Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A breeding convention?

Andrew stops walking and snorts. They have a convention for anything nowadays. Who the fuck goes to a breeding convention? Sex isn’t everything. Not that he’s had it. But he doesn’t need to, to know that nothing is as important as music.

And he wouldn’t even go to a music convention, because if you have to go to a fucking convention and listen to speeches or pick up leaflets to understand why music is the eighth fucking wonder of the world, then you already don’t understand it and you never will.

Surely, only weirdos would go to a convention where they…what? talk about sex and babies? He hopes it’s better than his high school sex ed classes at least.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he goes to carry on walking, when his gaze his caught by a man walking into the convention. A man he’s pretty sure is Stacee Fucking Jaxx. But surely not? Stacee lives and breathes music as much as Andrew does, what would he want from this stupid ass convention?

His feet move before he can full process that he’s no longer outside the convention, but in the foyer, queuing up behind other people, the man that he’s pretty sure is Stacee snapping a band onto his wrist and wandering off; no one paying him any attention.

Idiots.

Andrew doesn’t understand how they can be in the presence of actual greatness and not know it—not even care. He’s gonna go in and find Stacee and talk to him about music; certain the older man will want to discuss their shared passion more than he’ll want to find some randomer and fuck them. Stacee’s given up his wild, booze-filled partying (Andrew doesn’t care much about the news, but he’d notice a change in the songs Arsenal were now releasing and had to look up if there was a reason why; he was proud of the man for facing his demons if it meant more beautiful music was put out into the world), so he can’t imagine it would take much to get him to talk to him.

Maybe he heard about Andrew’s performance at the JVC Jazz Festival? That would be cool if he had. He imagines Stacee asking him for an autograph, and shifts in line, trying to push down his half-chub. Suddenly, he’s at the front of the line, and he doesn’t know what to say, are they not gonna let him in if he doesn’t start verbally masturbating about sticking his dick in someone?

The woman at the desk in front of him looks at him for a moment and then hands him a piece of paper to sign. “Put your name and sign—standard terms and conditions for this type of event.”

He blinks at her, and then fumbles to pick up a pen. “Right. Of course.”

He doesn’t read it. What are they gonna put in there? Something stupid probably, like I agree to make the person I’m dicking, cum, or some shit like that. He’s never had sex, but it can’t be as hard as all the drumming he’s done, and he can use his hands really well, so he’s sure he can manage.

He writes his name and then squiggles out his signature; shoving the paper back in her direction. She hands him a wristband and a bottle of water. “Here you go. Complementary drink as well, make sure you drink it, it’s very tasty.”

“Thanks.” He grabs it and quickly puts the wristband on before they tell him he can’t go in. He can’t lose sight of Stacee. Needs to find him. Needs to find the one person who is going to appreciate the fact that he’s an artist.

Walking with purpose through the doors to the main hall, he barely takes in the stalls dotted around; passes one offering the best herbal remedies to increase the chance for multiple babies in one pregnancy, another offering plugs in various sizes to ‘keep that breeding bitch plugged up good’, and one that offers the opportunity to get a baby bump clay cast done to hang pride of place in your house as a memory sake.

None of it goes in, Andrew pays no attention, gulping down half of his water—huh, that tastes a little sweeter than normal, must be the expensive shit—in one greedy swallow, before finishing the bottle and chucking it in the nearest trash bin. Walks past the sign giving directions for the talk on how to successfully keep them pregnant as he spots Stacee’s silky looking hair and sees the man walk into a private play room.

He quickly dashes over there and slips in after Stacee before the door completely closes behind him with a click; letting out a yelp as he’s grabbed by the throat and his back hits the wall.

“Why are you following me, Baby boy?” Stacee—and it is him, Andrew can tell from being this close to him; fuck he smells like a rock star—asks him; green eyes piercing into him as his thumb strokes over the jut of his throat; locking the door with his other hand.

“Who—Who said I was following you?” He stutters; feeling his dick twitch in his pants, and his hole clench for reasons he has no idea about. Though it makes sense that out of all the people, he’d be attracted to Stacee; he can barely remember what his ex, Nicole, looks like, but Stacee has him hornier than anyone.

He’s dressed in tight black jeans, cowboy boots, and a black t-shirt that shows off his tattoos on his arms. He has multiple rings on his fingers, and leather cuff bracelets on his wrists—the bright blue of his convention wristband standing out starkly amongst the black.

Stacee arches an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’ve been in the public eye a long time, Sweetheart, I know when I’m being followed.”

“Right. Right. That makes sense.” He swallows, trying to wet his throat, squirming in Stacee’s grip. “I—uh—wanted to talk to you.”

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah. About music. I’m a drummer—really good drummer—and thought you’d—” Stacee cuts him off, pressing a finger to his lips.

“We can talk.” Andrew’s lips curve into a smile. “In a bit.” His mouth freezes in a sort of half-smile, as Stacee traces over his face with his eyes; nosing as his cheek and breathing him in. He can’t stop the way he shivers feeling the older man this close.

“W—What are we doing first?”

Stacee grins at him; all sharp and in a way that can’t be good. “I came here for a reason. You do know what type of convention this is, right?”

He nods dumbly. “Uh, yeah. But I’m a—I don’t—what have I got to do with breeding?”

Stacee hums amused; grabbing Andrew’s hand and holding it up to show him his wristband which he realises now is bright pink, not bright blue like Stacee’s. “You have no idea what you just signed back there, do you?”

“Uh…” He wets his lips nervously; still squirming in Stacee’s grip, though he wasn’t making any actual move to get away. His dick was hard, pressing against his zipper and even though his heart is rabbiting in his chest—frantic and scared—he feels all loose and relaxed, and he doesn’t really know what’s going on.

“Let me guess, you thought this was a silly convention that you were somehow above, even though I can clearly tell you’ve never had sex, so wouldn’t know anything about it, and you just scoffed at everything; determined to chase after me so we could talk about music, even though I’m obviously not here to talk. That about sum it up?”

“Uh….” He couldn’t deny any of it. Part of him hates that Stacee can read him so easily; the other part preens at being seen by Stacee Fucking Jaxx. “Why are you here—if not to talk to people?” He asks, unable to come up with anything else to say.

The older man looks at him in disbelief. “To breed someone, baby boy. Get them fat and heavy with my kid; my cum spilling out of them because they’ve had so much stuffed in there.”

Fucking hell.

He swallows thickly; eyelashes fluttering from where the other man was making him feel dizzy. He doesn’t know what’s going on. People don’t have this effect on him—music is his lifeblood, his high; doesn’t know why he’s wanting Stacee even closer, wants him to press him against the wall. He whines in confusion.

Stacee barks out a laugh. “Did you drink the water?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oh, Sweetheart.” Stacee pats his cheek and leans into his space, nipping at his plump bottom lip. “You’ll do nicely.”

“Do—Do for what?”

“You want to talk music, right?” Andrew nods. “Well, if you let me fuck you and fill you with my cum, then we’ll talk.”

Andrew blinks; trying to process his words. Laughter bubbles up inside him, spilling past his lips; a little hysterical. “Thought you wanted to get someone pregnant? How is fucking me gonna help?”

Stacee narrows his eyes in though; head tilting, so strands of his hair brush the hollow of his throat. “What’s your name, baby boy?”

“Andrew. Andrew Neiman.”

The older man’s eyes widen in recognition. “The kid that went up against Fletcher at the JVC Jazz fest?”

“You know who I am?” Andrew asks excitedly.

“Guess you are a talented drummer.” Stacee purses his lips in thought, before smirking. “Hopefully, our kid will get both our musical genes.”

And then before Andrew could ask how Stacee thought he was gonna get him pregnant, he was being kissed—or more like devoured. Stacee’s wet tongue licking into his mouth; blunt teeth biting down on his bottom lip, giving him stinging kisses. He moans into it; hands clutching at Stacee’s biceps.

Then as quickly as Stacee’s mouth was on him, it’s gone. He lets out an Oof as he’s manhandled towards the bed that he’s only just spotted in the corner of the room.

“W—What are you doing?” He asks as Stacee pulls Andrew’s t-shirt over his arms; exposing his pale chest that’s more softness than muscles—though his arms are good from all his drumming.

“Getting you undressed.” Stacee answers, being completely unhelpful. Andrew watches as the other man’s rings get caught on the button of his jeans, before he’s tugging them open and pushing them down his thick thighs.

For some reason he steps out of them without protest; kicking off his shoes haphazardly, his drumsticks which he always has in his back pocket falling to the floor with a clatter. Next is his boxers, pushed off his hips; socks pulled off his large feet and thrown down.

He’s now naked in front of one of his musical heroes, and he’s sweating with nerves; dick hard and dripping pre-cum as Stacee looks at him from head to toe, licking his lips.

“Yes, you’ll look beautiful pregnant.” Stacee murmurs to himself; pulling his own t-shirt off and unzipping his jeans—pulling his hard cock free, no underwear in the way.

Andrew gulps seeing the size of it; hole clenching—in fear, he thinks, because surely it can’t be in want? Stacee pushes him onto the bed; turning him as he does so, so he lands on his hands and knees; pale, freckled ass tilted up in invitation.

He shivers as Stacee’s hands palm his ass cheeks; massaging the jiggling flesh and exposing his virgin hole. He gasps when he feels the press of a thumb against his puckered rim; the digit sliding in easily.

“That water they give you sure is amazing.” Stacee huffs; pushing two fingers into Andrew’s ass making him keen. “Gets you all loose and relaxed, like you’ve got a pussy, without having to waste time fingering you open. Look at you; so needy—just desperate for it aren’t you?”

“N—No.” He whines; pressing his face into the pillows. Stacee’s fingers feel so good inside him, he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never had someone touch him there, didn’t see the appeal, but it’s Stacee, and fuck, he just seems to turn to putty in his hands.

“Tell that to your pretty, little hole, Baby boy.” Stacee croons, mockingly. “Sucking my fingers inside you like a desperate little whore. You’re gonna love being my own personal cum dump, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head; curls bouncing against the pillows. “M’not gonna get pregnant. Don’t know why you’re so intent on fucking me.”

Stacee pulls his fingers free, and then Andrew feels the press of something else against his soft rim; bites his lip when he realises it’s the older man’s cock. He trembles as Stacee pushes inside him; breath caught in his throat as he’s filled—Stacee not stopping until he can feel the slap of his balls against the underside of his ass.

“You didn’t pay attention in sex ed, did you, Andrew?”

He doesn’t answer, because Stacee was right. He knew the basics—slot A goes in slot B—and how to put on a condom, but he didn’t pay attention to anything else; too busy tapping out a beat against his thigh or the wood of his desk, his head always so full of music.

Except now, when it was full of Stacee. He was full of Stacee.

“Didn’t pay attention when you were told that anyone can get pregnant if they’re a carrier, did you?”

He mewls as Stacee pulls out until the plump tip of his cock is forcing Andrew’s no-longer-virgin hole to stretch wide, and then thrusts back in hard. “How do you—I’m not one of those.”

“You are. The water doesn’t work on those that aren’t. And your asshole is sucking me in, as warm and as welcoming as a pussy, right now.” He leans over Andrew’s back to scrape his teeth over the flexing muscles of his shoulder; breath hot on his sweat-slick skin, hips pumping in and out of him, setting his blood aflame. “Like I said, you’re gonna look so good pregnant with my baby.”

“You’re—You’re not gonna knock me up.” He pants; pushing his ass back; onto his cock, like he can’t get enough.

“No? Let’s see shall we.” Stacee drags wet lips over his shoulder blade, before standing up straight again; fingers calloused from playing guitar digging into his squidgy hips as he starts fucking into him hard and rough. Andrew can only claw at the rucked up bedsheets underneath him; brain feeling like it’s rattling in his skull.

The fat length of Stacee’s cock is rubbing against his insides in a way that makes him see stars, and he feels his balls draw up; the urge to cum burning at the base of his spine. The older man wraps his fingers around his cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Come on my cock; want this greedy pussy of yours to milk me for every drop of cum I can give you.”

Andrew’s body jerks as if electrocuted; cock throbbing in Stacee’s grip as he comes, spurting his release all over the bedsheets, hole clenching down around Stacee’s cock. The older man groans and speeds up his thrusts; hips stuttering a few moments later, and then he feels hot wetness coat his insides.

Fuck.

Stacee grinds his cock against his stretched, puffy rim; the rough rasp of his opened jeans rubbing over his pale skin.

He wants to collapse forward, but hands on his belly, hold him up and in place, so he can only stay there on his elbows and knees, trembling as Stacee empties his load inside him. What if he does get pregnant? He can get rid of it, right?

“No.” Stacee murmurs; moving to sit on the bed, and pulling Andrew with him, cock still forcing his hole open.

“What?”

“You asked if you could get rid of the baby.” Fuck, he hadn’t realised he’d asked that out loud. “The contract you signed at the beginning says you agree that any pregnancy that is a result of a private breeding will go full term, and that you’d spend the pregnancy with the person who bred you, and then share parental custody.” Stacee brushes Andrew’s sweat-damp curls away from his flushed face and pulls him back into his chest; rubbing over his belly, like he was putting his desire to have a kid into the touch, so it would come into fruition. “Knew you didn’t read it.”

He swallows nervously. “Why do you want a kid so bad?” He asks, rather than dealing with the fact that maybe he wasn’t better than everyone else who came here; at least they’d known what they were getting into. Can’t do much about it now though. Stacee’s cock feels like it belongs inside of him, and whilst there’s a tiny chance he hasn’t impregnated him, Andrew think’s it’s unlikely.

“Tired of people loving me only as Stacee Jaxx. My own kid will love me as just Stacee—just his dad.”

“Oh.” It’s a very human want—to be loved for who he was rather than who people thought he was—for a rock god. “I thought music was your love. Thought you were….”

“Like you?”

He scrunches his face up guiltily; nodding in defeat, thunking his head back into the crook of Stacee’s neck, because it’s not like he’s going anywhere.

“I can love more than one thing.” Stacee strokes over Andrew’s sternum; cupping his pudgy tits one after the other, rolling his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “For instance, I love how you feel split open on my cock.”

He sniffs; face flushing red. “Surely there are other people you could breed? Why me? You don’t even know me.”

“I know who you are, Andrew. You’re a talented drummer who’s been misunderstood by his family—them not understanding what music means to you—and then abused by a teacher who part of you still craves validation from, even more now you’ve had a small dose of it. You think music is the only thing that matters, but you haven’t yet realised that no musician—no true musician—can create music without experiencing life. The greats didn’t write about love, death, pain, all those sorts of things, without actually experiencing it, baby boy.” He lazily fondles Andrew’s pale, freckled body as his cock hardens inside him again and he slowly rolls his hips; fucking up into Andrew’s blown hole. “You came here because you saw me, giving no thought to the consequences, and now you’re in my lap, where you belong. I could breed someone else, but I chose you. Because you understand what music means to me, because you feel the same, but you’re also a dumb little shit that needs bringing down a peg or two, and I can’t wait to do that as you grow all big and heavy with my baby.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He grumbles; feeling his cock stir, plump up again between his legs at the slow, wet drag of Stacee inside him.

Stacee laughs. “Just because I’m sober now, doesn’t mean that part of me’s changed, Sweetheart. You knew who I was when you followed me in here. Clearly your body wanted to be bred by me, even if your mind was a little slow to catch up.”

He groans; biting down on the underside of Stacee’s neck, wanting to mark him—leave some trace of himself on the older man, seeing as he was apparently going to be leaving more than a few bruises on him. Stacee just smirks; holding him in place as he fucks him deep and slow.

“Do I have to stay with you? Really?”

“Yep. Those who wanted to be bred and remain a single parent, go to the anonymous breeding booths—that’s for those that like filling people with their cum, but who don’t want the baby at the end of it, as well.”

Andrew huffs out a sigh; fingers curling around his cock to jack himself off, because he can feel the need to come swirling in his gut again. “What am I gonna do while you tour? Sit in the tour bus and wait for you to finish singing so you can fuck me? Throw up in like twenty different states as I grow your baby?”

Stacee growls against the crook of his neck; rasping his tongue over Andrew’s pulse point; ringed fingers spasming over the soft flesh of his cum-filled belly. “I like the sound of the first one, and the second seems likely—but we’ll get you something for sickness—though there is something else you could do while you come with me.”

“What?”

He nips Andrew’s neck and fucks up into him hard enough to make him cum; semen spurting all over his pale belly as his hole grips down tight around Stacee’s fat cock. “You’ll have to come with me and find out.”

“F—Fucker.”

Stacee fills him with his cum again as his release pulses through him; ropes of sticky seed lining his insides, kisses pressed into his fever-hot skin. “Yeah, but you like me, so…”

He kicks Stacee in the calf with his heel, but the older man just laughs. Andrew squawks as Stacee picks him up; laying him on the bed on his front. “What are you doing?”

“Admiring my handiwork.” He smirks; thumbing over Andrew’s gaping rim. He tuts disapprovingly, and Andrew wants to curl in on himself at the thought that he’s done something wrong.

“What? What is it?”

“A few drops are dripping out of you. Don’t want that do we?”

He chokes out a disbelieving laugh; pressing his face into the pillows. “Yeah, well it can’t all stay in there can it?”

Stacee hums, and then he hears the rasp of his zip being done up, and the soft tread of boots on the floor. He hears Stacee picking something up and then the older man is back behind him, playing with his blown out hole like it was his to do with what he wanted. He’s not quite sure why he lets him, only that some part—the part that craved validation from Fletcher—wants approval and touch from the other man.

He gasps feeling something that’s not fingers brush over his rim and then push inside him; the errant drops of cum that had threatened to escape, pushed back inside him. “Fuck, what is that?”

“You don’t recognise them? You hold them all the time, Sweetheart.”

Oh god.

He shivers when he realise Stacee’s used his own fucking drumsticks to push his cum deep inside him so it doesn’t drip out. Feels his cock twitch where it hangs between his legs; feels betrayed by his own body.

“You’re ruining them.” He growls.

“Nah, they’ll be fine. Be good to use them knowing where they’ve been—knowing they made sure you’re getting the best chance at being bred. You’ll hold them in the future and swear you can smell my cum on them.”

He draws in a deep breath and wonders if his dad will see him starting a family with an aging rock star as better or worse than going insane trying to achieve drumming perfection. Mentally resolves not to tell him until he can no longer hide it. Will just tell him he’s got a touring gig and he’ll be away for a while.

Doesn’t need to mention he’s going as breeding bitch for one of the most famous musicians on the whole fucking planet.

“Whatever this other thing is that you’re offering, better be fucking worth it.” He groans; feeling the press of the drumsticks against his prostate, making him shiver.

“Oh, it will be.”

+

The opening chords of ‘Pour some sugar on me’ start and Andrew takes a breath; drumsticks coming down on the skin of his drums as he begins playing—Stacee out in front making the crowd go berserk with lust.

The older man had been right. What he’d offered to keep Andrew with him, was a fucking dream. He gets to perform—play the drums and have the time of his life—every night of their tour. It’s not jazz, but if he’s honest, he’s never gonna beat what he did at the JWC jazz club, so he might as well play rock, and at least this way he gets to watch Stacee prowl up and down the stage bare-chested every night; knowing that as much as those in the audience lust after him, he’s the one that Stacee fucks afterwards—the adrenaline rush of a good performance making it so he’s pushing his cock in Andrew’s ass within minutes of them getting on their tour bus.

Hands splaying over Andrew’s heavy baby bump possessively every time.

Because, yeah, he was pregnant.

He was a carrier, just like Stacee had said he was; 6 months pregnant with their baby.

He’s wearing Stacee’s sleeveless shirt; sides undone and hanging down either side of his bump, framing it beautifully, though the audience isn’t going to see it behind his drumkit. Stacee can though, and well, he’s learned over the last six months, that he’ll do a lot to get Stacee to look at him and smile—craves him in a way he’s only ever craved music.

He plays the last of the song and scrubs a hand over his sweaty, flushed face as the crowd goes wild; the fan favourite always their last song of the night. The lights go down and Stacee jumps over to where he’s sat; hand smoothing over his bump as he bends his head to kiss him.

“You did great, baby boy. Look beautiful too.”

“I look like a whale.” He huffs; getting to his feet, clinging to Stacee’s tattooed arms for balance.

“A beautiful whale.” The older man winks at him. “Come on. Let’s get on the bus. I’m sure your pussy has missed being filled.”

He rolls his eyes, even as he blushes and lets Stacee guide him out the back. “You can’t breed me again. I’m already pregnant. I keep telling you this.”

“You’re pregnant? Oh why didn’t you say? I couldn’t tell.” Stacee drawls sarcastically. “Get in the bus and get undressed, baby boy.”

Andrew flips him off, but still does just that. The feeling of Stacee pushing his cock into his hole—rim always puffy and gaping just a little now—making a shiver ripple down his spine, every time. “What are you gonna do when the baby’s here?”

“My tour finishes next month, and then I’m going to announce a break.” Stacee kisses his bump as he rocks into him bit by bit. “Coincides nicely with when you’re due. We can then raise the baby together.”

Andrew’s brows raise towards the curls at his hairline. “You actually want to do this together? Like keep me around for more than just because I’m pregnant?”

Stacee looks at him like he’s fucking dumb and shoves his cock all the way in; leaning over him, Andrew’s big bump brushing against the dark curls of Stacee’s bush that trails down from his navel. “Andrew, we make fucking music together—you know what that means—you think I riff and write lyrics in the bus with just anyone? You think I fucked you knowing we’d need to raise this baby together if I didn’t want you around? You think I fuck you every night—whenever I fucking can— just because I bred you, when as you helpfully tell me every time, me cumming in you won’t get you pregnant again? Ever thought it might be because I like you; like marking you as mine?”

He leans close so Andrew has no choice but to stare deep into his green eyes. “You think I would’ve let you play in the band if I didn’t want you around? Didn’t want to show off who I’m gonna have a beautiful baby with? Because you may think the audience can’t see you behind the drums, baby boy, but I’m here to tell you that I’ve made sure the cameras have been set up so one is always aimed at you, and the audience can see you wearing my clothes, pregnant with my baby every fucking night. Every one knows you’re mine, like I’m yours.”

He leans back and starts fucking into him; Andrew blinking away tears, because he hadn’t known. Thought he was being placated and just given something to do until he was no longer needed, no longer wanted; hadn’t realised he was being fucking shown off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know.”

“I know.” Stacee shakes his head fondly. “You know now though.”

The only sounds then are their harsh breaths as Stacee fucks him hard and deep; hands roving over his pregnant, soft body all greedy and possessive. Andrew cums all over himself and Stacee spills hot and wet inside of him; a feeling he’s gotten so used to; it feels wrong when he doesn’t experience it on a daily basis.

Stacee pulls out of him and moves to lay next to him; turning him on his side and curling around his back; ringed fingers splaying over his freckled belly.

“I assume we’re not raising the kid on the bus?” He mumbles; feeling the post adrenaline come down.

“No.” Stacee huffs out a laugh. “I have a big house. Plenty of room for us to raise a baby or two.”

“Two? Haven’t even had this one yet.”

“Yeah, but I feel like this one will need a sibling. We can have our own little band then. You can teach one to play the drums, and I’ll teach the other guitar. Both can learn piano. Or maybe we can have a third?”

Andrew snuggles back into the older man’s embrace. “You’re lucky I love you. Anyone else tried to get me to have multiple kids and I’d kick them in the dick.”

“You love me?” Stacee breathes out in shock against his nape.

“What I understand love to be, anyway. Music is my true love—how it makes me feel alive and like I have a purpose in life—and I can’t separate you from the music, not anymore.” He wets his lips; closing his eyes and just letting himself sink into the warmth. “So, yeah. I love you in the way that I love.”

Soft lips dance over his skin as Stacee kisses him. “You’re saying that and you actually know who I am off stage.” He sounds dazed.

“Yeah, a fucking horndog that loves fucking me, writes the most beautiful of songs—most of which the audience never get to hear—who never stops touching me, makes sure the tour bus is stocked with all the weird foods I’ve been craving as part of this pregnancy, and who loves me even though I’m fucking dumb as shit when it involves stuff that’s not music.”

Stace smiles against his skin, and hums. “That about sums it up. I do love you, Andrew.”

“I know. I just said I know, dumbass.”

Stacee growls and nips at his neck. “Can’t wait to breed you again once you’ve given birth to this one. Think a brat like you needs the reminder exactly who is keeping you full every night, and having your belly all fat and heavy with my seed is the perfect reminder..”

“We’re stopping at three.” He says around a yawn. “Unless one of us is going to learn a new instrument to teach them.”

Stacee just laughs, and Andrew’s last thought before he falls asleep is that he wouldn’t put it past the older man to do just that.

+

Three years later…

“Thank you all for coming on my new tour, everyone.” Andrew watches as Stacee talks to the audience; wandering off stage to come back on with a kid in both arms, their nearly three year old daughter looking out at the audience with wide eyes, and their nearly two year old son giggling into his dad’s neck. “I’m gonna give the rest of the band—bar my husband of course—a little break, and have brought on the two members of the group that are up past their bed time, but what can you do?”

The audience coos as Stacee hands little Sammy to him; Andrew setting him on his lap, the young boy resting back against Andrew’s four month baby bump, tiny feet kicking against his shins. Stacee carries Emmelyn with him to the piano bench and setting her on his lap, starts playing the chords for a song that Stacee and him wrote together the last couple of months in between the original tour ending and Emmelyn being born.

He looks over at the man who he’d followed into a fucking breeding convention, let fuck him over and over, and who he now has two and a half kids with—who he’s fucking married to—and grins. Stacee winks at him as he starts to sing, and Andrew starts to play the backing drums; Sammy’s hands clinging to his arms so he can join in.

He knows he had no idea what he’d be getting into back when it had all started—never read the fucking paperwork, or even looked around—but Stacee’s knocked him down a peg or two, opened his eyes, and stuffed him full every chance he can get, and he knows—

If he could do it all again, he wouldn’t do anything different.

Except maybe learn another instrument earlier; Stacee already teaching himself the fucking ukelele in his spare time.

He’s got time though.

And the triangle won’t take long to learn.

If that’s just an excuse so that Stacee can breed him again, then no one will know.

Except Stacee, but that’s fine.

He was the one who was going to fuck baby four and five into him after all.

Fletcher is probably out there shaking his head in pity, but Andrew doesn’t care. He no longer craves validation from anyone but his husband and kids, and they give it to him in spades.

Stacee gives it to him in another way too, but that was how they got into this in the first place.

Can’t deny that the music—and the babies—they make together, is the sweetest fucking kind to exist, though.

Chapter Text

Ray snaps the blue band around his wrist with a nod to the woman on the front desk and prowls into the bustling crowd of the breeding convention, intent on finding someone to knock up. It’s not that he wants a kid, exactly—already had two of those that never spoke to him because they preferred their mother and lived with her and her new husband; calling him fucking Ray instead of dad, and thinking he was just a shit human being—but he wants to get someone nice and heavy with his seed.

Wants to look at someone and see unequivocal proof that he’s bred them good and proper.

It’s Mary Ann’s fault. He’d seen her recently, just randomly at the supermarket. She was 7 months pregnant and huge, and Ray had felt his dick twitch in his jeans; more interested in her then than he’d been for the whole second half of their marriage, when she no longer let him see her naked; worried he’d hate the stretchmarks on her belly or think her cunt was too loose, or whatever stupid reason she’d gotten into her head.

But then, in that moment, his gaze had trailed over the curve of her heavily pregnant belly and he’d wished it had been him that had fucked her full of cum until it had taken.

His cock had throbbed with the memory of what it was like to slide into the tight clutch of a hole, bare, and fill it with his seed until it was just bursting out; leaving behind a tender cunt and a fertilised egg.

Reminded him how much he hated wearing condoms. All that potent cum just going to waste.

He walks round the convention; hands in his brown, beaten-up leather jacket pockets. He sniffs taking in the goods and services on offer at some of the stalls, but they didn’t interest him. He didn’t need help breeding someone. Had proof he could do it—even if the proof wasn’t talking to him but happily accepted the money he sent in their Christmas cards.

No, he didn’t need help. Just needed someone who was going to let him fuck them over and over; just let him shove his cock inside their hole whenever he wanted until they were gaping and sloppy with his cum.

He wants to breed someone and ruin them for anyone else.

He debates going to the anonymous breeding booths, but decides against it in the end. Sure seeing the pink puckered holes and puffy cunts lined up like that was hot, but as much as it was more about the fucking a kid into someone for him, rather than looking after the kid when it came out; part of him did want to try again. Try having another family, and do it right this time.

He wasn’t good at the day-to-day parts of parenting like the diaper changes or the housework; was more of a protector and provider than a caregiver, but he wouldn’t mind cuddling a little one in his arm as he held their mom in the nook of the other. Teach them how to throw ball, or ride a bike. Help them pick a movie that even though it was apparently fine for kids to watch, was still fucking traumatising. Something like Watership Down.

But he needs a wife. A pretty little housewife who will cook and clean, and get fat and ripe with his seed, and in return he’ll give them a house, will buy whatever they need, and will make sure they’re pleasured and cared for every day.

He doesn’t really care about looks; he’ll fuck anything as long as they’re legal really. And even then, being on the younger side is probably an advantage. He shivers at the thought of finding a virgin in amongst the throng of people—someone he can train to take his cock until they’re a drooling, fucked-out mess; one who will enjoy getting broken in as much as he enjoys breaking them on his cock.

Rays surveys the crowd under the brim of his Yankees cap and he comes to a stop when he sees someone who might be perfect stood off to the side; only a few feet from one of the private breeding rooms.

The kid must be around eighteen, nineteen at a push. He has cherubic curls around a chubby-cheeked face; teeth pressed into the plump of his bottom lip as he chews on it nervously. He’s all gangly limbs and pale, freckled skin; wearing a blue t-shirt that doesn’t quite fit right—a strip of pudgy, pale belly peeking through above the waistband of his jeans. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he stands there; beaten-up Converse—similar state to Ray’s own boots implying the kid is someone who gets a good use out of his stuff, or maybe doesn’t have the money to buy anything new—squeaking against the floor as he can’t quite stand still.

A prominent nose sits on his face, and there’s something a bit asymmetrical about him when all the pieces come together. He’s cute, pretty even, if you stare at him long enough; in a ‘looks innocent but you just know as soon as you get him on a cock he’ll be gagging for it’ kind of way. Unlocked potential there; those berry-pink lips have never been split around a cock despite their pillowy nature, he just knows. But they should be; look like they were made for it.

Made for calling out in pleasure as Ray splits him open on his dick.

His shoulders are curled in a little like he’s overwhelmed, but Ray doesn’t think he’s being forced to be there. No, there’s a glint in his big, brown eyes that shows that he’s determined even if he has no real game to speak of and is being passed over by everyone that walks by. A flash of pink on his wrist makes Ray smirk.

The kid is determined to be bred.

Licking over his lips, he saunters closer; everyone else bypassing the gangly cherub—too drugged up on the importance of their own dick to appreciate the fact that the kid is that happy medium of nice to look at, but not going to be immediately coveted by someone else, meaning if Ray can get him to agree to be his; he can have him all for himself before anyone else realises that he’s just begging to be ruined.

As he gets closer he realises with delight that the reason the kid’s t-shirt doesn’t fit properly is because he’s all soft and squishy; has a little belly that spills over his jeans like a muffin top, and Ray feels his dick throb in arousal at the thought of him getting fatter and rounder after he knocks him up.

The kid’s big, brown eyes snap to him as soon as he gets close enough; can see the nervous bob of his throat.

“I’m Ray,” he says; not bothering with pleasantries. He’ll be pleasant enough in the bedroom, and they both know why they’re here.

“J—Jason.” The kid stutters; before swallowing again and standing up straight, like he wants Ray to look at him not realising Ray’s already swept his eyes over every freckle and little roll of flesh and deemed him perfect.

“I was thinking of going in that private breeding room behind you. Did you want to join me?”

“Me?” Jason squeaks. “Are you—was there no one else? Are you sure?”

Ray shrugs; mouth quirking as he notices the way Jason watches the easy movement of his body and licks his lips. “Sure there are other people, but I’m stood in front of you. Now do you want to get bred, or what, kid?”

Jason gulps; nodding frantically. “N—No. I do. Please.”

The please is interesting. He sounds positively desperate. Like he needs to be bred, rather than just wanting it. Fuck, he’s going to break so beautifully under him.

“Good. Come on then.” He wraps his fingers around Jason’s wrist, feeling the jump in his pulse and the sharp intake of breath as he touches him, and leads him into the room; locking the door behind them and shedding his leather jacket and hoodie. “Take off your shoes, kid.”

Jason toes off his beat-up Converse one after the other; wiggling his feet against the carpet and looking around curiously. He looks young like this. Ray can see how smooth his chubby cheeks are as he comes to stand scant inches from him, and he doesn’t think it’s from shaving this morning. The only thing messing up the smoothness is the lines of scars across his cheeks and neck, though in Ray’s opinion they just add to his appeal; his tongue aching with the desire to trace the pink lines.

“Little young to be wanting to be bred, aren’t you, kid?” He asks; rasping his hand over his own stubbled cheek, not having bothered to shave for a couple of days.

“Didn’t stop you dragging me in here, did it?” Jason snarks, before blanching as he realises what he’d said and flinching as if expecting to be hit for the back talk.

Ray notices the instinctive reaction and files it away; making sure he treats the kid with gentle hands even if he was going to anyway. Sure, he’s a little sleazy sometimes, and yeah, Jason being young and malleable was part of the reason he’d chosen him, but he doesn’t beat people. Hates the thought of his pale, freckled skin being mottled black and blue when it should only be flushed a pretty red from arousal.

He brings his hand up slowly to stroke Jason’s cheek with the back of his knuckles, shhhing him under his breath as Jason hiccups out a shocked gasp. “It’s alright, kid. You’re safe, Babygirl.” The petname slips out easily, and Jason melts at the word; pressing into Ray’s touch.

Fuck, he’d forgotten how nice it felt to have someone seek comfort from him. Mary Ann had deemed him useless for anything other than fixing the household appliances and arguing with not long after Rachel had been born.

Jason sniffs and plays with the hem of his t-shirt as he answers Ray’s question properly; wide-tipped thumbs with chew-bitten nails rolling the cotton of his clothing over them repeatedly. “I’ve always wanted a big family,” he explains quietly, “but I—uh—I never felt safe so much as even thinking about one before. My….My mom and step-dad used to, um, beat me?” He chuckles nervously and Ray tucks a bouncy curl behind his ear; Jason’s shoulders relaxing automatically at the touch. “But they’re dead now—car crash. Same one that gave me these.” He points to his scars and Ray thumbs over one on his cheek. Jason shivers and his sooty eyelashes flutter; blunt teeth pressing into his bottom lip, a small moan escaping his throat.

Fuck, this kid is sensitive.

Ray does it again.

“S—So, now I—uh—now I feel safe enough to have my own family that I can love like I wasn’t loved and not…not feel ashamed for just wanting to be good and soft and kind and all the other things they said were wrong and pathetic and not worth the money spent on gas to heat the house to keep me warm.” Jason surreptitiously wipes at his eyes and Ray doesn’t bring attention to the tears; just gently strokes over the soft skin of his face and neck, getting him used to the touch; feeling the goosepimples left in his wake. “Why—Why do you want—why are you here? And not out in the anonymous breeding booths, I mean.”

“I want to knock someone up.” He murmurs; splaying his fingers over the line of Jason’s throat, stroking over his pulse point. “Want to watch them get heavy and round with my seed. Want a pretty, little housewife to come home to, and look after. Keep wet and full of my cum. That interest you, Babygirl?”

Jason nods. “Y—Yeah. I don’t mind being a housewife. Doing chores and keeping things tidy never bothered me. If I was doing that then it meant I wasn’t being slapped or punched or kicked, so yeah, I don’t mind. I just want—I just want someone to feel safe with. Someone to care for me and have a big family with. Someone who will care about the kids too.”

Ray admires the steel in his voice as he says the last sentence. Jason seems pretty docile and soft, but clearly he has a strong core. He’s survived his not so great life so far, after all. Came out the winner even when his parents tried to beat him down. Literally. He likes that. Wants someone who can snark back at him a little, who will love and protect the kids just as fiercely as he will, but who will choose to let Ray protect him. Will submit to Ray because he wants to. Mary Ann never could—always had to control everything, could never let him have his fill of her. Always thought it was too much. Surely, you don’t need to fuck me every day, Ray?

He'd distanced himself after that. Spent more time at work or in the garage; stopped caring about picking up his shit in the house, she’d only pick it up better than him anyway. He regrets that in distancing himself from her, he’d ended up distancing himself from Robbie and Rachel too, but they were always her kids really, not theirs. Always ran to her with problems or hugs, not him.

This time it will be different. Jason the opposite of Mary Ann in almost every way.

“I’ve had kids before, Jason—divorced, they live with her.” Jason looks at him with wide eyes, but doesn’t move away, so that’s good. “I don’t hit them. I love them, I do. And I wish things were different, but they just don’t—they don’t need me in their lives, and I don’t want them to resent me for trying to force my way in. I’d rather they still tolerated me like they do now, than be completed hated. Nothing to do with them, just me and their mom, it didn’t work and I probably should’ve divorced her sooner, but she didn’t leave earlier either even though she could see as well as I could that we didn’t fit.” He huffs out a hollow laugh; carding a hand through his hair. “Should’ve known we wouldn’t work longtime when she didn’t understand why I found her so hot when she was pregnant with Robbie. Still surprised she let me knock her up with Rachel to be honest. The fun of alcohol, ey?”

“I’m sorry.” Jason murmurs; tentatively reaching out to squeeze Ray’s wrist.

Ray smiles. “Thanks. I’m sorry you had pieces of shit for parents.” Jason chokes out a laugh. “But, hey, we wouldn’t be here if things didn’t happen how they did, would be?”

“Guess not.”

“Right. Anything else you wanna talk about, or can I fuck a baby into you now?”

Jason looks at him all gold-flecked eyes and pink mouth, and then he throws himself at Ray; coming at him all wet lips and fast breaths. Ray catches him around the squishy waist and takes control of the kiss; nipping at his plump bottom lip in reprimand and licking into him to guide him. Jason opens up for him beautifully; trembling in his arms.

He grabs the hem of Jason’s t-shirt and pulls it up over his head; brushing a hand over his flyaway curls, enjoying the flush to his cheeks and how it spills down his pale chest to cover the swell of his pudgy, little tits. Ray cups one tit in his palm and squeezes; squeezing the pouty nub of his nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Can easily imagine them heavy and filled with milk.

Jason whines and pushes into the touch; fingers plucking at Ray’s own t-shirt like he wants him naked too.

“Steady on, Babygirl.” He chuckles lowly; sucking a bite into the curve of his neck, pressing down with the sting of his teeth. Jason tilts his head to the side to give him better access, contenting his curious fingers with the trail of dark hair under Ray’s navel.

“Please, Ray.” He mewls. “Please, Sir.”

He hums against his butter-soft skin. “No, I don’t think sir is quite right.”

“W—What—oh god—” Jason gasps as Ray scrapes his teeth over his clavicle and pinches his nipple; already picturing doing it months in the future and feeling the wet splash of milk dribble onto his fingers. “—what do you want me to call you?”

Ray licks over his teeth and smirks at him. “I think Daddy works well, don’t you?”

Jason moans and Ray grins feeling the little aborted thrust of his hips against his leg. A desperate puppy bitch just waiting to be filled with his load. “Oh god.”

Ray kisses him again and undresses them both; tugging open Jason’s fly and pushing his jeans and bunched up boxer shorts down his thick, fleshy thighs; slapping the freckled skin of his ass and watching it jiggle in the mirror that lines one of the walls. He gently pushes Jason onto the bed, leaving the younger man to kick off his clothing and pull off his socks, while Ray quickly strips off his own clothes.

He hears Jason curse under his breath and smirks feeling the hunger in his eyes trail over his muscles. “Did you drink the water, Babygirl?”

“Yes—Yes, Daddy.”

Ray nods and climbs onto the bed in between his bent legs; spreading them wide and smoothing a hand up over his inner thigh as he gives his own cock a few slow pumps. Jason’s pretty hairless; a small patch of curls at the base of his cock, and a faint smattering on his legs and under his arms, but other than that, he’s silky and smooth and Ray doesn’t want to stop touching him. Can’t take his eyes off the way the squishy flesh of his belly quivers with each heaving breath, or the way drops of pre-cum pool in the rolls of fat.

“Good girl.”  Ray digs his fingers into the meat of Jason’s thigh; not bruising tight but hard enough to make him groan, but Jason obviously believes him when he said he wasn’t violent, because he bucks his hips upward, silently requesting more rather than shying away. It’s all he needs to know he can have Jason like he wants.

He stretches out over the young boy; nips at the undefined line of his chin, and braces an elbow by his ear. “How old are you, Jason?”

“Bit late to ask that isn’t it?” Jason snorts. “I’m eighteen. Had my birthday a few months ago. And I’ve finished school. S’why I’m here now.”

“Just checking.” Ray grins against his skin; slipping a hand down the crease of his thigh, skimming over his balls and down further to rub over his soft, pliant hole; feeling the way it flutters under his touch. He presses in with two fingers, right down to the joint; figuring even though he’s clearly a virgin, that Jason can take it. Jason claws at his well-defined shoulders; throwing back his head in pleasure as Ray fingerfucks him roughly. “Fuck, you just open up for me beautifully don’t you. Can feel you sucking my fingers in greedily. S’not enough though is it? S’not what you want?”

Jason rolls his head from side to side; eyes scrunched up and cheeks blotched red. “No. Want your cock. Please, Daddy.”

He crooks his fingers to rub over Jason’s prostate and grins wolfishly when the young kid comes; spurting all over his belly and crying out in shock.

“Oh god. Sorry. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, baby. You can make a mess all over yourself as much as you want. Doesn’t matter where your cum goes, does it? Just as long as mine ends up in here.” He massages the pads of his fingers over Jason’s silky insides, and Jason whimpers a little oversensitive from his orgasm. Ray thrusts his fingers in and out slowly as he dips his head; suckling on Ray’s pebbled nipple—drawing it into his mouth and making it spit-shiny and swollen.

“Please, Daddy.”

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll get there.” Ray presses kisses to Jason’s pudgy tits; nosing at the curve of his armpit and breathing in the scent of his sweat. “I’ll pump you full of cum, don’t worry. Just want to mark you up a bit. Can I do that, Jason? Can I mark you with my teeth so everyone will know you’re mine, Babygirl?”

Jason looks at him in shock, like he’s surprised Ray wants to actually claim him like that and not hide him, even though when he breeds him, he’s not going to be able to hide the evidence of their fucking, but Ray guesses he’s so used to fading into the background, or not being wanted, that Ray wanting to mark him like this—to warn others away from him for fear of Ray kicking their ass—it was a little overwhelming.

Ray waits, and then Jason nods and he kisses him in thanks.

He speeds up his fingers; adding a third to stretch his hole. Knows he doesn’t need to, and his cock is aching to replace them, but if he wants Jason to stay with him and not just out of obligation because of the contracts they’d signed, but actually want Ray to fuck him all the time and play with him whenever he wants, then he needs to tease and touch him; making him crave Ray’s hands and mouth on him—make him as needy as Ray is under the surface.

Wet lips drag over Jason’s chest, and then he’s crying out in pleasure as Ray bites down on the swell of his tit hard enough to leave a bruise; sucking on the skin after to encourage the mark on his pale skin. He nuzzles his way downwards and does the same on his belly and his thighs; leaving marks all over his curvy, fleshy parts until Jason is shuddering out a second orgasm and painting Ray’s bitemark on his belly with his cum.

Fuck, that was hot.

He drags his fingers out of Jason’s now properly stretched hole; not wanting Jason to have to deal with any pain that wasn’t pleasurable and grabs some lube from the side; slicking his cock. He hitches Jason’s long legs around his waist and pushes his cock inside him; not asking if he was ready or if he wanted it still—already marked as Ray’s, so no backing out now.

“So, you want a big family, do you, baby?” He purrs as he bottoms out; thumbing over Jason’s parted lips.

“Yes.”

He’s tight and hot around him; clenching down around his cock as if he’s not used to being stretched open and filled, and already greedy for more. Ray knew he’d be perfect.

“Want me to knock you up with twins, then do you?” He asks, pulling his hips back and thrusting back in. “Maybe triplets?” He can imagine it so easily; Jason’s belly pulled tight over a massive bump. Ray’s potent seed doing that to him. His cock gets even harder inside him and Jason clenches down around him hard as he nods desperately. Ray can see the way his face heats up in arousal and can feel how he’s trembling underneath him, and he grins. Lets his mouth loose and all his desires come spilling free.

“Want me to get you a frilly apron that only just fits around your massive bump, Jason? Nothing underneath so I can bend you over the bed or the couch or the kitchen table, or fucking wherever I want—fuck my cock deep into this wet pussy of yours—keep you blown out and needy.” He snaps his hips deep and hard; whispering the words into Jason’s ear, running his hand over his tits and belly—the two parts of him that are going to swell and change the most from him breeding him. “Have to be careful you don’t drip my cum all over the floor while you clean the house, won’t you?”

“I—I can clean it up.” Jason pants; fingers spearing through Ray’s hair at the base of his skull and gripping his strong waist.

“Hmm, maybe…be a bit hard to kneel down on the floor and lick it up with your tongue when you 8 month’s pregnant though, baby.”

Jason’s hole spasms around him and his heel digs into the firm muscle of Ray’s ass; pushing him deeper inside until the plump tip is nudging his cervix. “Please, Daddy.”

He shifts the angle of his hips slightly and grins smugly when Jason moans as he grazes his prostate; his cock already hard and straining against his cum-sticky belly again. Another advantage of youth. “What is it, Babygirl? You thinking about when you’re all fat and heavy with my babies—yeah think I’ll get you pregnant with triplets—keep you stuffed full with my cum until it takes. You’ll be all round and beautiful; no doubt that you’re mine and taking my cock every night. Big, fat tits dripping milk all down your flushed chest. You thinking about that, baby? Is it making you want to cum again?”

Jason keens; pushing his ass back against his cock, so needy for it. “Yes. Please, please, Daddy. Want that so much.”

“Gonne be such a good wife and mommy, aren’t you? Keep me well fed and have your pussy waiting for me when I come home from work, like a warm meal waiting on the table, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Will have my p—pussy waiting for you. All the time. Wanna get big with your babies, Ray. Want you to breed me, Daddy.”

He speeds up his hips; the need to cum and fill Jason with his seed is almost unbearable; burning down the length of his spine and making his balls feel heavy and aching. The innate desire to breed taking over. He hammers against Jason’s prostate and it only takes Ray pawing at his tit for him to come again. The hot vice grip of his hole around his cock sends Ray over the edge and he shoves himself in as deep as he can and blows his load deep inside Jason’s womb. Rope after rope of hot semen coating his insides and seeking out an egg to fertilize.

He grinds his cock against Jason’s puffy rim; forcing it to stretch that little bit further, no longer virgin tight. Ray seeks out Jason’s lips and kisses him as his hole milks him for every last drop of his cum. Jason kisses him back lazily; pads of his fingers tentatively tracing the bumps and ridges of Ray’s spine, like he can’t believe he gets to touch him whilst they’re not actively fucking. He presses into the touch, so Jason knows he can touch him whenever. Doesn’t want the same distance he had with Mary Ann to come between them.

Once his cock softens, he slips out of him; smacking a wet kiss to his sweat-slick sternum. Jason looks fucked out and thoroughly bred, and he looks beautiful. Looks like he belongs to Ray. He grabs one of the breeding plugs from the shelf on the side; slicking it with lube. Rubs the smooth end over Jason’s blown out hole and enjoys the way the ring of muscle struggles to clench tight. He pushes the plug inside Jason and the kid cries out at how big it is.

Ray just kisses the tip of his half-hard cock in apology, because he’s not really sorry. Chose this bigger size on purpose, so he can train Jason’s hole to be gaping wide and desperate for cock.

“Come on, baby. Let’s take you home.”

He pulls him up and helps him dress; not bothering to wipe Jason’s belly down as he likes him being covered in his own cum—knows people are gonna smell the scent of sweat and sex and semen on and in Jason; they’re gonna see the bite marks and bruises, and see the way his eyes are hooded from a good fucking, and they’re gonna realise they missed out on a diamond in the rough. Ray slides his palm over Jason’s belly as he pulls down his t-shirt and feels his cock twitch in his own jeans as he realises it’s swollen a little from all the cum he’s pumped inside him.

God, he needs to fuck him again and make his belly bulge even more. Thank fuck, he doesn’t live too far away.

+

Ray chucks his keys in the bowl on the hallway table and kicks off his shoes; hanging up his jacket and hoodie, Jason close on his heels. He asks if Jason wants a drink and gets them both a glass of water as the kid looks around his kitchen. There’s dishes in the sink that need washing and some car parts and an old takeaway pizza box on the table; but it’s cleanish. Jason accepts the water with a thanks and gulps it down quickly; wiping his lips with the back of his hand, large feet never staying still as he shuffles in place, squirming from the plug inside him.

“You want the tour?” He asks, only half meaning the offer.

“Uh, sure.”

He leads him into the living room; a couple of dvds on the floor in front of the tv, an empty beer can on the coffee table, and a blanket haphazardly thrown over the sofa to try and spruce things up a bit. Jason looks around at the shelves filled with books, films and random things he’s interested in.

“Nice home.” Jason peeks at him from under his eyelashes. “Can I—will I—do you want….can I stay with you, Ray? I’m selling my parents’ house because I don’t want to live there anymore or have my kids live there.”

“Sure, baby. You can move in. You can give it a spruce up if you want.” He pulls him close by his wrist and wraps his arms around his squishy waist. “After I fuck you again, though.”

Jason just smiles against his lips; fingers already eager to undo Ray’s jeans.

+

“Honey, I’m home!” Ray calls out; shucking his jacket and hanging up his baseball cap. He toes off his boots and wanders into the living room; flumping down on the neatly-made sofa. He smiles seeing Jason waddle in from the kitchen wearing nothing but the pale-pink apron Ray had bought him once they’d had official confirmation that he was pregnant; frilly edges tickling his collarbones and his thighs, white polka-dots all over the material. It strains to cover his massive baby bump—Ray having successfully managed to breed him full of triplets—and his tits were so big and heavy with milk that his nipples peeked out from the sides of the apron, just begging Ray to put his mouth on them,

“Hi, Daddy.” Jason says; coming over to stand in front of him, hand rubbing over his bump as he walks. He bends to meet Ray’s lips as he tilts them up for a kiss, and then turns, presenting his hole for Ray to inspect. Knows Ray loves to see his hole—his pussy—after a long day at work. He drags his thumb over Jason’s puffy, pink rim; always making sure he thoroughly washes the grease and dirt off his hands before he comes home, not wanting to mark Jason with anything that wasn’t his mouth or his fingers as he fucked him.

“How long until dinner’s ready?” He could smell something cooking, and he loved how Jason had settled into his house and made it a home. Really was the perfect, little housewife.

“Half an hour.”

“Good.” He says. And then, sliding his hands under the apron, he grips Jason’s hips and buries his face in between his pale, freckled cheeks; licking and slurping at his gaping hole. It never fully closed now—Ray stuffing his cock inside him morning, evening and night; sometimes at lunch too if he’s not working. The ring of muscle flutters under his tongue and opens easily as he licks into him deeply; chasing where he loves to slide his cock in deep and leave him sticky and ruined.

Jason’s thighs tremble as he stands there while Ray feasts on his hole; hands splayed over his huge belly. Ray cups his balls, giving them a fond squeeze, and then fists his cock; stroking it slowly as he laps at his broken in cunt. It doesn’t take much for Jason to cum; even more sensitive now he was pregnant. He spills into the cup of Ray’s palm; shuddering as Ray drags his tongue over his puffy hole.

The hem of the apron brushes over his thighs as Ray moves his hand out from underneath it, and then scoops the cum from his palm and pushes it inside Jason.

“I know it’s not mine, baby, but this will slick you up so you can sit on my cock while we eat dinner.” Jason moans as Ray rubs the cum all over his inner walls; no real need for lube when Jason’s cum was freely available and not doing anything but making a mess everywhere. “As long as it doesn’t leak out of you while dinner’s cooking, of course.” He chuckles.

He watches as Jason’s hole tries to clench down tight; only just managing a weak spasm, not happy unless it’s stretched wide around the fat length of Ray’s cock, just like it should be. He turns Jason around and stands up; cradling his nape as he kisses him deeply, running his hand over the swell of aching tits and massive bump. His fingers trace over the lines of his stretchmarks and his cock, which has been hard since he walked into he house, throbs in his jeans—nothing making him more aroused than seeing and feeling the proof of how his seed has changed Jason’s body.

Jason moans into the kiss; thankful that the teenager indulges his possessive need to touch him all the time—not pushing him away like Mary Ann had. The beep of the timer goes and he gently nudges Jason in the direction of the kitchen; giving his bare ass a swat as he turns, just to see the muscles bunch and cum dribble out of him.

He wanders into the kitchen and sits down; taking a pull of the beer Jason’s already served and then unzipping his jeans. Gives his cock a few tugs, watching Jason waddle around the kitchen as he plates up the salmon, potatoes and green beans. Domestic and heavily pregnant is such a good look on him, Ray can barely believe how lucky he is.

Jason places the large plate on the table in front of him, and lets Ray pull him onto his lap; hole giving way around his fat cock as he sinks down onto the seat of his thighs. Ray kisses his nape and leans around him to grab the bamboo place mat; settling it over Jason’s bump, placing the plate of food on top of it afterwards.

He rubs his hands over Jason’s heavily pregnant belly and enjoys the way he can feel the three babies wiggle inside him. Enjoys the weight of Jason on his lap—how heavy and round he is with his kids. How well he’s allowed himself to be bred by Ray.

Ray grabs the cutlery and rests his head on Jason’s shoulder. He cuts up the food and feeds forkfuls to Jason and then himself; Jason having quickly worked out that whilst Ray couldn’t cook for shit, he liked feeding him the food that Jason had prepared, that Ray’s money he made from working hard to provide for him had bought. They had their roles and unlike Mary Ann who had bucked and pushed against the role Ray had wanted her to serve, Jason fell into his role beautifully. Looking after the home and Ray, allowing Ray to look after him.

Once they’ve finished eating and the plate is everything but licked clean—Jason’s cooking always satisfying to eat—Ray puts the plate, cutlery, and placemat on the table and then grabbing Jason’s wide hips, fucks up into him. Jason pants against his ear; one hand braced on his belly, the other stretching up and back to clutch at Ray’s hair.

Ray fondles and plays with his dripping cock as he fucks him; always so greedy for Ray’s touch even though he’s already been bred so well—belly straining around the three babies where he’s been bred so fucking much.

Jason comes, and Ray follows him over the edge; spilling his hot cum inside him, keeping him stuffed full. They sit there together whilst Jason catches his breath; the babies wiggling inside him from the endorphins, his hole spasming around Ray’s cock. Ray knows it’ll be loose and gaping; loves how much Jason has let him mould him to the stretch of his dick.

Once his heartrate is back to normal; Ray helps Jason off his lap and smirks seeing a pearlescent strand of cum stretch from the plump head of his dick to Jason’s gaping rim, breaking to drip down onto his balls, only once he moves fully away, taking the plate and cutlery to the sink to wash it up. Ray gets up, not even bothering to do more than tuck his dick away and strides over to Jason and drops to a crouch; palms splayed over his ass.

“Daddy?” Jason asks; a hitch in his breath.

“Don’t want a mess on the floor, do we baby?” He murmurs; breath ghosting over his cunt; wet tongue, rasping a rough stripe up his cleft.

“Oh.” Jason squirms out a moan. “No—No we don’t. Thank you, daddy.”

Ray hums in satisfaction and lazily eats him out again. By the time the dishes are done, Jason’s hard again and wiggling against his tongue. Ray stands and picks him up bridal style; using his strength to carry him upstairs. Jason loops his arms around his neck and looks at him like he hangs the moon. Ray nuzzles at his cherubic cheeks with his own stubbled ones and promises himself he’ll be worthy of that look.

+

“You okay?” Ray asks; hands smoothing over the stretchmarks and looser skin of Jason’s post-birth belly; knuckles brushing against the soles of two of their babies’ feet as they feed from Jason’s breasts. The third baby having already been fed and now sleeping in the crib by the wall.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Jason smiles at him softly; stroking a finger over one of their daughter’s soft hair as she suckles at his teat.

Ray watches Jason feed their children until they’ve had enough and then helps burp one of them—knowing how to do that from before—and carrying them to the crib; giving them a kiss as they settle down. He looks over at Jason and slips off his sweatpants; hard cock bouncing free like it always does when he looks at Jason’s soft and squishy body, and sees the marks left by his teeth (at least two or three bite marks on him at all times) and from how breedable he is.

He crawls onto the bed and kisses Jason; cupping his face in his hands and licking into his mouth until he’s shaking in his grip. Then he nuzzles his face downwards and wraps his lips around one fat, pouty nipple; sucking on it and swallowing down the sweetness of his milk. Jason whines because his nipples are tender and sore from feeding their babies, but he doesn’t tell Ray to stop; just tugs on his hair a little to get him to not suckle at him so roughly. Ray laves his tongue over the swollen nub in apology; squeezing the squish of his hip as he helps himself to the milk Jason makes. Knows that his greedy appetite was forcing Jason’s tits to produce even more milk than three hungry new-born mouths needed, and was making them all heavy and achy, but he was greedy for Jason, and the milk tasted too nice for him to want to stop.

Jason didn’t seem to mind either; seemed to love being able to provide milk for both their babies and Ray, himself. Like he loved being needed after growing up not even being wanted. Ray shifts to the other breast and drinks his fill, before resting his head on the cushion of Jason’s chest and cuddling him close.

“You really are my perfect, little housewife, aren’t you, baby?” He murmurs; fingers tangling with Jason’s own.

“Mmhmm. Just for you, Daddy.”

Ray’s fingers stroke over the smooth metal of the wedding band on Jason’s finger; his own wrapped around the ring finger on his left hand. They’d married in a simple ceremony when Jason was seven months pregnant. Ray had bought a new suit for the occasion and even shined his dress shoes, and Jason—fuck, he’d looked stunning. All big and round, in a simple white gown (because no waistband was going to stretch around that bump) with a flower crown of pale-pink and white flowers resting on his dark curls. He’d been flushed with health and happiness, and Ray had only stopped kissing him after they’d said I do because the registrar had cleared his throat rather pointedly.

He hadn’t invited Mary Ann or their kids; just sent them a letter telling them that he will always love them, but he knows they don’t want him around and it’s fine. He hasn’t changed as a person; or maybe he has, in the way that he’s become the person he’d been at the beginning of his first marriage, no longer purposefully slobbish and uncaring, but the protector and provider that he was meant to be, and who Jason allows him to be.

He doesn’t know how they reacted to the wedding photo he’d put in with the letter, but he doesn’t overly care. He’s happier than he’s been in years, and if that makes him a selfish bastard, well he’s never denied being one.

“Love you, Ray.” Jason says softly; fingers walking down the length of his spine. “Thank you for giving me a family of my own to love.”

He presses a kiss to the smattering of freckles near the hollow of his throat and hums. “It was my pleasure. And I love you too, Jason.”

He hears the hitch in Jason’s breath and knows the teenager hadn’t expected him to say it back. He hadn’t before whenever Jason had quietly confessed his feelings at odd times over the months they’d been together. Didn’t act like he needed to hear it back; preferring to believe in actions rather than words—no doubt from his parents saying they loved him one minute to pretend they cared, and then beating him the next. But Ray had kept his word; had cared for him and given him three beautiful babies—two daughters and a son—and always looked after him. He’d obviously known he was loved, even if Ray hadn’t said it.

But he did love him. It was true. He’d come to love the sweet boy who just wanted to have a family and allowed Ray to take advantage of him so terribly, so wonderfully—wanting to be fucked open and bred as much as Roy wanted to split him wide on his cock and stuff him full of cum.

He figures it’s about time he told Jason how he felt.

He thumbs away the tears that spill down Jason’s chubby cheeks and holds him close. “Do you want to have any more kids?”

They hadn’t had penetrative sex since Jason had given birth a few months ago; Ray wanting to give him time to heal after pushing three babies out of such a small hole—though he still licked and fingered him every day; keeping him soft and open and needy for him.

Ray had spent a lot of time coming on Jason’s face or his tits or his belly, sometimes even covering his cock and balls in the sticky cum—part of him hating to waste so much virile semen, but the other part happy to mark Jason in this way too.

“I want as many as you want to fuck into me.”

Ray groans; hand skimming over Jason’s wobbly belly to palm his cock, finding it hard already. He dips his fingers lower and finds his hole; teasing his rim and tugging on it gently. “Want to start working on number four?”

Jason just smiles and moves onto his hands and knees. Ray settles behind him and pushes his cock into his loose, sloppy hole and sighs as it feels like coming home. He blankets Jason’s back with his front and runs his hands over Jason’s jiggly belly and tits as he fucks him; splaying his fingers over the squishy skin knowing that once he breeds him again it’ll become all stretched tight and heavy with his seed.

He fucks into him deep, and Jason’s hand covers his own where it rests by his navel.

It’s not Ray breeding Jason; it’s Jason letting Ray breed him.

It was perfect.

He presses his teeth into the curve of Jason’s shoulder and knows out of the hundreds of people at the convention, he’d picked the right one.

Chapter Text

Adam tips his head back against the wall of the empty private breeding room; sitting with his knees bent and his arms draped over them. He lets out a ragged sigh and scrubs a hand over his face. He’d thought he’d be able to handle this. He’d wanted to be able to handle this. What was the point in going to therapy if he just got overwhelmed by all the people outside in the convention?

He thought he’d been doing alright; had looked at a couple of stalls—a small, bewildered smile on his face as he’d picked up bottles of massage oils of different scents that were for helping with the aches and pains related with pregnancy, and hesitantly touched the breeding plugs, that Adam had wondered, wide-eyed and fascinated, and a little aroused at how someone could fit one inside them.

Wondered if he could find someone who would let him watch as such a big, intrusive thing pushed and stretched such a tiny hole. Wanted to watch his cock do the same thing.

He’d been wandering through the hall one minute, fine; and then he’d looked around and it had just been too much, all at once. Too many sounds, and too many people. Reminded him off the bustling streets of Iraq that even though there were American soldiers and IEDs all over the place were never empty and, and, and—

He drags in a ragged breath, holds for five seconds and then exhales.

God, he was a mess.

He was trying so hard not to be though. He’d gone to rehab. He’d put in the work. He’d talked to a fuck load of people—his friends, his therapists (plural, because he feels bad lumping just one person with all his problems, might as well share them out right?), and he talks to his dog; a German Shepherd who he’d called Sasquatch (because he had big feet, well paws, but still) who was the biggest sweetheart and just hugged him whenever he could—and yet…

And yet.

He'd come here because he wanted a kid. He wanted a baby he could cuddle to his chest and tickle their feet as they patted their tiny hands on his face and just smiled at him. He wanted to be there for every moment and watch as they grow from a tiny little baby to a giggly, playful toddler, to their own person that he couldn’t wait to love and support as they made their way in life.

He wants to be a stay at home dad, and he’d come here hoping to find someone who would be able to give him that. Who he could come to love and protect—wanting to protect people in a different way that didn’t include bombs or sand covering his skin; harsh and coarse.

Trust him to get overwhelmed when he was within arm’s reach of everything he’d need or could want to make it all happen.

He sighs again just as there’s a knock on the door, and then the door is being pushed open and a face is peeking round the edge.

“Hi.” Adam blinks in shock; sniffing and wiping at his face just to surreptitiously make sure no tears had escaped. The man looking at him around the door is one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen—brown hair that flops onto his forehead, sparkling green eyes, a nose that’s he’s sure must have been broken at some point, sharp cheek bones, a beautiful smile, and a charming, boyish air around him that immediately made him feel at ease rather than on edge.

“Sorry—” Adam clears his throat. “—did you want to use the room? I’ll go. I just—I just needed a minute.”

“You’re good.” The man waves him off; slipping into the room fully and closing the door with a click of the lock. Adam quirks an eyebrow at that, and the other man just shrugs with a grin. “I saw you come in here, and you looked a little…overwhelmed? Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You don’t even know me.” Adam frowns.

“No, but that can be changed. I’m Daniel Kaffee. Call me Danny though.”

“Adam. Uh, Adam Schumann.”

“Good to meet you, Adam.” Danny pushes away from the door, and Adam can’t help but trail his eyes over the soft heather-grey Henley that clings to his compact frame, the dark jeans that showed off his muscular thighs, and the high-tops with haphazardly tied knots and scuff marks on the sides; clearly a favourite pair that were worn a lot. “Can I sit?”

“Uh, sure.” He expects Danny to sit on the bed, but he just sits down next to him; copying his bent knee position. Adam can clearly see the pink band wrapped around his wrist now and swallows; brain helpfully supplying him with the image of Danny fat and ripe with his baby. “I’m okay now though, you don’t—you don’t have to sit here. With me.”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Danny teases; knocking their shoulders together.

“N—No. I just—why do you care? Why did you follow me in here when you could be out there finding someone to breed you like you came here for?” His voice is harsher than he meant it to be; gruff with confusion. Still having trouble fully integrating himself back into civilisation where not everything could be a potential attack. He grimaces in shame, an apology on his tongue when Danny just shakes his head at him.

“No need to apologise. Perfectly valid questions. I’m a defence lawyer, for the Navy. Guess you could say it’s sorta ingrained me that I try to help people—make sure they’re okay.”

“So, I’m just a pity case now, am I?”

Danny hums in consideration, before grinning at him and leaning into his space briefly; Adam can smell the citrus of his cologne and see the flecks of gold in his green eyes, and his mouth goes dry with want. “Nah. I mean I obviously want to make sure you’re okay, but also, I can’t deny that you’re a very attractive man. All alone. In a room meant for fucking. Fucking with the purpose of breeding specifically.” Danny cards a hand through his hair and huffs out a laugh. “Can’t blame me for seeing if maybe you wouldn’t like to be not alone in this room anymore.”

Adam blinks. And then blinks again. “You want me to breed you?” He asks in disbelief. “Me?”

“You’re very attractive and don’t give one of those creepy skeevy auras. Why wouldn’t I want you to breed me?”

“I—uh—” His tongue feels clumsy in his mouth as he tries not to get distracted by the fact that Danny finds him attractive, or the thought of his ass clenching down around his cock. He fidgets with the blue band on his wrist and bites his lip nervously. “We might not want the same things. I mean, obviously we—that you want to, uh, be bred and I—uh—I want to breed someone, but the after parts…we might not want the same.” He finishes lamely.

“Alright.” Danny agrees easily. “Fair point. Tell me what you want then. How do you see this working after you fuck me full of your cum?” The question direct and to the point, and yet still making his cock twitch in his boxer briefs.

Fucking hell.

Adam wouldn’t want to go up against Danny in a court of law. He’d end up confessing to anything, he feared, just to try and please him.

He swallows thickly; looking down at their feet resting next to each other—his own massive feet about three sizes bigger than Danny’s. “I wanna be a stay at home dad. I—I don’t work. Well, I have been—working—but just shifts stacking shelves at the supermarket. I—” He takes a deep breath and jolts feeling Danny’s hand entwine with his own, squeezing his fingers in encouragement; intelligent face taking in everything he was saying, but not interrupting. “I was in the army. A Staff Sergeant in Iraq. Looked out for IEDs, you know the drill. I came back broken though. My fiancée couldn’t handle who I was, so she left. I thought about ending it all—easily pictured myself putting a gun in my mouth and just not having to deal with the pain anymore—but I didn’t. I got help instead. Went to a rehab, and I have therapy. Got a dog—fucking huge, but adorable dog—and I stack shelves to bring in some money, because army pay ain’t that great when you’re medically discharged for not being able to handle it all anymore—”

He shudders out a wet breath and wipes at his face; in shock that the words are just spilling from his mouth, that he’s telling Danny his whole fucking sob story after only knowing his name minutes before. More shocked that Danny’s still sat next to him if he’s being honest. Thumb stroking over the back of Adam’s hand as if to soothe him.

“—but I want to be a dad. I want to have a kid and just spend my time loving them, and playing with them, and watching them grow. I want a life filled with the simplicity and ordinariness of domesticity and parenthood, where the things I have to worry about are why my kid isn’t eating their peas today when they were yesterday, and what school to send them to—not—not fucking if me not going on a patrol is going to get someone I know killed, or if every time I get in a car there’s a high chance I’ll get blown up on the side of the road by something that looks inconsequential but is actually a fucking bomb.”

He hangs his head. “I know a lot of the people here with the pink wrist bands don’t want that though. They want a provider. Someone who’s gonna fuck them full of babies and then go out to work while they do stuff around the house. So, yeah—that’s what I want. It’s fine if you don’t want that, just want to leave. I won’t blame you; I’m a mess.”

Danny stays silent next to him, just playing with Adam’s fingers, as if digesting everything he’s just found out, and then responds. “You know I said I’m a lawyer?” Adam nods. “Well, I don’t want to stop being a lawyer just because I have a kid. I’ve been on birth control for years and anyone I let fuck me I made sure they wore a condom, because I wasn’t risking a pregnancy getting in the way of my career before I reached a stage where I was settled and respected and earning enough money that I could afford to look after a kid.”

He shifts slightly; stretching out one leg in front of him. Adam stares at him as he carries on talking; watching the way his lips form the words, the flutter of his sooty lashes.

“I’m at that point now, and I came off birth control a few months back when I found out this was being held here. Came here hoping to find someone that would want to knock me up and then wouldn’t get angry when I said I wouldn’t want to stay home full time with the baby, because I like being able to help people with my job. Didn’t think I was gonna find it—had already spoken to a few people before I came in here and fuck, I could tell they all just wanted me on my back with my legs spread and a baby in me all the time—would just keep me constantly pregnant, I just knew it.”

Danny huffs out a sardonic laugh. “They’d want me to give up everything of who I was to become their hole to fuck and breed—they’d want me to give up being a lawyer and listen to their orders. And I’m guessing you don’t mind following orders as much as me seeing as you were in the Army, but Ads—” Adam flushes at the nickname; no one having called him that since school. Finds he likes it. “—there was a reason I became a lawyer and not a soldier. I like to argue and talk back against things I don’t agree with—don’t agree are right. I don’t mind being bred—fuck, the idea of having hot cum flooding my womb and then growing big with a baby makes me hot actually, s’why I’m here after all—but I want someone who wants to knock Danny up and have me stay as Danny afterwards, and not become just a mother, you know?”

“I—I can understand that.” He wets his lips; squeezing Danny’s hand, offering back the comfort Danny had so freely offered earlier.

“I thought I’d have to give up my search for someone who could be my partner in this, then I got distracted by you—I’d been watching you just wander the stalls with a curious look on your face, thought it was cute—and saw you become overwhelmed, and so…I followed you in here. Imagine my luck when you tell me that you want to knock someone up and then stay home with the kid as well.”

Danny smiles at him softly, and Adam reaches up hesitantly to brush his thumb over the dimple in his cheek. “What about the other stuff? I’m not exactly a well put-together guy. I come with baggage.”

“We all have our issues, Ads, baby. But you’re working on yours, you’re hot as fuck, and you have a dog! Like, that’s a big plus in my book.”

Adam chuckles and he feels himself relax against the wall. “His name’s Sasquatch.”

“Cute name.” Danny taps his foot against Adam’s. “So, I wanna do this with you. Now you’ve heard my spiel, do you wanna do this with me?”

“You a good lawyer?” He asks; trying not to smirk.

“Yeah. I’m really good. Took down a bastard of a Captain in my first proper court case. Been a pain in people’s asses trying to fight the good fight ever since.”

“Do you snore?”

Danny laughs; shaking his head, a strand of hair falling over his forehead. “No. Well, not in any way that isn’t snuffly and adorable, anyway.” He flutters his lashes at him innocently; a big, cheeky grin on his face, and fuck, Adam was screwed. “Do you?”

“No. But the dog will probably try and sleep at the end of the bed.”

“That’s fine. It’ll be your feet he’s laying on. I’m small and cute and don’t take up too much space, and I’ll probably just use you as my mattress—if that’s alright?”

He shrugs. “S’fine. I—I might get the occasional nightmare. I don’t have them as much anymore, but still—”

“You can just tell me what you need and I’ll help you. I’m a good cuddler and I can try singing or talking, or whatever. Oh, forgot to ask, can you cook?”

“Yeah.” He furrows his brow. “Can’t you?”

“I mean…” Danny wheedles, training off sheepishly. “I can. But, I get caught up in cases easily, so I tend to just order takeout, or I always have Yoohoo and Cocoa Puffs handy—” Adam shakes his head in fond amusement. “—because it’s easier than cooking for one. I wouldn’t neglect our kid though. I get caught up in cases, but that’s only if I’m on my own. If someone else is around I don’t—I wouldn’t let our kid feel unloved or like they’re a nuisance, Adam. I want you to know that. Need you to know that.”

He swallows and presses into Danny’s side. “I know. It didn’t even cross my mind. How could it? You’ve not left my side the whole time you’ve been in here and you’ve made me feel cared for, and we aren’t even in a relationship yet. I can’t imagine you being anything other than loving and affectionate with your kid.”

“Our kid.”

He looks at Danny, sees him biting his lip in nervous hope, and taking a breath, he nods. “Our kid.”

“We’re really doing this then? You going to fuck a baby into me?”

“Guess I am.” He pushes down the feeling of being overwhelmed from earlier and focuses on the calm Danny makes him feel. How the other man had relaxed him with nothing more than talking and his body heat from where he sat next to him. He’s not going to find anyone else who’s more perfectly suited to him—who still wants him after knowing who he is beyond his name and face. He’s not going to find anyone more beautiful and charming either. Feels his dick start to plump up in his jeans at the thought of getting to fuck Danny. “How are we doing this then?”

“Think the bed is probably best.”

Adam snorts out a laugh and nods. “Yeah. Comfier than the floor.” They stand up and then Danny is stood in front of him. He cups his cheek and thumbs over his soft skin. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” Danny says quietly, and then gasps out a small moan as Adam hauls him close and slots their mouths together. He spears his fingers through Danny’s silky hair; cradling the base of his skull as he kisses him deeply—licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. Danny twines his arms around Adam’s neck; stretching up on his tiptoes to kiss him back just as fiercely.

His lips are soft and kind and it’s romantic and sappy as shit, but he can swear he can taste the joy of his smiles on them. He pulls back when he needs to take a breath and fuck—

Danny looks so pretty. Has roses of pink on his cheeks and swollen lips from where Adam has been sipping and nipping at them. “S—Should we get undressed?”

“I mean clothed sex is hot, but yeah—I wanna see you, baby.” Danny winks at him; reaching behind him for the neck of his Henley and pulling it up over his head. Adam stands there with his tongue practically hanging out as smooth skin, perky little tits with dusky nipples pebbled in the cool air, and a trail of dark hair leading from his navel to under his waistband, is exposed to his gaze.

“Hhnnngggh.” He breathes out unintelligibly.

Danny laughs delighted; plucking at Adam’s green sweater. “Come on. Can’t just be me getting naked.”

“Sorry.” Adam shakes his head like a snow globe to try and focus; pulling his sweater off quickly. He’s no longer tanned like he used to be from being in a desert country 24/7, but he’s still lean and muscular—a small patch of hair between his pecs where his dogtags lay, and a bit of fuzz on his belly. He thinks he looks alright; had done many a sit-up or push-up in his underwear when he’d had trouble sleeping. His brain harder to keeper in shape than his body. He rubs a nervous hand over his buzzcut and smiles at him lopsidedly. “You’re just really beautiful.”

“Sweet talker.” Danny blushes bashfully; bending down to undo his laces. “You’re not so bad yourself. How much can you lift, by the way? Can you pick me up, do you think?” He asks, kicking off his shoes and then eagerly wiggling out of his jeans and socks, leaving him in just a pair of tight briefs.

Adam toes off his trainers and quickly strips off his clothes until he’s in just his underwear as well, and then steps forward; lifting Danny up by the backs of his thighs. “Yeah. I think I can pick you up.” He smirks as Danny squawks in surprise; wrapping his legs around his waist and clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” And Adam knows he means it; can feel the hard length of his cock pressing against his belly as he carries him to the bed.

He kisses him and then places him on the bed; looking over at the shelves and grabbing some lube. He blinks when he turns back around and sees Danny’s taken off his underwear.

“Sorry, got impatient.”

Adam rolls his eyes, but can’t find it in himself to truly be annoyed. The sight of Danny’s pretty cock curved up towards his belly; pre-cum already beading at the tip was something he could understand the impatience behind. He pushes his own boxer briefs off and climbs in between Danny’s spread legs.

“You know I drank the water, right?”

He frowns in confusion; uncapping the lube and pouring it on his fingers. “Huh?”

“The water. It makes my hole all soft and relaxed so you don’t have to spend time fingering me.”

“Oh.” He didn’t know that; had just thought a lot of people walking round were thirsty. He braces one arm by Danny’s ribs and dips his head; dragging the rough of his tongue over the tight nub of his nipple. “Well, as thoughtful of them as that is, I kinda want to finger you, Danny, Sweetheart.” He slips his slick fingers down over the soft sac of his balls to rub over his puckered hole. “Wanna get acquainted with this pretty, little hole of yours before I fuck it open and fill you with my cum.”

Danny gulps and bites his lip; green eyes hooded with want. “Okay, fine. Sure. I don’t need brain cells anyway.”

He huffs out a laugh at the sarcastic grumblings; wrapping his lips around Danny’s nipple and suckling on it gently. He presses in with two fingers at the same time; groaning at the easy give of his hole, and how hot and tight he is around him.

Danny keens at the sudden stretch and claws at his shoulder; green eyes scrunched up in pleasure. “Fuck, Ads, feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He hums; pumping his fingers in and out slowly, crooking them so they rub over Danny’s prostate and catch on his puffy rim. He swirls his tongue around his spit-shiny nipple; pressing wet kisses over the swell of his tits and down his trembling belly. “What about now?”

He pushes a third finger inside him and fuck, Danny’s hole was made to be filled. Wants to fuck him open with his cock so fucking much.

“F—Fuck. Yes! Please, get in me, baby. Want you to breed me, Adam. Fill me with your cum until I’m dripping with it.”

He bites down with his blunt teeth; sucking a bruise onto the soft muscle of Danny’s belly because otherwise he’s gonna come then and there—feeling the way his hole quivers around the stretch of his fingers and hearing his breathy moans.

Only when he’s got himself under control does he pull his fingers free and slicks up his cock. He settles in between Danny’s spread legs and dips his head to kiss him; lining his cock up with his hole and pushing in until he bottoms out.

“Oh, yeah—” Danny chuckles; sounding smug as shit. “—I’ve won the fucking jackpot. Attractive as fuck, wants to be a stay at home dad, and hung like a horse? Lucky, lucky me.”

Adam kisses him to shut him up and starts rolling his hips; fucking into him slow and deep. He slips his arms under Danny’s shoulders, scooping him up and close. Noses at his hairline and feels the deep grunt as he slams into him. He’s sweating and he blinks it away. Fuck, why’s it always so fucking hot? Danny’s laying there underneath him all plaint and just taking it. Shit, why is he just laying there?

He sees blood trickling from Danny’s temple, and fuck—

That’s not right.

He jerks back with a frightened gasp; hips stopping with his cock halfway inside Danny. He blinks and although the blood is no longer there—was never there—he can’t quite pull air into his lungs. Everything feels so hot and stifling, like it’s pressing down on him. Can feel his cock going soft with shame; tears welling up.

“M’sorry.” He sobs. “M’sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Danny croons softly; cupping his face. “Ads, baby, shh, it’s okay. Come back to me, yeah? Just feel my hands on you, and listen to my heart beat.” He tucks Adam’s face in the crook of his neck and smooths a hand down the length of his spine. Up and down. Up and down. Tracing the ridges and bumps. Danny presses featherlight kisses to his temple and just holds. “You’re here, with me. Not in the desert, okay?”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“None of that.” Danny says softly, and means it. Doesn’t even sound upset, just worried. About him. Even though they should be fucking and Adam was meant to be breeding him, not being triggered by his PTSD. How he thought he was ready for this, he doesn’t know. “Can you tell me what triggered you? So we know not to do it again?”

He swallows. Tries to speak; tears fall instead. He nuzzles at Danny’s neck and breathes him in; pulls that citrus scent deep into his lungs and lets it wash over him. Wets his lips and forces the words out. “Think it was you underneath me, when I pulled you close like that. Reminded me—Reminded me of when I’d held some of my unit like that…when they…when they weren’t alive.”

“Oh, baby.” Danny seeks out his lips and kisses him softly; brushing his hand over his buzzcut and stroking the nape of his neck. “Do you still want to carry on?”

Adam pulls back to glance at him incredulously. “I mean, yeah, you’re the hottest fucking person I’ve ever met, and I wanna have a kid with you so much, but do you? Because I can’t promise that won’t happen again, and I know I’m not worth the hassle and—” Danny stops him with a finger to his lips.

“I won’t hear a bad word about you, okay? Especially from yourself. I wouldn’t have offered to carry on, if I didn’t want to. I want to be bred by you Adam Schumann, and all I care about is making sure that you’re okay. So, how about we change position, hmm?”

“Uhh…okay.” He says, still a bit dazed from the attack and how wonderful Danny is being. The other man gives him a quick kiss and then manoeuvres them so Adam is sat against the headboard and Danny is in his lap. He glances down at his lap; cheeks flushing with shame because he’s no longer hard. “Sorry, I’m no longer hard.”

Danny just smiles at him and shrugs. “That can be changed.” And then he kisses him; sipping at his lips languidly and like he has all the time in the world. Adam rests his hands on the dip of his waist, and just gets lost in the feel of Danny’s mouth. Gets so lost in how good he feels on his lap and how sweet he tastes that he gasps in shock when Danny’s fingers wrap around his cock—didn’t realise he’d become hard again.

“Told you.” Danny winks. He then lifts himself up and sinks down on Adam’s cock with a satisfied groan. “God, you feel perfect inside me.”

Adam swallows; thumbs brushing back and forth over Danny’s warm belly. “How are you gonna make it so I don’t think of anything else but you?”

Danny looks at him and then lightly taps him on the thigh. “Lift your legs up.” He does as ordered; bending them so his feet were flat against the mattress. He bites back a groan as Danny shifts a little; clenching down around him. Danny leans back a little; wrapping his arms around the backs of Adam’s thighs for leverage as he lifts himself up and then sinks back down, as if trying out the position. “Put a hand on my belly.”

He moves his hand before he can even blink; splaying his fingers over warm skin and dark hairs. He stutters out a shocked breath when he feels the hard line of his cock bulge against Danny’s belly. “Oh, wow.”

“Keep your hand there, baby. Feel your big, fat cock inside me. How much you fill me. Feel where you’re going to put your load and fuck a baby into me.” Adam’s fingers spasm with want as Danny rides him slow and deep.

“I—I can feel it.”

“Good.” Danny smiles at him wickedly. “Now keep your hand there and look down. Look at where your cock is going in and out of me, baby.”

Adam’s eyes widen, wondering how this beautiful man in his lap has worked out that was what he wanted, and then flits his gaze downwards. “Fuck.” He growls; visceral want sweeping through him. His hand grips Danny’s waist tight enough to bruise and he starts helping the smaller man slide up and down the length of his cock; plump tip nearly coming all the way out, only to shove back in like it belongs there—can’t take his eyes off the way Danny’s hole goes from all tight and small, to blown wide and stretched around him.

In and out. In and out.

He watches like a man mesmerised. Can’t stop watching the way Danny’s hole sucks every inch of his nine inch cock inside him, only to feel the head of it under his hands moment later through Danny’s belly. Knows he’s bumping against his cervix with every slam down of his hips.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” Danny pants; arms locked behind his thighs. “Like seeing your massive cock make my hole gape, don’t you? You’re so big and hard inside me, feels like you’re rearranging my insides—it’s so fucking hot. You’re gonna shoot your load right where I want it, aren’t you, Ads? Those big, cum-filled balls of yours I saw earlier—you’re gonna give me every drop. I want to feel like I’m already pregnant with how much cum you’re gonna give me.”

“Danny—” He whines; feeling his orgasm burning at the base of his spine; his filthy babbling and the tight grip of his ass on his cock, making his brain leak out of his ears. He can see the way Danny’s balls twitch and bounce as he rides him; the soft sac hanging just above where his own cock is splitting Danny almost in two.

“And when I’m big and fat with your baby, you’re gonna be all wonderful and adoring, aren’t you? Can imagine you making me a sandwich with some horrible combination of ingredients to sate my cravings; the dog twirling at our feet as it tries to steal a bit—you’re gonna be an amazing dad, I just know it. You’re gonna protect them, and love them, and you’re gonna make me jealous of all the cuddles they’ll get with you while I’m at work, but I’ll get to sleep on top of you at night, so I think it’ll work out.”

Adam splutters out a wet laugh; amazed by Danny’s ability to pant out full sentences whilst he fucks himself on Adam’s cock, and amazed by his faith in him. Wonders if this is what he’s like in the courtroom—not naked and panting, but inspired, and a whirlwind of confidence and belief in what others deem impossible. “You’re just with me for my mattress-like qualities aren’t you?”

“You got me.” Danny chuckles; shifting the angle a little and yelling in pleasure as Adam hammers his prostate hard. “Even better if I can sleep on you with your cock in me.”

He smiles dopily and pushes down on Danny’s belly; the smaller man screaming out his name as the pressure of his big cock filling him so deeply becomes even more intense. “Wanna sleep being stuffed full, do you?”

“Please, please, please.” Danny babbles. “Wanna come. Want you to breed me. Give me your cum, please, baby. Fuck me like no one else ever has and paint my womb with your seed.”

Adam’s hips stutter and he bucks his hips upwards; shoving his cock as deep as he can; spilling hot and wet inside him. He grunts out his release moving his hand from Danny’s hip to his cock and stroking it. Only takes a couple of pumps of his fist before Danny’s following him over the edge and spurting ropes of sticky white over his hands and heaving belly.

“Fucking hell.” He pants out; a little hysterical from all the emotions he’d felt since he’d come in here, and also really fucking happy that he managed to finish and fill Danny with his cum.

“You can say that again.” Danny mewls flopping forward and nuzzling into his throat; cuddling up to him like a fucked out kitten. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

Danny hums in contentment. “Mmhmm. Can’t wait to go back to yours and do it all again.”

“Why not yours?”

The smaller man leans back to look at him pointedly, and Adam snorts in understanding. “Ah. The dog.”

“The dog.” Danny agrees with a boyish grin.

He just shakes his head in amusement and cuddles Danny to his chest; no longer feeling hollow or like the world is pressing down on him. Just feels relaxed and sated, but more than that, he felt like he was okay.

Like they were gonna be okay.

+

“Steady on, boy.” Adam chuckles as Sasquatch barks and jumps up in excitement as he steps in the house, Danny behind him. “Get down. We have a guest. You gotta like him okay, cos we’re gonna be a family. So, be a good boy, and try not to knock him down. He’s only just bigger than you, after all.”

Danny pokes his tongue out at him, but crouches down to rub Sasquatch’s ears and rub his fur. “God, you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yes you are. So handsome and big. Been looking after Ads, until I could get here, haven’t you?”

Adam swallows thickly at the softly murmured words; fingers playing his dogtags before scrubbing a hand over his face. “I gotta feed him and take him out for a quick piss, but you can—uh—make yourself at home. I’ll be back soon, alright?”

“Sure.” Danny says easily; giving Sasquatch kisses to his face. Well, looks like the dog likes him as much as Adam does. So that’s not gonna be an issue.

He grabs the dog’s leash and clips it to his collar. He takes Sasquatch for a quick walk around the block; letting him sniff random patches of grass and someone’s mailbox, walking back home once he’s done his business. They get back and he washes his hands, and fills his bowl with some kibble; smoothing a hand down his back. “Good boy. I’m gonna find Danny okay?”

He toes off his shoes and puts them in the hallway and then pokes his head in the living room; brows raising when he sees it’s empty. He pads upstairs. “Danny?”

“In here.”

Adam chuffs when he hears the man answer from his bedroom. “Well, I did say make yourself at ho—”

His mouth falls open when he sees Danny on his bed. Naked. Head resting on his crossed arms as he waits on his bent and spread knees; mouth-watering ass up in the air, delicate, little hole blown wide around the breeding plug he’d lovingly encouraged Adam to push inside him before they’d left earlier.

Danny twists his head to grin at him. “Hi.”

“Hi….I thought you’d be in the living room watching tv or something.” He says faintly; eyes locked on his puffy rim quivering around the fat plug stretching it obscenely.

“Well, I thought about it, but then I thought about you and your big cock, and I figured we should make sure we have as best chance as possible that you breed me good, so I thought you should fuck me again.”

“That’s a lot of thinking for so short a time I was gone.” He drawls; stripping off his clothes, and climbing on the bed, palming Danny’s ass. “Maybe you should give your brain a rest.” He pulls the plug out of his hole and bites his lip as the gaping rim tries to close back all tight and furled, and failing. Can see drops of his cum clinging to the puffy ring of muscle.

“What should I do instead?” Danny asks breathlessly.

“Just focus on everything I make you feel instead.” He rasps a wet stripe over Danny’s hole with his tongue—just to get a little taste and hear the way he yelps in shock—and then slams his cock into him; punching the breath from his lungs. His hand finds it way to Danny’s belly; feels the way his cock makes it bulge with each rough thrust, and the small swell from where he’s already stuffed full of his cum.

Can’t wait until he’s heavy and pregnant with his baby. Knows he’s going to look beautiful.

“Yes!” Danny screams. “Fuck me. Breed me. Ruin me for anyone else, please.”

Adam grabs the squish of his hip and fucks him hard and fast; eyes fixed on where they’re joined. Knows deep inside that Danny chose this position because it allows him to watch his cock slide in and out of his hole just like he’d done before.

Neither of them last long—Danny’s whole body trembling as he comes untouched, making a mess of the bedsheets and clenching down around him in a vice-like grip, pulling him over the edge with him. Adam groans low in his chest as his cock pulses inside him and he coats his womb with his seed again.

They collapse onto the side; Adam curled around Danny’s smaller frame as he waits for his cock to go down. He busses a kiss to Danny’s shoulder and hums when Danny covers the hand on his belly with his own.

“Can’t wait to have a baby with you, Adam Schumann. Our own little family.”

The door opens and Sasquatch ruffs out a soft bark; jumping up onto the bed and licking Danny’s feet making him squirm and giggle; his ass spasming around Adam’s cock reflexively, making him groan.

“Yes, okay, fur baby. I was including you as well.” Danny reaches down to pet the dog’s head; not even caring that the canine has bounded into the bedroom while they’re naked. “You’re part of the family too. You’re going to be a wonderful big brother, aren’t you?”

Adam just flops his head back against the pillows and smiles up at the ceiling. The happy sounds of Sasquatch barking and Danny chattering keeping him in the here and now, and nowhere near the hot desert of his memories.

+

“The one thing I hate about being a lawyer, is all the paperwork.” Danny grouses; one hand rubbing at the base of his spine as he paces up and down, the other resting his ‘thinking bat’ on his shoulder. His bump is big on his small frame, and his hair is all over the place from where he’s been tugging on it in frustration, but Adam thinks he looks beautiful.

Sasquatch chuffs as if agreeing, where he’s laid at Adam’s feet.

“See, even the dog agrees with me. Isn’t it enough that I win cases? Do I need to write it all down too?”

Adam bites back a laugh and beckons the other man over to him. “Come here, Sweetheart. The paperwork can wait.”

Danny pouts at him because the paperwork isn’t going to just disappear, before sighing and putting his bat by the bookcase and waddling over to him. Adam tugs him down gently to sit on his lap and wraps his arms around his round belly. “Aren’t I heavy?” He asks; even as he nestles back against Adam’s chest.

“You’re fine. I love holding you like this. Feeling our baby inside you.” He runs his hands over his seven month bump and presses a kiss to his nape. “And you know I’d help you fill in the paperwork if I could, but—”

“But Sam already told me off for trying that trick last time.” Danny huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. I know. Maybe I can get Sasquatch to do it.”

“If you can get the dog to write your report I’ll walk around the house naked all the time.”

(Danny tried his best to get Sasquatch to do it, but unfortunately for the pregnant man, the dog was more interested in making sure Danny was sat down and resting—already a protective big brother to their baby—and so Danny just ends up back on Adam’s lap, laughing in defeat.

“Next time, babe.”

Danny just grumbles, and kisses the underside of his jaw).

+

Two years later…

“It’s suspiciously quiet in here.”

Adam grins where he’s laying on the sofa; their daughter, Ivy, asleep on his chest, Sasquatch curled up on the floor next to them. He hears Danny toe off his shoes and thump down his briefcase; peeling open one eye to see him walk into the living room.

“Oh, it’s like this is it?” Danny puts his hands on his hips; an easy grin on his beautiful face. “Do I get to join in cuddle time?”

Adam purses his lips in thought. “That depends. Did you win your case?”

Danny scoffs as if there was any doubt. “Damn right I did.” He clambers over Adam’s long legs and squidges in between the back of the sofa and his side; kissing him softly in greeting. “Hi, baby.” He kisses Ivy’s dark wavy hair and strokes a hand over her back. “Hi, Princess.”

She snuffles in her sleep, as if she knows her mom is back, but she doesn’t wake.

“Missed you.” Adam murmurs; pressing his forehead to Danny’s, so thankful for all that the other man had given him since they’d met. A daughter. A life he wanted. Unconditional love and support.

“Missed you too.” Danny hums; cupping his scarred cheek and tickling his fingers over the shell of his ear. “You know, I was thinking.”

“Yeah, thinking about what?”

“Well, you know I love you. I’m hopelessly head over heels for you.” Adam nods shakily, still not quite used to it. “And you’ve been the best dad to Ivy; looking after her so well, and supporting me while I work. You’ve let me remain as myself and have just made me a better version of me, rather than turning me into someone else. You didn’t kick up a fuss when I went back on birth control and made you wear condoms. You love me for who I am, and I love you the same. You’re the perfect person I could have hoped to have a family with.”

“What are you saying, Danny?”

Danny traces the lines of his face and kisses him. “I’m saying I came off birth control a few months ago. I’m saying, I’d quite like you to fuck another baby into me, Adam Schumann. Is that agreeable to you?”

Adam groans; already imagining Danny swelling up with his seed again. “Hold that thought until after Ivy’s bedtime. But yes. It’s very agreeable to me.”

“Looking forward to it.” Danny grins, and then clambers off the sofa; whistling at Sasquatch. “Come on, boy. Let’s take you out while Daddy sorts dinner.”

After they’d had food, bathed Ivy, and tucked her into bed with a story lovingly narrated by Danny—their daughter cuddling her toy bunny rabbit—they get ready for bed and slide under the covers together.

Danny looks at him, a small smile on his face, and Adam looks back. He had pretty much no nightmares now—the weight of Danny on top of him, or in his arms once he’d had too big a bump to lay on him comfortably, grounding him in a way that nothing else could—and he rarely had a PTSD episode. They happened once or twice a year, but Danny could always bring him back.

The other man didn’t pity or bemoan his extra baggage though; just held him, and loved him, and made it so his life now was so much better than the one his memories sometimes tried to drag him to, that it was no effort at all anymore to come back from them.

“You gonna breed me again, baby?” Danny purrs at him silkily; smoothing a hand down his back to squeeze his ass.

“Yeah, I am, Sweetheart. Gonna stuff you full of my cum and make you all heavy and pregnant—so everyone knows it’s me who’s the lucky guy who gets to have all this with you.”

Danny wiggles his way onto his lap and grins at him; arms around his neck as he plays with the curls at his nape now he’s let his hair grow out. “Better get that fat cock of yours inside me then, hadn’t you? And it’s unlikely to happen first time, so you’ll have to fuck me until I’m sloppy and gaping many, many, many times.”

He snorts as he grabs the lube. “You planning on coming home for lunch or something to get in a quickie to fill in the quota?”

“You know what? I think I might. Sam’s always saying I should eat more.” Danny shivers as Adam pushes two slick fingers inside him. “He doesn’t have to know that I’m just stuffing myself full with your cock instead of an extra sandwich.”

Adam just kisses the man in his lap and tastes the laughter on his lips. He’s still a bit of a mess, but then most people are. He’s just come a long way from where he was. He’s happy and has the family he wanted, and he’s so in love with Danny, he can barely think straight with it sometimes, but he wouldn’t change anything of his life.

Not anymore.

He’s exactly where he’s always dreamed of being. Danny sinks down on his cock with a breathless sigh and Adam knows he feels the same.

Chapter Text

His fingers flex in the pockets of his hoodie as he resists the urge to fiddle with the prosthetic mask on his face. No one was really looking at him; the blank whiteness of the mask partially hidden by his hood as he walks through the crowds unless someone were to stare at him face on.

No one knew he was David Aames.

No one knew what he looked like under his mask.

The woman on the front desk hadn’t been fazed, just handed him the form to sign and then passed him a pink wristband and a bottle of water. He’d gulped it down tucked away in a corner of an empty room; pulling up his mask so he could bring the bottle to his scarred lips, but he didn’t feel relaxed he had to say.

He’d wondered why she didn’t even blink at him in confusion, but then he’d spied a few people wandering round the crowed halls wearing puppy masks, or cat ears—a few with clown make up on which he wasn’t going to think about—and he’d realised, his mask was just dull compared to theirs. Though no doubt those people were using their masks and accessories to reveal a part of themselves they usually kept hidden, whereas David was using his to hide what he truly looked like.

Someone bumps into him and he jolts; hand reflexively coming up to make sure his mask hasn’t slipped. He murmurs out an apology, not sure if they bumped into him or he didn’t quite see them; still unused to not being able to fully see out of his right eye, even though it’s been nearly two years now. Wonders if he’ll ever fully accept the man he is now; the scarred and damaged remnants of the man he once was.

David shuffles his way to the anonymous breeding booths; throat tight at the fact that like everything else in his life, he’ll need to do this alone. It’s not like anyone would be rushing to breed him willingly if they saw his face; he can barely look at himself in the mirror—at the scar that cuts through his right eyebrow and the way his eyelid is puffy and wonky, the shape of his eye no longer matching his left; at the jagged, ugly, raised line that trails from the curve of his left nostril along his top lip and out from the right corner of his mouth down to the sharpness of his jaw; and the marks on the left side of his face that no growing of his floppy hair will be able to hide.

If he can’t look at himself, how can he expect anyone else to?

No, whilst he doesn’t want to do this alone—would prefer to have a child with someone who can raise them with him—he knows that’s not an option. If he wants a baby, which he does—wants a part of him that will love him unconditionally like he’ll love them, wants someone to cuddle and kiss who isn’t going to recoil at the mere sight of him—he has no choice but to do it this way.

His fragile heart wouldn’t be able to handle going into a private breeding room only for someone to reject him harshly as if his scars are genetic.

“Booth three.” An attendant says politely when he queues up. “Remove your clothes from the waist down and present on the breeding bench. You’ll be replaced once you’ve been bred or you decide to leave, okay?”

He nods tentatively; keeping his head down, and moves to booth three. He toes off his trainers, and strips off his jeans and boxer briefs; keeping his socks on because his feet get cold easily—have done ever since the accident, though he’s not sure why. He bends over the breeding bench; spreading his legs and exposing his hole. A cover is placed over him from the waist up and there’s a plasterboard wall in front of him to stop anyone seeing him.

He rests his head on his arms and tries to breathe. Tries to relax, because he wants this. Wants someone to breed him.

His throat clicks as he swallows and he hopes whoever it is that fucks him does it quick and he doesn’t have to be here too long.

+

David’s legs tremble from exhaustion and he blinks away tears of shame. It’s been three hours and he’s still bent over the breeding bench. Any time someone touches him now, his throat clogs up and nausea swirls in his gut because he knows it’s just going to end up in more failure. He wants a baby so bad—has so much love to give—but his body is so taut with fear and disgust at himself—at someone potentially being able to see what he looks like through the cover of his mask and the sheet covering him that his muscles are locked tight and aching—that he can barely breathe through it all.

One person came up to him near the start and pressed their plump cockhead against his hole, expecting to push in with ease from the water, but he’d clamped up straight away, the guy hadn’t even been able to push a little bit inside him.

Someone else had tried about half an hour later, and more of the same. It was like his mind, heart and body were fighting each other and the result was just going to be him, alone, walking home with no cum in his belly and bruises on his hips.

Another person had tried about an hour ago, using lube this time. They’d managed to pop the tip past his unstretched rim but David had cried out in pain and clenched down around him so hard the other guy had pulled out frantically, shouting about nearly cutting the circulation to his dick off. The fabric of his hoodie was wet with tears as they trailed down his scarred cheeks under his mask, but still he laid there.

He couldn’t accept failure.

Not when there was a chance someone could help him.

He feels the brief touch of fingers on his hip. “I wouldn’t if I were you—” He hears someone say. “—he’s tight, but not the good kind. Tried sticking my dick in him and thought it was gonna get cut off—he’s not worth the time.” The fingers pull away and David quietly sobs.

Minutes go by in a haze. No one touches him. He can only assume there’s a sign up saying not to touch him, or else the man from before is there waiting to tell people to try someone else. He’s sure the others have been and gone, getting thoroughly bred in between. It’s only him that’s still here hours later.

He shudders in humiliation as he hears the man tell someone else to walk on by, wonders if he’s strong enough to stay longer. He jolts when he feels someone touch him not even two minutes later; not touching his hole, just resting on the curve of his hip.

“Wouldn’t bother, mate.” The guy from before says.

A deep, rumbling voice answers; a swipe of a thumb over the small of David’s back. “Why’s that?”

“You’ll never get a finger in that hole, let alone your dick. He’s had the water too and it’s done nothing. He’s an uptight bitch and he needs a good smack rather than being bred.”

David flinches at the thought of being hit; knows it’s only the convention rules that have stopped him having more marks carved into his skin. The large palm on his hip strokes over his skin; soothing him like a skittish horse. “Thanks for the advice, but also no thanks. You just don’t know how to touch someone properly. So, kindly fuck off, and leave us alone, alright?”

He hears the man huff and then footsteps, and David’s alone with the man with the deep voice and soft hand. A quite gasp escapes his mouth when he feels the man’s other hand stroke his hip; expects the press of a cock against his hole or maybe fingers. He’s wrong.

The man drags his hands down the back of David’s thighs and digs his wide-tipped thumbs into the trembling muscles; massaging his warm skin and getting rid of all the tension that’s been thrumming just under the surface ever since he walked into the building. He does his thighs and his calves; huffs out a small laugh when his fingers tickle the ends of his socks; slipping his fingers under the elastic to rub over the curves of his ankle bones. Once his legs are feeling boneless, the man massages his lower back and the handfuls of his ass cheeks.

The tears have stopped and he feels like he’s starting to relax.

“You’re doing good, baby.” The words dance over his skin, and he thinks they can’t possibly for him. But the man keeps whispering to him. “Look at you, relaxing for me, Sweetheart. So good for me.”

He can feel his cock starting to plump up between his legs and he can’t believe it. He’s not gotten hard since before his accident—another reason he’d figured this would be better than a private breeding room; he wouldn’t have to explain his impotence, his lack of desire, to whoever was fucking him. He didn’t need to be hard or aroused to be fucked full of cum…. At least once a cock was inside him he wouldn’t need to be. Though this man was obviously determined to make it so he was, and his hands on David’s skin felt so soft and gentle he was having trouble remembering why it would be so silly an idea to get lost in the pleasure someone else’s touch could bring.

As he feels the brush of the man’s thumbs up his cleft, he tenses, expecting his hole to be breached, but he’s surprised again; a wet rasp of a tongue over his puckered rim rather than the press of fingers.

He garbles out a strangled moan; the feeling something he’s never experienced before. The man laps at him like he’s got nowhere else to be; dragging the fat wet of his tongue over and around David’s hole until he can push in with the thick point of it, somehow managing to get him soft and pliant enough to tonguefuck him and lick into his hole.

His cock twitches where it juts up from the dense bush between his legs, and he digs his fingers into the meat of his forearms as pleasure zips up his spine. Thick fingers dig into the meat of his ass cheeks as they’re spread and his hole is feasted on like it’s a three course meal. David gasps and moans behind his mask; pre-cum welling at his slit to drip onto the floor below.

By the time a finger is actually slipped into him—all gentle and covered in lube—he doesn’t tense, but pushes back against it; greedy for more. The man licks at his rim as he thrusts his finger in and out, until David’s clenching down around the digit and a second is filling him up. He’s rocking back into the gentle strokes; eyes going wide when the man crooks his fingers and rubs over his prostate.

He comes unexpectedly; no doubt the tension that had coiled inside him for so long breaking free, begging for release. His cock spurts semen all over the floor below him and the man just continues to stroke him; along his swollen inner walls and over his heaving flank. “That’s it, Sweetheart. Being perfect for me. Look at you. Your pretty pink hole is all open and wide for me now.”

David smacks his lips together and wets his throat; finally responding to the other man with words. “Surely this is a lot of effort, just to breed someone you don’t want to have a kid with?”

He knows asking might make the man change his mind—might mean he stays there with a puffy, stretched hole and nothing to fill it—but he has to ask. He’s so confused as to why someone might put this effort in for him, when he’s really not worth it.

“Maybe.” The man hums; thumbs brushing over his hole and tugging on it just a little making him whine. “But you want to be bred, and I don’t like the thought of you going home without a baby in your belly.”

“Oh.” He sniffs; more confused than ever.

“What do I call you, baby?”

David furrows his brow. “Why? Isn’t this meant to be anonymous?”

The man snorts out a soft laugh. “I’m not asking for your social security number. Just want to know what name to call out when I come.”

“Oh.” He licks his lips and figures his surname works. Just for this. “Aames.”

“Cool. My name’s David, but you can call me Dave.”

He closes his eyes with a sigh. Of course they share a name. Of course.

David flinches feeling lube being rubbed over his hole and pushed inside him, but then he feels the pressure of Dave’s cock pushing inside him and his lungs stutter as he forgets how to breathe. The fat cockhead pops past the rim, but he makes a conscious effort not to clench down around him, and soon the jut of his hips is digging into his ass and Dave is balls deep inside him.

He exhales in relief.

Dave smooths his hands up his sides under the cover to cup his tits and he’s too shocked at the tender touch to say he probably wasn’t meant to touch him under the cover; the way he rolls his nipples and squeezes the soft flesh of his tits making him feel light-headed with arousal. Dave pulls back until just the tip of his cock is nestled against his rim, and then he pushes back inside; deep and slow.

His cock fattens up again, like Dave has a live wire direct to his libido because he doesn’t understand how he’s getting hard again, and soon one of those warm, gentle hands is wrapping around his cock as he strokes it in time with the thrust of his hips.

David bites his lip as he feels his balls draw up and his belly swirl; and then he gasps out Dave’s name as he comes again—sticky ropes dribbling from his slit as Dave rubs his thumb over his velvety tip. The other man speeds up his thrusts chasing his release, and then David feels the hot splash of cum inside him filling his womb.

He blinks away tears because he never thought he’d feel that sensation.

Dave grunts out his name as his cock pulses inside him; giving him every drop he can, and then he’s pulling out gingerly—David sprawled out on the bench, finally having been bred. He whimpers when he feels the blunt tip of a plug being pushed inside him, and Dave’s thumbs massaging his rim so it clenches down around the bulbous intrusion tightly.

“Want to make sure it sticks, right?”

He chokes out a yes, and tries to focus. Dave’s hands pull away from his body and he finally moves off the bench. He quickly redresses, though his head feels like it’s swimming. He’s so dazed from pleasure and confusion; he doesn’t pay attention to anyone else—assumes Dave has moved on. There’s no need for him to stick around.

David stumbles out of the booth and immediately walks into someone; the sweat that’s dripped down his face along with the tears, clumping the eyelashes of his bad eye making his vision blurred. His mask is knocked from his face onto the floor, and panic seizes his heart. He doesn’t even think. He can’t let anyone see him.

He pulls his hood up and runs towards the exit; not even bothering to pick up the mask. He runs outside onto a bench that’s hidden behind some bushes and collapses onto it; gulping in ragged breathes, fingers trembling.

“Aames?”

He hangs his head in defeat as he hears Dave say his name quietly. He turns so he’s facing away from him but nods. “It’s David Aames actually.” He says with a hollow laugh. “But you can call me Aames if you want rather than David, considering we share a first name.”  He wipes his nose on his sleeve and blows out a wet breath. His heart is hammering in his throat and he doesn’t know how to tell the person who’s been so kind to him—who’s cum is sitting heavy in his belly—to leave, because he can’t let him see him.

Doesn’t want the only moment of tenderness he’s had since before the accident to be ruined.

“Are you okay, David?”

He scrunches up his face at the cruel irony of the situation; ignoring the flare of pain at his scars bunching and pulling taut. “Why do you care? I’m just a hole to fuck and fill. That’s why you went to the anonymous booths, right?”

There’s silence and then he feels Dave sit down next to him. Can feel heat radiate off him and seep into his shivering body. It feels good and it’s so unfair. “I was actually going to go in a private room but then I walked past the booths and heard some asshole being horrible about you.”

“Oh.” David swallows; feels like he’s got a tennis ball lodged in his throat. “Then why…?”

He feels the air around them move slightly and thinks Dave has just shrugged. It would be easier to know if he was sat next to him properly and not giving him his back, but then he’d see his face and he can’t risk it. “Didn’t want you to leave without being bred. You were already being treated bad enough, it didn’t seem right for you to go through that and still go home without a baby in you.”

He hiccups out a wet breath and sniffs; clearing his throat to try and get control of his emotions. “I—thank you. That’s very nice of you. You didn’t have to do that though.” He fiddles with the strings of his hoodie; shifting on the bench, eyelashes fluttering as the plug presses against his prostate. “Do—Do you still get to breed someone else?”

“Nah.” He doesn’t sound devastated, but there’s a fragile note to his voice, so maybe he’s just better at hiding it than David is. “They don’t let you back in if you leave.”

“Oh.” His face crumples and he feels sick. “And you came out to follow me. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine. Did you want your mask back?” He peers out of his peripheral vision of his good eye and sees those gentle hands holding his mask in between them on the bench. “Why do you have it anyway? Shit. Sorry, that was probably rude and insensitive of me. Ignore me asking that.”

He looks up at the sky and turns slightly towards him. Knows he can’t put this off; feels like he owes Dave the knowledge of exactly who he stuck his dick into. “I was in a car accident. My ex-girlfriend drove us both off a bridge. She died, and I…..I ended up like this.”

David moves so he’s properly facing Dave and steels himself for the horror, the disgust. Distracts himself by tracing his good eye over the dark curls that are slicked back from a handsome face. A prominent nose, big, brown eyes, and pink lips. He’s dotted in freckles and he has big, broad shoulders and there’s a soft, cuddliness to him that makes David yearn to be folded in his arms.

He only realises once he’s trailed his gaze down Dave’s thick thighs to his large feet that there’s no shouting or insults. Flicks his gaze up and gentle eyes greet him. “That looks like it hurt. Do you still feel pain from the scars?”

David splutters out a slightly hysterical laugh, because that was so far removed from what he’d been expecting he didn’t know how to handle it. “I’m used to it, it’s not too bad. Are you not disgusted?”

Dave furrows his brow. “No. You’re still beautiful. Even with tears in your eyes.”

He wraps his arms around his belly and sobs, because the tears were not the issue. But to Dave there apparently was no issue. Not with how he looked anyway.

Dave places the mask down on the bench between them and tentatively reaches out to hold his hand; David lets him because why not? nothing else is going like it should. “I gotta ask. Did you actually want to do all of that anonymously, or did you think that was going to be the best way to get a baby without anyone dealing with your scars?”

He swallows at being so easily seen through. “You a therapist or something?”

The younger man huffs out a laugh. “Not the kind of therapist you mean. I’m a massage therapist.”

David blinks and offers him a small smile. “That explains the magic hands.” He sighs. “And you’re right. I thought no one would look beyond the mess of my face and that was the only way I was going to get a baby fucked into me.”

Dave hums and strokes his thumb over David’s palm. “Do you fancy doing it together then, seeing as we both want a kid, we’ve already fucked, and I think you’re beautiful?”

“Not sure I should be having a kid with someone who’s clearly delusional.” He mutters under his breath making Dave chuckle.

“Funny guy. But think you’re a bit late seeing as I’ve already filled you with my cum.” He shuffles closer and David shivers feeling his heat sink into him. “Come on, David. Did you want to do this alone, or do you want to do this with someone who will support you, help raise the baby, and kiss you multiple times a day?”

David plays with Dave’s soft fingers—clearly moisturised—and looks at him. “Why do you want a kid? You seem pretty mature but—what if we don’t want the same things?”

“I want a kid because….well I’ve always wanted kids of my own.” Dave shrugs; his pink polo shirt clinging to his biceps. “My ex-fiancée said I was too childish to have a kid with before she broke up with me, so I got a stable job and sorted my life out. Realised I didn’t miss her, but still wanted a kid. So here I am. What about you?”

David blinks and licks over his lips; the gentle afternoon breeze on his skin something he’d forgotten could feel so nice. “I want a baby because I have a lot of love to give, and I figured I wasn’t going to be able to love someone romantically now, but I could love my child.” He huffs; floundering a bit. “I didn’t make a plan for how to do this with someone else.”

“You don’t have to, I just… I’d like to. Do this with you.”

God, he sounds so earnest and sincere, and he doesn’t understand. “No. No, I want to—you’re very attractive and sweet, and I’m thinking potentially blind—“ Dave snorts out a laugh. “—but I don’t want to say no to your offer. I just—are you sure you don’t find me hideous?”

Dave lifts his hand and cups David’s cheek; thumb stroking softly over his scar by his lip making him shiver. He leans in close and then he’s kissing him, and oh—

David clutches at him desperately as the younger man licks into his mouth; sipping at his lips gently, careful of his scars.

“Take me back to yours and I’ll show you just how un-hideous I find you.”

+

David lets out an Oof as he tumbles back onto the bedsheets; Dave’s bigger body blanketing his own as he settles in between his spread legs. He tips his chin up with two fingers and kisses him, like he can’t get enough, and doesn’t mind how his lips aren’t perfect, and it doesn’t take long until David is hard and straining against his belly.

He mewls as the plug is pulled from his hole; fresh lube smeared over his puffy rim, before Dave is pushing his hard length back inside him and fucking into him deep and hard. David claws at his shoulders with each wet drag of his cock; head nestled in the pillows as Dave kisses all over his face, his neck and his tits—tracing his tongue over the lines of his scars and down to swirl around the hard nub of his nipple.

He touches every part of David like he’s precious and beautiful that his orgasm soon takes him by surprise; making a mess on his furry belly, ass gripping down around his cock like a vice. Dave follows him over the edge, stuffing him full with more cum and sucking a bruise into the crook of his neck.

Dave manoeuvres them so they’re spooning and falls asleep with his face pressed into the nape of David’s neck, arm draped over his cum-filled belly.

He entwines their fingers and listens to Dave’s soft breaths; letting the tears fall down his cheeks, cleansing the skin in their wake as he realises that maybe he gets to have all he dreamed about after all.

+

He sits on the sofa in his townhouse and stares at the wall; his mask stares back at him. He hasn’t worn it since the day of the convention. It’s not like he goes out much in public so that’s not much different from before, but he no longer covers his face; lives with Dave just as he is. The mask hangs on the wall as a reminder that he doesn’t have to hide from the world and there are people who like him despite his scars.

He rubs his hand over his six month baby bump and smiles.

David hears the door go and a few moments later Dave wanders in; kissing him on the mouth before sitting down next to him on the sofa and giving the bump a kiss through his jumper.

“Good day at work?” He asks; thankful of his inheritance and that the board of the publishing company can run it without his day-to-day input that means he doesn’t have to do anything but focus on growing their baby.

“S’alright.” Dave leans into him and nuzzles at the curve of his neck. “Prefer massaging you to other people though.”

He rolls his eyes fondly, because the younger man couldn’t keep his hands off him—always massaging his body as if trying to get rid of years of tension that had built up inside him due to fear of being unlovable forever. “Ah, but I don’t pay you, so it wouldn’t be good business if you just massaged me.”

Dave hums. “True. I do have a proposal for you that I think is a good one though?”

He turns to look at him; wondering if it’s one of those ideas of his like he had before where he thought about selling mattresses to care homes, that David thankfully talked him out of. “Yeah? What’s that?”

Warm, brown eyes blink up at him. “You marrying me.”

David blinks; obviously he’s misheard. “What? You’re not serious.”

“Seriously in love with you, yes.”

“Oh.”

He’d known on some level that Dave cared for him, but he’d never expected—hadn’t dared dream for this.

“So? Fancy marrying me, baby? We’re already having a kid together, we live together, and I’ll be honest, I don’t want to live my life without you. I miss you when you’re sleeping right next to me, because I just want to see your pretty green eyes and your soft smile, and—”

“Okay.” He says, taking the plunge.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll marry you.” Dave beams at him and kisses him wet and druggingly slow. “I’m in love with you too.” He says once he can breathe again.

“I know.” Dave grins at him.

“Oh yeah? How do you know, hmm?”

Dave cups his face and brushes away a strand of hair that’s flopped onto his forehead; thumb tracing the scar that cuts down over his eye. “Because you kiss me like it doesn’t hurt to feel my lips on yours, and you smile at me like it never occurs to you to do anything else.”

“Fuck.” David presses their foreheads together; bringing Dave’s hand to splay out over his belly as the baby starts kicking. “You really do see me don’t you?”

“I see you and love you, scars and all.”

David just sinks into his arms and wonders how he got so lucky.

+

The sun is bright and warms his skin as he pushes the stroller through the park. Dave’s walking next to him; hand resting on the small of his back, with their baby boy babbling away in front of them. Matthew was 18 months old, and David loved him with all his heart. He had dark brown curls, hazel eyes, and a big gummy grin. He was a happy baby and he smiled every time he saw David, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever be over it.

They named him Matthew because it means ‘Gift from God’ and to David, this—his whole life now—feels like exactly that.

He stops and sits down on a bench; looking out at the park—watching the dogs bounding around and the kids playing; couples flirting where they sit on blankets and other people dotted around reading or dozing.

Having Matthew meant he didn’t want to hide his baby from the world, and as such he ventured out more and more. Dave was always there supporting him and loving him, and holding his hand if he ever needed, and always just because he wanted to.

He rocks the stroller back and forth as Matthew bounces in his seat; always curious as to what was going on around him. A young girl toddles over to them and starts talking at Matthew in half words and sounds; her mother quick to catch up to her and scoop her into her arms.

“I’m so sorry. She’s been a menace since she started walking. Always running off.” She says with a sheepish laugh.

“No problem. She’s very adorable.” David murmurs; avoiding eye contact, because he still struggles with that. Knows people can see the scars on his face, but he can’t always deal with that knowledge, because not everyone looks at him with kindness, and no one else looks at him like his husband and son do.

The woman leans down to coo at Matthew and then peers up at him. “Yours looks just like you.”

David stills where he’s sat; Dave strokes over his hip feeling the tension run through him. Is she calling Matthew ugly? Does she think he looks disfigured? What else could she mean?

“W—What do you mean?” He croaks.

She smiles at him; wide and bright. “Beautiful. Your baby looks beautiful, just like you.”

His eyes fill with tears and he feels his husband squeeze his hip in comfort. “Thank you.” He whispers, choked up.

She nods as if knowing that he means it more than just the words, and then leaves; her daughter in her arms.

David moves the stroller so he can pick Matthew up and cuddle him to his chest; leaning back into Dave’s embrace. The younger man turns his head so he can kiss him, and hums against his lips; carding his fingers through David’s hair and thumbing over his cheek.

“She’s right. You are beautiful. My beautiful husband. Matthew’s beautiful mommy.”

David smiles so wide his scars crease and pull where his cheeks bunch, but he doesn’t care, because in that moment he truly feels beautiful.

Just as himself. No mask necessary.

Chapter Text

“And here’s your water, Sir.”

“Cheers, Angel.”  Frank gives the woman at the front desk of the convention a charming smile; internally rolling his eyes when she doesn’t respond like he’s the best fuck she’s yet to experience. Her loss. He grabs the bottle of water, taking a swig as he saunters into the convention; eyes scanning the crowd looking for a cheeky little number to spear on his cock and hopefully put a baby in her belly that he won’t have to change the diapers for.

He walks past stalls he doesn’t pay attention to; hunting for just the right innocent cunt to tame. He gulps down the water because it’s thirsty work being Frank T.J. Mackey, chucking the empty bottle in one of the trash cans off to the side, before walking towards the row of doors along the back wall.

“I think I saw a pretty girl go in there, looking to be bred.” A deep rumbling voice says from off to the side. Frank turns to look and sees a big, broad, beefy slab of a man leaning against the wall effortlessly; dark curly hair, a languid tilt to his shoulders and large fucking paws he was obviously pretending were hands—one scratching at the sharp line of his jaw.

“That so?” He asks with a quirk of his brow. “Why aren’t you going in after her, then?”

“Not my type.”

Frank looks at him for a moment—ignores the way his pulse flutters as his gaze trails over his imposing form—and nods slowly. “Alright. Thanks then…”

“Al.” He says; corner of his mouth flickering with a half-smile.

“Thanks, Al.” He says; reaching up to grab the top half of his hair and tie it in a ponytail; the rest of his straight dark hair left to cover the nape of his neck.

“No problem…?”

“Frank.”

Al smirks at him with a nod, and Frank wanders towards the room; pushing open the door and stepping inside, wondering if the pretty girl is going to be laid out on the bed waiting for him cunt first, or if he’s going to have to strip her down to get to the goods. His brow furrows when he sees the room is empty; jumping in shock when the door closes behind him and locks with a click.

He spins round and sees Al lounging against the door, blocking his way out. Frank swallows and tries not to let on that he’s nervous; that he doesn’t like being alone with attractive men, because then his brain starts thinking thoughts he shouldn’t. His dick starts reacting like it shouldn’t as well.

“Thought you said there was a pretty girl in here?”

Al looks at him under hooded lids and grins sharply. “Well, there is now. And he’s exactly my type.”

Franks bristles; pulling himself up to his full height. He’s not as tall as Al, or as big, but still; he’s not letting Al think he’s some weak, little bitch he can just intimidate. “Hilarious. But get the fuck out of my way, Al. I’m here to find some slut to breed and you’re wasting my time.”

The bigger man hums amused. “See, I’m here to find a cute, little slut to breed too. But unlike you, I’ve managed to find one.”

“What the fuck?” He splutters; heart rabbiting in his chest, because no—it can’t be. “I’m not some f—faggot. I don’t like taking it up the ass, you bastard.” Not that he’s ever had anything in his ass, too afraid he’ll like it and he’ll end up being the disappointment his father always said he would be. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“Really…” Al saunters closer; head tilting as he looks at him with disbelief.

“Really.”

“You say that, and yet…” He plucks at the pink wristband circling Frank’s arm, and Frank’s eye widen when he sees it’s not the same as the blue one wrapped around Al’s own beefy wrist. “Here you are, advertising to everyone how you can’t wait to have a baby fucked into you.”

He pulls his arm from Al’s grip and sniffs; mind racing to try and think why the woman on the desk gave him this wristband. “I—the—the woman on the front desk obviously gave me the wrong one.”

“Is that so?”

God, he wanted to wipe that stupid smirk of Al’s handsome face so bad. His cock practically throbbed with the desire to. Shit, no. Not what he meant.

“Yes! Obviously there’s been some kind of mistake. I’m here to tame some daddy’s girl’s cunt and leave her stuffed full.” He says; voice not as confident as it usually was when he commanded the stage at his seminars; the words not quite as believable for reasons he doesn’t want to look into. “That’s why I’m here. Not whatever the fuck you’re on about.”

Al huffs out a laugh, all deep and rough, though Frank has no idea what’s so fucking funny. “Were you gonna help her raise the kid?”

Frank blinks; nose scrunching in confusion. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, taking a step back from Al only for the other man to step forward after him. “What?”

“Did you read anything you signed when you arrived?”

“Of course.” He lies; not having read a fucking thing. Having assumed that it was just standard—blanket permission to fuck anyone who bent over for him without repercussions because that was the whole reason for this depraved fucking convention at the heart of it right? Even if others didn’t want to admit it, and instead reeled off some story about wanting a family or some shit.

“Uh huh. Because if you did—” Al grins; brushing his plump bottom lip with the edge of his wide-tipped thumb. “—then you’re know that the anonymous breeding booths are for anyone wanting to do the whole cream pie thing without having the kid after. And any baby conceived in these rooms; the two parents involved raise it together.”

Well, fuck.

“Guessed you saved me from that then.” He smiles blandly, trying to sidestep the beefy bastard, but Al just blocks his way again. Frank was getting real tired of that.

“Not so fast, Frankie baby.”

“Not my name.”

“Okay, Princess.” Al rolls his eyes; one paw on Frank’s waist, the other curled around his shoulder. The sheer heat from those big, manly hands shocking him enough that he didn’t push them off like he should. “But if you thought you were impregnating anyone, you were sorely mistaken—”

“Not this again.”

“This pink wristband confirms you’re a pretty little breeding hole that is going to take my cock beautifully.”

Al slips his hand down to cup Frank’s ass, and he gasps in shock, before pushing against Al’s chest; trying to get away from the gut-swirling touch, and doing nothing but feeling the way his pecs flex under his shirt.

“I’ll say it again, but you’re fucking deranged. I’m not gay! I don’t take it up the ass. I like pussy.” He huffs; needing Al to believe him, because he can’t let himself believe otherwise. He can’t. He’s already gotten used to being a disappointment to his father—the pain in his heart something he’ll never get over—but he doesn’t know how he’d survive if he ended up being someone his father would’ve truly hated. Even if that might be who he actually is inside.

Deep down.

Where no one can see.

“I like pussy too.” Al pulling him even closer; pressing his fingers to the cleft of Frank’s ass. His hole clenches in want, and a shiver run throughs him. “Your soft, wet, greedy pussy that’s desperate to be fucked open and left messy and gaping with my cum.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He croaks. “You’re not going to fuck me. I don’t—I don’t want that.”

He resolutely ignores how his cock has plumped up in his tight jeans at the way Al touches him, and the woodsy cologne that teases his nostrils.

“Okay. Let’s see shall we?”

He shudders out a breath as Al unbuttons his jeans; pulling down the zip and purposefully bypassing Frank’s cock, because he was obviously a fucking bastard. Frank can’t let him do this—not without fighting it. He’s not going to let Al treat him like some cunt to be tamed. He wiggles out of Al’s grip and tries to get round him to leave, but Al just wraps his arms around his trim waist; picking him up and putting him down so he’s bent over the bed. Al roughly tugs his jeans and underwear down so the fabric is pulled tight across Frank’s thighs, and then he’s got two thick fingers in Frank’s ass, and fuck—

“Look at that.” Al croons; pressing him down with a hand between his shoulder blades. “The water you drank only works on those bitches that want to be bred.” He fucks his fingers in and out of Frank’s virgin hole, and Frank whimpers as the tight ring of muscle opens up around them easily. “That’s you, Frank.”

“God, I hate you.” He snarls; hips bucking as Al strokes his prostate making stars flash behind his eyes. Al laughs like he doesn’t believe him. “Why do you want this anyway? Isn’t there some docile little twink you could obliterate rather than torturing me?”

Al blankets him from behind; stretching out over his back, fingers stroking his insides in a way he can’t pretend he doesn’t like; cock dribbling pre-cum onto the bedsheets beneath him. “Why would I want some meek, little doll, when I could have you spitting fire at me, hmm?” His breath tickles Frank’s ear, and he feels dazed—finds himself pushing his ass back against Al’s fingers. “Makes it all the more perfect when I Tame. Your. Cunt.”

He emphasises the last three words with rough thrusts of his fingers, and Frank hangs his head in shame as he comes; cock spurting untouched over the bed, hole clenching down around the thick digits. He sobs out an angry roar; knows it’s the moment the façade he wraps around himself like armour obtains its first crack.

Knows that it won’t take long until it shatters around him.

His arms tremble where they hold him up, and he pushes his face into the curve of his bicep when he hears Al unzip his own jeans and feels the burning, wet tip of his fat cock press against his stretched hole. His moss-green Henley soaks up the sweat dripping down his face and the tears that spill from his lashes, but it’s not thick enough to muffle his shout of pleasure that’s pulled from his gut when Al pushes his big fucking cock inside him in one insistent thrust, until he could feel Al’s heavy, cum-filled balls slapping against his ass.

“F—Fuck.” He cries, feeling like he was being split in two; no breath in his lungs.

Al groans; nipping at the curve of his neck. “God, your tight, little pussy feels so good, Frankie baby. I knew it would.”

He wants to snark back at him and tell him he doesn’t have a pussy; he just has a very traitorous and fucked open asshole. But Al pulls back his hips until just the plump tip of his cock is keeping Frank stretched wide, and then slams back in; hard enough Frank feels like his brain is rattling around in skull.

Al’s large paw spears through Frank’s hair, messing up the soft strands; tugging his head back as he fucks into him hard and rough.

“Ah, ah, ah—Jesus fucking fuck!” He gasps, as Al hammers his prostate.

His cock is slapping against his belly, hard again, because even though his brain is in denial about what he likes, his body is all too happy to betray him to get what it wants. His cock smears drops of pre-cum against the hem of his Henley where it hangs away from his belly, and annoyingly he doesn’t think Al is going to pay for his dry-cleaning.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Princess?” Al taunts; other hand slipping under his Henley to paw and squeeze at his tit—plucking and pinching at the dusky nub of his nipple until it was throbbing.

“N—No.” He says; gritting his teeth against the waves of pleasure that ripple up his spine.

Al just laughs. “Sure. That sounds believable.” He skims his hand down Frank’s side; palming his ribcage like Frank was already his, down to smooth over the jut of his hip bone and tug at the dense bush at the base of his cock. He grips it tight as he slams his cock into his no longer virginial ass, and Frank sobs—

Both in pleasure from how fucking good it feels, and because he knows as his cock spurts ropes of semen on the bed again and he comes around Al’s cock, that he’s exactly the cock-sucking, bum boy, fairy faggot his dad always said he was—the one he tried so very hard not to be, and the one his dad had used his last breath to say he would hate Frank for being, for eternity.

His arms give way and he collapses face first into the mattress as Al spills hot and wet inside him, and he lets out a pained grunt as the bigger man flumps down on top of him—blanketing him like the big-dicked bastard he was, and nuzzling at his sweaty hairline like a damned cat, and like he hadn’t just ruined Frank’s perfectly crafted life.

“Fuck, you’re heavy.” He mumbles; blowing a strand of hair from where it’s fallen on his face.

Al rolls them to the side; arm draped over Frank’s heaving belly. “That better?”

He hums; just laying there as his mind races at the fact that he’s no longer going to be able to push down the fact that he loves cock (very much) and loves being skewered on said cock (Al’s cock in particular), and that if Al’s to be believed, there’s a high chance that the beefy fucker snuggled up at his back has fucked a baby into his belly.

He sighs. “I’m not exactly mother material.”

“You’ve got nine months to learn to be.” Al smirks; nipping at the skin of his neck, sucking a bruise there.

Frank huffs. “You’ll be looking after me then. If I’m going to be your fucking breeding whore, then I want to be pampered like a princess.”

Al lets out a deep rumbling laugh that zig-zags all the way up Frank’s spine where his cock was still half-hard inside him, and smacks a wet kiss to his ear. “I didn’t expect anything less. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”

He nestles into the covers and tentatively rests his hand over Al’s larger one. He’s not sure what he’s doing, but he just knows he can’t leave the room pretending like his life hadn’t just dramatically changed.

At least he wasn’t going to be alone.

He’d had a whole child and adulthood alone. It would make a nice change at least.

+

“Nice place.” Frank comments; looking round as Al guides him through his house upstairs to the bedroom. He was wearing Al’s jacket because he’d started shivering after Al had pulled his cock from his gaping hole and had replaced it with a flared plug; the rush of endorphins from his orgasms along with his inner turmoil was making him tremble like a stupid fucking chihuahua and Frank tugs the sides of the jacket tighter around himself with a frown.

“Glad you like it, seeing as you’ll be living here.”

He doesn’t respond. He’d been living from hotel room to hotel room ever since his dad died. Not wanting to step foot in the house he’d grown up in—was waiting for his lawyers to just sell it already. Already haunted enough by the man who’d lived there, without needing to be haunted by the actual building and the memories it invoked too.

He follows Al into the bedroom and lets the bigger man undress him silently; opening his mouth to his kisses, surprisingly docile for once. He wraps his arms around his belly once he’s naked, biting his lip from where he can already feel the slight swell of Al’s cum sitting heavy in his womb. He closes his eyes and trembles as Al spreads his cheeks and pulls the plug from his ass, throwing it on the ground.

Frank yelps when Al picks him up from behind, letting out an Oof when he’s settled on Al’s lap; the light smattering of hair that covers his thick thighs ticking Frank’s legs, his hard cock nestled in between Frank’s peachy ass cheeks.

“Look, Princess.” He lifts his gaze from where he’s been watching the corded muscle of Al’s arm move under his tanned skin, to where he was pointing; eyes widening when he sees his own face—flushed cheeks, pupils blown wide, lips berry pink from where he keeps biting them with no longer restrained want. “Look how beautiful you are.”

He whimpers pathetically in a way that makes him flush to the roots of his silky hair to hear himself make, and tries to hide to his face, but Al splays his hand around Frank’s nape, keeping him looking at the mirror that’s there, right at the end of Al’s bed.

“I said look at how beautiful you are, Princess.”

“What are you doing, Al?”

The bigger man lifts him up and Frank whines as he’s speared on the fat length of his cock again; his hole stretching obscenely and way too easily around him, as it feels like Al is rearranging his guts. “I’m admiring the pretty little Princess who’s gonna give me a baby.” He gasps as Al pulls his head back and devours his mouth in a filthy, wet kiss; slipping his tongue past his lips and making Frank choke on it.

Al relinquishes his mouth and turns his face to look at the mirror again; holding him by the hips and grinding up into the gape of his hole. “I’m watching the way you take my cock so well—like you were made for it—and how I can see the outline of it bulging against those abs of yours as I fuck up into you. I’m looking at the way you try to hide how much you love being split open like this, but your pretty green eyes and the soft moans that escape your throat give you away.”

“S—Shut the f—fuck up, you prick.” Frank mewls; feeling his hole clench down around Al’s cock as a hand splays over his furry belly, tugging on the dark curls there, like he knows the pinpricks of pain go straight to the tip of his dick, globs of pre-cum dripping down the ruddy shaft of his untouched cock as if to mock him.

“That’s the spitfire I chose.” Al smirks with a laugh. “Can’t wait to see you get all heavy and round with my baby—see the way your tits get all achy and swollen with milk; your nipples getting all big and sensitive, making you whine as I suck on them until they’re even more big and sensitive. You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful pregnant, Frankie baby.”

He swallows thickly as Al fucks into him deep and slow—the way he’s taking him apart clear to see in the fucking mirror in front of them. He imagines himself pregnant—abs replaced by a large baby bump; well-defined pecs replaced by tits that would no doubt look at home in the lacy cups of a bra—and he’s hiccups out a gasping sob when he realises he doesn’t hate it.

His dad would—his dad would fucking burn him alive if he knew Frank was no doubt already up the fucking duff—but Frank….

Al presses a soft kiss to the hinge of Frank’s jaw as if to say, whatever this is that I’ve made happen, you’re not going to do it alone, and Frank comes at the thought of having a big round baby bump from where Al’s bred him.

He feels the bigger man empty another load of hot sticky seed deep inside him, and leans back against the sweat-slick warmth of his broad chest. Al tips them back onto the bed, so Frank’s splayed out on top of him like a fucked out starfish, and runs his hands over him, as if he can’t stop touching him.

“Why do you want a kid?” Frank asks after a while and when neither of them make any decision to move.

“I just do.” Al strokes his hair away from Frank’s forehead and nibbles the shell of his ear. “I want someone to come home to after busy day on set—I’m a film producer by the way. I want a pretty princess to be waiting for me with our beautiful baby. I just want a family. That’s what I want.”

“And you want that with me?” He asks, disbelief colouring his voice.

“Well, there was no one prettier than you at the whole convention.”

Frank rolls his eyes, but his heart dances in his chest.

+

“Can I help you, Sir?” Frank tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and nods at the Production Assistant.

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for Al? I’m his—Frank.” He chuffs, because yeah, that pretty much sums up where he’s ended up in the four months since he met Al. “I’m his Frank.”

The Production Assistant smiles in a way that makes Frank think he actually knows who he is just from that, and jerks his head in the direction of the set. Frank follows him; a hand curled under his small bump. He still wasn’t used to it—wasn’t used to not having washboard abs to show how manly he was; wasn’t used to not caring about the fact that he didn’t—but he was getting a bit more used to it day by day.

Whenever he had a moment of uncertainty, Al just kisses him and shows him how beautiful he is in the mirror.

Al’s face lights up when he sees him (another thing he’s not used to anyone doing), and he pulls Frank into his arms; kissing him soundly, until the rest of the crew start wolf-whistling and Frank clears his throat, trying and failing not to blush.

“Pretty wife you got there, Al!”

“Yeah, you smarmy bastard. Where’d you find a catch like that?”

Frank huffs out a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Not married.”

The crew gasp; one of them even whacking Al on the back of his big, curly head. “What you doing, Al? Get on that yeah? Treat him like he deserves.”

Frank shudders out a breath, because before Al he would’ve thought that that mean disliking and admiring him in equal measure for his perceived prowess with women—or if it was regarding his dad, then viewing Frank as if he was shit on the bottom of his shoe. But he doesn’t think that’s what they mean.

“Yeah, yeah. Kinda got a film to produce guys.”

“Take the afternoon off. We’ll be fine without you.”

Frank’s brows raise to his hairline, because surely they can’t mean for them to get married today, but Al is nodding and smiling, and then he’s leading Frank off the set and down the road where there’s a registrar’s office five minutes away.

“I only came by to see if you wanted to get lunch.” He says, a slight hysterical pitch to his voice, because he’d only just accepted he was knocked up. Being married was some other kettle of fish, and not something he ever thought would happen to him.

“We’ll have lunch after I make you my wife.”

“We don’t even have rings!” He splutters; part of him glad he was wearing a nice shirt at least.

“They sell them there.” Well, alright then. Al buys them the rings and then they’re standing in front of the registrar becoming joined in holy matrimony, and Frank doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the heavy weight of the ring on his finger.

At the fact that he’s actually married and at the fact that he knows his dad would be glad he’s dead so he could miss it without giving some vague excuse for why he couldn’t make it.

Al kisses him to distract him when he sees his eyes get glassy with tears, and then drags him home.

“Got a surprise for you.” Al grins; waggling his eyebrows as Frank sits on the bed and takes off his boots.

“What, you mean something other than a surprise wedding?”

He flinches as something hits him in the chest, and he looks incredulously at the white panties Al’s just thrown at him. “You’re kidding.”

Al shakes his head; stripping off his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. Frank rolls his eyes and gets undressed, before pulling on the delicate underwear; unable to deny they make his ass and his small bump look good.

The bigger man—his fucking husband—seems to agree as he gets Frank on his hands and knees and then pulling the panties to the side he exposed Frank’s pretty hole and eats him out, as if his ass was a perfect substitute for the lunch they still had yet to eat. Al licks and slurps at his hole—fucking the fat point of his tongue past this puffy rim—until Frank creams his panties; getting them all wet and sticky.

“Why I let you do this, I have no idea. You’re such a pervert.” He keens as Al slides his cock inside him; paw cupping his baby bump as he thrusts into him.

“Yeah, but you like it, Princess.” Al kisses along his freckled shoulders and Frank sighs, because he can’t deny that.

+

She has Al’s eyes.

Frank leans back against the fluffed up pillows of their bed as he watches their daughter, Rebecca, snuffle around his nipple, suckling on his milk as she feeds. He gently brushes her downy soft hair and wonders how someone like him—so broken and ugly inside—could make something so beautiful.

He looks at her as she scrunches up her face to get more of his milk and his mouth flickers with a smile because that little furrow of her brow comes from him.

“Motherhood suits you, Frankie baby.” Al hums from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. “Knew it would.”

“Your head gets any bigger, it won’t fit through that door.” He grumbles; his cheeks turning pink.

Al barks out a laugh; coming to sit next to him on the bed, kissing him softly and then kissing Rebecca’s hair. “Even now, just having given birth a few days ago and you’re still talking back to me. Amazing.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s what you signed up for, right?”

“It was. I even read the paperwork.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Al strokes over Rebecca’s button nose and then rests his hand over Frank’s soft belly. “You gonna let me fuck another into you at some point?”

“Like hell!” He scoffs.

“Hmm… I’m sure you’ll change your mind.” Al looks pointedly at their daughter who Frank said he didn’t want originally, and he purses his lips with a harrumph. He’s well aware that Al is sole-placed in his life to make him change his mind on things.

It doesn’t mean he has to admit that straight away though.

+

2 years later…

“Slow down, Ladybug.” He calls to Rebecca as she toddles around the garden, chasing a butterfly. He rests a hand on his lower back and wipes at his brow, glad Al’s shirts fit him even with his big bump.

Al comes up behind him and wraps him in a hug; pressing a kiss to the side of his neck and cupping his belly; the baby kicking like it always does when it knows its daddy is near. “Told you I’d convince you to change your mind.” Frank rolls his eyes, surprised the other man has waited this long to say I told you so. “Your cunt has officially being tamed, Princess.”

He elbows Al in the gut with a huff. “You even think about saying I respect your cock and I’ll punch you in it.”

“Will you kiss it better after?”

“Why do I put up with you again?” He hugs Rebecca after she runs into his legs; wrapping her small arms around his thigh, before running off again.

“Because you love me.” Al smirks; leading Frank over to the swinging bench in the shade of the garden.

“Feel like it might be Stokholm syndrome actually.” He mutters.

“Uh huh. And you drew love hearts on my chest last night with your finger, because…?”

“Pregnancy hormones.” He says, sniffing haughtily. It was a great excuse. Got him out of a lot of things.

“Right sure. I love you too by the way.”

He cradles his bump as he watches his and Al’s daughter chase bugs in their garden. “Yeah, the whole marrying me and fucking me all the time kinda gave that away. And the fact that you tell me you love me every day.”

“Just letting you know again, Princess.”

It had taken a while—a really long while—for him to get used to that. To understand that Al meant it. His mom had died young and his dad had never told him he loved him—not after he realised that Frank might like boys in the way he should like girls anyway. To have someone tell him he loved him—to have two people tell him that, because Rebecca loved her mommy too for some reason—it still blew his fucking mind.

He didn’t think he ever would’ve taken to preaching misogynistic bullshit to other scared, pathetic men if he’d known what it was like to be unconditionally loved before. But he guesses sometimes change is a good thing.

Sometimes you just have to accept who you are, and that it’s okay if your father wouldn’t have loved you for it, because you have people that do.

“I love you too, Al.” He says quietly; squeezing his hand.

“I know.”

Frank huffs at how smug he sounds, but inside his chest warms because he wouldn’t change anything about his life, and despite what he used to preach, that isn’t something he ever thought was achievable.

His father had told him he’d never be happy if he let the world know who he was inside under the vests and the bullshit. No one would ever love him.

But his father was dead, and he’d been wrong.

Frank is happy. He is loved too.

Not just by Al and Rebecca, but by himself.

Somehow he’d gotten to a place he never thought he’d find, and it had only taken one misdirection into an empty room, a lot of swearing, a lot of unconditional support and ass-fuckings from Al, and the decision not to let his father win, to get here.

Frank sighs in contentment as Al busses a kiss to his temple and Rebecca plays on the grass.

Letting go of the past felt a lot like embracing the future. Leaning back into Al’s arms felt a lot like the same thing.

Chapter Text

He thought he was going to be sick.

Fuck. Why was this so difficult? He’s a reigning boxing champion for Christ’s sake, and yet doing this—coming to a breeding convention to hopefully knock someone up (instead of out) and lose his virginity—feels like the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

The woman at the front desk gives him a polite smile as he finishes shakily signing his name, and then Vinny’s wandering into the convention, sweat beading on his forehead.

Come on, Paz, you can do this.

His pops thought he was crazy, but what else was new? He’d thought the same when Vinny had gotten back in the ring after his accident, and he thought the same now. But Vinny wants a kid. Wants a cute little terror he could chase round the back garden and love with his whole heart—wants to have something more to come home to than a gaudy championship belt.

If he manages to find someone who can wrap their arms around him and hold him tight, like he only gets from the belt at the moment, then all the better.

Sniffing, he looks around, trying to see if anyone strikes his fancy. It was daunting as hell. He was a big guy, and he knows people are gonna have….expectations…about him based on his looks, and he’s terrified he’s going to be a massive disappointment.

Or the fact that he wasn’t massive was more the reason behind the disappointment to be more precise.

Because it was ironic really, that Vinny could add muscle to his broad shoulders, and his thighs were thick enough to kill a man, but he couldn’t do anything about the size of his dick;  as it hung soft over his balls, not even dangling in between his legs, it looked pathetically small—like it had been an afterthought; a small, little prick just plopped down in that spot to complete the picture. Like an ornate broach, or a cherry on an iced bun—it would look weird if he didn’t have one, but having it be too large would just be obscene.

He cards a hand through his curls spotting two people that might be an option. He wasn’t fussy really about who he fucked—didn’t have the choice of being fussy—but he at least wanted someone that he thought he might be able to spend his time just happily looking at.

He hesitantly steps closer; teeth biting down on his plump bottom lip as he wonders if he should ask the woman with the soft-looking curls or the guy with the fluffy blond hair which one might like to take a chance on him, when his ears pick up on their conversation—

“God, I really just want a big, fat cock to destroy my pussy until I can’t walk.”

“Me too.”

—and carries on walking by.

Well, that went well.

Fuck, how is he meant to do this? Did he tell them he had a small cock before or after he’d gotten them alone or naked? Should he just adjust his parameters for acceptable, and allow a small amount of laughter at what he was (or wasn’t) packing? Surely, it was just delusional of him to find someone who was gorgeous, wanted a baby with him, and didn’t mind his small dick, right?

He huffs in frustration having achieved nothing since he’d arrived, and feeling desperate wanders closer to the anonymous breeding booths. He knows he wouldn’t get a kid out doing it like this, but maybe if he can’t even find someone to willingly fuck him, then he doesn’t deserve to have a kid at the end of it?

Feeling like he has no other option he grimaces at the person in charge of the booths, and steps up behind a woman; curling a large hand around her bare hip as he stares at the silky pink of her cunt, forcing himself to become hard, pushing the nerves and the embarrassment down so he could actually do this.

Swallowing thickly and taking a breath for courage, he unzips his jeans and shuffling close he pulls out his cock. He spreads her pussy lips with his thumbs and presses forward, until all three inches of him is inside her and the wiry curls at the base of his dick brush against the swell of her ass.

He waits a beat when she just lays there, not even reacting, not even a clench of her cunt, but before he can even decide to touch her and make it good, she asks, “Have you put it in yet?”

And he jolts out of the wet clutch of her cunt with red cheeks and shame swirling in his gut. His chest heaves as he starts to panic; someone bumping into him as he stumbles back, hands fumbling as he tries to put his dick away.

“Oh, hell no. I’m not being bred by a guy whose dick is as big as my thumb.”

He looks up at the judgemental sneer; seeing a guy curling his lip up in disgust at his small cock. His hard-on has withered at the humiliation, and he manages to tuck it back in his jeans; blinking away tears. He hates this.

He’s fought big, tough assholes for a living for years, and yet this so much worse.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” He whips his head to the side, looking at the person who’d approached. They were wearing a staff badge and looking at him with barely-veiled pity. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What? Why?”

“If you’re unable to fill the contract you signed due to faulty equipment—” He flicks his gaze down to Vinny’s groin and back up. “—then you have to leave. This is a breeding convention, not an opportunity for you to wonder what a real hole feels like.”

Vinny curls his hands into fists by his side; wanting to curl in on himself. He knew this was a bad idea. But, fuck, he wants a kid so badly. And he hates being told what he can and can’t do. The guy moves as if to escort him off the premises, and before he can think—

Vinny runs.

He barges by the guy, knocking him on his ass, and Vinny legs it towards the back of the room, where the private breeding rooms are. He’s a tall and beefy fucker, but he’s light on his feet. He has to be, otherwise he would’ve suffered way more hits to the head over the years.

He nearly falls to the floor when he crashes into a guy storming out of one of the rooms, a voice shouting at his back—

“AND TAKE YOUR AWFUL BIG DICK WITH YOU!”

Vinny rights himself; blinking in a daze because he’s obviously hearing things, but he slips into the room the other guy just vacated, hoping he’s going to be safe for a little bit. At least until the guard dog has lost his scent.

He quickly shuts and locks the door behind himself, and leans back against it; eyes shutting in relief.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Vinny snaps open his eyes at the huffed out question, and he stills seeing what must be the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, laying on the bed in just a pair of tight boxer briefs. He’s got brown hair that flops onto his forehead, green eyes that are narrowed in suspicion and confusion but make Vinny feel like he could get sucked into them forever, toned muscles, a trail of dark hair that leads under the waistband of his underwear, and the daintiest looking feet he’d ever seen.

“Uh….”

He swallows, but no words come out.

The other guy rolls his eyes and flumps back on the bed. “Whatever. You don’t have a stupidly big cock do you?”

Vinny blinks dumbly. “Uh…no?” The words spill from his lips without his permission, the first time he’s sort of admitted out loud that he’s not packing, but he finds he doesn’t really care. Wants to stay in this room with the pretty whirl of confusion on the bed more than he wants to keep his dignity.

“You sure about that?” A quirk of an eyebrow and the hint of a smirk.

“Pretty sure.” Vinny grumbles; fingers undoing his button and zip without his say so, pushing down his jeans and underwear to show off his tiny cock like it was something to be proud of. He flushes as soon as he realises what he’s done, hastily redressing himself. Fuck, why did he do that? He’s such a dipshit, the guy’s not going to want—

“Oh, you’ll do nicely. Very nicely.” The beautiful man purrs.

Vinny’s brain short-circuits. “What?”

“What’s your name darling?”

He gulps and steps away from the door; sniffing and brushing nervous fingers over his moustache, wondering if he’s actually going to get what he came for. “Vinny. Vinny Pazienza.”

No hint of recognition at his name, so obviously not a boxing fan. He feels himself relax even more.

“Well Vinny, I’m Charlie—Charlie Babbitt—and I think you might be what I’m looking for.”

He chuffs. “It would make you different to everyone else here then.”

Charlie pats the bed by where he’s sprawled out, and Vinny steps closer until he’s sat on the bed; close enough he can smell the woodsy scent of Charlie’s cologne. “Best you learn this early, Vin—there is no one else like me. I’m a one of a kind, baby.”

God, he’s an arrogant little shit, but Vinny finds himself charmed. This close he can see the softness of his green eyes that makes the sharp edges of his grin less cutting. Can see the beauty mark on his left cheek, and how long his eyelashes are.

He’s even more beautiful up close.

“Right.” Vinny clears his throat. “And you prefer me to that guy you just chucked out?” The disbelief was evident in his voice.

“That guy was going to tear my ass in two before he’d even gotten fully inside me—I’m here to get a baby fucked into me, not go home with a prolapsed anus.” Vinny chokes on a laugh; fingers reaching out to curl around Charlie’s foot. Charlie lets him; cute little toes wiggling as Vinny sweeps his thumb along the soft arch. “And he was fucking annoying too. He thought he was doing me a favour picking me, and he kissed like a washing machine.” Charlie sighs; brushing his hair away from his face. “And he handled me too roughly—like I don’t mind being manhandled, but I don’t want bruises just from being picked up, y’know? Plus, I knew my brother, Raymond, would hate him, and I can’t have him hate my baby daddy, y’know?”

That was a lot to take in. “You and your brother are—uh—close then?”

Charlie nods. “It’s only a recent thing. My father was a dick and pretended like Raymond didn’t really exist—I’d forgotten I even had a brother because he was sent away when I was so young. But we’re good now. He… He lives in a care facility. It’s best for him and he agrees. Likes his routines and stuff. But he’s my only family, so…”

Vinny feels his chest warm. He’s a family guy himself; his family always getting in his business. But that was just their way. He hadn’t told them about this though. Didn’t want to get their hopes up they might have a grandchild soon if no one was actually going to want him.

He thinks they’d like Charlie though.

“That’s nice. Family’s important.”

Charlie hums. “That the only thing you’re going to comment on out of everything I said?”

Vinny chuffs; wetting his lips. “I—I wouldn’t handle you roughly. I’m…I’m a professional boxer, but I’m not a brute. I know when a gentle touch is the better approach.” He scrubs a hand over his face and chuckles sheepishly. “Fuck, this feels like a job interview. Not that I’ve ever had one—don’t exactly interview to go in the ring, y’know? Just show ‘em you belong there.”

The other man nods encouragingly; flexing his foot so Vinny continues to stroke the sole of it.

“I don’t kiss like a washing machine—at least no one’s told me I do anyway. And you—uh—already saw that I wouldn’t do any damage to your ass. So, yeah…that’s me.”

“You want a kid, Vinny Pazienza?”

“Yeah. I really do. Wanna chase ‘em around the backyard and make ‘em laugh, and cuddle ‘em when they cry. All of it.”

“Hmm. What about a partner? Do you want one of those too?”

He dips his head; cheeks rosy-pink. “Well, yeah. I didn’t think I’d find anyone who’d want me though—at least not once they saw my dick. I had to run away from the breeding booths after…after—fuck—after one of the guys who worked here said I had faulty equipment and would be in breach of the contract I signed at the start.”

Charlie makes an indignant sort of noise and sits up; tugging him close until he’s scant inches away from his pretty face. “What a load of bullshit. I want a kid too. I’m settled in my life and who I am, and I want a little mini-me out there causing chaos in the world, y’know? And, Vin… I think you might be just the guy to help make that happen.”

His throat convulses as he swallows. “Really? Even with my—”

“Your dick is pretty and as long as it can get hard so you can fuck me with it, then that’s all I care about.”

“It can get hard.” It was straining in his jeans right now, but Charlie wouldn’t be able to know that; no obvious tent bulging at the denim. “I’ve just…never done this before.”

God his throat feels as dry as a desert; heart pounding in his chest. But he can’t lie to Charlie, doesn’t want to lie to him. Feels like the other man has been scarily truthful with him for some reason Vinny can’t quite work out, and wants to return the sentiment.

“What, bred someone?”

He shakes his head; curls brushing the shell of his ear, the gold earring with a cross dangling from it that was nestled in the soft lobe of it tinkling softly at the movement. “No. I mean…had sex.”

“Oh.” Charlie blinks at him. “But your gorgeous.”

He scoffs. “And have a tiny dick, in case you forgot. Not a lot of people willing to forgive that.”

Charlie clicks his tongue in disapproval; palming his face. “Nothing to forgive. It’s your dick, end of. People are idiots. It’s fine though. They’ll be crying with jealousy when they see how good you knock me up, babe.”

And then Charlie kisses him.

Hauling him close and falling back on the bed; dragging Vinny down on top of him, and moaning in delight as his bulky weight settles in between his spread legs. He can feel the hard line of Charlie’s cock digging into his hip, but it doesn’t feel off-putting like it normally would, because Charlie’s hard even knowing about Vinny’s size. His dick isn’t suddenly going to go soft once Charlie gets a better look at him.

Charlie wants him just as he is, and god, the heady thrill of it was intoxicating.

He cups Charlie’s cheek gently; feeding him his tongue as he opens up for Vinny so fucking beautifully.

“Your moustache tickles,” Charlie grins; gripping at Vinny’s curls and rolling his hips.

“Sorry.”

“No, I like it. Mark me up, darling.”

“Jesus.” The breath felt like it was punched out of him; he was defenceless against Charlie’s guileless enthusiasm. Has never been so wanted in his whole fucking life.

Charlie paws at Vinny’s clothes and he clambers off the bed to strip down; taking a second when he gets to his underwear, before pushing that down off his hips too, kicking them to the side and climbing back on the bed—tiny prick jutting up from the thatch of curls eagerly.

“Fuck, you’re handsome.” Charlie mewls; wiggling out of his boxer briefs and spreading his legs indecently. “Get in me, Vin. Those balls of yours look like they’re just aching to unload inside me.”

He splutters out a laugh, but he can’t deny that Charlie’s right. the more time he spends with Charlie, the more he wants to push his cock inside him, fill him with his cum and stick around as he grows big and round with his kid.

Vinny smooths a hand up the hair-smattered skin of Charlie’s thigh, feeling the muscle bunch and flex at his gentle touch. He’s so responsive. Not at all like that woman from before. Thinking of her, Vinny grabs the edge of the bedsheet, wiping at his dick, as if to rid any trace of her from him.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asks, amused.

“Getting rid of past mistakes.”

The other man seems to understand; his face softening just a little. “Getting ready for future ones, huh?”

Vinny bends down to kiss the warm flat of Charlie’s belly; nuzzling at the downy-soft hair there and taking a moment to pray that he’ll manage to fuck a baby into him like they both want. “Nothing about this—about you—is a mistake. I know that down to my bones. We’ll both make mistakes though, we are human, but we’ll do it together, right?”

He peers up at Charlie; vulnerable and asking for everything. Charlie looks back; open and raw.

“Right.”

He blows out a breath and then stretching out over the smaller man, he kisses him sweet and tender; grinding the small straining length of his cock down against the soft cushion of Charlie’s balls. Charlie moans, bucking up and wiggling; trying to get Vinny lower.

“You don’t need to finger me or anything—I’m already soft and open—just get in me, Vinny baby.”

“Okay, okay. Never had someone so eager for me to fuck them before, jeez.”

Charlie lightly kicks him in the back of the thigh; biting down on the line of his jaw. “And I told you, there’s no one else like me. So what the hell are you waiting for, Vin?”

He lines up his cock—his own hand too big to hold onto it and have some inches left to actually feed into Charlie’s hole—and pushes in; the leaking tip snagging on his puffy rim and slipping in easily. It doesn’t take long until he’s fully seated, but Charlie moans in pleasure anyway.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck me now.” Charlie twines his arms around Vinny’s neck; his legs around his waist. Vinny grinds into the wet kiss of his hole and fuck, it feels so good. Charlie’s rim flutters around him as he rolls his hips; trying not to thrust in and out, lest his dick slip from Charlies’ snug heat.

He snuffles his face down the length of Charlie’s neck; sucking bruises in to the soft, warm skin. Charlie had told him to mark him, after all.

“Feel so good. Can feel those heavy cum-filled balls slapping against my ass as you give me your pretty, little cock. Can I keep you, Vinny? Please. Could have you inside me like this forever.”

He sobs out a breath; nodding into the curve of Charlie’s neck. “Y—Yes.”

Charlie claws at his back; fucking his peachy ass back on Vinny’s dick, sucking him inside in a way that was making him feel cross-eyed. He reaches in between their sweat-slick bodies to palm Charlie’s cock; stroking it with a firm hand and thumbing at his dripping slit.

“You’re gonna breed me so good, aren’t you? My big boy with his pretty, little cock that feels so perfect inside me.”

“Charlie—” He whines; face flushed with exertion and tears, never having felt like this before.

“So perfect. Can already tell you’re gonna give me a big load—leave me heavy and full aren’t you?” He nods like an eager puppy desperate to please; wanting more of Charlie’s soft words, his fingers in his hair and his legs squeezing his waist as he pushes his small, hard length inside him. “Bet you can go more than once as well, can’t you? Fuck me multiple times before we leave here.”

“Yeah, maybe. For you, I’ll try.” It feels like a declaration, a vow—about their future not just the moment right here.

“For me.” Charlie gasps out a moan as he comes; throwing his head back like the orgasm has taken him by surprise. His hole clenches down around Vinny’s dick again and again; squeezing so tightly, he nearly gets pushed out, but Charlie digs his heels into the meat of Vinny’s ass, keeping him in place.

Vinny comes; spilling his load inside Charlie, whole body shuddering with his release.

“Fuck.” He pants; pressing his face into Charlie’s soft-muscled tits. “That was…”

“Perfect.”

He squints up at Charlie and feels like his heart is bursting. Charlie’s got his eyes closed, a dazed happy smile on his pretty face, and he’s so utterly sincere in what he thinks, that Vinny can’t do anything but believe him.

“Yeah. Perfect.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of Charlie’s mouth and then slips out of him; flopping down beside him and stroking a paw over the other man’s hair.

“Everyone who turned you down before is a fucking fool.” Charlie murmurs; tanned skin glistening with sweat in the low light of the room. “You’ve filled me better than anyone else could’ve, and because you don’t have a massive snake between your legs, it means my ass doesn’t feel sore or bruised, and as soon as you’re hard again, I’m having you back inside me for sure.”

Vinny huffs out a laugh; wiping at his blotchy face. “Have at it. We’re hopefully gonna have a kid together, and fuck—you’re something else, Charlie—my dick is all yours.”

Charlie purrs; curling into him and rubbing up against him. “Excellent.”

+

Five minutes later, Charlie has gotten his breath back, and is climbing into Vinny’s lap; sinking down on his hard-again cock with a contented sigh. Charlie rides him slowly; pressing Vinny’s face into his tits as he tugs on Vinny’s curls.

“Suck bruises into my tits, Vin. Mark ‘em as yours.”

He whines and nods; wrapping his lips around Charlie’s pebbled nipple and making it strain against his tongue; rasping his tongue over it and licking the sweat from his skin. He sucks love bites all over his tits and the jut of his collar bones—bruising him with affection rather than a grip too tight.

Charlie comes all over his belly again as his hips stutter to a halt; pushing his whole weight down on Vinny’s lap so he has no chance of slipping out as he follows the other man over the edge. He empties his balls inside him again; so much seed spurting from his little prick it spills back out to cling to Charlie’s puffy rim and soak his pubic hair.

He groans as Charlie surges forward to kiss him; paws resting on Charlie’s hips, stroking over the soft skin of his ass.

“Think we can go one more round, Champ?” Charlie asks breathlessly.

Vinny can only laugh and say yes.

+

He fucks Charlie from behind. Paws spread over the squish of his hips as he rocks into him. He watches the way Charlie’s cum-slick hole greedily clenches down around him with each undulation, and he loves how he doesn’t hold back—is so free in his wants, glutting himself on Vinny like he was a three course buffet.

His orgasm takes him by surprise.

“Oh shit.”

He pushes in deep and Charlie reaches back to grip at his ass; keeping him in place. It was never a touch that made him feel ashamed about the fact that he might fall out. Charlie only ever did it out of greed, wanting more of him. A silent reminder that Vinny was enough and Charlie liked him exactly how he was.

He groans as his dick pulses inside him; filling Charlie with even more cum. If he wasn’t pregnant after this, then Vinny would be shocked.

He collapses on top of Charlie; the other man somehow having come untouched a few moments before because he was fucking perfect. They fall onto the bed, a sweaty, sticky mess and Vinny laughs; joyous and free.

Charlie just weakly pats him on the ass, a job well done and Vinny nuzzles at his nape, still unable to fully believe he’s ended up here.

+

“Fuck.”

Vinny pulls on his burgundy Henley and looks at Charlie who’s jumping up and down, wiggling into his jeans. He doesn’t think that’ll be comfy, what with the breeding plug in his ass keeping Vinny’s cum in inside him, but the discomfort from that didn’t seem to be the issue. “You okay?”

“What? Oh yeah, just—” Charlie hisses a breath out through his pearly white teeth. “—struggling to do up my jeans.”

“Oh.” Fuck, that was hot.

Charlie waves a hand in defeat and just pulls his big, near-oversized jumper down so it was nearly to mid-thigh. “No one will be able to tell now.”

“Clever.”

The other man winks at him, and Vinny tugs him close; kissing the cheeky grin from his face. “I’m good at bullshitting.” Charlie murmurs when Vinny lets him go. “Gotta be to be a car salesman.”

“And yet you didn’t bullshit about any of this.” Vinny gestures around the room; the rucked up bed sheets, the deepening bruises on Charlie’s neck in the shape of his own mouth, and the wad of tissues in the bin where they’d wiped down Charlie’s furry belly.

“No.” Charlie offers him a shy smile. “Not this. S’too important to be anything less than truthful.”

He holds out his hand to Vinny and Vinny takes it; feeling the smoothness of Charlie’s palm against his own scarred, put-through-the-ringer one. It feels like it was meant to be there.

They unlock the door and leave the room; Charlie tucking himself into Vinny’s side but holding his head up high, back straight and an arrogant arch to his brow, only allowing himself to be small with him.

They’re near the entrance when he hears, “Oi, you there!”

He stops; shoulders tightening and face scrunching up, because he knows it’s the guy who tried to throw him out before.

“Is there a problem?” Charlie asks; a sharpness to his voice that he’d last heard when Charlie had been shouting at the guy with the big dick.

“Yes. The guy you’re with needs to leave.”

“Well, we were already on our way out, but exactly why does he have to leave, specifically?”

“Because, he can’t fulfil the terms of the contract he signed. He’s unable to breed anyone.”

Charlie hums; squeezing Vinny’s hand, a tautness to his spine and a tilt to his head that Vinny’s recognises from many a fight where the ultimate winner decides to smackdown their opponent. “Is that so? You must be the asshole who implied he had, ‘faulty equipment’, yes?”

The Convention staff member clears his throat; shifting from foot to foot, but nodding. “Yes. His dick is useless.”

“Right, right. Clearly you have no idea what you’re on about then, because I can tell you for a fact that his cock works perfectly fine. In fact it’s perfect—” The guy scoffs and goes to interrupt but Charlie silences him with a look and lifts the hem of his jumper, exposing the way his zipper strains to remain closed and how his button is undone. “—see this? This is from he’s fucked three loads inside me, so don’t you dare fucking suggest that any part of him is faulty, alright? He blew my fucking mind and I’ve no doubt he’s bred me good. So shut the fuck up and keep on walking; we’re going home to fuck again.”

There’s a flush spreading down his neck like ink, but he’s so turned on from Charlie defending him and bragging about him, that he doesn’t care. He’s always been the scrappy fighter in the family, it’s nice and unexpected to realise he doesn’t always have to stick up for himself anymore.

That he has someone else in his corner.

“Come on, Rabbit, let’s go.”

Charlie lets himself be gently dragged towards the door and then they’re outside, breathing in the fresh air; the sun just highlighting how goddamn beautiful Charlie was.

“Did you just call me Rabbit?” He asks; blinking at Vinny incredulously.

Vinny shrugs. “Maybe? You’re cute as a bunny, you have a mean thump—even if it’s a metaphorical or verbal one—it rhymes with your surname, and—” He pulls Charlie into his arms; stroking over the ridge of his cheekbone. “—I have a feeling you’re gonna be my lucky Rabbit’s foot.”

Charlie sighs and rolls his eyes, but he’s kissing him, and Vinny thinks maybe he doesn’t mind the pet name as much as he was letting on.

+

When they get back to Charlie’s house, Vinny removes the other man’s watch and rings carefully, placing them on the dresser, and then he strips him naked and bundles him into the shower; getting on his knees as the water sprays down on them to worship Charlie at the altar of his cock until Charlie was spilling down his throat.

“What was that for?” Charlie asks breathlessly; grabbing the shower gel.

“For believing I could win, when to everyone else—even myself—I was already discounted from the match.”

Charlie hums and gives him a smacking wet kiss; hair plastering to their faces. “That’s why I’m different, baby.”

Yeah, he was different. He was incredible.

And somehow he was Vinny’s.

+

“Come on, Vin! You can do it!” Vinny glances into the crowd and sees Charlie there; roaring and yelling with the rest of the crowd; one hand on punching the air wildly with every hit Vinny gets on his opponent, the other cradling his six month baby bump.

He looks exquisite. Something out of Vinny’s dreams come to life. His pops and Coach Kev were next to Charlie, trying to keep him from getting too emotional, because otherwise the baby would be wiggling around for hours, but Charlie always got like this. Ever since he went to his first match after they’d found each other; supporting Vinny 100%.

Vinny sees an opening and knocks his opponent on the floor; the bell sounding 10 seconds later indicating that he’d won. A knock out.

He grins around his mouth guard; throwing his hands up in celebration, jumping out of the ring to wrap Charlie in his arms, because otherwise the pregnant sonofabitch would try climbing into the ring to kiss him in celebration. Again.

Kev takes his mouth guard and gives him some water to swill his mouth out, and then once he’s spit into a bucket, he captures Charlie’s mouth in a kiss; chuckling when Charlie’s nose scrunches up like it does every time he feels the bristles of Vinny’s moustache against his upper lip.

“Knew you could win, baby.”

He presses their foreheads together, just ignoring the press and the crowd around them; only having eyes for Charlie. “That’s cos I got my lucky Rabbit with me.”

Vinny had won every match so far and was two away from winning the belt again. It was slightly insane, but he was happy.

Charlie rolls his eyes fondly; pressing in close so Vinny can feel the curve of his bump against his sweat-slick abs. “You’re lucky I love you, baby, is what you are.”

Yeah, he knew that better than anyone.

Still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Charlie—a sharp-edged, tough-as-nails, exquisite diamond in amongst the rough—but he had, and he was never letting him go.

“I am. I really am.”

“Stop macking by the ring and get in the dressing room,” his pops grumbles, and Vinny just nods; picking Charlie up in a bridal carry and holding him tight.

+

Vinny wins the championship belt again when Charlie’s eight and a half months pregnant, and retires the very next day. His pops and Kev had grumbled a little, but once he explained that he was doing it because he didn’t want to miss out on his kid’s life—one wrong punch to the head able to knock him down in more than just a game—they’d given up trying to change his mind.

Charlie had just curled up in their bed; Vinny a line of heat behind him and wrapped Vinny’s arm around his big bump. “You don’t bullshit with the romantic gestures huh?” He chuckles wetly.

“Not with this. You know that. I’m gonna coach—Kev will give me some tips, and I kinda know what I’m on about. But my life is here now, with you and our baby. Not in the ring.”

“You’re making me cry.”

“Everything makes you cry these days.” He grunts as Charlie elbows him in the gut; kissing his nape. “M’sorry, only teasing.”

Charlie huffs. “You’re only playing nice now because you’re thirsty.”

He couldn’t deny it. Ever since Charlie’s milk had come in, Vinny had been desperate for it; loves suckling on his fat, pouty nipples and feeling the sweet liquid trickle down his throat. Loves being so close to the man he’s come to love and adore.

Loves how sweetly Charlie moans as he nurses from him.

He’d had to put in extra effort to keep the weight off whilst he was still competing, but it had been worth it, just to experience this with Charlie.

“Please, my love. It’ll feel good for you too. You know it will.” He begs; grinning in victory when Charlie sighs and rolls over, undoing his zip hoodie.

“Fine. But don’t make a mess.”

Vinny’s already skimming his hand down over Charlie’s swollen belly to fist his half-hard cock; stroking it languidly as he nuzzles at the heavy weight of his breast. “Come on, Rabbit. You know you love making a mess.”

Charlie moans; bucking up into Vinny’s fist. And then there’s a hand clutching at his curls, and Vinny’s mouth is wrapped around Charlie’s teat, and he’s swallowing down greedy mouthfuls of milk until Charlie is shuddering out his release all over his belly, and Vinny spills in his boxers; the way Charlie responds to him so beautifully, still the sexiest fucking thing.

He noses his way downwards, licking his lips, and then he rasps his tongue over Charlie’s stomach, lapping at his cum.

At least trying to keep the mess to a minimum.

+

“Did you get Claribel down?” Vinny pants; hands full of Charlie’s ass where his husband ruts on top of him; grinding his hard cock into the softened muscle of Vinny’s belly and smearing pre-cum all over him as Vinny toys with his hole.

“Uh huh. She fell asleep after I read her the one about the animals.” Charlie moans; licking and kissing Vinny’s neck.

“That doesn’t narrow it down, Rabbit.” He chuckles; their 2-year-old daughter having at least fifteen story books about animals.

Charlie lifts his head to glare at him. “You want to discuss our Princess’ book collection, or do you want to fuck another baby into me?”

Like there was ever gonna be another answer to that question.

He rolls Charlie over and captures his lips in a fierce kiss; pushing his cock into his lube-slick hole, swallowing down the moan of pleasure Charlie lets out, even all this time later—like he still loved having Vinny inside him.

He kisses every part of Charlie he can reach; nipping at the nub of his nipple and winking up at his husband, because if he breeds him again, then he’ll get to drink his milk again, and god he’s missed it. Charlie tugs at his hair; directing him to his other tit as Vinny grinds his cock into the soft kiss of his hole.

Charlie was insatiable for him, and Vinny was exactly the same.

They can’t get enough of each other, and Vinny loved Charlie to death. His mom and pops loved him too, and doted on Claribel like the best of Grandparents. Their baby girl even had grumpy Coach Kev wrapped around her little finger.

And Raymond adored his niece, which Charlie said was because she was a mini-him. Vinny didn’t mind; Charlie’s brother having told Charlie he liked Vinny after their first few minutes—a higher rating of approval he couldn’t really get.

Vinny enjoyed coaching and he didn’t miss being in the ring. Was happy being a dad and a husband now. Perfectly willing to fight his own battles, but also happy to watch Charlie tear down anyone who tried to threaten their well-fought-for happiness.

Charlie never tore him down though; only ever lifted him up.

Made him feel like every day was the day he won the championship belt for the first time.

(And seeing the belt wrapped around Charlie’s big bump was a sight permanently engraved in Vinny’s mind forever and ever, fucking hell).

He pants out Charlie’s name as he comes; pumping his load inside his husband, and blinking away tears of happiness at how Charlie holds him tight; stroking his curls as he makes a mess between their bellies.

“Love you, Rabbit.” He whispers into Charlie’s skin; never having meant anything more. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Love you too, Vin. And nothing to thank me for. Loving you was as easy as my first car sale.”

He huffs out a laugh, but he knows Charlie means it. Loves him without the bullshit he used in his job as well.

And Vinny loves him. Completely.

From the moment he first saw him, Charlie had been the only contender for Vinny’s heart.

And Vinny knows he’ll remain the reigning champion from now until eternity.

Chapter Text

Jeff pulls down the sleeve of his Henley; hiding the pink band around his wrist. He’s not embarrassed about being here, about wanting a kid, he’s just….cautious…about who sees that that’s what he wants.

That he wants to be the one to carry the baby.

His hand comes to his belly, almost subconsciously. It was still new, this desire for a life. Had thought he’d never get the chance; that Spiderhead prison was going to be where he ended up dead. But he wasn’t. He was alive, and free, if alone.

He’s lost everything. His girlfriend and best friend killed by the car accident that had put Jeff in prison in the first place. And having nothing had been fine when he’d been stuck in the confines of Spiderhead, never to get out, but once he’d managed to escape and had tried to scrape some semblance of a life together, he’d realised with a punch to the gut, that he could’ve died in prison and no one—not one person on Earth who hadn’t been stuck in the prison with him—would’ve known or even cared.

How pathetic was that?

His whole existence would’ve been nothing more than a meagre footnote in some research paper, someone somewhere would write about in years to come, about the failure of Steve Abnesti and Spiderhead prison.

And Jeff didn’t want that. He wanted someone to care of and love him, and he thinks his own child might be able to do that, so long as he loved and cared for it in return. Which he would, unconditionally.

God, he’d love his kid with everything he had, if he had the chance.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous going after it though. And if he was honest, he was probably being a bit hasty. He had a job stacking shelves, but he doubts the money will be enough to support him and a kid. He just…he’s so tired of going home to an empty flat and seeing nothing but bare walls and failure.

He wants to create some memories, and have a life. One worth living anyway. Fill a wall with photos that he can look at, at any point in the day and be unable not to smile at. Wipe mushed up baby food from his child’s face. Take them to the park and listen to their squealing laughter. Dress up in matching Halloween costumes and go trick or treating.

It’s a visceral want in his belly; swirling around like butterflies. He feels like he might throw up. Maybe he should get used to that feeling though if he wants a kid.

Jeff looks around in a slightly panicked daze. There were so many people here.

He makes his way to the anonymous breeding booths; doesn’t want to go into a private breeding room and have to explain his record, or his pathetic not-even-worth-talking-about life. He’d never find someone to breed him that way.

“Excuse me,” he says; trying to slip past a group of people, despite his bulky frame getting in the way. They move without looking at him, and Jeff sees a breeding booth open up. He walks towards it, but never makes it there; a firm grip on his wrist, the one with the pink band wrapped around it peeking out from the bottom of his sleeve, guides him in the direction of one of the private rooms.

“This way, Babygirl.”

He’s too stunned to splutter out a reply; feet following in the direction the calloused hand on his skin was guiding him in, without thought. He blames it on the way the deliciously rasping voice ripples its way down his spine. He faintly hears gasps and murmurs at some kind of commotion further in the crowd, but the door to a private breeding room clicks and locks shut before he has chance to crane his neck and find out what’s caused it.

“We’ll just stay in here a little while, until that’s all died down.”

Jeff fully takes in the man who’s dragged him in here, and his eyes widen. He’s….fuck, he’s gorgeous. Silver hair, green eyes, a sharp curve to his mouth. He was wearing a grey suit and a white shirt; buttons undone at his throat. He was slightly shorter than Jeff, but there was a way about him that reminded Jeff of a panther, a predator.

There was no doubt he was dangerous, and yet…

“Uh, hi?”

The man smirks; taking off his jacket and folding it neatly over the back of a chair. He folds back the sleeves of his shirt, exposing corded forearms, covered in a smattering of dark hair. “Hello, Babygirl.”

Jeff gulps; trying and failing to ignore the way his dick plumps up in his jeans. “My name’s Jeff actually.”

“Vincent.”

He moves to sit down on the edge of the bed; brushing his hands over this thighs, “Uh, good to meet you, Vincent. You want to, maybe, tell me why you brought me in here?”

“Maybe I wanted some company.”

He huffs; not failing to notice the gun in the back of Vincent’s waistband. “Or maybe you wanted an alibi?”

Vincent quirks an eyebrow, but his green eyes are assessing; like Jeff’s surprised him. “And why would I need an alibi, hmm, Babygirl?”

He rolls his eyes; has a feeling that Vincent is going to call him that no matter what and he might as well get used to it. Not that he was expecting to be around Vincent long, but still. “I dunno. You’re the one with the gun and the dangerous aura about you. You tell me. Did you kill someone or something?”

Vincent tilts his head; shrugging loose and easy as he sits down next to him. “If I said yes, how would that go down?”

“Can’t say I’d be surprised.” He sighs; carding a hand through his curls. “I didn’t hear a gunshot, so I assume you killed whoever some other way?”

“You’re not a cop right?”

He snorts out a laugh. “No. Fuck no. I stack shelves in my local store. Not many jobs for an ex-con around.”

Vincent reaches up to brush his fingertips over Jeff’s cheek; tracing the scars he has to remind him of the accident that changed his life, forever. “And what’s a pretty boy like you doing being sent to prison, hmm?”

He swallows thickly; breathing in the woodsy cologne the clung to Vincent’s skin. “Manslaughter. They didn’t quite believe it was an accident. Apparently losing my girlfriend and best friend wasn’t enough of a punishment.”

“The government and justice system is filled with fools, Babygirl.” Vincent scoffs, “I wouldn’t take it personally. But in answer to your question, as far as anyone will be able to tell, the guy out there died of a heart attack.”

Jeff figures he must be some kind of hitman. It would make sense. How he was so able to slip into the crowd after killing a guy, with not even a hair out of place. No one would guess it was him who had done it; Jeff could see the charm that others would be so easily fooled by. Unless they looked at Vincent’s eyes—those green eyes sharp, and cunning, and wary like a predator waiting to strike.

The competence and danger that surrounded him, as well as Vincent’s beauty, was making arousal thrum in Jeff’s veins. He’d never been with a guy before, but he’d known if he wanted a kid, he was gonna have to get comfortable with a dick being inside him, and well, he found it was pretty easy to get on board with the idea of Vincent pinning him down and stuffing him full.

He glances at Vincent’s wrist and see’s a circle of blue. The perfect complement to his pink wristband.

“I see. So, uh…are you only here at the convention to kill your target, or did you actually plan on, uh—”

“Breeding someone?” Vincent chuckles. “Having a kid has never been in my plan.”

“Oh.” He fails to contain his disappointment. Jeff knows he should probably be happy; a hitman’s not exactly father material, and he barely knows Vincent, but he can’t help but feel like life would be more interesting if he let Vincent get him pregnant. Like they’d create memories and so much more.

“At least not until very recently anyway.”

He flicks his gaze to Vincent’s face; wetting his lips nervously. “What—What do you mean?”

Vincent shucks him under the chin, “Why are you here, Babygirl? Why do you want someone to fuck a baby into you?”

“Oh. I’m tired of being alone and lonely. I don’t have anyone or anything to my name, and I just, I guess I want a family of my own. I want someone to l—love and care for. A silly desire, I know.”

The older man grips his chin and shakes Jeff’s head gently; the callouses from where he’s spent years handling a gun making him shiver as they rasp over his skin. “The desire for human connection isn’t silly, Jeff. It’s not one I’ve ever really had, but I can understand why you might want it.”

“You don’t want it with me though, right?”

Vincent purses his lips in thought; a smirk curling at the edges. “You asking if I want to breed you, Babygirl? Have a family with you?” Jeff opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. “No one else caught your fancy?”

He shakes his head. “No. I know you’re dangerous and a hitman, but I don’t care. You’re not going to hurt me or our kid if we had one, right?”

“I don’t harm kids or innocent people.” Jeff jolts; hasn’t thought of himself as innocent in a very long time.

“Well then, as long as you promised to never hurt us, then I’d happily let you fuck me full of kids; everything else we could just work out as we go.” He chuckles sheepishly; rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flush. He wasn’t good at this. Has no idea why Vincent would even want to accept his offer. He clearly doesn’t want to be tied down; doesn’t want to be connected to someone else. Hitmen work alone. He’s a fool to hope otherwise. “But it’s fine, you clearly don’t want that.”

Vincent arches a brow. “You making decisions for me, Babygirl?”

He gulps. “N—No.”

“Thought so.” His grin makes Jeff want to bare his neck and have him press his teeth in deep until he’s covered in marks. Vincent’s marks. “And I’ve been thinking about retiring anyway. That could be my last job. I could see myself settling down with a cute boy like you; fucking you pregnant and keeping you heavy with my seed. Maybe we could get married too. I’ve heard the tax benefits are worth it.”

Jeff splutters out a laugh, “Oh, you’re a romantic, I see.”

“If you wanted romance you wouldn’t be wanting to get split open on my cock, Babygirl. You’d be out there finding someone else to stuffy that pussy full.”

His eyes widen at Vincent speaking about his body like that, but he can’t stop the way his cheeks flush red, or the way his dick is starting to leak into his underwear. “I don’t want anyone else.”

Vincent trails a hand down his chest to cup the bulge of Jeff’s cock; giving it a squeeze. Jeff bites back a pained moan; hips bucking up without his say so. “Is that so?”

“Just want you, Vincent. Please.”

The older man grasps him by his curls; tugging his head back to expose his throat. Jeff gasps out a breath as Vincent rasps a wet stripe up over his Adam’s apple, biting down and sucking a bruise into the underside of his jaw. “You want me to stuff your pussy full of my come? Breed you good, hmm? Want to give you a big load and get you heavy and pregnant with my kid? Give you the family your heart’s been crying out for?”

Jeff whimpers; rocking up into the curve of his palm. “Yes, please. All of that, yes. I want that. I want you.”

Vincent nibbles his way up the length of Jeff’s neck; leaving mark after mark against his flushed skin, “You realise, if I’m not out doing hits, I’m gonna need something—or someone—to keep me occupied at home. Think you can do that, Jeff? Gonna let me keep that pussy of yours blown open and dripping with my come?”

“Do whatever you want,” he pants; trying to get his fingers to co-operate and undo the buttons on Vincent’s shirt. “just please fuck me.”

Green eyes rove over his face; brow furrowing in confusion. “You’d give yourself to a trained killer, so easily?”

“Not just any trained killer. Just the really fucking hot one who’s sitting right next to me.” He internally cheers as he gets Vincent’s shirt open and can run his hands all over the firm muscle; fingers toying with the line of hair under his navel. “And anyway, I thought you said you were retiring?”

Vincent looks at him for a moment longer, and then huffs out a laugh; standing up and pulling Jeff’s Henley over his head, pushing him back against the bed and ripping the jeans down his legs. He gets rid of his socks, shoes and underwear as well, until Jeff is naked except for the gold chain around his neck.

“I’m a possessive fuck, Jeff. If I have you, I’m not letting you go. No one else will be allowed to touch you. I’ll kill anyone who tries.”

Jeff bites his lip as he watches Vincent strip with ruthless efficiency. He strokes his cock languidly; hole clenching in want as he watches Vincent removes his shirt and the rest of his suit; putting his gun in the table at the side. He knows he shouldn’t find it so hot, but he does. It makes his balls ache, and those butterflies swirl in his belly again. He wants a child with someone who will protect them, and he knows no one is going to sneak up on Vincent.

“Is everything you do so hot?”

Vincent grins at him sharply and climbs on the bed; spreading Jeff’s legs and slapping his hand away from his cock. “You tell me, Babygirl. And no touching yourself. That’s my cock to play with now. Understood?”

He jerks out a nod; a glob of precome spurting from the fat tip of cock, dripping onto his flushed belly. “Sure, whatever. Can you just fuck me now though? I’m like really horny.”

“I can tell.” Vincent slips a hand under Jeff’s balls, probing downwards. “Let’s see if your pussy hole spreads as easily as your legs, shall we?” He presses two digits inside; crooking them and rubbing against Jeff’s prostate. He moans; hands clenching at the bedsheets. It’s an alien feeling having something inside him, but it feels good. And he wants Vincent’s cock.

“I drank the water. I don’t need stretching, please, Vincent.” He paws at the older man’s shoulders, trying to drag him close; fingertips brushing over long ago healed scars and warm skin. “Just get your cock in me. Please.”

Vincent pulls his fingers free and skims them up over Jeff’s balls to circle the wet tip of his straining cock. Jeff mewls; long legs flailing and spreading wide. “Oh, you beg so prettily, darling. I’ll give you my cock, don’t worry.”

He grasps Jeff by the hips and hitches his legs around his waist. He lines up his cock with Jeff’s fluttering entrance; bracing a gun-rough hand by Jeff’s ear and leaning over him as he pushes into the wet clutch of his hole.

Jeff scrunches his eyes closed as Vincent’s cock fills him inch by thick inch, until his balls slap against the swell of his ass. He’s so full. Can barely breathe with all of Vincent inside him.

“Eyes on me, Babygirl.” He blinks them open to see Vincent’s gorgeous face, scant inches in front of his own. “That’s it. Your cunt’s taken my cock so well. I just know your womb is going to do the same for my seed.”

He trembles underneath him; hands splaying over Vincent’s back. “You going to kiss me while you breed me, Vincent?”

The other man answers by smashing their lips together; feeding Jeff his tongue as he pulls his hips back and slams his cock back into him. Jeff whines; opening his mouth up even further for Vincent to lick into him, as Vincent hammers his prostate with every thrust.

“Look at you; make such pretty noises for me, darling. Your pussy is just sucking me inside you—you really do want me to fuck you full with my come and knock you up, don’t you?”

“Please. Please breed me.”

Vincent speeds up his thrusts; kissing Jeff again and marking more of his neck and chest with stinging bites. He slaps Jeff’s hand away from his cock again when he tries to touch himself to tip over the edge; pinning Jeff’s arms above his head and fucking into him deeper. “ You come on my cock, or not at all, Babygirl.”

Jeff keens as Vincent nuzzles his way downwards; biting at the nook of his armpit and sucking on the hard nub of his nipple.

“Now, you going to be a good Babygirl and come so I can stuff you full, or are you going to disappoint daddy?”

His head lolls back and forth against the pillows; tears spilling from his eyes. He doesn’t want to disappoint Vincent. His orgasm rips through him as Vincent’s cock rubs torturously against his prostate; ruddy cock spurting ropes of semen all over his belly.

Vincent drags his tongue over Jeff’s cheek and ear; shoving his cock as deep as possible as he spills hot and wet inside Jeff’s womb; giving him his heavy load. Jeff writhes underneath as Vincent breeds him; the ache inside him lessening with each rope of come painting his insides. “So good for me, darling. You’re going be such a good mommy for them.”

“And you’re—” Jeff pants; carding fingers through Vincent’s soft, greying hair as the older man slumps down on top of him, “—daddy, right?”

“Yours and our baby’s daddy, yes.”

“Fair enough.” He lets out a weak laugh, enjoying the feel of the older man on top of him. “You think it took?”

Vincent splays his hand over Jeff’s throat; thumb stroking up down the vulnerable length of it. He could so easily squeeze tight and kill him, but Jeff trusts him, despite everything else saying he shouldn’t. “You mean, do I think I bred you good, like you deserve? Put a baby in that belly of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“I think, I’ll happily try again and again if I haven’t. And even if I have, I’ll still fuck you over and over until you’re addicted to the way I ruin your pussy.” Vincent rolls them on the bed and grips Jeff’s waist where he’s now straddling him. “Ride me, Babygirl. Let me see those pretty tits of your jiggle while they’re still flat.” He smooths a rough hand up to cup and squeeze one of Jeff’s tits, plucking at his nipple making him moan. “Then I can compare it to when your heavy with my baby and your tits are full of milk. See which one I prefer.”

Jeff just rolls his eyes, and then starts to roll his hips; happy to play his part in Vincent’s experiment.

Just happy he’s found someone to do this all with.

Even if he’s a bit of an unconventional choice.

+

“Exactly how much money did you make as a hitman?” Jeff asks; eyes agog as he takes in Vincent’s fancy home. After they’d fucked again and then left the convention (no one any the wiser that it was Vincent who killed the guy), the ex-hitman had asked if Jeff wanted to move into his house. Jeff had been quick to reply, saying he didn’t have much to his name. A quick trip to his flat to pack a measly  bag of his belongings and they were now here.

Vincent pads into the house; starting a fire in the large fireplace in the living room, putting a grate in front of it. “That last job I just did got me $200,000.”

“$200,000? Fucking hell.” Jeff whistles lowly; hand coming to splay over his belly that felt heavy with all the come Vincent had pumped him full of. “You mean I’ve managed to find a guy who’s not only hot and deadly, but rich too?”

“Mmhmm. For most people the deadly part is a turn off, but seems you’ve got a screw loose in that regards, which lucky for me, because your pussy is heaven.”

Jeff flushes; taking off his shoes and wandering into the living room to join the man he was now going to have a family with. The breeding plug in his ass shifts as he moves and he bites back a moan. The house was decorated with stuff that was obviously expensive, but it had a homely and cosy feel to it, rather than something sleek and lacking any personality, so Jeff could easily see himself living here.

“Nice rug,” he says; toeing at the fur rug on the floor. “It’s not real fur, right?”

“Of course not. I told you I don’t like killing innocents. It’s high-quality faux fur. I like the way it tickles my feet.”

Jeff grins. That was pretty cute. “Fair enough. What did you want to do now?”

“I want to suck your cock with you splayed out on this rug. That okay with you, Babygirl?”

He blinks, and then nods; dick perking up again. “Uh, sure. Do I get to touch you as well? Because I’d like to.”

Vincent rolls his eyes as he starts stripping; sighing like he was reluctantly allowing Jeff to touch him; the way his cock smacked against his belly as he freed it though, suggested he was very much up for the idea. “Fine, if I let you eat my ass, will that stop you whining?”

His mouth floods with saliva at the thought of getting to bury his face in between those peachy ass cheeks. “Yep. That’ll work.”

“Get naked then. I don’t have all day.”

He bites back a smirk and quickly strips; settling on the rug, moaning as the breeding plug rubs against his prostate. He watches as Vincent places his feet either side of Jeff’s ribcage, standing above him.

“I don’t generally give my back to people, Jeff. So, I’m trusting you not to betray me here. You won’t like it if you do, okay?”

Jeff curls his hand around Vincent’s ankle; thumbing over the curve of bone. “Vincent, I’m not gonna betray you. I just want to pleasure you. You told me you wouldn’t hurt me or our kid, and I won’t hurt you either. Okay?”

The older man exhales and then gets on his hands and knees; ass now in Jeff’s face. Jeff palms over his thigh and presses a kiss to the curve of his ass, and then spreads his cheeks before Vincent can decide he doesn’t get to have this after all.

“I’ll make you feel good, Daddy. I swear.” He flicks his tongue out to tentatively lick over the puckered furl of Vincent’s hole, and delights in the shiver that ripples through him.

“I bet I’ll last longer than you though, Babygirl. You’re always so desperate for it,” Vincent taunts, and then he wraps his mouth round the wet tip of Jeff’s cock, swallowing him down to the root; a hand fondling his balls as the other uses his thigh for balance.

Jeff moans into the cleft of Vincent’s ass, grips his hips hard enough to bruise and then sets about trying to give Vincent some competition. He slurps and licks at Vincent’s hole; hoping Vincent will let him do this again, as the other man sucks on his cock like he’s getting paid for it.

He gives it his best shot to hold out, but Vincent suckles on the tip and rolls his balls in his palm, and Jeff’s coming down his throat with a gasped out warning; pulling Vincent’s ass back against his face as he feasts on it in desperation.

Vincent comes all over his chest a few minutes later; hot breath ghosting over Jeff’s softening dick, as Jeff laps at his softened hole, dragging every drop out of him.

“Told you I’d win,” Vincent pants; stubbled cheek resting on Jeff’s thigh.

Jeff just hums, because if you asked him, he now had Vincent, so he was the real winner.

+

“You—ah fuck—made a decision—oh yes, just there—yet?” Jeff’s nails dig into Vincent’s chest as he bounces on his dick; six month pregnancy bump pressing down on Vincent’s flat belly each time Jeff sunk down on his hard cock.

“About what, Babygirl?” Vincent smooths a hand up his spine to curl around his nape; the other rubbing over the stretched gape of his rim where he was stuffed full of Vincent’s dick.

“If you prefer my tits like this or flat?”

The older man frowns for a moment before he laughs, remembering their conversation from the first day they met. “Oh, a decision like that can’t be so easily decided, darling. I’m going to need to do this many more times to truly make my mind up.”

Jeff shakes his head in fond amusement. He knew that’s what Vincent would say. Not that Jeff would tell him no, he was addicted to having Vincent inside him. His ass (or pussy as Vincent called it) was permanently gaping open nowadays; usually dripping Vincent’s come too. Seems an ex-hitman has a lot of time for fucking now he doesn’t need to go out and kill people. Jeff loves it.

He loves Vincent too.

Hasn’t told him yet though. Isn’t sure Vincent wants to hear about something as pedestrian as that. They’re together and are going to stay together, and that’s enough.

“You have any thought about getting married for tax benefits?” Vincent asks once Jeff’s come all over their bellies and he’s given him another sticky load.

Jeff blinks; fingers tracing nonsense patterns over Vincent’s chest. He looks into those green eyes, and sees the hint of vulnerability that Vincent can’t quite hide anymore, and dips his head bashfully. For tax benefits, he mentally snorts. Yeah, maybe he’s not the only one who’s come to feel something for the other over the past six months.

“Sure. You know I love a tax benefit.”

Vincent grins and squeezes his hips, before pulling him down to kiss him.

+

They get married the following week.

Jeff cries and blames it on the pregnancy hormones.

Vincent kisses him like he’s the most precious thing in the world and he’ll kill anyone who even thinks of hurting him.

It’s a vow in and of itself, even if he doesn’t say any words out loud.

+

“Vincent?” Jeff mumbles sleepily in the middle of the night, feeling the other man get out of bed.

“Go back to sleep, Babygirl. I’ll be back in a day or so.” Vincent strokes a hand over Jeff’s arm, before Jeff hears the faint sounds of him getting dressed.

“Where are you going?”

“To take care of someone who’s made threats against me and what’s mine.” That means you, Vincent doesn’t say. Jeff curls an arm around his large belly; their baby due in a few weeks. Vincent’s retired from being a hitman, but Jeff knew when he agreed to fuck him that first time, that he’d never give up killing completely. Not when there were people in the world who only sought to cause harm.

“Okay. Stay safe and come back to me alive, yeah?”

Vincent stands in front of him, now fully dressed. He bends down and kisses him; rubbing a hand over Jeff’s bump. “I’ll be back before you know it. I want you wet and open for when I am, okay, darling?”

He hums into another kiss and nods; snuggling into the pillows. Vincent brushes a hand over his curls, and then he’s slipping out the room silently, his cologne teasing Jeff’s nostrils as he falls back asleep.

+

When Vincent walks back into their house 26 hours later, Jeff doesn’t even get out a hello before the older man is pushing him into the sofa cushions, pulling his sweatpants down, freeing his own cock and slamming into him with a desperation that was bordering on primal.

Jeff lets Vincent devour his mouth; snapping his hips in short, sharp thrusts; a hand splaying over his baby bump and never moving. He sees the blood caked under Vincent’s fingernails, and smells the faint traces of gunpowder on his clothes, but he doesn’t care.

He’s unharmed, and he came back, and he did it to protect him and their baby.

Vincent loves them in his own way, and he’ll never be anything but thankful for that.

+

“Oh god, that feels good,” Jeff groans in pleasure as Vincent massages his foot.

“You’re such a pampered princess, Babygirl.”

“Who’s fault is that, hmm? If you hadn’t knocked me up three times in three years, maybe I’d be less of one, but seeing as you have, and it’s your fault my feet are swollen again, I think it’s only fair that you massage my feet.”

Vincent snorts out a laugh; digging his thumb right into the arch of his foot, relieving the pressure there. “You could say no to my cock in your ass,” he says, like he didn’t fuck Jeff multiple times a day sometimes.

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Jeff rubs a hand over his bump; their third child going to be here in a couple of months’ time. “Where are the troublesome twosome anyway?”

Clarice was the oldest, and Rory was currently the baby; though not for much longer. Jeff loves them to death, and Vincent—

He was the best father they could ask for. He was still dangerous, yes, but never with the kids; always so gentle with them, whilst teaching them how to survive in such a cruel world.

“They’re napping. Which is what you should be doing.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “I want to spend time with my husband. With my eyes open. I’ll sleep later.”

“You mean once I’ve fucked you to sleep.”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Vincent shakes his head; grabbing his other foot and massaging it. They hadn’t had anyone try to intrude on their happiness for over a year; Vincent having disposed of the last threat. The way Vincent had looked after he’d returned home—like he’d thought for a second that what they’d built together could’ve been lost and it had shocked him to the core—was the reason Jeff had just spread his legs wide and ran his hands over Vincent’s back when he’d begged to breed him again, only a month after he’d given birth to Rory.

Vincent never begged for anything; he wasn’t going to deny him when he did. Especially when he was begging for more of their family to love and protect.

“I love you, Vincent,” he says, quietly. He still doesn’t say it very often, only when he thinks the other man needs to hear it.

“I know, Jeff,” Vincent looks at him, and the panther is still there. Not caged or domesticated, just waiting to unleashes its claws on whoever is unfortunate enough to poke the beast. “And you know—” he works his throat, the words getting stuck; a lost look on his face as he tried to grapple with dealing with emotions he hadn’t felt before.

Jeff grabs his hand that was resting on his belly and squeezes it, looking at Vincent with brown eyes burning bright. He knows Vincent loves him; would kill for him and has. Multiple times. For the kids as well.

His love is shown in the protection he offers, and the gentleness with which he touches Jeff when he could so easily hurt him. It’s in the baskets of toys dotted around the house, and the photos on the wall. It’s the well-thought out Halloween costumes that Vincent makes sure they have because he knows Jeff likes to celebrate that holiday.

Vincent shows his love by never letting Jeff feel alone or lonely, and never letting their kids feel like their daddy doesn’t cherish and adore them.

He’s given Jeff a family and a life, and he doesn’t care if he can’t say those three words, because he doesn’t need to.

His love is written in blood and bullets, the security of money and the offering of his back with no hesitation.

It’s ruthless and unconventional, but no less all-consuming or devoted. The marks sucked into Jeff’s neck, chest and thighs showing exactly how possessive he is.

“I know,” he says; smiling at Vincent softly, “I know. The kids know too.”

Vincent nods and goes back to massaging his feet, and Jeff sinks back against the arm of the sofa, the ache inside him that longed for a life worth living, killed a long time ago.

But then that’s what happens when you give your heart to a hitman.

And Vincent’s kill list was flawless.