Dido and Aeneas, Z. 626 / Act 3 - "When I Am Laid In Earth" Dido's Lamento (Arr. For Cello), by Henry Purcell

Amalia welcomed his powerful body over hers, her need for him insatiable. As it turned out, the memories she had of the last time she'd been in a bed with him were far from the reality of it. She'd always thought of their stolen moments, six years ago, with great fondness, but it was nothing compared to this.

What she'd just experienced, the pleasure she'd felt, the bond they'd experienced, the infinite closeness they'd shared, was so much more than anything she remembered. She hadn't even known such intensity was possible. And with some luck, she would soon find out if it could be repeated.

While Aiden ravaged her with an ardent kiss, she pushed his breeches away, wanting him entirely naked this time. He indulged her, letting go of her just long enough to get rid of the garment, and in a matter of seconds, he was back on her. He dropped a series of kisses, licks, and small bites on her throat, shoulders, and chest, apparently not in a hurry to have her again. She, however, had other plans. She reached between them to grab his hardened shaft, hoping she could speed up the process.

The low vibration of his groan reverberated in the nipple he was teasing, and knowing she was doing something right, she tightened her hold. With a boldness she didn't know she possessed, she guided him, angling the head of him toward her dripping intimacy.

Aiden didn't need more of her insistence, quickly complying. Gently, he pushed forward, nudging inside of her, and Amalia sighed with delight. He let go of the pebbled tip of her breast and looked up to meet her eyes. She drowned into his blue irises, intense emotions invading her.

Aiden... Her Aiden.

The man she'd fallen for years ago. The only man she'd ever loved. Her husband.

That part of him was filling her so perfectly, moving in and out of her. As for the rest of him, he looked imperiously strong and powerful over her. His body was perfect in every way, adding to the untamable lust she had for him. If earlier it had been rough, hard, and exquisite, this time it was tender and intense. His shoves were deep and slow, allowing her to feel every vein on his shaft, as well as the plum-like head of it. Her pleasure built up, slowly, deliciously, and she lifted her head, demanding a kiss, which he gladly gave her. Just as she remembered, Aiden was gifted with those, and she'd never tire of the way he consumed her with passionate devotion.

She began to feel like she wasn't doing enough, letting him do all the work, and she decided to do something about it. Her hands slithered lower, brushing the ripped sides of his ribs, the muscles of his back, and firmly grabbed his behind, pulling him harder against her. He grunted something intelligible in her mouth and picked up the pace slightly. Spreading her legs wider, she pushed her hips up, following his rhythm, silently begging for more.

Aiden was so attentive to her every need, he instantly answered her plea, ramming inside of her harder, gifting her with long and deep strokes. He ripped himself away from her lips and passed one of her legs over his shoulder. In this new position, he seemed to reach even deeper, and an intense wave of pleasure struck Amalia, making her cry out.

Less than ten seconds later, she was coming apart again, trying to hold on to him while shivers – so intense they resembled pain – roamed through her body. Mercifully, he slowed down, sparing her from more pleasure, which would have certainly been too much. After what felt incredibly long, she slowly came down in the safe confines of his embrace, her body relaxing, her limbs freeing him.

When she met his eyes, he gave her an adoring smile, layered with pride.

"That was... I don't even have the words," she hesitated, her mind still nebulous from her climax.

"We aren't over, love."

Just like before, he hadn't found his release with her. Dear Lord, that was something that was quite different from the time they'd done this before. His young self hadn't displayed such stamina, and she worried this version of him might ruin her entirely. Before she could answer, he resumed the rolling of his hips, reviving her dying orgasm.

While we worked her to another mind-blowing climax, she couldn't help but wonder; how had they managed to hold back from this for two months? And how stupid must they have been to deprive themselves of this?

To think they could have been doing that all along...

Amalia tried to get a hold of herself, still disoriented after their union. They were both looking at the ceiling, trying to calm their erratic breathings. She moved closer to him, not liking the distance between them, and rested her head on his arm.

Now that they had talked, she was feeling so incredibly silly. She had heard so many things about Aiden's peers that she'd been certain he would be the same way. It was common for his people to have a mistress, a concubine, or to regularly visit brothels. Miss Belrose herself had explained that pretending to see nothing was one of the duties of a respectful wife. She had even argued that most wives were happy to let this aspect of marriage be handled by others.

It was ridiculous. Amalia would never be fine with Aiden sharing his bed with another woman. Now, more than ever, she was certain of it.

He had promised he wouldn't go anywhere, and even though she truly wanted to believe him, she couldn't help the doubts she still had. Clearly, he was satisfied with her for now, but he would still change his mind after a few weeks, months, or years. Once the novelty of her would fade off, what was to assure her he wouldn't grow tired of her and move on?

At least, they had the present to enjoy, so she decided to stop worrying about future possibilities that may very well never come.

She wriggled closer to Aiden, enjoying the warmness of his skin. "For how long do you think we have to keep up this rhythm, to make up for the six years we have missed?" she jokingly asked.

"I would say six months, but I'm afraid I wouldn't survive a week of this. You will be my death, woman."

She laughed and kissed him on the side of his chest. He moved his arm from under her head and turned to look at her, observing her body. His fingers brushed her gently, drawing arabesques on her skin.

The sun was getting lower outside, and it would soon be time to get ready for dinner. Embarrassed by his examination, she tried to retreat under the covers, but he didn't let her, embracing her tightly. His hand reached her lower abdomen, where she had her disgraceful stretch marks.

"Tell me about the pregnancy," he asked, still drawing imaginary lines on her stomach.

Amalia sighed and looked down to where his hand was tenderly grazing the traces of her childbearing months. It was the souvenir the girls had left her, carved into her very skin.

"We were already settled in Spain when I realized what was happening. It took me a while because I had been feeling sick ever since we left England. I was disheartened, I had no appetite, I was depressed... When I understood I would have a child, it gave me a purpose. It gave me something to fight for. I tried to hide it for as long as I could, with the help of my aunt. Ingrid was leaving for France, to join her companion, so we'd decided she would take me with her. We almost made it, but my mother realized I was with child. From that point forward, I was forbidden to leave. My aunt left as planned, but I stayed. I eventually managed to join her, a year and a half later, when my father died." She paused, the memory still painful.

"Halfway through the sixth month of my pregnancy, I was told I was carrying twins. It happens in my family, but it was still a shock. It was so hard, Aiden. I was so heavy, I couldn't sleep properly, I was constantly hungry... I couldn't wait for them to come out. I regretted ever thinking that when it was actually time to deliver them. They were born over a month too early, and they were so tiny." She showed him with her hands the size they had been. "I was so worried they wouldn't make it, I didn't leave their side for a month. But they got stronger with every passing day. When I was told they were out of danger, I collapsed and cried with relief."

"You made strong babies," said Aiden before kissing her forehead.

"We did."

"How did you choose the names?"

"When I thought I was having just one, I had decided upon Aiden, for a boy, and I really hoped it would be a little man like you. But then, I wanted to prepare for the case that it would be a girl, so I took the habit of asking every Celtic or Irish person I came across to give me names from their country. They were quite rare in Spain, but one had given me Maeve, the name of an ancient queen. And later, another one told me about her sister, named Ailia. She told me it meant light, and I fell in love with it. It was the perfect balance between you and me, Aiden and Amalia made Ailia."

Aiden blinked, astonished. She grinned when she understood he'd never noticed how their firstborn's name was a perfect mix of theirs.

"You hadn't noticed?" she teased. "I thought it was a bit too sentimental, but I didn't care. When I heard it would be twins, I chose Ailia and Maeve for the girls, and Aiden and Eoin for boys. I wanted so badly to have one of each, so I could have one Ailia and one Aiden," she recalled.

"We were lucky they were both girls."

Amalia frowned, unsure what he meant by that. "Why?"

"Had one been a boy, he would have been deprived of his legacy, my title, and lands. It's reserved to natural children, born from a legal wedding. I don't know how we would have dealt with all of that... The girls are lucky. The moment they became my wards, they became as entitled as would have been my own."

Amalia nodded mechanically, her eyes unfocused. She could tell he had been thinking about this a lot.

"I wish I had seen you pregnant. I would have taken care of that insatiable appetite of yours," he teased. She blushed, not sure he was talking about her hunger for food. She looked around at the messy bed.

"You will soon see me carrying your child if we keep this up," she noted.

The idea pleased him immensely. "And now that I'm a real man, it might even be quintuplets," he humored, and she bit her lip to quench her laughter.

His sneaky hands grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, while he amorously kissed her with feverish intensity. "I've never seen quintuplets, this will be the occasion for it."

She chuckled and shoved him away. "If I let you have your ways it will be octuplets, stay away from me."

Outside in the corridor, a servant dropped a metal plate, startling them.

"What time is it?" she wondered, realizing they had spent a great deal of time in bed.

Aiden rolled out of it and went to the clock on the mantle of the fireplace. The entire time, she kept her eyes on him, admiring his super form. That man truly was magnificent. He told her it was a quarter past six, which had her groaning with disapproval. In the summer, they enjoyed supper around seven thirty, which meant their moment was nearly over.

He poured himself a glass of water, drank it in one go, and poured another one for her. When he came back to the bed, she had slipped under the covers and was sitting, her back to the headboard, a sheet tucked under her arms, hiding her chest. She saw him hold back a smile, but he said nothing. Her sudden modesty, when he had just spent the afternoon kissing and licking every part of her body, seemed pointless, and she was well-aware of it.

She emptied the glass he handed her before settling it on the nightstand. Aiden was looking at her with intensity, and she knew he wanted more, just like she did. As if to prove her thoughts, he joined her under the covers and pulled on the sheets to uncover her breasts. She tried to resist with a giggle, despite her desire for him, arguing that there wasn't enough time.

"I can be quick," he countered.

"Yes, I remember."

Her witty response seemed to surprise him, but instead of being offended, he intensified his sensual attempt at seducing her. "Just for that, I should make it last all evening, to discipline my disrespectful wife."

The threat sounded more like a promise, and Amalia considered it for a few seconds, knowing she wouldn't want anything more than to stay locked in here with him. He noticed her hesitation, and with a low chuckle, he disappeared under the covers. He followed the lines of her body with a hungry mouth, his tongue sampling her. When he reached the dark triangle between her legs, she wasn't protesting anymore. Her entire body was tense with anticipation.

Her last thought, before her mind was overflown by lust, was that it would definitely be octuplets.

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This song is sad, longing, and beautiful: Dido and Aeneas, Z. 626 / Act 3 - "When I Am Laid In Earth" Dido's Lamento (Arr. For Cello), by Henry Purcell.