Chapter Text
Married life.
It is both exactly and not at all what Alina expected. Well, she really only had the radio and books and TV to tell her what it would be like, and that’s fiction . She knows that. But Aleksander knows a lot he can—does—share with her about how it's supposed to be. How a marriage is supposed to be.
Turns out it is not so terribly different than life before.
(She had been scared, tearful at the idea of somehow messing things up when he proposed to her, officially, in the days after her birthday. He’d pulled her into his lap as he’d taken to doing more and more and, thankfully, more. It made her heart flutter when he held her and kissed her and kept her close. His love, made into a tangible thing.
"It needn't be so complicated, Alinochka,” he’d said to her, “I won’t change a lot, I’ll make things easy for you. You may still ask your Papa for things and be cross with your Aleks.” His teasing had made her laugh, relax even deeper into his tight hold. “Only now, I'll be your husband. And as my wife, you will simply belong to me in a different way. Is that alright?”
It was, she’d decided, when his clever, clever fingers slid up under her skirt and he’d held her through it as she found her pleasure in his lap and then, at his encouragement, licked his fingers clean.)
The wedding itself was a short but happy affair, right at the end of March. Just them, and their priest from church, and a white gown she said was too fancy. (She doesn’t learn his age until she signs the little license that says it’s official. Thirty-five is a bit of a shock, but he’s not too old for her. He’s perfect.) The honeymoon is scheduled for after graduation. He wouldn’t tell her where, only that it was warm, and that he was delighted to dress her up in bathing suits. He’d had that glint that he sometimes got now. The one that meant he wanted her.
The...sex, was one thing she’d had to get used to. Aleksander liked sex more than she ever would have guessed! It still makes her stomach all hot and burning sometimes, the way he’ll stride into the kitchen and lift her dress and say “I only need a minute, sweet girl,” and put his fingers on that spot that makes her toes curl and his...cock inside her. (It was going to take her ages to get used to those kinds of words.)
He doesn’t really ask, but she supposes that sex is the right of a husband. And it’s fine, really, because she likes it too. She even likes the part where he puts it in her mouth. (“God, your perfect little mouth made me waste all that cum that could have been inside you.”)
She knows exactly how lucky is to have Aleksander and his patience to teach her to be good at the sex part. (“Just do exactly as I ask you, and I’ll be a happy man, my dove.”)
Another thing that changes is that he brings more people into their house. Into her life. He does it in slow drabbles, soothes her and helps her understand that she is his other half, his helpmate, that sometimes this is the lot of a wife’s life. And really, it’s not so bad to put on a dress and heels and her pearls and hold his hand for a dinner party.
The people that have over in May for cocktails say that they’re business associates of Aleksander’s, but she likes them the most out of anyone he’s brought. They don’t stare so hard, even when he brings her over to perch on his knee. They’re mostly men, but they’re very nice. When the hour grows late and she’s half asleep and there is cigar smoke in the room, he sends her up to bed, so she won’t be too tired for her last few days of school.
And maybe it was the wine she’d stolen, or the fact that she couldn’t seem to rub the sleepiness out of her eyes, but she wakes up in her old bed, in her old room, staring at the blue wall. She wakes up, in what must be the middle of the night, in that old bed, in that old room, with Aleksander already rocking inside her, telling her what a good girl she is, how much he loves her, how pretty, how sweet, his baby.
The thing she is most grateful for is his ability to compromise. He wanted a baby so badly, and all the love inside her said to give him one, give him many. But he did agree that it would be better to wait until after graduation. But they started, in earnest, that very night. He had been very, incandescently, pleased with her.
Which is how she finds herself pregnant and round in the days before Christmas as they pull into that big drive in front of the orphanage she’d called home for so long. In some ways there are no changes. It is muscle memory to walk up the drive and the stairs to the porch. But of course, in the past, she had never been so pregnant that she could not see her heels and had to lean on Aleksander as she ascended to the door.
They do not have to knock. If it is anything like her memory, they have been watching, waiting for the arrival of the Morozovas. The door swings open, wide, and there are many little faces crowded around.
The tittering begins immediately. Many—most—of them remember her, and it is its own sort of homecoming. They grab her hands and her sleeves and it makes her giggle as they try to tow her inside, to show her how everything has changed.
“Careful with my wife, little ones!” Aleksander chastises, but with a kindness and a nice smile. His charmer one, his movie star grin.
Ana Kuya appears. She looks as Alina has never seen her. Not so physically different, but she is nothing less than thunderstruck to see Alina standing before her.
“Alinochka,” she whispers. “I—I—”
She has never before seen Ana Kuya speechless. “It’s good to see you too,” she says with a little laugh and squeezes Ana Kuya’s hands between her own. Before she can say anything else, her attention is snatched again by the children, who cling to her at every turn. Literally hanging onto her skirt as they pull her away.
Joseph, thirteen or so now, seems nothing less than shocked. “Oh man, Alina! You’re—what happened to you?”
Alina laughs, settling into a chair. “I fell in love,” she says. She catches Aleksander’s eye as he starts out of the room with Ana Kuya. He tosses her a little wink.
It takes her a long time, as she tires much more easily now, but the children guide her through all of the changes. The orphanage is in excellent, immaculate repair. The roof, she learns, has long been fixed. A team of men had come out just a few days after she left with Aleksander. There’s no more chipping pain, no mouse holes in the baseboards, new furniture in all the rooms. There is a brand new playground a short way from the house. New books for lessons and even new wardrobes for all of the kids. Every year, without fail.
She won’t cry in front of the children, but it startles her to think that Aleksander has done this for them. For her.
When the children are occupied in the playroom (also shiny and clean and with enough new toys and games that there cannot possibly be any complaints) she goes to find him, her husband. She suspects he has gone in to have a chat with Ana Kuya. As she approaches the door to her office, she hears the strained voices of...arguing?
“...still just a child!” Ana Kuya. Wrathful. Indignant.
Aleksander, icy, nasty, a tone she’s never heard from him: “Then she is my child, and I’ll do as I see fit.”
Alina pushes the door open. “What’s going on?”
Both Ana Kuya and Aleksander whirl to face her. Both of their expressions soften immediately.
“Nothing, dove,” Aleksander says quickly, but Ana Kuya glares.
“Not ‘nothing.’” She takes a step closer to Alina, but still doesn’t come out from behind her desk. “I was telling Mr. Morozova that I think you’re very young to...already be pregnant and married.”
Alina frowns. At least she’s done it the right way round.
“She’s of age,” Aleksander says, and even Alina can detect the note of warning in it.
Alina crosses the room and for one second, just one, she hesitates. She meant to go to Ana Kuya and hold her hand and kiss her cheek and reassure her. But instead she goes to Aleksander, takes his proffered arm and gives it a squeeze.
“I’m happy . Can’t you be happy for me?”
Ana Kuya sighs, then fixes what is obviously a fake smile on her face. “Of course, Alinochka. Of course I’m happy for you.”
“Then I suggest,” Aleksander cuts in with a knifepoint snap, “that you offer me your congratulations and your best wishes to my wife.”
Ana Kuya does just that, in a stilted voice, and afterward, Alina says, “I’d like to come back and visit, after the baby’s born. Would that be alright?”
She’s actually not quite sure which one of them she’s asking, but they say, “Of course,” at the same time, and shoot a look at one another.
Aleksander clears his throat. "Call it God. Or fate. Destiny. But Alina and I have decided that this is the way we are meant to make a family. As husband and wife. We certainly hope you can appreciate that in the coming years. The Morozovas have enjoyed our past support and we hope to continue helping you with the fine work you do here.”
Alina beams up at him. It moves her to think that he is so passionate about a place that has meant so much to her.
They say their goodbyes to Ana Kuya quickly, and the children more slowly. (Ana Kuya looks so strange and sad still, but today should have been such a good day. Perhaps it will be different in the spring.) There are many more of them and they are very eager.
By the time they arrive home, Alina is exhausted.
“I think I’ll go upstairs and rest.”
Aleksander is staring pensively outside, at the snow that has begun to fall. It has already blanketed the walk. They may be stuck inside for a little while. It will be nice to sit with him by the fire later, she thinks. Maybe he will even sing and play a bit of piano for her. Outside, the hounds howl, but in an excited way. They like the snow.
She’s down to just her slip and climbing into the bed when Aleksander comes into the room.
“I thought I’d join you.”
Alina gives a little smile and settles in. He kicks off his shoes (she hears the thud of each of them landing elsewhere) and gets in behind her. Her backside presses against him and she can feel him, already hard and ready for her.
“You don’t think I’m getting too big?” Alina says, as he lifts the hem of her slip and his fingers dip into her underwear. She’s wet. She’s always wet there, for him.
Aleksander tsks. “You, my dove, are perfect. You have always been perfect for me.”
She gasps as he yanks her underwear to the side and pushes into her. He’s big and she’s too tired, and in too strange a position to do much more than lie there and take it. There’s a dreaminess to her pleasure: it’s just so gentle, warm, safe in his arms. One hand finds her breasts. Sensitive in a completely new way that makes her whimper while he rocks into her.
“Are you sure?” she asks. She curls one hand back toward him so she can stroke his beard.
“Of course I’m sure.” She lets out another sound as he slides his hand to the front of her underwear. It gives her something to move against, as he moves in her. “I think you’re perfect just like this. Sometimes, I think I always want you like this. Always with one of my babies inside you.”
Alina trembles. Oh, God , it feels so good, it always makes her feel so good. She’s going to—
“Wouldn’t you like to give Papa another baby, after this one?” he asks, licking at the side of her neck. She’s really, really going to—“We could fill this whole house with pretty little babies. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”
No, she thinks, shaking as she falls apart, dragging him along with her. It really wouldn’t be so bad. To fill this house with babies and love and to let him hold her everyday. No, that wouldn’t be so bad at all.
Actually, it sounds very nice.