Coldfire Trilogy Marital bliss with a kiss of reality

**Marital Bliss with a Kiss of Reality **

A/N 1: The title of the story was borrowed from a book by Michelle Beachy and Christy Smucker

A/N 2: Originally, I had planned a fic with the more traditional plot of Gerald and Damien visiting a clothes shop, Gerald suggesting items not to Damien's taste, the latter grumbling about his bulk and so on and so forth. Then I remembered Silvereyedbitch's gorgeous drabble with Gerald asking whether the cloak was making him look fat (thank you so much for letting me use your plot bunny, love!), and that settled it. Almost. My weird sense of humor provided the reason WHY the adept could have gained weight, and the rest is history. But don't ask me how the dildo entered the scene, lol. Well, as this story was written for the Porn Battle XV, it contains a lot of explicit sex. And I mean A LOT, so consider yourself warned.

A/N 3: Yes, Black Dragon's Ghost had a similar plot before (Gerald being pregnant and hormone-addled), so I hope she'll be okay with me posting this...

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In a huff, Gerald Hawthorne-Vryce tossed another ball of crumpled silk on top of the pile of discarded clothes already occupying the better part of their marital bed and shot his mirror image a withering glare. "Something has to be wrong with the new tunics, Vryce," he complained with a pout his husband would have found outright adorable under different circumstances. "Don't you agree that they make me look rather... fat?"

Disconcertingly close to tearing out his hairs in sheer despair, the former priest gritted his teeth in a valiant attempt to suppress any expressions of opinion he might regret later. Or rather sooner. For several trying months, the gradual loss of Gerald's slender waist line had been a very touchy subject. In fact, almost everything from the weather to the current church politics had been a touchy subject, and he had no intention whatsoever to stir up the proverbial hornets' nest. Not with the adept's hormones going on the rampage like a bunch of drunken teenagers.

"I'm waiting, Vryce. Have you swallowed your damned tongue?"

Crap! If his husband was falling back on using profanities, Damien was in the shit up to his neck, and not for the first time in the last months he wished himself a thousand miles away. But experience had taught him that wishing was about as useful as biting his tongue and waiting for the storm to pass. Inwardly cursing the fates, he steeled himself to breaking the bad news. "Um, Gerald," he commenced tentatively, "I don't think it's the tunics. As usual, your tailor did a fine job. God is my witness that he's well-paid for indulging your every whim. But to tell the truth: don't you agree that, all things considered, it's not so amazing that your have to take a larger size now? As much as you wish otherwise, even you have to bow down to the laws of nature sometimes. But it's not the end of the world, is it? And now forget about your weight and your wounded vanity. After a nice cup of tea, you'll..."

His doomed attempt at smoothing ruffled feathers was silenced with a killing glance that could have frozen the caldera of Mount Shaitan. In the next instance, the incensed adept swept past him in a fashion which evoked rather unsettling reminiscences of his murderous past and made a dramatic exit, slamming the door that the glass panes rattled threateningly. At the end of his tether, Vryce heaved a heartfelt sigh, wondering what the heck was going on inside his husband's pretty head. And what had become of his famed capacity for logical reasoning.

But of course, with his glands working overtime, Gerald couldn't really help his mood swings. Put them into a shaker, along with other common but very annoying ingredients like backache, insomnia and heart burn, add a good measure of rather understandable misgivings, and you were bound to get an infernal cocktail seemingly destined to drive both of them crazy before his husband was even seven months along. But one had to be grateful for small mercies. After the damned morning sickness, which had in fact plagued him all day, had released its hold over Gerald, at the very least their sex live had taken a turn for the better again. Or, more precisely, now it surpassed everything Damien would have thought possible in his wildest dreams. Be it the hormones or the extra blood flow - or a combination of both - whenever he came out of his sulking corner, his husband was horny as a bitch in heat. So insatiably horny that Damien had been forced to wave the white flag and bought a substitute for his sore private parts on his way home from work. It was a pretty thing, polished novebony with a slight curve and a very cleverly placed thickening at the top. Grinning broadly in spite of his worries, he pulled the little parcel out of his coat pocket and made for the living room.

As he had expected, the adept had taken refuge on the sofa, hiding his face behind of one of the weighty tomes which seemed to have been designed exactly for this purpose. Without saying a word, he tossed the somewhat lewd surprise gift into his Gerald's lap. Slowly, feigning utter disinterest, the adept lowered the book and put it down on the side table. Then he gingerly picked up the parcel. "What is it, Vryce?" he snapped ungraciously. "A guide how to stay on a diet? Or a voucher for a shop specialized in maternity wear?"

"Nothing of that sort, Gerald. Just a token of my affection. And now don't waste time on polishing your vulking sarcasm and open it up!"

With a derisive snort, Hawthorne-Vryce ripped off the paper and lifted the lid. And froze, his eyes wide with shock. At this very moment, the warrior knight realized that he had presumably made a terrible blunder. It was all good and well that he had bought the damned toy for his husband's benefit. And for his own, because he had no plans whatsoever to prematurely snuff it due to a bad case of overexertion. But unfortunately, sidetracked by their argument, he hadn't explained his reasons to Gerald. Out of sorts and his legendary aplomb evidently impaired by the changes his body was undergoing, he must have drawn an utterly false conclusion.

In a blink, Damien was at his husband's side and pulled him into a close embrace. "Gerald, it's not what you think," he said gently. "I love you, body and soul, and to me you've never looked more beautiful than now. I truly don't mind that there's a bit more flesh on your bones to worship. In fact, the knowledge that our child's growing inside you turns me on like hell. Nonetheless, over the last weeks, I've gotten the impression that, well, sometimes I can't keep up our lovemaking long enough to fully satisfy your bodily needs. But if you don't feel comfortable about using this, I'll throw the vulking thing into the dustbin, and we'll never talk about it again. It was a foolish idea, anyway.

The warrior knight held his breath as the mesmerizing black eyes one could drown in as in the fathomless depths of the sea came up and met his own. After what felt like a small eternity of fretting and fidgeting uncomfortably under the piercing glance which seemed to weigh his soul, his lover's fairly amused smirk took a load off his heart. "Not at all, Vryce," Gerald retorted calmly. "It's a rather intriguing little device, and I wouldn't mind giving it a try. Now."

Completely taken aback, Damien blinked. Try as he might to adapt himself to the adept's temporarily unbalanced mind, the sudden mood swings still tended to catch him with his pants down. In one moment, Gerald seemed close to throwing a tantrum like a spoiled brat, and in the next, he had that certain lascivious sparkle in his eyes which left no doubt that he wasn't in the least joking about trying out the toy. But to hell with logic and reason! By now, registering the almost palpable aura of breathless anticipation radiating from the former Hunter, he wasn't altogether averse to a nice, slow afternoon fuck as well.

Without further ado, Vryce scooped up his husband and carried him to their bed which offered a bit more space for the things to come than the narrow settee. The adept's silken dressing gown landed on the carpet in a blink, soon followed by his own clothes. His heart beating at a slightly accelerated pace, Damien feasted his eyes on the one and only man he'd ever loved. Whatever Gerald thought about it, his condition was very becoming to him. After the misery of the first fourteen weeks had lain behind him, he had recovered astoundingly well, and now he literally seemed to be glowing with life and health. Smiling tenderly, the warrior knight bent down and placed a kiss on his husband's baby bump. If somebody had told him two years ago that he would wed Gerald Tarrant, not to mention knocking him up, he would have tapped his forehead and suggested psychiatric counselling. But here he was, a married man who was soon to be a father. And the happiest guy in the world. Most of the time, anyway.

"I won't pretend that I don't appreciate your devotion," a husky voice interrupted his reverie, "but don't you think that it's time to go one step further? Although I'm loath to admit it, I'm feeling somewhat inspired. But before we move on to undiscovered countries, I'd rather have the real thing first."

"_The real thing_, is it?" Chuckling, Damien took the tiny flask from the slender fingers holding it invitingly under his nose. "Your wish is my command, Your Highness," he quipped good-naturedly. "But tuck up your legs and let me prepare you a bit first. I don't want to hurt you." After a last peck on the adept's abdomen, he poured a generous amount of oil onto his palm and spread it, rubbing his hands in order to warm up the liquid. Then he reclined at his husband's side and cradled him in his left arm, keeping eye contact while gently massaging his perineum and letting his fingertips brush across his entrance every now and then until his ministrations were rewarded with a low sigh. Evidently, the adept was more than ready for the next step, and Vryce carefully inserted his index finger and curled it just the way he had been taught when they had made love for the first time.

Totally ignorant when it came to the joys of butt sex, the former priest had been insanely grateful that Gerald hadn't been shy about voicing what he needed and _where_ exactly he needed it. For a man like himself who wasn't able to climax without a fair amount of direct penile stimulation, the astounding results of that comparatively simple technique were still verging on a miracle. Not that he didn't understand the bare mechanics. After all, as a healer he was quite well versed in the peculiarities of the male anatomy. But notwithstanding his theoretical knowledge, he still watched in utmost fascination as Gerald buried his face at his shoulder and started to breathe heavily. "Vryce, I'm..."

"I know, beloved. Don't hold back and enjoy it. I want to watch you coming." Sensing his lover's desperate need to get off in his very bones, Damien intensified the stimulation, and after a few seconds of rubbing rapidly back and forth with his fingertip, the adept was moaning and jerking helplessly in his arms. Still gasping for air, Gerald disentangled himself from his embrace and straddled him. "I want you now, Vryce," he whispered hoarsely, and in the next instance, he lowered himself onto the warrior knight's waiting erection without further ado. The adept had always loved being on top, a position which left him in absolute control of the proceedings. And provided Damien Kilcannon Vryce with the most adorable sight of his husband riding himself to seventh heaven.

To the warrior knight's astonishment, at the beginning of their tumultuous relationship he had soon found out that when Gerald really got going, he could ride wave after wave of pleasure without having to bother about anything like a refractory period, a bonus of being able to experience orgiastic sensations without actually ejaculating. After his first climax, he didn't even need the more intense manual stimulation any longer. Simple penetration usually did the trick just fine, and that was exactly what he seemed to have in mind now.

At first, the adept took it nice and easy, rotating his pelvis and twisting his hips to find the right angle. But having him like this, hearing his low sighs of pleasure and feeling the slight tremors passing through his body when he was hitting his target, was such kick that Vryce very nearly succumbed to the surge of mind-blowing arousal threatening to get the better of his self-control. In fact, that was the main reason why he preferred to bring his husband to orgasm with his fingers once or twice before actually fucking him. Without his own genitals being stimulated, he could focus so much better on giving pleasure, a course of action which brought its own sweet rewards.

To distract himself from the urge to come, Damien let one of his hands wander to Gerald's swollen abdomen, tenderly caressing the silky, flawless skin which protected the best feat he had ever accomplished in his entire life. About half a year ago, he hadn't been quite able to trust his hearing sense when a rather contrite colleague had confessed to him that he was feeling, as he had called it, unduly attracted to his pregnant wife. In fact, when the poor man had mumbled something about his spouse reminding him of a mother goddess, the warrior knight had barely been able to stifle his laughter. As far as he had been concerned, being in the family way and being sexually attractive were by all means mutually exclusive. What an ignorant fool he had been! Telling his husband that his condition was a mighty turn on for him, he hadn't resorted to a white lie in order to pour oil on troubled water. Vulking hell, he hadn't even exaggerated! Although Gerald doubtlessly lacked certain parts of the anatomy required for a female deity, the idea suddenly didn't seem so far fetched, after all.

"That's a pagan notion... utterly unbefitting... a priest, Vryce," the former prophet of his faith panted, evidently prowling around in his mind without bothering to ask. "But for once I... feel inclined... to forgive you."

Damien chuckled. "You better had!" The adept's disapproving snort turned into something altogether different when Vryce used the little leverage he had to get a bit more active. Gerald instantly responded to his thrusts, speeding up with a loud groan and riding him as hard and fast as he could, and the sudden increase in stimulation, along with his lover's heated sounds of pleasure, propelled the warrior knight's arousal to a dangerously high level. Then his husband came again with a muffled shout, his internal muscles tightening almost painfully around his erection, and Vryce knew that if this went on, he wouldn't last another minute. "Gerald, I can't stand it any longer," he choked out hoarsely. "Let's try out the vulking thing, or the fun will be over soon."

Hawthorne-Vryce's muttered reply could have meant anything from "don't you dare to stop, you bastard" to a joyous consent, but in his current state of distress, the warrior knight decided to take it for a 'yes'. Well aware that interrupting the stimulation for more than a few seconds wasn't very advisable, he pulled out his protesting cock and replaced it with the dildo. It slid easily into the tight, oiled channel, and Gerald took to it like a duck to water, evidently so lost in sensation that he wasn't giving a damn about the nature of the source of joy anymore. Kneeling over Damien, his body flushed and his head thrown back in rapture so that the veritable storm-cloud of black hair was hanging down all the way to the mattress like a cloak spun from the most precious silk, he was so heartrendingly beautiful - and sexy as hell - that it simply defied description. Completely under his spell, Vryce watched with rapt attention as his husband was approaching his third orgasm in a row. And he didn't have to wait long. Sobbing his name, the adept collapsed on top of him, clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline while riding out the last waves of pleasure. But according to experience, the warrior knight didn't harbour a sliver of doubt that he was far from being fully satisfied. In fact, he had hardly even started to enjoy himself.

Grinning inwardly, Damien went about proving his point. A few quick movements of his hand, and he had the adept writhing in the throes of passion again. And again. His neglected cock throbbing painfully, listening to Gerald's throaty sounds of pleasure was pure torture, but just when he thought he couldn't take it any longer, his husband closed his slender fingers around his wrist. "Stop this and take me again, Vryce," he whispered. "From behind."

Seeing the adept going on all fours at his side, arching his back like a large, graceful uncat inviting her mate, Damien's mind blanked out. Had he still been able to keep a level head, he might have taken into consideration that the deep penetration this position allowed was a somewhat risky business when he was bound to loose control in the end. But in the heat of the moment, everything paled before the overwhelming need to enter the most alluring creature he had ever bedded and fuck both of them into oblivion.

At first, scraping together the last vestiges of his self-control, Vryce kept his motions slow and shallow, aiming for the area where they would be appreciated most. But soon Gerald started to move with him with rising enthusiasm, moaning and jerking himself off in the rhythm of his pelvic thrusts, and he was lost. Feeling himself getting close, the warrior knight stroked away the mane of black hair and licked the glittering droplets of sweat off his husband's back, slowly working his way forward until his mouth came to rest at the nape of his neck. Then, half out of his mind with naked want, he bit down, and the additional stimulus was all it took to send the adept over the edge again. Screaming into the pillow he was resting on to relieve the pressure on his abdomen, his husband finally spilled, and as the rhythmic pulse inside him was milking him with unbearable intensity, Damien joined him with an outcry which could have woken the dead.

Later, when they were laying cradled in each other's arms, still completely blissed out, Gerald at long last opened a black eye. "You're doubtlessly the most inept fashion adviser I've ever encountered, Vryce," he chuckled softly. "But I have to admit that you have other talents at your disposal to make up for this deficit. Very remarkable talents." Damien burst out laughing. Without a doubt, the former Hunter could be a veritable pain in the neck. But all in all, the bliss of marital life truly outweighed the drawbacks. Still smiling, he cupped his husbands pretty face and kissed him.


End file.
