A Whirlwind of Chorizo and Desire

The apartment smelled like fresh chorizo and garlic from the market run they'd taken that morning, Arkin's idea to keep things grounded amid the whirlwind of doctor visits and script revisions. Seven months in, Via's belly had rounded into a firm dome, stretching her skin taut and making her waddle just enough to draw Arkin's eyes every time she crossed the room. He was elbow-deep in a pot on the stove, stirring paella with that focused intensity he usually saved for blocking scenes, his t-shirt clinging to his shoulders from the steam. Via leaned against the counter, one hand absently rubbing the swell under her loose tank top, feeling the baby shift like a secret kick drum.

It had been a long stretch of restraint. The OB's warnings echoed in their heads—no heavy lifting, no wild positions, and definitely no full-on fucking until the risks dialed down. Arkin had nodded along at every appointment, his hand squeezing hers, but Via saw the hunger in how he'd linger during their naked mornings, tracing her curves without pushing further. They'd stuck to hands and mouths, quick releases that left them both satisfied but not sated, like appetizers before a meal they couldn't touch. He missed burying himself in her, she'd catch him staring at her ass when she bent for a dropped spoon, but he never complained. Instead, he'd pull her close at night, dick half-hard against her thigh, whispering about the nursery sketches she'd been doodling—Palawan sunsets framed in Barcelona stone.

Today felt different, though. The ultrasound from yesterday lingered in her mind, the heartbeat a steady thrum on the screen, the doctor's casual approval for "gentle intimacy" in the eighth month if things stayed smooth. Via watched Arkin taste the rice, his lips pursing around the spoon, and a low heat stirred in her gut, unfamiliar after months of holding back. Her pussy clenched at the thought, slickness gathering between her thighs. She shifted, pressing them together, the friction sparking something needy.

"Smells good," she said, voice casual, but she stepped closer, her belly brushing his hip. Arkin glanced over, green eyes sharpening like they did when he spotted a perfect take. He set the spoon down, wiping his hands on a towel, and turned to her fully.

"You okay?" His palm settled on her stomach, thumb stroking the fabric, feeling the baby nudge back. It was their ritual, that touch, grounding them both.

Via nodded, but her hand covered his, guiding it lower, over the hem of her shorts. "Yeah. Just... thinking." She met his gaze, the air thickening with what she didn't say. Arkin's breath hitched, his fingers flexing against her waistband, but he didn't move. "The doc said it's fine now. Gentle. I want you, Arkin. Not the teasing shit. Inside me."

He exhaled slow, like he'd been waiting for permission he didn't know he needed. "Via..." His voice was rough, eyes dropping to her mouth, then lower, to the way her tank rode up, exposing the underside of her breasts, fuller now, nipples dark and peaked against the cotton. "You sure? I don't want to—"

She cut him off with a kiss, soft at first, her tongue slipping past his lips to taste the saffron on him. Arkin's hands came up to her face, holding her there, but she felt the tremor in them, the want he'd banked for so long. When she pulled back, she tugged at his shirt. "Naked. Now. Like old times."

That did it. Arkin stripped first, efficient as always, peeling off the t-shirt to reveal the lean planes of his chest, the faint scars from stunt days crisscrossing his ribs. His jeans followed, boxers tented before he shoved them down, dick springing free—thick and veined, already leaking at the tip from the mere suggestion. Via watched, heat flooding her core, her pussy lips swelling as she imagined him stretching her. She kicked off her shorts next, no panties underneath, the cool air hitting her damp folds. Her tank came last, breasts bouncing free, heavy and sensitive, the areolas stretched wide.

Arkin groaned at the sight, stepping closer, his cock bobbing against her belly as he pulled her into a hug. Skin to skin, the contact electric—her nipples grazing his chest hair, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, kneading the flesh without pulling her too hard. "Fuck, I've missed this," he muttered, lips at her ear, breath hot. "You, all of you."

They moved to the living room like that, bodies pressed, Arkin's dick trapped between them, smearing pre-cum on her bump. The couch was their landing spot, worn leather creaking as he eased her down first, careful of the weight she carried. Via lay back, legs parting instinctively, her pussy exposed—lips puffy, clit peeking from its hood, glistening with arousal. Arkin knelt between her thighs, eyes locked on her like she was the shot he'd been framing in his head for months.

He started slow, as promised, hands on her knees, spreading her wider. His fingers traced her inner thighs, calluses rough from handling props, sending shivers up her spine. Via's breath quickened, one hand going to her breast, pinching the nipple to ease the ache. "Touch me," she said, voice low, guiding his hand to her mound. Arkin obliged, palm cupping her heat, middle finger dipping through her slickness to circle her entrance without pushing in. She was soaked, the wetness coating his skin, her walls fluttering at the tease.

"You're so wet," he said, wonder in his tone, like he was rediscovering her. He leaned in, replacing his finger with his mouth, tongue flat against her clit, lapping slow and deliberate. Via moaned, hips lifting just a fraction, the pressure building steady, not the frantic rush they used to chase. His beard scraped her thighs, adding friction, while one hand stayed on her belly, feeling the baby settle as if approving the rhythm. He sucked her clit gently, teeth grazing the edges, then delved lower, tongue fucking her entrance in shallow thrusts, tasting her deeper.

Via's fingers tangled in his hair, not pulling hard, just holding him there as the pleasure coiled low. Her pussy throbbed, juices dripping down to her ass, the sensation making her clench. "Arkin... more." He hummed against her, the vibration buzzing through her nerves, and slid two fingers inside—slow, careful, curling to hit that spot that made her toes curl. She gasped, walls gripping him tight, the stretch familiar and perfect after so long without. He pumped them lazily, thumb on her clit, building her up without rushing, his free hand massaging her thigh to keep her grounded.

The first orgasm hit her like a warm wave, not shattering but rolling through, her pussy pulsing around his fingers, slickness flooding out. Arkin didn't stop, licking her through it, softer now, drawing out the aftershocks until she was panting, body lax against the cushions. He rose then, dick flushed dark, veins standing out as he stroked himself once, eyes on her face. "You taste like home," he said, voice gravelly, climbing onto the couch to straddle her carefully, knees bracketing her hips.

Via reached for him, hand wrapping around his shaft, feeling the heat, the pulse. She guided him down, rubbing the head through her folds, coating him in her wetness. "Slow," she reminded, but the need in her voice made it a plea. Arkin nodded, bracing on his forearms, dick nudging her entrance. He pushed in inch by inch, the stretch burning sweet, her pussy yielding around him after the months of absence. She was tighter, swollen from the pregnancy, and he groaned low, bottoming out with her walls clenching every ridge.

"Fuck, Via," he breathed, holding still, forehead to hers. They stayed like that, connected, his cock buried deep, twitching inside her. She felt full, the pressure against her cervix gentle, the baby shifting slightly as if aware. Arkin's hips rocked minutely, shallow thrusts that ground his pubic bone against her clit, sparks igniting with each pass. Via's nails dug into his back, urging him on, her breasts pressing into his chest, nipples dragging against his skin.

He moved then, deliberate, pulling out halfway and sliding back, the drag pulling at her walls, her clit throbbing from the friction. Sweat beaded on his temple, dripping onto her collarbone, mixing with hers. "You feel so good," he muttered, pace steady, one hand slipping between them to rub her clit in time with his thrusts. Via's legs wrapped around him loosely, heels pressing his ass, drawing him deeper without force. The rhythm built, her pussy soaking him, the wet sounds filling the room alongside their breaths.

Memories flickered— that rainy hallway reveal, the way he'd held her after, promising everything. Now, with him inside her again, it felt like sealing that promise, bodies syncing like they had in the Intramuros chapel, vows whispered under stone arches. Arkin's mouth found her neck, sucking a mark just below her ear, possessive but tender, his thrusts picking up a fraction, dick hitting that angle that made her gasp.

"I'm close," she whispered, the coil tightening, her walls fluttering around him. He nodded, kissing her deep, tongue mirroring the slide of his cock. One hand cupped her breast, thumb rolling the nipple, the dual sensations pushing her over. Via came hard, pussy clamping down, milking him as waves pulsed through her, juices squirting lightly around his base, soaking the couch. Arkin groaned into her mouth, thrusts faltering, but he held back, riding her through it until she relaxed, boneless beneath him.

He pulled out slow, dick glistening with her, and shifted down, careful not to jostle her. "My turn?" he asked, half-teasing, eyes dark. Via nodded, spreading her legs wider, one hand on her belly. Arkin stroked himself, fast now, tip aimed at her pussy, watching her fingers part her lips, exposing the pink, swollen flesh. He came with a grunt, ropes of cum splattering her folds, dripping into her entrance, the warmth making her shiver. Some hit her clit, the sensation drawing a soft moan from her, aftershocks rippling.

Panting, he collapsed beside her, pulling a throw blanket over them both, his hand returning to her stomach. The baby kicked, as if joining the afterglow, and Arkin laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot. "Think that's the kid's way of saying encore?"

Via smirked, turning her head to nip his shoulder. "Give it a few years. For now, you're stuck with just me." They lay there, sticky and spent, the paella forgotten on the stove until the smoke alarm buzzed faintly in the distance—a rude interruption to their reconnection. Arkin groaned, but Via just grinned, already plotting how to drag this gentle fire into something they'd savor for months to come.