Chapter 35
“Ha… ah… ah…”
It felt like sinking slowly into warm bathwater—utter comfort and contentment. Beatrice gradually relaxed.
Their joining suddenly deepened, and a suppressed groan rose from Caesar’s throat.
“Haah… Beatrice…”
The gentle, wave‑like thrust of his hips quickened, though he was still careful not to be too rough.
“Ah… hnn… a‑ah…!”
Under that considerate yet persistent motion, Beatrice finally reached a sweet climax. As her pleasure peaked and she writhed, the movements that had been gaining speed stopped.
She realized he had driven in once more and released. Fluid, thicker than her own, slipped slickly from where they were joined.
A position that aids conception… it was written somewhere…
Perhaps the fatigue from wedding preparations, the long journey, and the tension of the bridal night all eased at once. Drowsiness swept over her.
Beatrice fell asleep on the spot and woke the next morning, fresh, in Caesar’s arms. Discovering he had wiped her clean and straightened her clothes while she slept moved her deeply.
She had firmly believed their first night was so proper and exemplary it could have been used as a textbook model.
After that, the two led a married life others might well emulate.
Only regarding children did they differ. Contrary to her expectation that he would want an heir immediately, Caesar seemed inclined to postpone childbirth—though even that he asked her about first.
“Do you wish to have a child right away? If you do, I won’t object…”
“Not necessarily. I just thought having an heir soon would be good for you, too…”
“If that’s the only reason, it would be better to plan for later. I’m not in a hurry for an heir, so there’s no need to rush.”
Since she had no objection to enjoying their newlywed time alone, Beatrice agreed when Caesar took contraceptives.
Except for the single time she asked about bedroom arrangements, nothing at all required adjustment.
“We shared a room the first few days, but many couples keep separate bedrooms. I’m fine either way, so I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable.”
Though she inwardly worried he might choose separate rooms, Beatrice asked considerately.
But Caesar turned the question back to her.
“Have I made you uncomfortable? If I have some sleeping habit I don’t know about, I’ll correct it. But if you want another room…”
“No, I truly just wanted your opinion.”
“Then I’d like to stay as we are now.”
Beatrice was secretly pleased by his answer. Just as she never wanted to be apart from him for even a moment, she assumed Caesar likewise wished to remain at her side day and night.
Perhaps because they shared one bedroom, as she had confessed to Regina, the two made love almost every night.
When darkness fell, they would finish their tasks and naturally lie down together. Each time Caesar extinguished the lamp and lifted the quilt to slip in, her heart beat with a peculiar anticipation.
Usually he was the one to pull her into his arms. On some nights she, unable to restrain her passion, burrowed into his embrace first. Many of those hugs led to intense lovemaking, yet even on the nights they did not, she was invariably happy.
Beatrice cherished that time in the darkness when they could feel only each other, something words could not fully express.
Sensing her husband’s warmth and scent with her whole body was not a boiling frenzy, but a comfort as precious as a tub of warm water.
The pleasure of the act itself was wonderful, yet the intimate closeness it created meant even more to her.
In this world, the only person before whom Beatrice could bare herself so freely was—and always would be—Caesar. She earnestly hoped the same was true for him.
She never disliked that secret act permitted only between spouses, where they embraced and pressed their most vulnerable, embarrassing parts together.
Life in the territory had been, or so she had believed until now, such peaceful yet ardent days.
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