two manage to make it there in one piece. You fall against the sheets, Khan falling right against you, his weight making you wheeze out a giggle between kisses. His facial hair tickles your neck as he turns his attention back to your pulse point, teeth nipping a little more firmly to get a rise out of you. It works and you squeal and giggle, hands beating at his chest. Whatever nervousness you had in you was melting now, eased away by the experienced hands of your husband. It seemed he could always get some type of rise out of you, whether it be a soft laugh or a moan.
His hands are roaming all over your clothed body, eagerly rubbing at you through the thin lace and slippery smooth silk. You sigh when he finally pulls your legs apart, your thighs parting willingly so he could rub at you through your panties. You reach a shaky hand down to grab at his wrist and guide his hand down under the elastic band of your underwear. Khan follows along, sighing soft nothings into your ear as he cups your sex with a heavy warm palm. The warmth pulls a soothed sigh from your lips and you nuzzle against his shoulder, arms coming up to grip him close as his fingers slowly work you open.
It was hardly needed, you were certain there was a dark wet patch in your pretty silk drawers when you two were making out on the couch but you didn’t fight it. It was in your husband’s nature to be courteous like this and you weren’t about to spoil the moment, that was until he asked you one simple question,
“What were you thinking of that got you this riled?”
You bite your tongue at that, legs closing shyly around his wrist and your face tucking even tighter against his collarbone. He notices immediately and his fingers pause in their movements and you can already tell he’s getting ready to ask you what’s wrong when you cut him off. Blurting it out before you have a chance to stop yourself or change your mind,
“I-I was thinking about w-wanting you to get me pregnant-”
There’s a tense pause that stretches on for a few minutes, Khan leans away from you so that he can look at you. Fingers withdrawing and laying flat against your stomach, he’s eyes are soft and dark as they try to catch yours but you refuse. You turn your head to try and avoid his gaze, ears burning red as the gravity of your admission settles in. This was stupid, this was the worst thing you could’ve done. He’s probably disgusted - God why could you have just lied? You’re ready to pry yourself out from under him when he gently pulls you back,
“Hey hey.” His voice is low, soft and warm as melted butter.
You manage to met his gaze, eyes glossy and teary, a sob threatening to bubble up through your throat. Your face is red hot with shame and you scrub away a few tears with the heel of your palm, determined not to cry. You see the pity in his eyes, and feel disgust coil in your stomach, God you feel so disgusting, so pathetic. Of course he’d say no, he didn’t want kids, that’s why he’d never had any, what made you think you were so special?
“Oh Princess-” Khan says gently, kissing your heated cheeks and wiping away whatever stray tears you failed to hold.
Gently he coaxes you into looking him in the eye, your eyes still a little red from crying, voice sniffly,
“I understand if you’re mad at me and if you don’t wanna-”
He shushes you with a soft kiss,
“Hey hey, it’s okay, you know I’d do anything to make you happy.”
You hiccup out a gasp at that, he’s being sincere, you can tell, he always gets a certain gleam in his eye when he’s telling the truth. That reassuring glint is in his eyes now and you feel your fear start to subside as his hands stroke your cheeks lovingly.
“You R-hic-Really mean that Khan?”
He chuckles a little at that, pecking you on the lips,
“Yes of course, you’re my Wife after all,”
He pauses to brush a few stray hairs behind your ear, hand cupping your cheek gently,
“I’d be a bad husband if I didn’t wanna…indulge you sometimes,”
You bite your lip and squirm a little, the low rumbling timbre of Khans voice has you back to your previous mood. The hand not on your cheek is sneaking it’s way back down your stomach, inching closer to the waistband of your panties. You lean up to kiss him, open mouthed and a little hesitant. There’s a warm haziness in your head as his fingers slip back inside, curling just right to make your thighs flinch.
The mood having sufficiently returned you were happy to pull down the waistband of Khan’s boxers. Just far enough down so that you could get your hands on him, stroking his cock slow and light. Khan breaks the kiss with a sigh, fingers pulling out of you and up to his waiting mouth. With baited breath you watch as he licks them clean of your taste, the simple - almost innocuous - action send hot shivers down your spine.
His tongue works over his fingers at a leisurely pace, eyes shut and a blissful sound rumbling out of him. You moan aloud at that, toes curling and hands fumbling to get your now soaked (and probably ruined) underwear off. You ball them up and toss them away, quickly turning attention back to getting into position.
You’re halfway into settling back against the pillows when Khan grunts and shakes his head. You pause, confused for a second until he makes it painful clear as his fingers sink into the soft skin of your hips,
Your jaw is slack as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s an unquestionable authority in his voice, and you don’t deny how much your toes curl upon hearing it. You jump to follow, rolling over so that your chest is cradled in the soft pillows and you’re wiggling your hips in front of him. It’s a teasing little gesture and Khan responds in kind, giving you a light love tap that makes you yelp and giggle. His fingers dig into your ass, soothing where he’d tapped,
He gruffs and you sigh, settling yourself fully into the soft embrace of the pillows beneath you. You do as you’re told, stay still and mostly quiet as you overhear him stroking himself, fingers slipping back inside of you with a few lazy strokes. It’s a little difficult to stay still but you manage, breathing slow and steady, face hidden in the crook of your elbow as you tried to pace yourself. Any ounce of trepidation you had going through you had melted away to a soothing, stirring warmth stoked by the measured, familiar movement of your Husband’s fingers.
His fingers are replaced with his cock in short order and you sigh at the pleasant, filling sensation. He drapes his body over yours before he starts to move his hips in shallow pulls that make you sigh and squirm. This isn’t quite the reaming you were hoping for but you weren’t going to complain, this was better than nothing. The angle is enough to get a rise out of you, as is the warm puff of breath that tickles against the shell of your ear.
“There’s a Good Girl.”
There’s something awfully primal and base about this position you realize, highlighted even more by how his hands dig into your hips. Guiding them against the pitch of his hips, he’s shifting up on his knees now, thrusting harder and rougher than you’re used. Khan is a gentle, generous kind of lover, lavishing attention on you, nary an inch of your skin left untouched or unpraised. You love this of course, but you won’t lie that you like this rougher side of him.
It feels like every hard snap of his hips has intent behind it, the intent to fill you up and make sure it takes. The thought of your fantasies finally being fulfilled has your thighs trembling and your voice faltering with keening and moans. You’re sure that if he were to really cum inside of you you’d be able to get off the feeling alone. Even thinking about it has gooseflesh running over your back where his broad chest is pressed, a tingling, coiling pressure building in you.
The sensation is awfully familiar and you teeter on the edge, knowing that any one of his now sloppy thrusts could be the one. He’s panting things you can’t quite make out but you’re sure that it’s things that would make you blush to the tips of your ears. His grip tightens enough to be painful and his hips are clearly shuttering as he presses hilt-deep, and, with little ceremony, cums inside of you.
You almost sob in relief at the warm sensation of his cum inside of you. Your own orgasm making you clench around him, ensuring that milk all you can out of him. The warmth settles in you and you sigh audibly, not ashamed anymore now that your desires were known to the both of you. Cold air prickles against your back as your Husband peels himself off of you and flops onto the bed beside you. You’re all too happy to join him, cheek pressed against the pillow, hair still sticking to your forehead as you snuggle yourself under the grasp of Khan’s arm.
Silence lapses between you, punctuated only by the heaving breathes you two exchange. You’re the first one to speak up, voice a little halting and shy,
“S-So what kind of names do you have in mind?”