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When you had told Bruno you were running out of clay, it had more been a gentle notification to let him know you’d be gone for the day. You didn’t think he was going to view it as an invitation .
“I’ll come with you!”
You furrow your brow, pausing in your careful decoration of a plant pot you’d finished firing yesterday. It’s Isabela’s birthday soon, and you know her favourite cactus has just outgrown its last one.
“Are you sure, mi amor? ”
Bruno nods, enthusiastic.
“Of course! I don’t want you to go on your own.”
You get your clay from a natural deposit in the mountains. It’s a bit of a trek to get there, but you find it throws the best. The only thing is, it’s a whole day’s round trip - you’d need to set out at dawn and you wouldn’t be back before dark. It’s a long trek through the jungle too.
It’s not that you don’t want Bruno with you - far from it really, you’d love his company - but the journey is demanding. And after spending ten years in the walls, you’re not a hundred percent sure he’d physically be able to take it.
Then again, Mirabel had told you stories about how agile he’d been when she first went to seek him out, so maybe you’d be surprised.
“Only if you’re sure. I’ll be bringing some cocadas blancas Julieta made so if I get injured it doesn’t matter. And Dolores offered to take out her earplugs, so she can hear if I really need help.”
Bruno frowns.
“You can see why I don’t love my wife telling me she wants to go on a journey where she might get hurt alone? ”
You laugh, getting up from your work and walking over to him. When you take Bruno’s face in your hands to kiss him you leave a swipe of green paint on his cheek.
“Okay, okay. I’ll tell Dolores to leave her earplugs in. Will you be ready to go at dawn?”
He’s as good as his word. You stay at your old house again that night - you have better lamplight to paint there than at the casita, and you don’t want to risk Isabela seeing her gift - and when you wake up just before the sun spreads across the Encanto , Bruno is knocking on your door.
You grin when you see him. He’s the perfect combination of cute and handsome, in his ruana with a sombrero vueltiao perched on his curls. He has a bag at his side, which is good - you told him to pack thoroughly but lightly for the journey.
“Morning, mi vida, ” you whisper, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before grabbing your own kit. As well as a satchel you have two empty hessian bags which you’ll use to pack the clay into and bring it back down. Hand in hand, the two of you head off into the jungle.
The path is pretty well-beaten to start with, often used by the children when they’re chasing each other and playing, so it’s not particularly difficult to traverse. It’s very early though, and you’re tired. Luckily, Bruno had the forethought to bring a flask of black coffee with him, which you gratefully accept and swig on the way.
“How often do you do this journey?” Bruno asks, squinting past the early morning sun and into the mountains. You shrug.
“I guess it depends how good business is. I can usually get a couple of months’ worth in a journey, but last time I went Luisa came too. She pretty much brought down half the mountain, so I haven’t needed to go for a while now.”
You smile at the fond memory, and the widening eyes of the villagers when Luisa brought down a pile of clay over twice her height.
Bruno glances at the bags on your back.
“Oh man, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to carry as much as her.”
You laugh and press a kiss to Bruno’s jaw.
“I can come back, you know. The thing about clay is it does form more.”
Bruno hums, still not enthusiastic about the idea of you going alone, and you keep going. As the sun gets higher, you break for breakfast, spreading a blanket on the floor where you can find a natural clearing in the trees. Bruno basks in the wamrth as you bring his manuscript out of your side satchel.
“You told me to pack light and you brought that?” he laughs.
“Well, yeah! I’m hooked, Bruno! I need to know if Alejandro gets his memory back in time to save his sister from the rising tide!”
Your husband grins as you start ranting about theories you have for how the plot will resolve. It’s hard not to get addicted to Bruno’s writing. He has such a way with words, for telling stories. It’s kind of hard to believe this is the first time he’s tried writing a book, it’s so gripping.
He indulges you in your spiel as you get up and continue the journey, not cracking when you try to interrogate him about the ending. When you realise it’s the one thing Bruno won’t give in to you over, you continue your walk with light chit-chat. It’s amazing how quickly the time passes when you’re not on your own, and just after midday you hear the sound of running water.
“Ah, we’re here!”
You run on ahead to the where the natural flow of water cuts through the jungle. Yep, there’s your clay deposit - cut into the riverbank, shining and ready for harvest. You grab your trowel and dump your satchel at a safe distance, getting to work filling your carrying bags.
“Be careful!” Bruno calls, watching the way you slip off your shoes so you can get into the stream.
“Oh yeah, it’s definitely going to carry me away,” you say, looking at the foot and a half of water you’re standing in. Bruno huffs good-naturedly and sits down on the grass nearby, watching you work.
“Do you need my help?”
“Nah, just keep me company.”
Your husband watches with rapt interest as you dig through the earth, patting it down into your bags.
“It’s amazing how you can turn this into… well, everything,” he says, genuinely impressed. “You’re incredible, you know.”
You blush, and your stomach growls. Huh. It is past lunchtime.
“If you want to be helpful, you can feed me some of the tamales I packed. Oh, and keep reading me your book! I got to chapter twenty-two.”
Bruno is more than happy to oblige, one hand feeding you bites of food so you don’t have to touch it with your muddy fingers, the other hand flipping through the manuscript. He comes alive when he's reading, doing all the voices and keeping you on the edge of your metaphorical seat. By the time he’s done with the chapter, you’re done with your harvesting.
“You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger every single time!” you complain.
“Keeps you coming back though, doesn’t it?”
His grin is cat-like and you stick out your tongue at him. Hauling your bags of fresh clay onto the grass, you look down at yourself.
“Oh damn. I got kinda dirty, huh?”
An idea forms. You grin.
Bruno groans. He knows what that means.
“You’re grinning again. What are you going to do?”
“Oh, nothing. Come with me, there’s something I want to show you.”
He’s powerless against your angelic smile, so follows you as you head upstream for a bit after you wash the worst of the clay from your arms, turning off where the water naturally forks. You can feel the heat rise as you head towards your destination.
There it is: secluded from the rest of the waterway, the natural hot spring.
You start to strip.
“I found this place a couple of years ago when I was out here on my own. It’s the perfect place to clean off, don’t you think?”
Bruno can’t respond, his eyes wide as you make a show of shimmying out of your skirt, pulling your bra off over your head. You drop your panties to the floor and step out of them, walking into the warm water.
It’s always nice, the effect your naked body has on your husband. You relax against the natural bubbles. It’s not a very deep pool, comfortable for you to stand in; you walk back a little ways and crook your finger at Bruno.
“Are you joining me, hermoso?”
The answer is, of course, as always: yes. Bruno can’t get out of his clothes fast enough, muttering under his breath about you being some sort of temptress. You can’t help but agree, but isn’t it fun?
His cock already rising, Bruno slips into the water and hums at the warm feeling against his skin. You can feel yourself becoming flushed: both from the heat, and from the way he’s staring at you.
“You know,” he mutters, as you walk into his embrace, “some people,” a kiss on your clavicle, “might say,” a kiss on your neck, “that you’re a bad influence,” a kiss on your jaw.
“Oh really? I think others might say I’m a wonderful influence.” You give him a kittenish smile which encourages him to kiss you on the mouth this time. You hum against the warmth of his lips, opening your mouth to run your tongue across them.
You gasp when you feel his fingers stroke between your legs, your eyes wide. Bruno chuckles.
“Oh, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, mi amor? ”
You wrap your arms around Bruno’s neck, pulling him back so you can lean against the side of the pool with him, rocks supporting you as Bruno hooks one of your legs over his hip. You feel him grind his cock up against your entrance but forgo entering you with it, instead returning his clever hands there.
“ Ah, ” you whisper, when he gently presses inside you with two fingers. Under the water, the sensation is strange, but not unpleasant - especially when he begins to crook them inside you.
You bite gently at the skin between Bruno’s neck and shoulder, your hand coming to find his hard cock. You swipe your thumb over the head, grinning at the way his breaths stutter at the feeling.
“ Mi amor, ” he growls, his voice low and dangerously rocky. Carefully you pump at his length, sliding your hand up and down the hot skin, occasionally switching to caress his sac and make him moan. In return, Bruno adds another digit, pressing up into you to the knuckle. He fucks you with his fingers in earnest, thumb seeking out your clit and rubbing hard.
You let out a little mewl of appreciation at the attention and still your progress on him, too selfishly wrapped up in the feeling of the bubbling water and the attention on your cunt. When you manage to take him in hand again Bruno gently pushes you away.
“No,” he whispers against your lips, “you first.”
You’re too pleasure-struck to argue back about it. You lean into your husband’s hand, feeling every movement he makes, every way he bends his fingers to hit that spot inside, and come onto him with a bitten-off cry. Bruno lets you ride out your orgasm on his palm, heavy-lidded at the reaction he gains from you.
“I could watch that face over and over,” he murmurs. Finally getting your wits about you, you take his cock in your hand.
“Let me swallow you,” you beg. Bruno’s eyes roll back as he realises he’s going to give you anything you ask for. Gently manoeuvring himself, Bruno sits on the edge of the rock pool, letting you take him in your mouth in earnest. The fingers of one hand gentlyrun through your tangled hair, the other he uses to support himself as he leans back, taking in the pleasure of your throat.
It doesn’t take long. You feel the saltiness of precome flood your mouth, and when you tongue at the slit of his cock, your husband releases onto it.
You do as you promise, swallowing his seed, grinning through heavy-lidded eyes as Bruno lies back in the sun, recovering.
“So you’re coming with me next time, too?” you ask, tracing invisible patterns on his leg with the tip of a finger.
“ Mi corazón late por ti . I’d go with you wherever you asked me to, mi vida. This is just an added bonus.”
You laugh as you pull yourself out of the water, before it’s cut off when you suck in a gasp of pain. Bruno’s eyes fly open, all bliss gone, replaced by panic.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” you say, waving away his worries, “just a pain in my abdomen. I’m due on any day now, is all.”
In fact, you’re late. Only by a couple of days. Nothing to worry about.
Bruno’s brow creases in concern, but he nods at your explanation.
“Come on, if we start now maybe we can be home in time for dinner,” you tell him.
Bruno manages a smile for you, but as soon as you turn away, you don’t see the worry that once again floods his face.