Lion Head Mesa everybody loves you, baby [m]

leave us, came her breathy demand, and she need not look to know the command was obeyed. she pulled her husband close, the blue of her gaze then more fire than water. it was difficult to contort herself to look at him in her condition, but she needed to say, no one else, not for him, not for her, not like this—an impossibility. they had made their vows in this life, in their last one. as he pressed against her, she knew they would do it again in their next. 
the noise that left her as he joined them while he kissed her shoulder, her neck, was one of ancient need. she quite enjoyed him taking her this way, and was soon lost only in the feeling of it. no one else! only divinity might look upon me in this way, she panted out, writhing against him. it was not shyness—it was that she reserved this part of herself for him, her God, her husband, her heart, 
there were other things said in their communion. but soon she was past speaking, past conscious or coherent thinking. again he brought stars against her eyes that pressed upon closed eyelids as she cried out in blissful rapture and felt the magnitude of her love explode out of her with such force she was made breathless. 
I love you, it was all she could think, all she could say, smiling and laughing when a new feeling seized her! it was a thing that raked its blunt claws against her flanks, and pressed. she held her breath, and when it came again some short time later Toula rose and looked to her husband. 
there was no fear left in her now. he had exhausted her in the best of ways, taking from her the things too heavy to hold and leaving her with only herself. we must go to the Sesh, she declared, I—ah! again that feeling, but this time, more intense. a sharp intake of breath steadied her, and as she looked into the gaze of her husband she felt grounded. they are ready to join us, she laughed!
and as they made way there, she asked, giddy, are you ready to be a father? for this next adventure with me?