AN: For the prompt "Valjean decides to follow in his sister's footsteps and impregnate Javert with seven children over time, except that he plans to see them and their 'father' as well-supported. Valjean's reasoning is hokey and Javert has twins at some point.
I.
Francois was a lovely mistake made in passion and planning.
"Did you take the impotency herbs, Monsieur?" Javert had asked, direct and prepared even during his heat.
"Of course, Javert," Madeleine had lied, stroking down Javert's belly to grasp his cock as he thrust into the man's wet heat, moaning at the thought of the strict, upright Inspector becoming rich with his child (his child of love and prosperity).
Javert gasped as he felt Madeleine come, the man's knot swelling and hardening and ensuring his plot's success.
II.
Christine was no such one-sided wish.
Javert had sat in the rocking chair by the fireside, his nightshirt open to accommodate Francois suckling on his milk-swollen teat as he absentmindedly stroked the infant's hair. His demeanor, though still icy at times, was warming (just as Madeleine had hoped) with the presence of the child and the aftereffects of his pregnancy. It took all of Madeleine's self-control not to jump the man right there, though somehow he was able to wait for their nursemaid to take the child before he was nearly carrying Javert to bed.
Francois had been born a month ago, and yet Javert's belly remained soft, his hips wider than before. When Madeleine stroked them, felt between the man's thicker thighs for his cock, Javert tried to push him away despite the wetness seeping from his hole.
"I'm afraid the child has left me soft for the time being, Monsieur," Javert said, eyes lowered, "If you wish to wait for the next heat, I'm sure it will have subsided."
Madeleine answered him with a bruising kiss, noting that even his lips seemed softer and plumper than before. He gently inserted himself into the warm heat of the man's body, coming nearly instantly with his head pressed against Javert's growing teats (for they would ripen, round out more fully with another child inside him and Francois still nursing).
"Are you sure it is secure?" Javert asked, shifting to take the knot deeper, "I would hate to wait another month."
III.
Neither the third child's begetting, nor her name, was typical of the man Madeleine had known.
"I want another," Javert had stated plainly, hand on his still-distended belly as he watched Francois try to brush his younger sister's hair. The two were barely nine months apart, and their devotion to one another, even as toddlers, brought tears to Madeleine's eyes.
He had gotten up then, crossed the room to pull his children onto his lap as he watched Javert tie his robe a bit tighter (the man practically lived in them now, with him still nursing the two) and sway into the bedroom, rounded bottom and hips shamelessly displayed.
Madeleine waited a few moments before he put Christine and Francois into their cribs, kissing each goodnight and closing the door of the nursery before fairly racing to the bedroom.
When Javert, nine months later, told him the girl was to be called Jeanette, he could have evaporated from joy.
IV and V.
Philippe and Annette were named for love and grace.
"It's going to be twins, mark me," Javert said with a laugh as Madeleine lay his head upon the man's broad stomach, kissing it through the thin fabric of the nightshirt it seemed Javert wore permanently now.
"I hope it is," Madeleine whispered into his skin, hands gripping Javert's wide hips and softly stroking them, "You're fit for them."
"Our mare had them last week, the nursemaid said. And I do consider myself a better breeder than her, at this point," Javert said, smiling down and giving his belly a gentle rub.
"You are talented in that aspect, mon cher," Madeleine murmured, reaching to unbutton the nightshirt so he could admire Javert's breasts (for they were far too round, too deliciously fecund to be called anything but now), "but you are more than that to me. You are my life, the one who has brought light and love forth from emptiness."
Javert merely smiled coyly again before pulling him into a kiss.
========
There were no traces of the man left, Valjean realized (perhaps there hadn't been since Jeanette) as he watched the man easily open his nightshirt so both of the new babies could suckle at him, pawing hungrily for the bounty Javert could provide.
When he saw Javert beam as he held one twin in each arm, dimples creased the man's cheeks, as though through bringing new life forth, he had lost years of his own.
VI.
"A good breeder," they gossiped of the mayor's elusive consort, taking the small glimpses of Javert and the nursemaid's stories and spinning them into a web, "hips finer than a woman's and a belly rich as a field. In seed every nine months-you'd think Monsieur le Maire wouldn't be such a stallion, either!"
It was true-Javert did indeed rarely leave the house now, due at first to the demands of Francois and the pains after first childbirth, but now he merely disliked the idea. His world was here, among his sons and daughters and the joy they gave him (nor did he keep any pains now from birthing for longer than half a week).
He did still keep his old trousers and shirts in a drawer somewhere, though he knew he was likely to never fit into them again. However, placing his hand on his belly, warm and round and once again swollen with child, he didn't think he'd even want to. He found the fullness of his body delicious, the breasts he had once so feared having as glorious in their ripeness, the sway of his buttocks erotic.
Javert sighed, lying back in his shared bed for his . The doctor had recommended it after the twins had been born, and Jean had told him there'd be no more children if he couldn't take care of his body.
Jean.
He had known for years, of course, and had planned to arrest the man immediately after birthing Francois and sending him to an orphanage. A moment with the babe, though, and the memories of the man tenderly rubbing oil into his belly and whispering to the child inside it had shattered his illusions.
He had become yet another soft, fertile Omega always with child at the hands of his Jean, and yet he was too overjoyed with the man's love to care.
"Jean," he whispered, "after his father."
Valjean knew he had saved himself by loving this man, and what was more Godly than spreading love?
7.
Seven children. Seven living children.
And another newly seeded, he thought with a smile, moaning as the delicious fullness of his belly and teats was added to by his Jean's thick, virile cock. It was a wonder the man still had time to run a town with all the time he spent in bed with Javert, kissing and sucking and groping the bearer of his children until they were both spent.
A particularly hard thrust knocked Javert forward from his position on his hands and knees, causing his milk-rounded breasts and full belly to give a bounce forward as he regained his ground, moaning as he felt the warm come fill him with the swelling of Jean's knot.
"Are you alright, mon cher?" Jean asked, giving Javert's belly a rub the way one would a dog as he positioned himself.
"More than all right," Javert answered, shifting so he could feel the complete width of the knot stretch him, trapping the luscious fluid inside him where it belonged. He was devoted to this man, his beloved Jean. Father of his children, provider for their family. "I'm more than ready for another."
Jean moaned then, reaching to massage one of Javert's breasts with a gentle hand and smiling as even the light touch drew forth a dribble of warm, rich milk. "I'm overjoyed, my love. You truly were made to bear. To create life and love."
"Father! Papa!" he heard from the window outside, the nursemaid frantically trying to keep up with all the children (and now Cosette, as well, a more than welcome addition, for Javert truly pitied poor Fantine whose child had been lost to her).
Javert closed his eyes and sighed with happiness. His life had become a thing of bounty, and he knew no greater purpose.