#asra and julian pregnant fanfic when

[handsomepigeon]

upright ending? reversed ending? no i got the pregnant ending. i got him pregnant. with my seed. he is carrying my child.

[leponceau]

My first Julian x Apprentice smut and fluff!

Or any smut and fluff for that matter! Please be gentle with me I'm really a wee little babe in arms when it comes to fanfic.

(it's a oneshot)

(which is how i imagine julian to be like)

(like you know he does a one shot and boom you're pregnant)

(ok I'll just shut up and write)

(just wanna thank @4biddenleeches for the inspiration! and @arcana-choices for sharing the scenes!)

(how do I do those after the cut things!)

(please give me feedback, bad or good - it's the only way i can improve!)

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Setting: at Mazelinka's home

Kind of in line with what happened but deviates a bit?

Sorry I'm a total noob

Is it right to say lemon?

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I can't believe I kissed him when all I was supposed to do was to feed him soup.

But his lips were glowing rose red against his pale creamy skin... and oh how the colour leapt to his cheeks when our lips met.. oh, if only Mazelinka hadn't come in...

When she asked me if I wanted to sleep with him or in the cubby hole, what was I supposed to say?

And so I meekly settled for the cubby hole. 

Ilya. Even the Cyrillic syllables taste like honey on my lips. But it feels like I've known him forever. Two things in life don’t lie - love and magic. I guess this is what love at first sight feels like - the invisible thread tying us together. I can see it, but can he? I can see ourselves together, warming our toes by the hearth while tangled up in sheets, kissing each other by the lamplight, but does he?

I can't breathe, with the thought of him mere inches away from me. We're separated by that moth-eaten curtain that shows more than it’s supposed to hide. Like my face, I think wryly.

I can still hear him moving around the room, flitting like a bird in a cage. A clink, and his boot drops on the floor. And then the other boot. A rustle of his overcoat, a stretch of leather - it's almost too much to bear. I close my eyes, listening, imagining my hands on his hips, his thighs, my lips on his mouth, moving downwards - 

Just peep. He won't know anyway. Go on, you may never get this chance again. It's just a look. Nothing's going to happen, right?

I silently draw back the folds of the curtain, my flushed face peeping. In the dim light, I catch a glimpse of his auburn hair and his eyepatch strapped across his tousled head. He lifts the eyepatch off and lets it fall to the floor. I've seen his red sclera while his eyepatch shifted we were running from the guards. The magic within me senses some wound buried deep in his memory. I want to reach out, comfort him, hold him...

My rumination is broken when I see him reach over his shoulders and toss his chemise on the bed. He's in his breeches now, barefoot. He shifts, bending slightly. Despite myself, I lean forward, eager for more when I -

"Enjoying the view, my dear?"

I startle, crashing through the curtain, thrown off by the timbre of his voice.

I land at his feet, just as he turns. My gaze slowly travels upwards. His feet, large and solidly planted against the floor. His calves, sinewy. His thighs, slender yet revealing just a hint of the strength that lies underneath. I force my gaze away. Up and up towards his ivory abs and chest, broad, speckled with ginger. His neck - sinuous, long, with the mark I've seen glow before. My gaze finally stops at his face, framed by his chiselled jaw, and his high cheekbones. Cheekbones I wished just minutes ago I could plant kisses along. His lips, sensuous against his pale face. I gaze into his eyes, one reddened like a poppy, the other calm, with glass grey eyes like a sheet of rain. His auburn hair, ablaze by the flickering candlelight.

Please don't smirk please don't smirk please don't -

He smirked. The damned plague doctor smirked.

How did he know I was peeping? As if he read my mind, he peered at me and grinned.

"There's a mirror. I could see your feet."

Damn. Asra always said I was clever, but I forgot real world physics.

Oh, he thinks he's so smart? I’m emboldened. I stand up, dust my clothes off and stride towards him. His eyes widen.

“I’m sorry, it was a joke, please don’t hur-”

Ears burning, blood rushing to my face. I won’t be so foolish when I’ve been given a second chance by the gods. The thread that I can see tying my heart to him glows. I stop, inches before his face. He swallows, his Adam apple visibly vibrating, intrigue written all over his face.

And then I reach up and kiss him. I close my eyes, and kiss him again, and again, and again. Biting his lips, tasting his essence, his very being, nuzzling my face in his chest, the scent of my desire intertwining with his musky sweat. He stands still. Is he going to push me away? Does he like this? Was I too presumptuous?

There's only one way to find out.

I touch him. He shudders, like a spring rattling with energy, waiting to be uncoiled. I touch his face, his cheek, his shoulders, his chest. I touch him like I’ve been starved of the sense of touch for my entire life and am just learning how it feels like to touch someone. I brush my hands down his back, down his chest, curling my fingers and threading it through the silky ginger hairs on his chest. I caress his nipples - Ilya sighs and closes his eyes, and moves his arms to encircle me.

“Drop them.”

Ilya starts, his eyes flying open. He can hear the raspiness in my voice, but he’s confused.

“I- I thought that...”

All my life, I’ve always been meek. Subservient. Even Asra made decisions for me - unconfident of myself and my abilities. But in Ilya, I somehow find the strength to dominate him, to take the lead. I grin at him.

“I didn’t say you could move. You only move when I tell you to, do what I tell you to.”

Ilya blushes. Somehow I think he’s enjoying this. Who would have thought that this suave, polished doctor would go to pieces being led?

“Oh, you can hold me any way you want. Just hold me, make use of me, I don’t mind. Just tell me what to do, say the word and I’ll do it.”

Ilya smiles, a slow, lazy smile of contentment creeping up his face. I move my hands to his breeches and thumb the waist line. He makes a strangled sound.

“I didn’t tell you to move, did I? Looks like you’ll have to be punished.”

He closes his eyes and stays still. I can see it’s taking every bit of his self-control not to hold me, to keep his hands clenched by his side, willing it to stay down. This should be fun.

I brush my fingertips over the bulge between his loins. He involuntarily starts but remembers my command and stays still with great effort. I rub my palm over his thighs, skip my hand lightly over his inner thighs and then move my focus back to his loins.

With a swift motion, I push him back to the bed. His legs stick out, his bottom on the bed, looking at me with hooded eyes and a blush staining his cheeks. I drop to my knees, face to his loins. I reach down his pants and free his sex. It’s certainly happy to see me - stiff, red and long, glistening in the candlelight. He groans.

I’ve never done this before, but I instinctively move my hands around his sex and kiss the tip. He throws his head back, and recalls himself.

“I promise I won’t make a sound - hng - just - hahh - kiss me and touch me any way you like. I promise, I’ll be good.”

My hands move faster and faster, fingers forming a ring around his sex and stroking it, varying my speed. It’s taking all he’s got not to thrash around. His auburn curls peeping out from his breeches wink at me in the pale moonlight.

“Hngg- ah- I- ung”

He’s choking his sounds down, so I move towards his sex and nestle my face in those auburn curls. He immediately groans, unable to take it. I up the ante by sticking my tongue out, tasting the sweet liquid oozing out of his sex. He looks so tortured, poor boy. His face flushes red, and he grips the sheets of the bed in agony.

His sex is erect, fine, long. I have never been with a man before, but I know that tonight, come what may, I want to be Ilya's.

All of a sudden, I know what to do. I stand up and whip off my clothes. Divested of my outer layers, standing in my undergarments, my chest rubbing into his face, he leans forward, taking in my scent of arousal. At this point, I groan and ask him to touch my nipples. He pushes my chemise to the side and takes my breasts reverently, squeezing them, testing their firmness, cupping them. I throw my head back in delight and pleasure. He's placing his hands on my chest, twiddling the nubs of joy. I close my eyes. He stops. He’s unsure of himself, so I tell him to continue. He nods his head eagerly and rubs his face against my chest, bounces my chest from side to side, and takes one bud into his mouth, tongue darting around it, licking it, savouring it.

"Take off your breeches.”

“Gladly, my dear. You only have to say the word.”

He removes his mouth from my breast, giving it a kiss. His sex springs forth fully as he stands up and bends down to remove his ankles from the last vestiges of his pants. He takes off my undergarments. We embrace and tumble back onto the bed together, giggling softly.

“Ilya. Il-ly-ah. Stay still my sweet.” He immediately stays still, stiff as a board, moaning, his sex rubbing against my stomach, a clarion reminder of his desire, his arousal. For me, I think wonderingly. Amazed at how much he desires me, how much he wants me.

I pin him down on his chest with my palm and hitch myself over him. I lift myself off again and feel his sex at my entrance. I'm unsure. How is his large size going to fit?

On cue, Ilya takes his sex and rubs it slowly at my entrance, moistening it. Liquid pools and I feel his sex, insistent against my entrance, sliding in slowly.

"It's going to hurt for a short time but I promise you it'll get better. If it's too much, you can tell me. I'll be gentle."

Damned plague doctor. How did he know he's the first? The thought is pushed out of my mind by a sharp pain which winds me over. He reaches up his hands to my shoulders, stilling me, as if by holding me he can remove the pain. Looking into my eyes, he mutters an apology and continues his progress. It hurts, and suddenly, it doesn't. I can feel him moving in me, his girth, me tight and snug against him.

He bucks his hips upward, holding my hips. I've never felt like this before, such pleasure, such wild abandon. Sweat drips down my front and rolls into his bellybutton. He reaches a finger down and tastes it. My mind floats amongst the realms, I can feel the magic in me growing stronger. He grows, possesses me, I sheathe him with every thrust and buck of his hips. He reaches up to the very core of me, and he strokes me, my breasts, my hips, to make sure I'm alright.

"Ung, ah, my dear I'm going to hold back till you're alright. Don't mind me - uh, ah, mff", he groans, pulling me to rest against his chest. The bed creaks with every dip. He reaches his hand into the narrow crevice between our bodies and strokes my clit. I cry out in shock and awe.

"Do you like it? I hope it's okay for you, I - uh, oh, ohhhh, uhh - just hang on", he whispers.

With his thrusting, stroking and gently murmured words of encouragement against my ear, I'm flying, lost amongst the universe, until suddenly I feel myself melting amongst an explosion of stars. I scream out his name. Over and over again. Ilya, oh Ilya, Ilya, my Ilya.

I'm slick, I'm wet, panting and unravelling. I collapse against him. He lifts my chin up and smiles, and flips me over just like that.

"May I, my darling, my sunshine, my love?"

A well of tenderness rushes up in my chest. He called me my love. Will he know that I've made up my mind to always be in his corner, cheer him on, fight for him, uplift him? Will he know that I'm here for him, with all his flaws and complexities and insecurities?

As if in answer, he stops, gives a sigh and a grunt and releases, spent. My well, already wet, is soaked. He reaches over, patting my still quivering, trembling nub below till it quiets down. I close my eyes, blind to the world except to his face.

He lets out a sob. Startled, I look into his face, tears freely dripping down his nose.

"That was beautiful... I never knew it could be like that...I've wanted you since the day I saw you in your shop...but I didn't dare, look at me, a monster, a fugitive, how could I even dare to look at you, hold you, I-"

I still his words with a kiss and intertwine my limbs with his long ones, holding him close, stroking his hair till he falls asleep. Once I hear his rhythmic somnambulance, I gently disentangle myself and stand at the window. I blow a prayer of gratitude upwards, for giving me this one night.

Then I shut the window again, draw the curtains and join Ilya back in bed, watching the candle burn out, holding him till the dawn comes.