American Boy

"Good?" Phin breathed between kisses to her hips and stomach.

"Mmmmm..." It was embarrassing but it was the best response Qadira could muster, considering he'd made her soul leap straight out of her body. As she tried to get her eyes to refocus, she felt that incredible mouth of his on her left nipple.

As her fingers rested in his hair, she felt an urge inside her that she couldn't describe any other way than badly needing to be filled. He was willing to go longer, it seemed, but she wasn't.

"Phin? Phin?" she whispered, "I want you inside me."

"Now?" His voice was heavy with apprehension. "We don't have to right now. I want to make sure you're ready."

"Baby, I'm drenched," she knew her attempts not to sound desperate were failing. "Please?" She reached down between them and gripped his shaft, making him clench his jaw. "Please?" Phin had had all he could take.

"You stop me the second it doesn't feel good, yeah?"

They breathed together as he gingerly poised himself at her entrance and pushed in, hating that he might hurt her this first time. Phin wasn't sure if this was what typically happened, but Qadira's smile only shifted when she briefly bit her lip and whimpered. He was buried to the hilt within a few seconds, his head reeling from how unbelievably tight she was.

"How is it?" he quietly asked.

"You want a compliment already?"

"I would love one, actually. I'm up here doing the donkey's work."

"Well, you are a hot piece of ass, I'll give you that." And suddenly, that's where her hands were. "But I don't feel it doing that much work, to be honest."

Being roasted while consummating his marriage wasn't how Phin expected this to go, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing into Qadira's lush curls.

"You're not in any pain?" he checked. She shook her head no.

"It stings just a little but that'll probably go away once you stop being such a lazy husband." Now those were fighting words.

He gently drew outward, then pushed back in, hyper-focused on his wife's face for any hint of unease. Instead, her eyelids drifted half-closed as her lips parted in a ghost of a smile. She didn't even realise her fingertips were digging into Phin's shoulders as the pressure inside her morphed into pleasure. He noticed, however.

God, that's going to leave a mark, he thought, hoping she would scratch him harder because it somehow added to the sensations coursing through his nervous system. He exhaled against her neck when her calves coiled across the back of his thighs, willing himself to keep an even, measured rhythm.

But Qadira's hands were clawing at his shoulder blades now and he realised he hadn't been going as slow as he'd thought.

"Phin, you don't have to be such a gentleman," she breathed. "It doesn't sting anymore. Please... more?"

"Fuck," he growled, as his hips took over and his wife's legs climbed higher up his back. He drove into her again and again until she cried out his name against his neck, her jaw trembling against his collarbone. Phin reveled in the pure bliss on her face when he straightened up a bit. Her eyelids slightly fluttered even though they were almost closed, and her plush lips were parted in a lazy smile.

"We're not done yet, gorgeous," he whispered. Then he reached back and grabbed one of those incredible legs creeping up his back, placing it squarely on his shoulder. Qadira groaned as his hips began to move again, his cock hitting her even deeper now. Phin grasped each of her hands in his, practically holding his breath until she wailed his name again, then slammed faster and faster until he exploded inside her.

"God," he moaned, spent. His voice came out like gravel against her copper-laced black curls. Then he remembered. "Baby, are you... is everything..."

"If you ask me whether I'm okay one more time, I'll deport you myself."

Phin snorted out a laugh, then rested his head on her chest, feeling totally safe and at peace for one of the few times in his life. As promised, he dragged her out of bed a few minutes later to feed her that stew he'd made, then dragged her back into bed hours later.

This time, however, all he wanted to do was hold her while she slept. It was cute, he thought, that she protested this through several yawns. Nonetheless, she was asleep within seconds as soon as he rested her head on his arm and brought her to cuddle against him.

***Epilogue***

"Come on, baby, I read about this and it sounded fun." Qadira tried to turn her husband by holding his hips, but he wasn't budging.

"You read about it where? Some mini porno novel?"

"Seriously, the back of the couch is just about the height of my hips and maybe if you needed more leverage I could get up on my tiptoes," Qadira tried convincing him, only for Phin to laugh in disbelief.

He stopped when she actually demonstrated how she'd bend overtop the furniture, then looked back at him and winked. Phin's brain short-circuited for a moment as he stared at her luscious ass in those yoga pants.

"You don't want to be tenderly made love to?" It's not as if he'd never bent a woman over the side of a couch before and taken her from behind, but he still couldn't wrap his head around whether it would be too rough for—

"No, we've been doing that and it's wonderful," Qadira interrupted his train of thought. Then she kissed him and leaned up toward his ear. "But it's been three days of that and I have to go back on shift tomorrow. I want you to toss me around like a rag doll now."

Phin groaned like he was physically in pain, which he almost was, when his phone buzzed.

"Pick it up, it might be a recruiter," Qadira urged him, slipping away and into the kitchen to give his body a chance to calm down. But it was an unlisted number.

"Yes," she heard him say in a strange voice as she started to take out some couscous and green onions for making lunch. "Yes, we're both home. You're where?" This wasn't a job interview. "Uh, sure, I'll buzz you in." Qadira stepped out of the kitchen, just as Phin answered the question she didn't want to ask.

"That was Immigration," he told her as he went to the front door. "They're, uh, they'll be up any minute."

"Are you okay?" she asked. It would have been funny that she was asking him the same irritating question he'd been asking her for three days—if they weren't facing the prospect of their marriage being deemed a fake, and Qadira getting charged with a federal crime.

"Yeah," he took a deep breath. "There's no boner-killer like government officials at the door." Phin anxiously went around the living room, straightening the furniture cushions and adjusting the potted plants. "Uhhhh... my favourite colour's purple and I'm allergic to shellfish. In case it comes up."

"I knew about the shellfish," Qadira smiled, taking Phin's hands in hers. "This is like feeling weird because you're walking out of the store without buying anything. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure we're in a real marriage." She kissed his chin just seconds before they heard the knock at the door.

Minutes later, they were seated across the coffee table from a very proper-looking government officer. It wasn't lost on Phin that he'd just been about to bang his wife on that very spot against the couch.

"Now, Mr. Delgado," the middle-aged woman started. The name on her badge is blurry, Phin thought, squinting before he willed himself to focus on what she was about to ask him. "You were here on a closed work permit, but then decided to marry Ms. Hashem?"

"That's correct," Phin confirmed.

"And you two have known each other for how long?" Rousseau? Phin wondered. Brasseau? What the fuck is on her name tag? His brain wasn't focusing and he couldn't force it to get in line.

"We met in May," Qadira answered, bringing a tea set on a tray to the living room.

"And now it's October," the officer nodded. "That's pretty fast for a wedding, don't you think?" Before either of them could open their mouths, she went on. "It's also interesting the three wedding photos I see on the wall don't have any family members in them."

"We eloped," Qadira replied, somehow cool as a cucumber. Phin, in comparison, felt like his brain was disintegrating within his skull. "We're planning on having a bigger wedding once we're better settled." He slowly turned to his wife, trying to control the height to which his eyebrow rose.

We are?

"Speaking of settled," the official went on, "Mr. Delgado, it looks like your permit has expired, and from what I understand you don't have another job yet?" Phin simply shook his head no, dumbstruck at how he was usually able to talk his way out of anything but could barely answer basic questions now. Qadira sat beside him and held his hand, maintaining eye contact with their guest.

"I'm supporting us right now," Qadira volunteered. "And he has savings."

"How well do you even know each other?" The official seemed to want to cut to the chase. "I'll be clear with you. You've got your ducks in a row when it comes to your apartment lease and other papers, but how you got together doesn't pass the smell test. Have you even met each other's parents?"

"Okay, hold on," Phin exhaled, determined to expel the yips from his system. "We're actually in love, if that's what you're asking. If anyone told me a year ago I'd meet a woman, spend that same night in bed with her, but not have sex or even touch her, I'd have laughed my ass off."

Now it was Qadira who slowly turned toward her partner with alarmed eyes.

"But it was probably the best night of my life up until that point," he went on. "I'll be clear with you now—yes, originally, Qadira and I were friends and we were trying to find a way I could stay in Canada. Because as much as you guys have your own issues, you're a shit-tonne better than the States."

He really said 'shit-tonne' to the government lady in our house, Qadira lamented.

"But that doesn't mean I wasn't in love with her earlier, or that she wasn't with me," he barreled on. "It was... awkward until we figured that part out, but if you think this marriage isn't real, I haven't done the laundry yet and I can show you where she bled on our sheets the first time we—"

"That's quite alright, Mr. Delgado," the official interrupted, closing her eyes in a cringe.

"Neither of us have been married before, I haven't paid her anything for this," Phin insisted, "and we are not going to split up. I know this pushes the limits of what you might believe, but I accidentally married the woman I would have married anyway, even if I had the chance to know her for years." The official blankly stared at them as Qadira smiled at Phin and squeezed his hand.

"Okay, then." Their guest abruptly stood up and Phin and Qadira followed. "I have your documents. You'll be hearing from us shortly." Phin locked the door behind her and turned to his wife.

"I don't know about you, but the last thing I feel like right now is sex."

"Actually, we should have sex immediately while she's still in the hallway," Qadira giggled. "It might help our case if I'm extra loud too."

"How can you joke at a time like this?" Phin asked, not feeling like doing anything all of a sudden. That visit probably drained him for days.

"Because the spot-check is over and I'm confident you're going to get your PR. Think about it." Qadira took Phin's hands in hers and led him to the kitchen table. "What they look for is a shaky front and polished, rehearsed answers. I don't know if this was your plan, but talking about banging me probably made our case."

"I think it was obvious I had no plan."

Nonetheless, there wasn't a day in the following months that Phin didn't mentally replay that interview, wondering if he'd fucked up big-time. Qadira walked through the door after her shift one evening weeks later to him staring at the ceiling, the apartment soaked in silence.

"What happened?" her stress levels amped up. Realising he'd alarmed her, Phin jumped off the couch.

"No, nothing, baby, it's... it's actually... good?" He sighed. "I got a job offer today." Her eyebrows shot up.

"A good one? What was wrong with it that you're like..." she gestured toward the couch.

"No, no, it's a good one. Same field, similar pay to what I had in the States. Two days a week in the office, three days remote. Maybe a half-hour by TTC." Qadira looked at him like she was waiting for the catch.

"What if I take it and then find out I'm being deported?" Qadira wondered how much Phin had had to fight for what he achieved, to the point he anticipated six different ways things could go wrong.

"Then you'll have made a bit of money in the meantime, and I'll still appeal to be reunited with my husband," she gently answered. "It'll be 5 soon. Call them back and take the job. This isn't the US and armed ICE agents aren't going to storm down our door."

Plus, you reeeeaally need to get out of the house more, and not just to flirt with old ladies at the farmer's market, she silently added.

Phin had to admit there was a psychological shift in putting on a suit to leave the house again. He also better appreciated the time he got to work from home. Getting acclimatised to a new office and timing his home days with Qadira's off-shift days didn't give him a lot of headspace to worry about being convicted of marriage fraud anymore.

"Good morning," he put his hands on her hips from behind one day as she was by the stove. Then he bent his nose down to the spot behind her ear, encircling her waist with both arms.

"Wow, it's a good thing the burners aren't on," she smiled.

"No, that was the first thing I checked when I walked in," he murmured, lightly kissing her neck.

"Yeah? Not my baggy sweatpants, hair up, and bare face?" Qadira could feel her husband's grip tighten just a bit.

"I saw all that too," he exaggeratedly breathed, loving how her belly shook when she laughed. "And I gotta say this whole laundry basket look you've got going on is hawt."

Making breakfast was all but forgotten as Qadira urgently kissed Phin's mouth, her tongue wrestling with his as they stumbled toward the bedroom. Her shirt was already on the floor when she tugged the waistband of his PJs down and backed him up against the wall that separated the kitchen and living room.

"Awww, sweet Jesus," he breathed when Qadira dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. Electricity shot through every crinkle on his rock-hard cock while his wife's tender tongue lashed at it as she softly hummed. "Baby," he all but croaked, "we're not gonna make it to the bed." In response, she took her time roughly sucking at him for a minute before standing up again and pushing her own joggers down.

"What makes you think I planned to make it to the bed?"

Phin had never seen a lovelier sight than when she bent over the back of the couch, pants at her ankles and bra on the floor.

"But I didn't even..." he weakly protested. "Come to bed and let me make you—" But she'd already grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on her hips.

"Don't you Americans ever shut up?"

Qadira couldn't quite pinpoint what the thrill was in being so submissive, but Phin's hitting extra-deep as he railed her from behind made her cry into the seat cushions. Her fingers reached toward the coffee table, one hand against the sturdy wood and one on the ground to help keep her balance while Phin sped up.

Qadira's fingernails clawed in desperation with every thrust that rubbed against her most hypersensitive ridges. He was going to make her come whether he was trying or not.

When it was simply too much, she whimpered his name, then screamed it into the throw pillows, her breath catching when she felt him groan against her bare back and then clamp his arms around her ribs.

His teeth were on her skin while he emptied himself with the last few pushes. And then, just stillness, interspersed with his heartbeat slowing down against her spine.

"I'm never gonna interrupt you while you're cooking again," Phin finally muttered. Qadira was almost upside-down overtop the couch, but he knew she was grinning. "My parents warned me about wicked Canadians like you, preying on innocent guys just wanting a hug and a bowl of cereal."

"Speaking of your parents, when do I meet them?" Qadira propped herself up on her elbows. This was as good a time as any to tell him.

"You know we can't—not until we hear back from..." Maybe it wasn't that great a time to bring this up, considering he was still inside her. She chastely kissed him and went to clean up, waiting until he returned from the bathroom to point at the pile of mail near the TV table.

"I checked our box last night on my way up," she said when he picked up the most important letter in the bunch. "I didn't want to tell you yesterday because I figured it would mess with our sleep either way."

After he gingerly ripped it open, scanned it, and let out a sigh of relief, Qadira felt like she could finally throw kilograms of stress off her shoulders.

"I get to stay," he said, waving the letter and permanent residency card.

"You could have found this out a while ago if you'd checked your application status online," she reminded him.

"No," his voice was muffled by her hair as he wrapped her in a bear hug. "Too scary. It's been two months since immigration lady did her spot-check on us. I thought for sure this was a rejection letter."

"One thing you'll get used to here is the backlog in processing times," Qadira reached her arms overtop his shoulders. "For everything."

"Let me ask you something," Phin started a short while later as she poured some maple syrup into her oatmeal. He'd already called Harold and told him he was in Canada to stay, but he hadn't yet called his parents. "Do you remember what you said to the immigration lady about having a big wedding after things settled down?"

"A normal wedding, baby. Please don't make me go through a big wedding."

"Whatever—anything better than doing it shot-gun style in Niagara Falls. Did you mean that?"

"Mm-hmm." Qadira's eyes danced as she deliberately took her spoon out of her mouth.

"Where?"

"Maybe Halifax," she said, as if she hadn't thought about this a thousand times before. "Maybe out on the rocks by the ocean? We could fly your parents out from Colorado and that way they could meet my family?"

"You already bought the tickets didn't you?"

"Of course not." She kissed his nose before taking their bowls back into the kitchen. Phin knew she was doing that thing where she played innocent but there was some master plan in the background. And he loved it.

"I have a bunch of travel tabs open on the laptop, though," Qadira called back from the sink. "We check their availability, and then we buy the tickets."

***END***