Honestly, this doesn't actually deserve an M rating, but there are certain special snowflakes out there with weak constitutions, so here it will be. Nothing graphic or obscene, unless your mind wants to go there, of course. Enjoy!

"Jus' lay back 'n relax. I've got this."

At first, Fiona thought that she'd done little else but relax the last few months; pregnancy will do that to you, whether you like it or not. She had, until recently, been staunchly on the "not" vote: she found herself tiring more easily or, quite simply, less and less able to do the things she'd been doing up until that point, both work and leisure. It was frustrating, mostly, mixed with a tiny bit scary.

Perhaps then, she thought, she really hadn't relaxed - she was just left with the excess energy she would have otherwise expended, but with no outlet to channel it.

"Lemme know if it hurts, Fi, or ye don' like it, an' we'll stop. Or…" he chuckled, "if ye want me ta do more, then by all means, lemme know." He smiled, and the little glint in his eyes she liked so much quickly flashed by.

She smiled, and sighed back further into the pillows propped up in their bed. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing to distract her from the experience.

"Ye ready?" His voice, just feet in front of her, was just both gentle and eager, with a pinch of insistence. Fiona nodded and took one last deep breath. She heard Shrek take a breath, as well. A second passed. He then began, slow and gentle as he ever was, perhaps even a little hesitantly.

Fiona's mouth fell open - not gaping, but her lips were indeed parted - and a small moan from the back of her throat escaped. Her eyes flew open and her hand clasped her mouth; she locked eyes with Shrek and giggled, slightly embarrassed.

Shrek laughed, too, but still remained focused. "It's a'right, Fiona. Let yerself enjoy it! Ye won't be able te relax if ye keep yerself in check all the time. Besides, I'm sure it's nothin' I haven't seen b'fore." He paused, then raised a devilish eyebrow. "A'least I hope I've seen it b'fore."

Fiona gasped in mock shock, and feigned a hand to her heart. "Sir! You doth speak such coarse words to your Princess?" She maintained her facade of royal air fairly well, despite the edges of her mouth beginning to curl.

"Oh indeed I do, Your Highness…" Shrek trailed off, chuckling again, a title he only used for her when very peeved, or very playful. He reset his position and looked up at his wife. He said nothing this time, but looked at her as if to say "Again?"

She smiled, admiring how doting and patient he'd grown with her, and nodded. She laid back into the pillows and closed her eyes again. Another second passed, and-

This time she felt the moan bubble up, and she didn't stop its escape. She hummed contentedly, which she hoped Shrek took to mean Good job, keep going!.

After several moments more of "good," though, Fiona yearned for a little more. She shifted her legs so that he worked from a slightly altered angle, which-

"Ohhhhhh… Shrek, yesss…"

She had little to no idea what she was doing, let alone exactly what he was doing; all she knew was that it felt good and she wanted more. The sudden ego boost spurred Shrek on to go slightly more-

"Ah!" Fiona's eyes shot open, and she blinked quickly.

"Fi! I'm sorry, are ye a'right? If ye wan' me ta stop-"

"No no!" she said quickly, and giggled reflexively. "It's fine. I'm fine. I promise. Just, maybe if you… well, if you do it- around… on top of th-" She scooted closer to him and he worked under her new instructions…

"YES. Shrek, YES. Right. There. Don't, don't stop…" She grabbed the pillow under her head and arched her back, at least as much as her body would now allow of her. She ran her fingers through her already-messy braid, which only lead her to moan louder, until her red hair was fanned above her head on the pillows.

Just as Shrek himself was growing a little weary, as well as a handful of other unexpected feelings, he noticed Fiona's breathing regulate, and her body completely relaxed back onto the mattress. She slowly opened her eyes as she continued to look up at the ceiling, and chuckled breathily. She attempted to sit upright, to which Shrek offered his hand. Supporting herself with a hand planted behind her, she languidly stretched her once-aching ankles and toes.

For a moment Shrek was genuinely speechless, and just stared at his glowing wife. He finally broke the silence with an awkward cough-laugh. "Yer mum said a foot massage would do ye'a world'a good, but… um…" Shrek fidgeted with the excess shirt that hung below his belt, "…Wow. I… I've ah-" Shrek stood up entirely too quickly and spun on his heel, about to make a beeline for the front door, still holding onto his shirt hem.

Before Fiona could even open her eyes, Shrek was out the door and in the outhouse, as she heard its door creak open and closed.

Was he-?

No matter. She'd gotten what she wanted- no, needed - and was more than satisfied. She lowered herself down to lie down flat again, and closed her eyes to take a well-deserved, but above all, relaxing nap.