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When Bruno wakes up, you’re in his arms, his new infant daughter is in her crib across the room, and all's right with the world.
A baby’s snuffle breaks through the quiet of the morning snoozing. His head shoots up, instantly, on high alert - but the casita begins to rock her slowly, moving her gently one way and then the other. Her noises calm and she sleeps fitfully again.
He looks down. Your hair is splayed out over the pillow. Even in sleep you look exhausted, but perfect. He wonders, as he does often, how he got so lucky to have you in his life.
He knows you wouldn’t call it luck. He knows you’d say it’s because he’s a good man. Every day he tries to live up to what you see in him.
As his heart swells with love his eyes begin to glow. The soft green light shines on your face, making you stir. You blink sleepily and look up at him.
“Mi amor?”
“ Lo siento. Go back to sleep,” he says, with a loving smile, pressing a kiss onto your mouth. You hum happily at the contact, running your fingers through his hair, and fall back to sleep.
Bruno is the happiest man alive.
*
All of the congratulations that were warded off by Julieta’s quiet insistence that the new parents needed some alone time last night come back with full force in the morning. When Bruno steps out with you and his daughter, it feels like the whole family was waiting for your arrival. The new baby looks around in wide-eyed surprise at the blurry colourful shapes that crowd her vision, causing a lot of cooing.
“How is she doing?” Julieta asks you, laying a hand on your shoulder. You smile at her.
“She was just as exhausted as I was. Slept like an angel.”
“Don’t expect it to last,” mutters Pepa. Bruno shoots his sister a look, and she shrugs - as if to say it’s the truth .
There is a lull as Alma steps forward. Bruno’s mother has a warm smile on her face as she looks down at her new granddaughter. When she caresses one of her tiny fists, the baby reflexively grabs her finger, and she chuckles.
“Have you thought of a name for this precious child yet?” she asks, gently.
You go still, and Bruno tries not to laugh at the look of horror that quickly passes your face as you realise no, you haven’t.
“Uh… not really,” you confess, “But I… I really like Rosa.”
You look to Bruno for confirmation. Your eyes are large, but full of the care you hold for your child. In your arms, your daughter wriggles.
“I think she likes it,” he tells you.
“Do you ?”
You look genuinely concerned. He presses a kiss to your temple.
“I love it.”
*
Bruno is not certain Rosa needs a crib. She’s barely out of arms long enough to sleep in it.
She might be tucked to your chest, being fed as you hum her a little lullaby. Or in Camilo’s embrace as he shifts between forms, trying to coax her first smile out of her. Or maybe she’s being carried around by Dolores, continually talked to.
“I’m going to be your favourite cousin, kid,” she tells Rosa, conspiratorially.
“No you’re not! Tía, tell her!” Antonio cries at you. Bruno sees your face when your eyebrows shoot up, never having been called an auntie before. He doesn’t miss the way your voice catches in your throat when you reply, choked up at the simple display of familial love from the deposed youngest of the Madrigals.
“She’ll love all of you,” you say, with a smile.
Bruno adores seeing his daughter so loved by his family, so embraced. But he can’t lie that his favourite moments are when it’s just the two of you. It’s rare enough to get any time together in the casita anyway; but when there’s a new baby involved? They’re so scarce he savours them the best he can.
You take so easily to being a mother. Even just by picking up Rosa, you can make her stop fussing. It’s like magic. And he slips into the role of fatherhood with ease, too; there’s nothing he loves more than holding his daughter in his arms, catching her little hands in his own.
A month goes by. Two. He’s not sure if this feeling of elation will ever end.
But.
He has noticed the change in you.
Not in your demeanour. You’re still as happy and loving as you ever were: to him, your child, and his family. No, it’s the way you treat yourself.
You were never vain, but you did like to show off your body around him. Bruno’s weak for you, and you know it. Whenever you’d parade around in a nice-fitting dress, or those lacy panties you knew he loved, or, damn it, no clothes at all - well, he’d be putty in your hands.
Now, when you dress or get ready for bed, it’s quick. You don’t laugh and enjoy your body like you used to. You face away from him, shrugging in and out of clothes as fast as you can. When you’re covered you’ll turn to him with a face full of love, but he can’t miss the concern in your expression when you think he can’t see.
Bruno is not some sex fiend, despite how easily you pull him into seduction. He is not constantly trying to get you into bed for that reason. However, he does know you have a… healthy appetite for passion, and he’s used to your sex life being very active, and you being the instigator.
He understands you’re tired after having a baby. Of course you are! You’ve done one of the most wonderful things a human body can do.
But when three months have gone by after you gave birth, and you can’t look at yourself in a mirror, and you haven’t even tried to bat your eyelashes at him…
Well, Bruno is smart enough to know something is wrong with his wife.
He knows not everyone springs back into their old selves immediately after having a baby. He’s heard of the depression some people can suffer, the way postpartum can affect some mothers. And he’s worried . Gut-wrenchingly, sickeningly worried.
He’s resolved to do something about it. He won’t let you go through this alone.
One night, when Rosa has been co-opted by Mirabel and Luisa for a sleepover, he grabs a bottle of wine and two glasses and finds you in your shared room.
You’re reading a book in the hammock, flipping the pages lazily. You grin when you see the alcohol he has.
“Are we celebrating?” you ask. Bruno chews his lip, unable to mask his worry.
You close the book.
“Bruno?” you ask, gently, concerned now. He pours you both a glass, crossing the room to pass you yours.
“You’re worrying me,” you tell him, furrowing your brow.
“No, no, sorry. I don’t want to… ah, mi amor, ” he says, taking your hand in his, “I’m… uh, I’m worried about you. ”
You take a small sip, studying him.
“Okay. Have I done something to upset you?”
“What? No, of course not! I just… ever since Rosa was born, I’ve noticed you don’t look at yourself in the mirror. And you’ve not, uh…” he clears his throat, “you’ve not… instigated anything. I’m not pressuring! I just know that’s not like you. You’re usually so happy, so proud of yourself. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”
You look at him, eyebrows raised.
Then you laugh.
Bruno feels relieved, like a weight has been lifted from him. You reach out to cup his face, and he presses his cheek into your caress.
“Bruno, mi amor, I’m sorry. I just…” you let out a long sigh before continuing, “I love Rosa so much. Being away from her right now feels hard, even if she’s just down the hall. What I don’t love is… is my body now, after her.”
Bruno looks you up and down, and tries to piece what he’s been told together.
“What?” You look the same to him. You groan, drinking a little more wine.
“Come on, Bruno! I pushed a baby out of me! My body changed so much, and I… I can’t stand to look at myself. And if I can’t, how can you?”
You look genuinely distressed, and Bruno can’t stand it. He swigs down a couple of mouthfuls from his own glass, puts down both yours and his on the table, and throws your book over his shoulder.
“Hey! I was reading that!” you gasp.
“Stand up.”
“What?”
“Stand up, corazón .”
You narrow your eyes but obey, taking his outstretched hand and hopping from the hammock. Bruno feels you go still for a moment, but relax when he traces his hands up your arms.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks, looking you dead in the eyes. You scoff.
“Bruno…”
“No, listen to me, mi vida . You are the most exceptional thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. These hands…” he takes them in his own, running his thumbs over your palms, “so sensual, so creative. Capable of so many things.” He cups your face, pressing his thumb now to your lips. “These lips, which sing such sweet songs to our daughter. Which are so soft when I kiss them.” He looks into your eyes. “Your eyes. Dios mío , your eyes. I could stare at them for hours.”
He hears a breath escape your lips, hitched in your throat.
Got you.
“What do I need to do to show you how beautiful I find you, huh?” he asks, gently. When he guides you to the bed, you sit down, let him pull up your skirts. He takes a hold of one of your legs, carefully, pressing his mouth up the inside of your thigh. You breathe a little heavier now.
“Your long, sexy legs,” he mutters. He goes higher on his knees, kissing a shoulder that’s become exposed, going higher, to your pulse. “Your neck is so soft , my amor,”
“ Ah… ” you let slip a little noise of arousal.
“Your breasts… amazing,” he continues, gracing the area beneath them but not touching until he sees you nod. Pulling the top of your dress down to your stomach, he squeezes them gently.
“They have a baby chewing them to pieces half the time,” you laugh, but your self-deprecation is stopped when he presses a kiss to the flesh there. His knuckles graze your stomach, you gasp at the light touch.
“Your body is beautiful , mi amor ,” he tells you, looking deeply into your eyes, holding your gaze. “And I’ll tell you every day, every minute if I have to, until you believe me.”
You grab his face and pull him to you, and Bruno obliges. Your kiss is unsure at first, faltering, but when Bruno swipes his tongue against your lips you part them for him. A hand drops to either one of your thighs, and he gently presses your legs open.
“Let me worship you, hermosa ,” he begs. Though you bite your lip, you nod, falling backwards onto the bed when he lifts up your skirts.
He pulls your underwear off and goes to drop it - then he thinks twice. He bunches it up in his hands and presses it to his nose, breathing in the heady scent of your sex. You cover your face, letting out a noise of amazement.
“Bruno-!” you gently admonish, amazed at the brazen filthiness of his act. He grins.
“I can’t help it. You just smell so good,” he purrs. Another trail of kisses up your thigh, “but you taste better.”
He licks a broad stripe across your sex and you buck up so hard it’s amazing you don’t hit him in the nose.
“Sorry!” you squeak from above.
“So eager,” he mutters, “I guess I’ll just have to hold you down.”
You gasp at the feeling of Bruno’s hands pressing into you, keeping you on the bed as promised. He’s a little slower now, erring on the side of teasing. He exhales a hot breath at the apex of your legs, making you squirm as it hits your glistening wetness.
“Bruno…”
“ Beautiful.”
He nuzzles into you, before returning in earnest to his work. He licks you deeply, pressing his mouth hard to your cunt, sometimes dipping inside your soft walls but mostly paying attention to your clit. When your hands reach down to tangle in his hair he almost snarls .
“ Oh yes , like that,” he growls, going harder to show his appreciation. He buries his face in deeper, feeling the hardness of your pubic bone under him, using a clever mix of tongue and teeth to bring you closer to the edge.
“Ah! Bruno, I’m - !”
Your sweet tang floods his tongue as you come around him, almost doubling up at the intensity of your orgasm.
You flop down onto the bed, breathing heavily. Normally he’d try to make you come again, but considering how long it’s been, he doesn’t want to overstimulate you. Instead he crawls up the bed, kissing you with all the passion in his soul.
Bruno is about to ask how you are. He gets his answer when you flip him onto his back, and keep him there for the next hour.