Sleeping in a bed is awesome! Our trip down south lasted for four, almost five months, most of that in tents with only a thin bedroll between us and the hard ground. Oh, and air conditioning! Summer is gradually giving way to fall, but it's still hot up here in the northern desert by the equator. Malmark Castle's interior, at least, is always pleasantly cool.

  Reka is wearing one of my t-shirts and nothing else. I'm savoring every minute of cuddling up next to her warm body in our cold room. In fact, even though we really went to town last night, I find myself getting excited by the proximity. Little Brad should really be tired out, but Reka just has that effect on me.

  "Get on top of me," she orders out of nowhere. I thought Reka was asleep!

  Never one to disobey, I gently roll my wife onto her back. Her long black hair, usually so silky, is quite the mess, with little tufts standing up in odd places, random and wild. Usually, Reka is impossibly put together, with not a strand out of place, even after camping in the woods for months at a time. I can't help but grin. This is the Reka only I see.

  "Really get on top of me, Brad. Let me feel your weight."

  There's no urgency this time, just languid, gentle comfort. Her body accepts me like I belong, my member sliding in without resistance. For a moment, I don't move at all. Enjoying her snug warmth gripping me is entirely enough.

  Those plump lips of hers make a soft "O" when I enter. They say "kiss me" without words. An insistent pull I feel more in my heart than in my brain makes me lower myself, and we embrace.

  Reka lets out a pleased sigh into my mouth, and our tongues entwine like the rest of us, caressing, not fighting for dominance. There's no need for that, not now.

  This is us. The real us. We're not Lord and Lady Regis. We're not adventurers or knights or wizards. We're Brad and Reka.

  I feel her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me deeper. At her signal, I start rocking into her more insistently. It's not hard. It doesn't need to be hard. Every deep thrust and reluctant withdrawal says exactly what I mean it to say.

  I love you.

  Forever.

  Reka's long, thin fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me up and breaking our kiss. "Look at me, my love," she commands.

  I obey. I always obey.

  Her green eyes burn into mine. I can't look away. My hips move on their own, increasing the tempo. There's a fine sheen of sweat clinging to us both, despite the chill.

  "Brad!" she pants cutely when I hit her special spot just right. Reka's breaths are coming short and shallow. "Brad, don't look away!"

  "Never!" I promise.

  She cups my cheeks with both hands. "This is how I would have it always, the way you're looking at me right now."

  "Me too," I agree, grunting with exertion, but there's something in her expression that gives me pause, something almost hesitant. "What is it, honey?"

  She doesn't answer immediately. "Brad, would you wish to sire an heir?"

  My thrusts lose their rhythm for a second. "Sire an heir" is Reka's way of saying "have a baby." Is she really suggesting we start trying? Now? We are married, and have this huge castle and plenty of land, plenty of room.

  I respond with a kiss, long and lingering. "I love you more than anything. I want you to be the mother of my children." My thrusts resume with renewed intensity, the idea of knocking up Reka exciting me more than I was ready for.

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  "Not...for...some...time," she gasps.

  Disappointment stings for a moment. The thought of Reka's flat belly swelling with my child makes me almost painfully hard. Her eyes widen slightly when she feels my cock twitch inside. It makes me smile.

  "That's fine," I assure her. "Whenever you're ready." The rational part of my mind realizes we still have a lot to do before thinking about children. We've got time, plenty of time.

  Reka still won't meet my eyes. "Our babe...would not...be fully human," she says softly. The words sound like they pain her, like she fears how I'll react, but I couldn't care less!

  "I don't care!" I state emphatically, punctuating the statement with a violent forward snap of my hips. A wet smack echoes off the stone walls of our bedroom. Remarkable acoustics in here.

  My wife is magic. She's obviously more than meets the eye. I know that better than anyone. If she's part something or other, that's nothing to me.

  She looks surprised at how unbothered I am, but the tight worry in her features relaxes, replaced by a beatific smile. "Fill me!" she urges. "Fuck me and fill me! Give me what's mine!"

  Something about her possessive tone really winds me up. What started as a gentle coupling is shaking the whole bedframe. I want to belong to her! My balls tighten, and I feel a huge release building in my core.

  Reka, being Reka, senses my rising pleasure, and her pussy responds, pulsing around me. The fluttering of her inner muscles draws me impossibly deeper. Our bodies dance together, all the steps known to us both, until, at last, I empty myself inside her with three jackhammer thrusts.

  Her thirsty pussy drinks my seed, milking my throbbing cock imperiously, taking what it wants, what it needs. I crush our bodies together, determined to bury myself as deeply as possible in the woman I love, to give her what I owe, everything. Seeking even more connection, I cover her mouth with my own, and Reka's smothered screams vibrate down my entire body.

  CRACK!

  Distracted as I was, I didn't notice how violently the bed was shaking. A magical shockwave has really done a number on our room. The carved bedposts have all snapped off and gone flying, battering the rest of our furniture. Thank goodness the window was spared.

  Everything's a mess, but I can't bring myself to care. My cock pumped the last of my energy into Reka, and I collapse on top of her. I feel my heart hammering in my chest, and the sweat-soaked t-shirt she's still wearing. We hold each other in silence for a time. Maybe we went back to sleep for a while. I'm not sure.

  "We can't remain abed forever, my love," Reka reminds me.

  I sigh. When she's right, she's right. "What's the agenda for today, babe?"

  "Sit up and watch this."

  There's an arrogant gleam in her eye as Reka holds out an arm and points. Her index finger conducts a silent symphony, bouncing in time to a tune only she can hear. With no incantation at all, our wrecked room responds to Reka's pure will. Knocked over chairs stand back up on their own. The parchment and spilled ink return to their proper place on Reka's writing desk, leaving not even a stain behind as the black liquid obediently returns to its bottle.

  Snapped bedposts float in the air, splinters and all. I watch in awe as the dark wood knits back together the way a living wound heals.

  I'm not spared, either. With a wave of her hand, Reka strips off all the sweat and bodily fluids clinging to my body. Her magic feels like a caress as it seeps into my mouth and does a deep cleaning. This is all quite familiar to me at this point, but she's not done.

  I hear a snap of her fingers, and casual clothing materializes instantly over my naked body, the cool cloth against my skin shocking me into full wakefulness.

  Reka's eyes blaze with triumph as she puts on her glasses. The lenses catch the morning light, going opaque, only for a moment. "I didn't use to be able to do that, rearranging matter." Her expression softens to something quizzical, almost scientific curiosity. "I wonder..."

  A mug of steaming coffee materializes in my hand! "Jesus Christ!"

  "Hah! I thought so. It seems I needn't have gone to the trouble of transmitting those food items from your dimension, Brad. By the void, with this..." She trails off, checking the room to make sure all is as it should be.

  I take an experimental sip of my morning coffee. It's good, just the way I like it.

  "I'll not want to rely on this," Reka says to herself, pacing excitedly. "Energy intensive, but supplying my love with little luxuries before we get the real production locked in is worth it."

  I rise from the bed, careful not to spill the coffee on anything she just cleaned, and join Reka at the window. She's still wearing my t-shirt, heedless of the chilly air around us. "Does this change anything?" I ask.

  Farmers outside are already hard at work, harvesting row after row of corn. Watching them is oddly hypnotic. "It seems I misjudged how quickly I'd return to my former power. Already, I exceed my old self, and I don't appear to be slowing down. You make me better than I ever was." She rests her head on my shoulder. "But I must leave you for a time."

  "Leave?" I ask in alarm.

  Reka chuckles. "Peace, my love, for a few hours, only. I've a mind to cook for you tonight, as I used to. From time to time, it pleases me to play the tradwife."

  I snort. Reka and "tradwife" don't belong in the same sentence. "So, date night then?"

  "Date night," she agrees.

  Reka at the window