Chapter Text
In the eight months that it took for us to get tie the knot after I all but begged her to marry me not one month after we’d gotten back from Italy, I managed to suggest that we elope only three times. Every time, it was while I was on a business trip to who fucking knows where, when two, four, five days until I could see Maya felt like an entire eternity.
“I just want to be able to say that I’m going home to my wife,” I’d said one evening on a video call when I was just getting back to the hotel from dinner with a client, my dress shirt and pants suddenly feeling too stiff after seeing that Maya was in bed—our bed—stifling a yawn. She was too tired to hide the giddy expression that me calling her my wife put on her face, but she gave her best effort by pulling the blanket up over her smitten grin. It didn’t matter, her eyes still gave her away.
“Eli would be so disappointed,” she said. “If we eloped. I asked him to walk me down the aisle, remember? And Rue wouldn’t get to wear her bridesmaid dress.” I knew she was right, but I still considered taking the inevitable punch to the jaw I’d get by taking that honour away from my closest friend just so that I could marry his sister a few months sooner. The reality was no, it wouldn’t be justifiable, but I’d be a liar if I said it was an easy choice. “And I think the wait will be worth it to see Tiny and Bitty in their ring bearer collars, don’t you agree? Besides, I already ordered them and they can’t be returned, so…”
I groaned, scratching the stubble that I’d neglected over the last few days. I flopped onto the hotel bed, freshly washed blankets feeling cold and entirely unwelcoming on my back. I held the phone above my head. “I know, fuck, I know, but—“
“But,” Maya cut me off, tone turning from playful to shy and teasing. Whatever argument I was about to make died before it had even begun. Hearing her like that always went straight to my cock, I didn’t need to know what she was about to say. “But I’m getting a little impatient, too,” she continued, sultry. I gave a truly valiant effort in keeping my hand from palming my dick through my pants. I sat up against the headboard, dutifully offering my full attention.
She didn’t speak at first, waiting for me, expression as provoking as ever. “Are you tired of fiancee already, then?” it came out a little breathless, because fuck if I could focus on anything but the way she bit her lip, the way she was taking smug pleasure in the effect that she so obviously had on me.
She shook her head, and there was some rustling as she repositioned herself. Colour me intrigued.
“Share with the class, will you?”
She readjusted and a few short, airy breaths that told me exactly what she was up to, where her free hand had just gone. Trouble.
“Maya,” I said, warning. “What are you doing?” my voice had gone low, and I barely recognized it. Before I knew what I was doing, my pants were unbuttoned and my cock was out. I allowed myself teasing, languid strokes. I was only human, after all.
“No, never tired of you,” her eyes had fluttered shut at some point, but they reopened when she realized what I was doing; how I was getting off to watching her, listening to her. I couldn’t see anything except for her face, but that was enough. Anything with her was enough to bring me to the edge. For the thousandth time this week alone, I’m reminded of the hold that this woman has on me. I let out a quiet, pitying laugh.
“What’s got you feeling impatient, then?”
She’s putting on a show, letting out soft moans. “I—fuck—I can’t stop thinking about after we get married, how,” she gasps. “Fuck, Conor,” hearing her like this has me shamelessly, vigorously stroking my cock. “Calling me your wife is so hot, but—but I can’t stop thinking about how while you’re away, you’ll be able to tell people that you’ve got to get back to your pregnant wife,” she breathes, throwing her head back with a loud groan as if the thought alone was too much to bear. As if she just clued into the fact that she’d just said the most earth shattering thing I’d ever heard.
Some fucking how, I held off from blowing my load.
“Maya—fuck, Maya,” is all I can manage at first. I want to succumb to the pleasure, I want to say fuck it all and shout her name while my impending orgasm nearly steamrolls my control and paints my entire chest. I have a hard time deciding between that and making sure she knows exactly how I feel, how I’d make sure she’d have nothing to worry about. I almost don’t get to make the choice, my own body almost betrays me.
“You think—“ I grunt when I finally have some semblance of coherent thoughts. Deep breaths, Conor. “You think I’ll leave you alone?” We’re both panting, releases imminent. Her comment heady in our thoughts. “You think I’d leave you alone in Austin for one fucking second?” my voice is verging on feral but I can’t muster up the ability to care. I’ve lost myself again to Maya, after letting go of the hold I kept on myself for years, the hold I never fucking needed in the first place.
“When I get you pregnant, Maya,” I emphasize, egged on by her groans, by her inability to focus on her phone screen, the proof that she’s as affected as I am. Fuck, I wished I could have her this fucking second. “You think I’m possessive now? You think me being jealous of that fucker in Italy was bad?” I’m speaking nonsense and I know it, she knows it. But I also know that she gets off on this, on being the only one for me. I let my aggression free. I let the quick, messy strokes on my cock shake the view that she gets on the screen. I let her see the desperation that I feel. “But you’re right,” I add. “I’ll tell everyone. I could be getting us coffee down the street and everyone on staff would know how my pregnant wife is back home waiting for me. Is that what you want, baby?”
Maya all but whimpers. She manages a nod through gasps. Her lips look like they’ve taken plenty of abuse from her teeth, red and glossy, though her teasing smirk still hasn’t left her mouth. Menace. “But what if I said I could take care of myself?” It’s endearing, her stubborn reminders that she is self-sufficient. Even now.
I know she’s baiting me, though. I know what I’ve done right in my life, and one of those things, the number one thing, is that Maya Killgore knows that she matters above all else in my world. “I know you can,” my voice is rough. My movements are as frantic as hers. “I know you can, baby, but you have to know—I need you to know, that for the rest of my fucking life I’ll—I’ll take care of you, okay? Tell me you understand, Maya. You’ll never have to worry about a fucking thing,” I’m close, now. It’s been months (years, if we’re being honest) of her being the only one to bring me to my peak, but it shocks me nonetheless just how quickly.
She acknowledges what I’ve said, finally sounding as wrecked as I feel. I know, I know Conor, I love you, I know, barely discernible through clenched teeth, through the sharp breaths.
I see her start to lose control, I watch dutifully as my name is being forced from her lungs when she comes. It has me spilling in my hand soon after with no less splendour.
There’s several moments—minutes, maybe?—where the only thing that’s audible is our panting. I imagine being with her, how I’d offer her water or get her a cloth. Try my best not to suffocate her on my chest, but I’d pull her close to me all the same. I’m not sated, my orgasm only succeeding in adding to my desperation to be with her. So fucking gone for her.
I shake my head in a weak attempt to get a hold on my thoughts. “We’re talking about this when I get home, I hope you know,” I mean it, but I can’t help the incredulous laughter that comes with my words.
“I was counting on it,” and the way that she’s beaming tells me everything I need to know.
We talked only a little longer, confirming what time my flight would land. My flight home, to our home. The thought isn’t quite enough to dull the ache that being away from her leaves in my chest, not really, but it helped.