Nana was bent over Zayne's desk.
Face down.
Hands gripping the edge.
Whimpering.
*This is—this is—*
Zayne was behind her, moving with purpose, with need, with—
*Want. Pure want. Desperate want. Can't get enough. Need her. Need—*
He'd been like this all day.
Insatiable.
The moment she'd walked into his office—just to ask about lunch—he'd pulled her close, kissed her hard, and—
Well.
Now they were here.
"Zayne!" She whimpered, voice high and needy. "Why—why does it feel so GOOD?! Is it—is it because sunflower is big?! Is big sunflower the reason?!"
*She's asking about size. During sex. While I'm inside her. While I'm—*
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
So he did both, kind of.
A strangled sound that was part laugh, part groan, part—
*She's going to kill me. Death by innocent questions during wild sex.*
He leaned over her, pressing his chest to her back, wrapping his arms around her while still moving.
*Need to be close. Need to hold her. Need—*
His mouth found her ear, groaning directly into it.
Deliberately.
Letting her hear every sound.
*Tease her. She asked why it feels good. Show her. Make her—*
"Oh!" She gasped. "Your SOUNDS! In my EAR! That's—that feels—"
*Good. She likes it. She's—*
His hands moved to her chest, cupping, squeezing, while he continued moving behind her.
"Zayne!" She was getting louder now, more shameless, more—
*Perfect. She's perfect. This is—*
He couldn't hold back anymore.
Moved faster, harder, chasing that edge, that release, that—
She came first, crying out, body trembling beneath him.
He followed immediately after, groaning her name, finishing deep inside her, holding her tight.
*Mine. All mine. Perfect. She's—*
They stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, both trembling.
Then she tried to stand.
And wobbled.
"My LEGS!" she announced. "I can't feel my legs! What did you do to my legs?!"
*Too rough. Was I too rough. Did I hurt—*
He caught her immediately, lifting her into his arms.
"Are you okay?" His doctor voice activated. "Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? Are you sore? Do you need—"
"I'm FINE!" She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "My legs are just... sleepy? Tingly? Happy legs? I don't know! But I'm glowing! Look!" She held up her arm. "I'm GLOWING with happiness!"
*Glowing. She's glowing. From sex. From me. That's—*
*That's everything.*
He kissed her—soft and gentle, completely different from moments ago.
"You're beautiful," he murmured.
"You're WILD!" she countered. "Wild Zayne! I didn't know you could be wild!"
*Wild Zayne. I've been named. Again.*
"Only with you," he admitted.
"Good!" She beamed. "I'm the only one who gets Wild Zayne! Mine!"
*Possessive hamster. Even post-orgasm.*
They were in the bathtub together—something that had become routine now.
Nana sat between his legs, back against his chest, playing with the bubbles.
*This is nice. Peaceful. After the chaos. Just—*
"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," he said, stroking her wet hair. "My parents want us to visit. Stay overnight. Christmas morning with them."
"REALLY?!" She turned around excitedly, splashing water everywhere. "I get to meet your parents?! Your childhood home?! See baby Zayne pictures?!"
*Oh no. Baby pictures. She's going to see baby pictures. Mother has albums. So many albums.*
"Yes," he sighed. "All of that. Unfortunately."
"YAY!" She hugged him tight, getting soap in his face. "I'm so HAPPY! Family Christmas! With husband! And in-laws! This is so—so—MARRIED!"
*She's excited. Genuinely excited. About meeting my parents. About Christmas. About—*
He couldn't help but kiss her.
Again.
Because she was adorable and happy and his.
"We need to pack tonight," he said. "We're leaving early tomorrow."
"Okay! I'll pack! And I'll say goodbye to the squirrels! They need to know I'm leaving! Mr. Fluffytail will worry!"
*The squirrels. Always the squirrels. Of course.*
Zayne watched from the back door as Nana stood under the apple tree, talking animatedly to three squirrels.
"—and I'll be gone for two days! TWO DAYS! But I'll be back! And I'll bring you nuts! Special Christmas nuts! From the fancy store!"
The squirrels chittered.
*They're responding. They always respond. I've accepted this.*
"I KNOW! I'll miss you too! But I'm meeting Zayne's PARENTS! His MOTHER and FATHER! This is important! Family bonding!"
More chittering.
"Yes, I'll tell you all about it when I get back! Every detail! I promise!"
She hugged the tree trunk.
Actually hugged it.
Saying goodbye to the tree.
*My wife is hugging a tree. Saying goodbye. To wood and squirrels. This is normal.*
"Okay! Goodbye, Mr. Fluffytail! Goodbye, Mrs. Fluffytail! Goodbye, Baby Fluffytail! Be good!"
She ran back inside, beaming.
"They said have a safe trip! And Mr. Fluffytail approves of you as my husband! Official squirrel approval!"
*Squirrel approval. I have been approved by rodents. This is an achievement apparently.*
"I'm honored," he said dryly.
"You should be! Mr. Fluffytail is very selective!"
*I'm sure he is.*
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🌻🌻🌻
They were driving to his parents' mansion—about an hour away.
Nana was looking out the window, watching the scenery.
Then, as always, the questions started.
"Zayne?" Her innocent voice.
*Oh no. Here it comes.*
"Yes, hamster?"
"What happens if sunflower juice keeps going inside me? Like—like over and over? Every day? For months?"
*Sunflower juice. She's calling semen sunflower juice now. This is my life.*
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, though he knew this would be painful.
"Well—" she turned to face him seriously, "—you keep making sunflower juice. Inside me. A lot of it. Every time. So—so what happens to all of it? Does it just... stay in there? Does it pile up? Will I explode?!"
*EXPLODE. SHE THINKS SHE'LL EXPLODE FROM SEMEN.*
Zayne nearly swerved off the road.
"You won't—" he managed, trying not to laugh, "—you won't explode."
"But WHERE DOES IT GO?! There's so MUCH! Every time! Does it just live inside me forever?! Am I storing it?!"
*Storing. She thinks she's storing semen. Like a warehouse.*
"It—" *clinical explanation, doctor mode* "—the vaginal canal naturally expels excess seminal fluid. Some is absorbed, most drips out over time. It doesn't accumulate. You're not a storage facility."
"Oh!" She looked relieved. "So I'm not storing sunflower juice! That's good! I was worried!"
*She was worried about being a semen warehouse. This conversation is happening. In my car. On the way to my parents' house.*
"But WAIT—" she continued, because of course there was more, "—does sunflower make INFINITY juice?! Like—like unlimited? How does it keep making more? Where does it come from?!"
*Infinity juice. My wife believes in infinite semen production.*
Zayne couldn't help it.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
While driving.
"It's not infinite," he explained, still chuckling. "The male body produces approximately 1,500 sperm per second. Semen production requires rest, hydration, nutrition. There's a refractory period—time needed between ejaculations. It's not unlimited."
"Ohhhhh!" She nodded seriously, like receiving critical medical information. "So sunflower needs rest! And water! And food! To make more juice!"
*Yes. That's exactly right. My penis needs nutrition. We're discussing penis nutrition.*
"Essentially," he confirmed.
"So if we do it too much, will sunflower run out of juice?!"
*Run out. She thinks my penis has a fuel tank.*
"It won't run out. But I might need... longer breaks between."
"How long?"
*She's asking about my refractory period. Planning logistics. My wife is planning sex logistics.*
"Depends. Usually 30 minutes to a few hours. Age, health, arousal level—all factors."
"Hmm." She was thinking. Calculating. "So we can do it maybe... three times a day? Four? That's reasonable?"
*THREE OR FOUR TIMES A DAY. SHE'S PLANNING THREE OR FOUR TIMES A DAY.*
"We—we can discuss that later," he managed.
*Later. After I've recovered from this conversation. After my parents' house. After—*
"Okay!" She smiled happily. "I'll make a schedule! Organized sex! Very efficient!"
*ORGANIZED SEX. EFFICIENCY. MY WIFE IS APPLYING PROJECT MANAGEMENT TO INTERCOURSE.*
But also—
*She wants it that much. Wants me that much. That's—*
*That's flattering. And terrifying. And I definitely want her again right now.*
*She's going to kill me. Death by enthusiasm and infinity juice questions.*
They pulled up to a large estate—traditional architecture, carefully maintained gardens, the kind of wealth that didn't need to announce itself.
"ZAYNE!" Nana pressed her face against the window. "This is HUGE! Your childhood home is a MANSION! You're SO RICH!"
"You're also rich," he pointed out. "Your father is a CEO. You grew up in a mansion too."
"But YOUR mansion is different! It's HUSBAND mansion! Legacy mansion! Future-baby-inherits-this mansion!"
*Future baby. She's already thinking about future babies. And mansion inheritance.*
"Come on," he said, helping her out of the car. "Let's introduce you properly."
They walked to the front door.
Which opened before they could knock.
His mother stood there—elegant, poised, smiling warmly.
"Zayne! And this must be Angelina! Come in, come in!"
Nana immediately bounced forward. "Hi! I'm Nana! Your daughter-in-law! I married your son! He's very handsome! And smart! And has good sunfl—"
Zayne covered her mouth with his hand.
*NO. NOT FINISHING THAT SENTENCE. NOT IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER.*
"She's very enthusiastic," he explained to his amused mother. "And talks a lot. About everything. Constantly."
"I can see that!" His mother laughed. "Come in! Your father is in the study. He's excited to meet her!"
As they entered, Nana's eyes went wide.
"It's so BIG inside too! Look at the STAIRS! And the CHANDELIER! And—IS THAT A PORTRAIT OF BABY ZAYNE?!"
*Oh no. The portraits. I forgot about the portraits.*
She ran to the wall where, yes, hung a portrait of five-year-old Zayne.
Serious expression. Formal clothes. Looking like a tiny adult.
"YOU WERE SO CUTE!" she squealed. "So SERIOUS! Like a baby doctor! Baby Zayne! I love him!"
*She's falling in love with child me. This is concerning.*
His father emerged from the study—tall, dignified, but with warm eyes.
"Ah! The famous Nana!" He smiled. "Zayne talks about you constantly."
"He DOES?!" Nana looked at Zayne with shining eyes. "You talk about me?!"
"Occasionally," Zayne said, ears turning red.
"He called last week just to tell us about a conversation you had with squirrels," his father added, grinning. "In great detail."
*FATHER. WHY. WHY WOULD YOU TELL HER THAT.*
"You TOLD them about the squirrels?!" Nana was delighted. "You like my squirrel friends?!"
"They're... memorable," he admitted.
His parents exchanged knowing looks.
"He looks happy," his mother said softly to his father, but loud enough for Zayne to hear. "Really happy. I haven't seen him like this since—well, ever."
"She's good for him," his father agreed. "Look at him. Actually smiling. Actually relaxed."
*They're analyzing me. In front of my wife. This is embarrassing.*
"I MAKE HIM HAPPY!" Nana announced proudly. "Very happy! We're very happy together! We do happy things! Like—"
Zayne covered her mouth again.
*NOT. FINISHING. THAT. THOUGHT.*
His mother laughed. "Come, dear. Let me show you the house. And Zayne's childhood room. I've kept everything exactly as it was!"
*Oh no. My room. The medical textbooks. The organized everything. The—*
"YES! Baby Zayne's room! I want to see EVERYTHING!"
She grabbed his mother's hand and dragged her upstairs, already chattering about how excited she was and how much she loved the house and how handsome baby Zayne was in the portrait.
His father clapped him on the shoulder.
"She's perfect for you," he said simply.
*This is my life. My enthusiastic, curious, infinity-juice-questioning wife meeting my parents. In my childhood home. At Christmas.*
*And it's perfect.*
*All of it.*
*Even the embarrassing parts.*
*Especially the embarrassing parts.*
ZAYNE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE - 11:47 Am
Medical log - Day 187 - Christmas Eve:
Had wild sex on desk (no regrets).
Wife can't feel legs (success).
Wife said goodbye to squirrels (normal).
Drove to parents' house (uneventful until—).
Wife asked about exploding from semen (WHAT).
Wife asked about infinity juice (I LAUGHED).
Wife planning 3-4 times daily sex schedule (HELP).
Arrived at parents' mansion (she loves it).
Almost said something about sunflower to mother (PREVENTED).
Parents say I look happy (accurate).
Wife currently upstairs exploringchildhood room (concerning).
Father approves of wife (good).
Mother adores wife (also good).
Current status: Downstairs with father. Wife discovering embarrassing childhood things. Life is chaos.
Observations:
She asked about exploding. From semen accumulation. Seriously asked. Genuinely concerned.
Then asked about infinity production. Refractory periods. Efficiency.
Then suggested SCHEDULED SEX. With PROJECT MANAGEMENT.
My wife is applying organizational skills to our sex life.
This is... actually kind of impressive? And terrifying?
But also she wants it 3-4 times daily. That's flattering. And exhausting. And I'm definitely saying yes.
She's meeting my parents. And they love her. They actually love her. Despite the chaos. Despite the squirrel stories. Despite everything.
They say I look happy. Really happy. For the first time ever.
They're right.
I am happy. Catastrophically happy. With my infinity-juice-questioning, squirrel-loving, schedule-making wife.
Prescription for Christmas:
- Survive childhood room exploration
- Prevent more sunflower mentions
- Enjoy family time
- Maybe sneak away with wife later (parents' house has many rooms)
- Love her constantly (always)
- Thank universe (deserved)
She's perfect. My parents see it. Everyone sees it.
My chaotic, curious, perfect wife.
And she's MINE.
Forever mine.
Infinity juice questions and all.
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🌻🌻🌻
To be continued.