Besides the fertility treatments his wife was receiving, Alex would have said that his life was going relatively smoothly. Marriage was something he was still adjusting to, though adjusting well, and life with Yuliya was better than in his absolute wildest dreams. His best friend from Mexico City insisted that he was Julia Roberts in that "movie about the hooker," but Alex laughed it off and insisted that he was much prettier than Julia Roberts, so it was an unfair comparison. In truth, he felt as though this was something that only happened to better men, though he accepted the presence of his marriage with gratitude and respect.

Yuliya, on the other hand, presented a different kind of problem. It wasn't their marriage, per se. It wasn't their relationship. It was, evidently, their inability to conceive a child. Their entire lives had been moved from the hustle and bustle of city life, just so they could experience what things were like in the country. So they could have a house in which to raise their children. So they could have a yard and maybe, one day, a dog.

Or maybe Alex was just a dreamer of sorts. Some days, he missed Mexico. He missed what it was like to hear his mother's voice, or smell her cooking wafting from the kitchen, or call his best friend to go out on a drive to raise a little hell. Emilia had been gone for enough years that he no longer felt the sting of her absence, but the memories they'd shared had been too numerous to discount completely. He could remember their drives together, how they would play "chicken" as children, and see who would make it the furthest in their parents' cars before they chickened out and drove back home. At age nine, Alejandro had made it as far as the border of Mexico City before he realized that his padre would kill him, dead, and he turned the car around to return it before anyone could notice. Emilia kissed him on the cheek after that and told him that he was brave.

There were few adventures now, much to Alex's chagrin, though there weren't very many that he would be willing to make. The child they were attempting to conceive was certainly adventurous enough… and he and Yuliya were certainly diligent about trying. The treatments, the shots on their own, the timing for her ovulations and the numerous times they'd made love… despite the fact that Alex loved making love to his wife, the task itself had grown somewhat tedious. Rarely did they make love, just for the sake of making love. It was always to attain a goal. To conceive. To have a baby.

Not that there wasn't romance inherent in that. Alex had driven Yuliya home from her latest treatment in relative silence, figuring that she probably wouldn't be in much of a "talking mood." He knew the side effects… he witnessed them first hand… and even though he would have given the world to Yuliya, sometimes, he just needed a break from it all. She was experiencing it, and he had to step away. What the hell was wrong with him?

Feet pounded the pavement, sending shocks up his calves, sweat trickling down his spine. The haphazard ponytail he'd left the house in had long since fallen, and hair was now matting to his forehead. Music was blaring in his ears, almost to the point of deafening… but it was better than thinking about poor Yuliya, sick on the sofa, trash can placed beside of her "just in case." By the time Alex reached their front door, he was panting. He'd gone running to attempt to clear his head, but had failed. Miserably. He tugged the earbuds from his ears, entered the house, and made a beeline for the living room. And there was sweet Yuliya, just where he'd left her. He softened and crouched down beside the sofa, hand slipping over her forehead. "Do I stink?" he asked, offering a little smile. "Is it helping your stomach or making it worse?"

Yuliya closed her eyes briefly, lowering the knitting she was working on, and waited for another wave of nausea to pass--at least, that's what she hoped it would do. For a few moments all she could do was raise the back of her hand to her lips, hoping that she wasn't about to throw up the half-mug of peppermint tea she'd managed to sip since the last time nausea had overwhelmed her. Even worse than vomiting was needing to clean out the little plastic pail she kept by the sofa in case she needed to use it, but if she left it even for a little while, the smell would just make her that much sicker. It was reason enough for her to swallow hard against the urge to retch.

Finally, the nausea began to subside; she opened her eyes again and took a couple of deep breaths before returning to her knitting. She wasn't very good at the complicated patterns yet, so she was simply adding to an extensive collection of scarves building up in the Alvarezes' front closet; she figured if they ended up with way too many, she could donate some to the local church, or to a homeless shelter in Indianapolis. Winters here were hard, though she and Alejandro had managed to escape the worst of it so far.

The thought of him made something in her gut wrench uncomfortably with either guilt or fear; she couldn't tell which. They were too intermingled, these days, to be easily differentiated, and they were unnatural besides. She told herself that when they got too overwhelming, and she felt herself starting to tear up--it was just a side effect of the hormone treatments, nothing more and nothing less. Of course, that didn't do much to dispel the feelings, or to shake the idea that she was putting Alejandro through something he could have so easily avoided by choosing to marry someone younger.

There--what was the saying? Speak of the Devil. She'd never understood that one, but it was true enough in this case. Even as her thoughts turned to him, she heard the front door open, which could only mean that he was back from his run. Her sweet Sasha. Sometimes she worried that he'd just keep running one day, but when he smiled at her, those thoughts had no chance of persisting. "Yes, you stink," she said, smiling as he crouched beside the sofa. "You always do after you run. But I don't mind." She pressed her lips against his chin in a quick, affectionate kiss; they came away tasting salty. "Did you have a good run, solnyshko moyo?*"

There was something almost sickeningly perfect about Alex's relationship with Yuli. By all intents and purposes, they were perfect together. They were sweet, in love, and crazy about one another. Sure, maybe they met through unconventional means, but really… what was conventional nowadays? People met online. People dated through their cousin's uncle's brother's girlfriend's dog's owner's breeder. No relationship was "normal," regardless of what it appeared on the outside. Alex needed to come to terms with the fact that his relationship with Yuli was just strange, but beautiful, and deal with that.

The fact that they couldn't have a baby was difficult, to say the least, but he could deal with it. He could even deal with their methodic sex life now… strange, how their intimacy abounded when they were in a relationship in which he was paid, and now that he was at it for free, they seemed to have "issues." Whatever the case, it was all just an attempt for Alex to rationalize the fact that his wife was sick on the sofa, and he'd decided to go for a little run. God… what the hell was wrong with him right now?

She commented with a good natured, "Yes, you stink," and Alex couldn't help but grin. At least she was honest, he thought, and he couldn't blame her for that one. He felt hideously dirty, now that he was inside with air conditioning and the sweat was starting to settle. He hadn't accepted clients for the day, so he could spend it with Yuliya as she coped with the after-effects of the fertility treatment… and yet, he'd gone off anyway. He wet his lips and leaned into her small kiss, feeling her lips brush against the scruff of his chin.

And for some reason, it ignited him. It was a spark that happened quickly, making his stomach church and his cock harden, even if it was only slightly. God, was he really that starved for absent affection? It wasn't as though Yuliya had been keeping her affections locked away where no one could find them. She was forthcoming with all of it… willing to make love whenever he was, even scheduling some of their liaisons herself. Scheduling. Maybe that was why. And with this almost methodic and obligatory gesture, she'd stirred something in him he hadn't felt in a while. Arousal came easy to Alex when Yuli was involved… but there was arousal, and there was passion. Alex was suddenly flooded with the latter.

"My run?" he repeated, attempting to bring himself back down to earth. He was going to have to, if he actually expected to get anything done. She was obviously nauseated… sex probably wasn't a possibility at that moment. He needed to go out and take a cold shower, maybe masturbate, but the options weren't looking great to get away at that moment. "It was… invigorating." He chose his words wisely.

And it had been. Once again, his body had been completely brought to life, blood rushing through every vein in his body, making him feel more alive and thriving than he had in a long time. No good way to say that to the woman who had the trash can beside the sofa in case she had to vomit. But still. A suggestion. "Maybe a shower would be helpful?" he tried, and tried to hide the coyness and suggestion from his voice with, "I can help."

This close, she really could smell him--the rank smell of athleticism, the saltiness of his sweat, and underneath it all that ineffable human scent of skin and hair. It was a purely 'Alejandro' smell to Yuli, and even if it wasn't the best smell ever, she enjoyed it because it meant he was near. She wrinkled up her nose with an affectionate little smile as she leaned back after kissing his stubbly chin; her husband truly was a beautiful man, even when he was flushed and sweaty from a run. And coming from Yuli, who had spent so much time around male models, that was not a hollow compliment.

"Yes, your run," she said, a teasing note entering her voice after he repeated her previous question. His mind was somewhere else; perhaps still outside. A few times, before the treatments, she'd tried to accompany him on his runs, but though she was in good enough shape to more or less keep up (if he went a little slower than usual, and not quite as far), it just wasn't much to her liking. Yuli ran at the gym, on treadmills, when she needed to, but otherwise she preferred dance classes or zumba or that sort of activity; something with style and flair. Running was too straightforward for her. But that, she thought, might be why Alex liked it; it let his brain and his body detach from one another.

"Invigorating is good," Yuli murmured, shifting her hand to rest against his wrist; her skin was almost ghostly pale compared to his, olive toned even without exposure to the sun. The artist in her--every successful model developed one, whether they liked it or not--loved it. "A shower would certainly help with the stink," she said, her blue eyes flicking back up to meet his, where she thought she saw a flash of something familiar, something she hadn't seen quite as often lately--a certain fire that had caught her attention back when she was just his customer.

Involuntarily, the tip of her tongue peeked out to moisten her lips, and she felt something stir in her stomach--not nausea this time. "Yes, I think a shower would help wake me up too," she murmured with a little smile. "You can wash my hair and I can wash your back. Like we did in New York that time--remember?" Back in her fancy apartment with its luxury bathroom... but she much preferred their little suburban cottage. Of course, that little exercise in hygiene had ended with scratchmarks down his back and a perfect imprint of her torso, shoulders to ass, in the steamed up glass door of the shower. This wasn't likely to end quite as erotically, but still... there was a lot of pleasure in just the little touches, the intimacy, and it had been somewhat lacking a lately, something she often felt a pang of guilt over.

She teased him, and Alex couldn't help but feel a slow grin rise to his lips. Although he had always projected himself to clients as being suave, composed, eloquent, and utterly put together… in reality, he was pretty boyish. Almost to the point of childlike innocence. Oh, sure, he used to love to put on a suit, tie half of his hair back, trim the hair on his face to perfection, and accompany fine ladies to fine parties. Kiss the top of their hand before getting them another glass of wine, or entertaining the other guests with Spanish poems and stories from Mexico, confirming everything they "already knew" about the country. Amazing them, that such a composed young man could have "escaped."

And yet, with Yuli, here and now, Alex was able to be himself. Goofy. A little immature at times. He could smile that lopsided grin and know that it was endearing to her, rather than somewhat annoying and "out of character." He could be the man that he was without fear of repercussions… or a smaller tip.

Somehow, however, he still felt twinges of that sophisticated man with Yuliya. She was an elegant woman. Flawless. She deserved more than a former escort, and yet there she was. And sometimes, he felt composed and dapper and wanted to take her out for a night on the town. On those nights, sometimes, he pretended that he was still her hire, that she was still his client, and when he kissed her, it was with precision and the arousal that came from it. It was only a game he played with himself now, something to pull from his hat every now and then.

With Yuliya, it had always been different. Even from their first "date." With Yuliya, he'd always felt completely intoxicated, and spending the evening with her had been something he looked forward to… nothing something he felt compelled to do. He'd known, almost instantly, that she was "the one," regardless of how cheesy that may have sounded. And then, she agreed to a shower.

She didn't just agree to the shower, she touched her lips with her tongue, forcing Alex to feel like a panting dog. His own lips parted, breath came and left quickly, his chest rising and falling with it. Dear God, he was breathing harder than when he'd taken a run just a few minutes ago… Did he remember the shower in New York? Alejandro remembered everything. He nodded, dumbly, suddenly forgetting how to call upon words, even when under positions of extreme arousal. "Si," he finally answered, though it came too many seconds too late.

He stood, offering his hand, and gave her a pull into the bathroom, kicking off his shoes on the way. He didn't know the extent of her nausea, if the shower would help or hinder, but he knew he needed her and she was (in some way) in the same space as he was. Maybe she wanted it, too. Her body was still perfect, as though she was a teenager, and though her face was starting to deepen her laugh lines, a few around her forehead… Alex found her more beautiful now than ever before. He reached into the shower to turn the faucet, then reached behind him to pull his shirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor, then reached forward for Yuli's shirt, tugging it up over her head.

He took a moment to survey his wife, drink her in, the gentle curves of her body, the subtle slope of her breasts, and he smiled. "You are so beautiful," he said, his hands slipping to either side of her waist, pulling her in. "I am a lucky man." He leaned down to catch her lips in his own, a soft kiss, gentle, loving. It lingered for a moment before he pulled away and glanced down at her again, and he delicately tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

There was no mistaking the look on Alex's face now. It was intoxicating to Yuli. The way those perfect, erotic lips of his parted, the way his eyes were fixed on her face like she was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen--she couldn't doubt, when he looked at her like that, that Alex found her lovely and desirable. It was satisfying on so many levels. The woman in her felt powerful, loved, almost primal--and the insecure part of her, the part that was so afraid of losing the beauty that had been her only real gift in the world up until now, felt sure that even age couldn't rob her of her looks. At least, not if Alex kept looking at her like that.

She let him pull her off the couch and towards the bathroom, eyes grazing over his body as they walked. He was as handsome now as when they'd met, if not more so, and even with the natural stink of exertion, there wasn't much Yuli liked better than his body right after a run, when he was still hot to the touch and his hair fell into a face flushed with endorphins. It almost made her giddy, looking at him--he was just so handsome, so perfect, and he loved her.

She let go of his hand as they entered the bathroom and hooked her thumbs into the close-fitting waistband of her yoga pants, tugging them down and stepping out of them as the water in the shower started to run. A moment later, Alex's hands pulled the shirt she'd been wearing up over her head, and she lifted her arms obediently to help, smiling at him when the fabric was out of the way. A thrill ran down her spine when he pulled her in closer, and she melted inward, skin against skin. When he leaned down to kiss her, she rose slightly on the balls of her feet to kiss him back, a hand sliding briefly into the damp hair at the back of his neck.

"No luckier than I am, solnyshko moyo," she murmured against his lips a moment later, before extracting herself from her hands to divest herself of her underwear. Straightening, she gave him a little playful smile before pushing the glass panel further out of the way and slipping into the shower; the water was body-temperature, a comforting patter against her shoulders, back, and scalp as she ducked under the stream and then held out her hand for him. "Come on, you. Don't make me ask twice. I want to wash my husband." The smile on her lips belied the chiding tone in her voice.

There were many benefits to having a wife like Yuliya. Firstly, she was confident. She wore that confidence like an expert, as though she had been fettered with it her entire life. Confidence was something to be earned, Alejandro knew, and she'd done so through the sheer talent she possessed at being classically herself. She was sexy. She would have to be, to have been such a successful model for so very long. She was older than he was, by about ten years. With that age came sophistication and elegance, such that Alejandro had never seen before.

But one of Alex's favorite parts about having a relationship with Yuliya, having a marriage with her… was the fun. The subtle roles that they slipped into from time to time, when she would "tsk" him, and chide him like a child. Though there was nothing overtly sexual about it, Alex couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by it. He felt like a schoolboy, shuddering under the threat of paddling by his extremely attractive teacher… and Alex felt positively giddy. He was terrible at hiding it, though he tried, teeth baring in a smile fit for the Cheshire cat. He let out a little breath of a laugh that, he was ashamed to say, felt more like a giggle, and followed Yuli into the shower as she requested.

Part of Alejandro had wanted to leave her waiting. Just to see what would happen. What if he did make her ask twice? What if he made her wait in there? Would she break out a paddle? Maybe pat it against her palm in warning. Or just rake her fingers down his back in protest. Whatever the case, Alejandro, despite wanting to draw it out with her and make the anticipation build and fold into itself, found that he was too eager, and he wrapped his arms around Yuliya's waist, pulling her tight.

"You make me into a very interesting man," he said, lips pressing a kiss to her dampening skin. "You make me surprise myself." And really, wasn't that a good thing? Alex certainly thought so. If he was going to remain stagnant for the rest of his life, he didn't figure that it was worth living. He needed change, constantly. I needed to feel as though he had opportunity to be a better man than he was the previous day. Yuliya gave him that chance.

His hand slipped down, over the small of her back and lower, hand tracing her subtle curves and the dips he'd grown to fall in love with. His hand slipped up, between her thighs, palm pressing against the precious folds of her body, almost asking permission from this beautiful woman to go further. It seemed as though it had been so long since he'd touched her of his own volition, rather than after reading an ovulation calculator, that he could already feel the blood rush between his own thighs. He noticed himself hard already, pressing into her thigh, his fingers begging to press inside of her. "Let me touch you, Mi Reyna," he whispered, breath hot against her ear.

It was impossible not to adore Alex. Yuli was sure this wasn't just her own understandable bias talking; the man was absolutely irresistible, by any measure. The way he grinned at her when she teasingly scolded him, the little laugh he let out--they were enough to curve the corners of her lips up even more, faint crow's feet forming beside her eyes as her husband joined her in the shower. Add the sheer adorableness that was his personality to his lithe, easy-moving, fitness-magazine-worthy body and the entire package was almost more than she could stand sometimes.

She giggled a little herself, the sound low in her throat, as he pulled her in faster than she could react to; her arms were momentarily trapped between their chests, and she turned her wrists to rest her her fingertips atop the faint ridges formed by his collarbones. She tipped her head to the side to expose more skin to his lips, and after a moment, freed her arms so that she could loosely lock her fingers behind his neck.

"It is appropriate... you surprise me every day," she murmured, rising a little on her toes to more easily nuzzle against the coarse hair that grew where his jaw almost met his ear. "My sweet, lovely husband..." She exhaled a contented sigh through her nose as their skin, slick with water and Alex's sweat, met and melded--cheek to cheek, chest to breast, stomachs, hips, thighs... there was nothing quite as satisfying to Yuli on every level as being this close to Alex--so close that every subtle intake of breath, every twitch of a muscle, was significant and miraculous.

The feeling of his hand sliding down her back and over her butt and hip was enough to make even more tension melt out of her muscles; the nausea from five minutes ago was eased by the steam and forgotten in favor of Alex's touch. When his palm calm to a halt between her thighs, Yuli sucked in a sharp breath, pressing her hips against his hand encouragingly. "Touch me, moyo korol...*" she breathed against his ear before taking his earlobe between her teeth gently and working the sensitive flesh. Her own hand slid down and into the new space between their bodies to slide along his hardening arousal; her fingertips slid almost aimlessly, lazily down the surprisingly silky skin of his shaft, already perfectly lubricated by the hot water pounding down on their bodies.

It was easy for Alex to slip into a familiar role with Yuliya. The role where he was meant to seduce her, make her feel like she was his everything. Amazing how effortless this "pretense" had turned into reality… incredible how, what had initially begun as something Alex pulled on with a nice dinner jacket, had turned into something so beautiful and real. Something remarkable. Something he absolutely couldn't live without.

Alex rarely talked about his other clients with Yuli, for good reason. Although he wasn't particularly ashamed of what he'd done to make a living for so long, he wasn't particularly braggadocios either… which, in all honesty, was probably what saved their marriage. How was she to know what they shared was something very real, when he'd feigned that reality with so many other women over the course of several years? Alex had to trust that Yuliya knew he loved her for herself, not for her money. It would have been quite simple to "seduce" another woman into keeping him as "kept" for the rest of his life… Yuliya had to know that Alex didn't feel that way.

With an invitation to touch her, a near plea for it, Alex pressed his fingers just inside the soft folds of her, reveling in the feeling of her skin. Soft. Smooth. Wet. Alex couldn't remember the last time he'd physically touched her, for reasons other than conception. This was more than what he needed… he was desperate for this… he was positively out of his mind for this woman. He could feel her clit, swollen, and teased it easily with a finger. He was used to being aroused, having the distraction of a hand working him, but for some reason… he couldn't focus with Yuliya.

She stroked him, like it was something she did every day. She worked him over, left him burning hot, and with so little effort for her part. She was just… too good at this. Almost like she was the professional, and not him. Yuliya had always been able to find his buttons. To press them with ease. Alex found her lips with his own, relishing in the soft feel of them, and sealed the kiss just so he could initiate another. He realized that he was probably growing lazy with her clit, stroking her, giving her the pleasure that she was giving him… but he was distracted. His brain shut off. This was a rare thing for Alejandro Alvarez.

He wet his lips, almost nervously, and pressed her hair delicately behind her ear, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "If we keep going like this," he murmured, familiar boyish smile slipping to his lips, "we'll never get clean."

Yuli's eyelids dropped until her eyes were open only a slit, peering out from between damp eyelashes at the man she loved. Every tiny movement of his fingertip, every jerk of a single muscle, left her muscles shivering with pleasure, and Yuli's lips pressed together as a whimper escaped her vocal cords. There was little in the world that she enjoyed more than the simple perfection of Alex's forefinger on her clit; he was a master, and there wasn't a thing he did that didn't nearly bring her to her knees.

She knew where he'd gained his experience, of course, but she couldn't make herself care. Oh, it had bothered her at first, when she'd been insecure about their attraction, when she'd wondered why someone as young and gorgeous as Alejandro Alvarez would attach himself to her if it wasn't for her money and connections. Then time had passed, and she'd gotten to know the man he was, and had watched him time and again show little to no interest in the rather healthy bank account that held her life's earnings, and now? Now she couldn't care about his past. That was the past; everyone had one. What mattered was the present, and the future, and for those... he was entirely hers, and she knew it in her bones, even when her fallible human brain made her doubt.

She made a soft, happy sound against his lips when they sought her own for a kiss; the sound was almost drowned out by the water pounding on tile and skin. Her hand slid over the slick, hot skin of his cock, and as they kissed she squeezed him gently, before trailing the tip of her thumbnail oh-so-gently down the underside of his shaft, tip to base. Her tongue flicked out to brush against his lower lip, and it wasn't until she spoke again that she opened her eyes; the trance of giving and receiving such unhurried, uncomplicated pleasure was strong.

"Clean is overrated," she murmured, smiling softly to match his. "My husband has been so sweet and patient with me... I want to thank him." Her stomach might not be steady enough to allow her to use her mouth, but she knew his sweet spots well enough to make a handjob just as good--or so she hoped. Her lips brushed against his jaw as her hand sped up slightly, settling into a steady, syncopated rhythm for the moment. She murmured against his damp scruff: "Te quiero..."

There was little as beautiful as the sound of his native language on his wife's beautiful tongue. Alex knew that she picked up a little here and there, but it was always a pleasant surprise when she began to speak in the language. When he got to hear it slipping from between her lips. It was enough to think that they were spending the rest of their lives together… another completely when Alex considered the fact that she was constantly trying to make him happy.

Yuliya had so much fucking pressure on herself right now. She had the pressure of conceiving a child, had the pressure of fertility treatments, and all Alejandro had to do was get hard enough to make love to her. Yuliya definitely had the brunt of the burden here, and that was nothing that Alex took lightly. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to be inside of her. Constantly. And yet, he'd come to think of their love making as an obligation. A chore. Simply… a way to have a child.

What was wrong with him? He felt guilt surging through him as he remembered, in these moments, what it felt like to be in Yulia's arms. Making love, having a baby… it didn't have to be so full of this. So full of the drama and the obligation. Making love was a celebration of the relationship they'd built over so long, and Alejandro would have done well to remember that. Guilt was something that he didn't deal with well… this was absolutely no exception. Everything that Yuliya was going through, and she still wanted to "thank him." She called him sweet, and patient… as though he would have been willing to be anything but patient. He would have waited until the ends of the earth if it meant that they could have a child together. How horrible had he been? What was wrong with him?

"Te quiero," he repeated, softly, pressing another kiss to her soft lips. But then, he just… stopped. He was hard. He wanted her. He knew that now, more than ever, he wanted to feel her hands on him. His body merging with hers. And yet… he couldn't be selfish. Yuli was the most selfless woman he knew… what was he doing to her? He was not a shining example of the husband he'd always hoped he would be for her. He was driven by his animalistic urge for sex. Granted, as an escort, that had been quelled, considering the clients he entertained often. And Alex was a man. He had needs, and Yuliya filled those needs. But he couldn't let this carry on. He couldn't let her continue to do this. Not when she'd just sacrificed comfort for the sake of their conception.

"No, no, no," Alex finally murmured, hand easing down between them to wrap around her wrist. He gently pulled her hand away, lifting it to his lips to kiss. "There will be time for that," he said, and eased his hand over the front of her body, just exploring her gentle, feminine curves. After a moment, he reached down for the soap, lathered his hands, and began to stroke her front, clean it. Her chest. The curve of her breasts. Her stomach. Her stomach that, somehow, Alex knew would not ever swell with their child. This, however, was not the discussion that Alex wanted to have. Not now. Now, he just wanted to bathe his wife. Worship her body. Show her that he was the man she'd married so many years ago.

The feeling of Alex's lips against her own was perfect, right, in every conceivable way. The fact that they couldn't, in fact, conceive the consummation of their love--a baby--was baffling to Yuliya on a fundamental level because of how perfect everything else was. Who else but they could have made the love story between an upscale male escort and a diminishing former supermodel work? They'd both come from extremes, and met each other in the very middle, in the proverbial happy medium, in what should be, she felt, a little house with a white picket fence and 2.5 children. They had the house and the fence... but still no children.

Thoughts like those lingered in her mind so consistently these days that she was barely even aware of them; they were there like static, like background noise, the same way the sound of an airplane flying overhead or her neighbors calling to each other in the street were. Present, but filtered out of her consciousness and into a lower level of her subconscious. They were there when she was making dinner, when she went to her yoga classes at the Evergreen Community gym, when she was watching the news, and even now, when Alex's hard cock was pulsing, hot and wet from his desire and the steam of the shower, in her hand.

The look she gave him when he wrapped his fingers around her wrist to stop her was when of befuddlement, and below the confusion, mild concern. Had she done something wrong? That moment of misgiving ended when he lifted her hand to kiss it, though, and the look of confusion on her face was replaced by a smile. She felt a soft flush effusing the skin on her cheeks and her chest as he began to softly soap up her body. Her eyes closed in blissful happiness as she submitted to his tender ministrations, and she rested her arms on his shoulders, fingertips draped lightly over against his shoulder blades.

"Y te amo," she murmured then, the smile on her lips modulating her voice slightly. She opened her eyes to watch his face as he washed her body. "You take such good care of me, solnyshko moyo. You're going to be an even better father than you are a husband, I think." She reached for the shampoo and squirted a little into the palm of her hand, and began working it into those foppishly long locks of his that she loved so much.

Alejandro had to be absolutely insane. There was no way a sane individual in this world would go so far as to almost make love to a woman as beautiful as Yuliya was, then turn her down. She was stroking him, urging him harder, closer to the edge, and instead of allowing her to do it… he stopped her. What the hell was wrong with him? And yet, Alex understood something that other men wouldn't. He understood his wife on a very basic level… understood and spoke her language when others might have fumbled with the most elementary vocabulary. He could understand her looks, her glances, the tones behind her voice, even when she wasn't saying them clearly. And perhaps he was wrong on this one, but he believed that the romance of a handjob in the shower was vastly depleted when his wife felt sick, and sex had become nothing short of methodic.

That wasn't to say that Alejandro didn't still find her attractive. On the contrary; Yuli was one of the most beautiful women Alex had ever met. Her nearly innocent eyes, the curves of her body, the sweet smile on her face and the lines that had begun to crease her cheeks with it. He relished every part of her, every moment of her, every little inch of her, and all he wanted to do was curl her into his arms and protect her. Alex knew that she blamed herself, blamed her age, for their inability to conceive as of yet. What he hadn't quite voiced yet was the fact that he wasn't sure they ever would conceive. Now was not the time. Yuliya needed to see this through. He needed to try it, see if they could make it work, and when it failed, Alex would be there to hold her and offer other suggestions.

Surrogacy, maybe. Or adoption. Yuli wasn't quite willing to give up yet, however. She wasn't. And maybe she never would be. Maybe her stubbornness would take over completely, and her insistence that she try until she conceived would lead to Alex never having children at all. If that was what it took to make Yuliya happy… Alex would find some way to cope with it. He was a romantic. He'd always been a romantic. He'd left Mexico for the arms of a woman, and he'd fallen into the arms of many. Romance worked for him, because he loved it. He loved falling in love, loved watching others fall in love. And because he fell in love with Yuliya every morning, the start of every day, he would have sacrificed anything for her. She assured him of the father he would be, and all he could do was let out a tiny sigh. "A better father than husband?" he asked, teasingly, tempted to squeeze the skin of her stomach, tickle her. He decided better of it, providing how sick she'd been when they returned home. "Am I not a good husband?"

Her fingers worked shampoo into a lather in his hair, and he shut his eyes, scrunching his face dramatically. "Don't forget my beard," he said, amused, pouting up his lips, protruding his jaw forward. Things were too serious. He needed her to smile. To laugh. Anything. Life was supposed to be a joke. Light, at the very least, and this was getting far too heavy for his liking.

Adoption... if Yuliya was honest, it had crossed her mind before, though mostly before she met Alex. She's always felt the need to be a mother -- or, no. Rather, she had always felt that it would be right for her to be a mother. There had never been any rush, which was, perhaps, why they were in this situation now, paying so much for in vitro fertilization and hormone therapies in an attempt to conceive a child. But before she'd had her perfect Alejandro, she'd considered, once or twice, submitting the paperwork for adoption. She wanted a child; yes, she might have been a single woman then, but she was a single woman with a bank account that comfortably accommodated eight figures, a single woman with all the resources in the world.

Adoption with Alejandro, though, was not something she'd thought much about, though increasingly it had been lingering at the back of her mind, as the treatments failed to come to fruition. Every time she saw a woman with a child who looked nothing like her; every time one of those ads came on television about sponsoring children in third world countries; it would stick in the back of her mind like a burr to clothes. For now, though, the only thought sticking to her consciousness was how lovely Alejandro's eyes were, how dark they were, and how miraculous it was that something so dark could look so bright when he teased her.

"Even better, I said!" she protested with a little laugh of her own. "Even! You are the best husband a woman could ask for." She nipped playfully at his lower lip, before she started lathering up his beard, laughing more at the way he jutted his jaw forward like some sort of caveman. "Ridiculous man... You are lucky I love you. And tonight, maybe I will show you how much I love you." She gave him a coy little smile, her own eyes still bright with amusement. Thinking to their conception calendar, she realized it wasn't one of the ideal days; in fact, it was even less likely than usual that they could conceive. But she didn't care, now; Alex had re-lit the fire in her belly with the touch of his fingers, and she was well aware that sex could be recreational as well as productive. There was no reason they couldn't, well... practice, she thought with a little wry grin.

Alejandro had to wonder if any of this was worth it. Was Yuli worth it? God, Yuli was worth everything. But this trial and error, this pounding at one another and pawing, this desperate attempt at parentage was just not working out. And it was weighing on them both. Alex could see this clearly in Yuli's eyes… they were so tired. Tired in ways that only women twice her age wore. She wasn't young perhaps, no, but she was beautiful and spry, and nothing could hold back his Yuliya. Except for this.

They needed to stop. They needed another option. Yuli was so worn down, so worn out, and it was torture for Alex to watch. He already knew that she was sensitive to the topic of his youth, and whether or not he would have preferred a younger wife. Perhaps it wasn't a sore spot anymore, but one had to wonder if that didn't still weigh in the back of Yuliya's mind every now and then. Alex had never viewed his wife as mentally older -- physically, literally, she was. That couldn't be denied at all -- but when he saw her like this, exhausted and emotional wrought, it was just more torture than he was willing to take for her.

Maybe they would talk soon. Or maybe they would continue to avoid the topic like it seemed as though they always did. Perhaps things would be ever the same until Yuliya was too tired to continue, too tired to discuss a family, too tired to do anything except lay in bed, depressed, forlorn, and childless. No. Alex wouldn't allow that. He wouldn't. Enough had tortured his sweet, sweet queen… and he would not allow her to continue to go through his much longer. She cleaned his beard, tickling it with her fingers and with soap, and once again spun her beautiful words into a near soliloquy for his ears alone. Everything sounded so much more romantic when it was spoken in a foreign tongue. Alex leaned forward to wash the suds from his beard, then reached around his wife's body to fumble for the faucet. He turned it off, the streaming water halting around them, and he cupped her cheeks, pressing a small kiss against them.

"I don't want to do this any longer," he said, softly. So much for waiting. "I do not want to continue to see you sick, so empty. We want a child… but there are other ways of having children. We don't need you to be sick in order to be parents. It breaks my heart." He pressed the door open to the shower and went first, gathering up a white, fluffy towel, warm from the steam of the shower, and wrapped it around Yuliya's shoulders. "Come. We'll talk about it more in bed. I'll make you the tea you like."

Those words, coming from her husband's mouth, sent Yuli's mind into a tailspin of panic. They were so incongruous with the moment; they didn't seem to fit at all; and was it her imagination or was there something sad in his eyes? When they'd first become a couple -- a real couple, rather than just customer and service provider -- she'd had her moments of doubt. After all, she knew that she had once been a beautiful woman, and that she wasn't ugly now, that she was intelligent enough and a reasonably good person, but Alex -- oh, he was so much more. It hadn't made sense to her that he had wanted her. She'd waited for the other shoe to drop.

It never had, and eventually her fears had been assuaged; he really did want her, for god only knew what reason. Every once in a while, though, that same old worry would poke its head into their little paradise, just to remind her that while she passed through the years towards old age, he was just coming into his prime. She tried not to let on, and when Alex did figure out what was happening in her head, he was always quick to put her fears to rest. But these words, coming from his mouth, were enough to put the fear of god into her.

Before she could do more than a suck in an involuntary, deep breath, though, he'd continued -- and his words left her both relieved and dizzy. It wasn't their marriage he didn't want any longer; it was their attempts at having their own child. As he wrapped a towel around her shoulders, she felt herself wilt, and wasn't sure even in that moment if it was grief or relief she was feeling; the two were so intermingled and overwhelming that she couldn't even speak for a few moments. She leaned into him a little as they moved into the bedroom, trailing wet footprints, and she sat on the coverlet over their bed.

"Me neither," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't... I don't think it will ever happen for me. I'm so sorry..." Her voice did trail off to a whisper now, and tears pricked her eyes as she looked down in shame; what kind of wife couldn't give her husband children? It was the most fundamental kind of failure. She knew he didn't feel it, didn't want her to, but she couldn't help it; it was the world she'd been born into. Women were supposed to have children, and she couldn't. How could she not be ashamed? "I love you, Alejandro. I do. So much. I am so sorry."

Alex could see the panic in Yuli's eyes, before he completed his statements. He knew that he was being vague, that he was having difficulty getting out the words. And yet, it was time. He hadn't wanted to have that conversation right then and there, and yet somehow, they were having it. Somehow, they were discussing what was happening, and the world wasn't ending. In fact, Yuliya seemed almost relieved when Alejandro explained what he was thinking. Yuli sank into him, into the towel he had wrapped around her, and they made their way to the bedroom. She sank into the bed, and he eased next to her, arm winding around her body. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he should probably put on some clothes… should probably get some clothes for her, but there was something almost comforting about this. They were vulnerable together. He was cold from the air against his wet skin, and he could only imagine that she was, too. They were both in their rawest forms, and they were together.

And then, two words. "Me neither." Alejandro felt his world change in that moment… everything seemed different. He felt the earth stop for a brief moment, and he could practically taste the difference in the air. There were so many things rushing through his mind… relief, grief, all melding together to the point that he almost felt physically ill. And yet, regardless of the emotions that blazed through him, even those emotions that he would sooner forget, he felt a peace come over him that he hadn't felt in a long time. A peace that was brought on by the communication, the understanding, and the pure, unadulterated truth.

Regardless of what brought Yuliya and Alejandro together in the first place, their love and their understanding of the other was what kept them bound to one another. Yes, Alex thought, a biological child would have been a perfect addition to their family. But who was to say that a child who wasn't biological wouldn't be just as wonderful? Just… different wonderful. At least Yuli wouldn't suffer. At least they wouldn't go through all of the upset, the hurt, and the pain of her treatments. All of their failed attempts. At least they could make love again for the sake of making love, and not because they were working towards some common "goal." And yet, Yuliya was apologizing. Alex took her face in his hands and pressed a single, firm kiss against her mouth. "Te amo," he said, and pulled back, studying her features. There was guilt behind her eyes, though Alex couldn't possibly understand why.

"You do not apologize for this," he demanded, softly. "This is biology, Yuliya. This is not you. This is not me. This is just destiny leading us on a different path." With an almost boyish smile slipping over his features, he reached forward, tucking a bit of her damp hair behind her ear. "I did not think that you would be my destiny when I began work. And yet, here we are. Fate is a strange mistress, isn't she? So let's keep trusting. Okay?"