Extra's Life: MILFs Won't Leave the Incubus Alone Chapter 570 - 565: The Weight of What Remains

The last round left them both emptied.

Aiden finally stilled inside her, forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. Elizabeth’s legs trembled around his waist. When he withdrew, the rush of fluid was immediate and heavy—thick, warm, endless. It spilled across the sheets in a slow flood that neither of them moved to stop.

For a long time they simply lay there.

Elizabeth’s body ached in every place he had claimed. Her thighs were sticky and sore. Her cunt throbbed with a deep, bruised pulse that flared every time she shifted.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of them. The headboard still bore the faint crack from the night’s violence. Outside, the temple bells had finished ringing, and the first real light of morning stretched across the floor.

Aiden’s hand rested low on her belly, palm warm and steady over the slight fullness left by everything he had poured into her. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles. Neither of them spoke at first.

The silence between them felt different now—no longer the desperate quiet of two people trying to outrun the next crisis, but something heavier and more deliberate.

Elizabeth turned her head on the pillow and looked at him. Her voice, when it came, was soft and ruined.

"I can still feel you," she said. "Every time I breathe. You’re still inside me."

Aiden’s eyes met hers. The fierce hunger from the hours before had quieted into something deeper.

"I know." He leaned in and kissed her once, slow and careful, as if the tenderness itself was a new kind of claim. "I didn’t mean to be so rough."

She gave a tired, genuine smile. "Yes you did. And I asked for it." Her fingers found his on her belly and laced with them. "I needed it. I still need this part too."

They stayed like that while the light strengthened. Aiden eventually rose, found a clean cloth and a basin of cool water that had been left near the door the night before, and returned to her.

He cleaned her with surprising gentleness—wiping the mess from her thighs, her swollen folds, the sticky trails that had dried on her skin. Elizabeth watched him the entire time, eyes soft.

When he finished she caught his wrist.

"Stay," she said. "Just... stay close."

He lay down again and pulled her against his chest. Her head settled over his heart. One of his hands returned to her belly, protective now rather than possessive.

After a while Elizabeth spoke into the quiet.

"If this keeps happening... if we keep doing this without care..." She hesitated, then pushed forward. "I could carry a child. Yours."

Aiden’s breath stilled for a moment. His hand pressed a fraction more firmly against her stomach.

"I know," he said. The words were low and steady. "I’ve thought about it. Every time I finish inside you I think about it."

She lifted her head enough to look at him. "And?"

"And the idea doesn’t scare me the way it should." He brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Not with you. If you ever carried my child, I would want it. I would want you safe, and the child safe, and the whole world rearranged around the two of you if that was what it took."

Elizabeth’s eyes shone. She leaned up and kissed him, slow and lingering.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," she admitted. "Not with the north still waiting. Not with everything still broken. But the thought of it... of something that is ours, something that came from nights like this... it doesn’t feel wrong."

Aiden rested his forehead against hers.

"Then we don’t decide anything today," he said. "We just know the possibility is real. And that if it happens, I will not run from it. I will claim that the same way I claimed you."

She settled back against his chest, one hand covering his on her belly.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you," he answered. "Even in the quiet. Especially then."

They stayed in bed longer than they should have.

The northern planning would begin soon. Maps waited. Routes needed confirmation. Selene and Kaelara and the rest of the circle would expect them. Yet neither moved to rise.

Elizabeth’s body still carried the clear aftereffects of the night. Every shift reminded her how thoroughly she had been taken—soreness deep inside, the lingering wetness that no amount of careful cleaning had fully erased, the faint bruises blooming on her hips and thighs in the shape of his hands. She found she did not mind any of it. The marks felt like proof.

Aiden’s fingers traced idle patterns across her stomach, lower, then back up again, always returning to the same place as if already guarding something that did not yet exist.

"You keep touching there," she said quietly.

"I can’t help it." His voice was low against her hair. "Last night I filled you so many times. The thought that one of those times might take root... it sits in my chest differently than it used to."

Elizabeth turned in his arms so they faced each other. She rested a hand over his heart.

"Would you want that?" she asked. "Truly. A child. With me. In the middle of everything we still have to face."

Aiden was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, the words were careful and absolute.

"I want whatever future keeps you beside me. If that future includes a child we made in a night when the world finally left us alone for a few hours, then yes. I would want it. I would want to watch you carry it. I would want to protect both of you with everything I have." He brushed his thumb across her cheek. "

I have spent so long being the center other people organize around. The idea of organizing my own life around something that is ours... it feels right."

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. She leaned in and kissed him, soft and deep, the kind of kiss that carried none of the previous night’s desperation and all of its honesty.

"I’m not saying we try," she whispered against his mouth. "Not yet. The north is still waiting. The seals. The courier. All of it. But I needed you to know that the thought doesn’t frighten me the way it once would have. If I ever bear a child, I want it to be yours."

Aiden closed his eyes briefly, as if the words had landed somewhere deep.

"Then we move carefully," he said. "We face what comes next. And when the time is quieter... when the threats are fewer... we talk about it again. Properly. Without the smell of sex still in the air and the bed half-broken behind us."

She gave a quiet laugh that turned into a wince as her body reminded her of its limits.

"The bed is more than half-broken."

"I’ll replace it," he said. "Or we find new rooms. Ones with stronger walls."

They lay together a little longer, speaking in low voices about smaller things—the way the morning light looked on the cracked plaster, the distant sounds of the temple waking, the fact that both of them would walk into the planning session carrying the private knowledge of what the night had left behind.

Elizabeth shifted again and felt another slow trickle between her legs. She did not comment on it. Aiden’s hand stayed where it was, warm and steady. She watched the way the light moved across the ceiling and thought about how rare these hours had become.

Most mornings started with reports, with messengers, with the weight of decisions that could get people killed. This morning had started with his come still inside her and his hand on her belly like it belonged there.

"Do you remember the first time you stayed after?" she asked.

Aiden’s thumb paused. "Yes."

"You left before dawn then. You thought you were protecting me by going."

"I was wrong."

"You were. But you came back. And you kept coming back." She pressed her palm flatter against his chest. "I used to think wanting a child with someone meant the fighting was finished. That it was something you only did when the world was safe. I don’t think that anymore."

He was quiet for a few breaths. "What do you think now?"

"That the world might never be fully safe. And that waiting for perfect conditions is just another way of never choosing anything." She turned her face into his neck. "I’m still not ready. Not with the north ahead of us. But I also don’t want to pretend the possibility isn’t real. Not between us."

Aiden’s arm tightened around her. "Then we keep it real. No pretending. We go north. We do the work. And we keep this between us until we’re both sure."

She nodded against his skin. The ache between her legs had settled into a dull, constant reminder. She could feel the bruises when she moved her hips. She liked that she could feel them.

They were evidence that the night had happened, that the hours of roughness and release had been shared and not imagined.

Aiden eventually sat up, drawing her with him. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, then turned back to help her. Her legs were unsteady. He kept one hand at her waist until she found her balance. When she stood fully, another thin trail of fluid slipped down her inner thigh. She met his eyes and did not look away.

"Still yours," she said.

"Still mine," he answered. "And whatever we make together will be ours."