He leans his large frame against the doorway, a soft smile playing across his face at the sight before him. Amelia stands on her tip toes, desperately attempting to reach a bowl of oranges perched on a high shelf. Her round stomach prevents the ability to close the distance, however, making her attempts pointless. She drops down onto the heel of her feet with a low growl.
She puts her hands on her hips as she looks down at her stomach. Even from here, he can see the skin jerk and ripple as their son kicks out. His heart softens even more as he watches her rub a soothing palm against the renegade limb, offering a soothing word. Once again she glances at the bowl of oranges still perched upon the high shelf. He stifles a chuckle as she twists her body, angling the bump away from the countertop and trying to contort her body in ways he wouldn't believe imaginable, had he not seen just how flexible her body could be.
"The least you could do, my prince," she mutters, her breath coming in pants, "if you were planning on making me crave strange things at all hours of the day? Would be to crave something that's in reaching distance. How are we supposed to get up there, little one? Think momma can grow a few more inches?"
Her voice is calm and serene, and he loves it. She continues chatting away at their son as she eyes the countertop. His smile disappears within seconds as he realizes she's planning on climbing onto the countertop. Without wasting another second, he softly pads across the kitchen floor, making sure to avoid the squeaky floorboard.
He slides one arm around her, pulling her against his chest. Pride and love fill his chest when she sighs happily and leans against him, a hum playing upon the air. With the other arm, he reaches up and grabs the bowl one handed. A quick kiss is placed on the top of her head while he drops the bowl down with a soft thud.
"Next time ask, Kadan," he says on a soft chuckle.
"I could have gotten up on the counter, you know," she replies with a sniff. "Just because I'm as big as a house doesn't mean my balance shit the bed, I'll have you know."
"You said it, not me," he quips, his hand sliding from her waist and slipping to cup her ass.
"Bull you watched me save the world," she replies with a sigh, shooting him with a mock glare. "I think me hopping up onto a counter is a little safer than me fighting an archdemon."
He hums in response, rummaging through the drawers. She leans back against the counter, her warm gaze set upon her lover. He shuts one drawer and moves onto the other, intently rummaging through this one, too. When he closes it with a terse 'fuck!" however, her curiosity peaks and she pushes away from the counter to peer inside the third drawer.
"Bull what on earth are you looking for?" she asks, and he can hear the smile in her voice.
"A knife," he mutters, opening a fourth drawer.
"We have dozens of knives. And daggers. And war hammers. And-"
"Not that kind of knife, woman," he chuckles. "I'm looking for that little knife. The one you always use to cut your oranges into little pieces."
"Oh my love you don't have to do that," Amelia replies, reaching to grasp his hand in his. "At this point I think our son would be content if I ate the damn thing peel and all."
A quick "aha!" booms throughout the room as he shouts in glee, finally finding the knife in the fifth drawer. Why they had so many bloody drawers in a kitchen, he did not know, but he'd finally found it and damn it, he was going to slide the oranges how she liked. He turns toward her, putting an extra swagger into his walk as he stalks towards her, caging her in against the counter once again. She peers into his warm gaze, pulse quickening, her body flushing when he gives her a roguish grin.
"Go sit, Kadan," he whispers before pressing a quick kiss to her lips. "I've got oranges to cut."
She rolls her eyes before setting for the table. As she settles comfortably onto the chair, she watches as Bull carefully washes the already clean knife. He starts to sing, voice gruff and horribly off key, making up a song of their son growing up to be dashing, strong and brave, and her heart swells. By the time he's done peeling and slicing the orange, their son has grown to have his mother's good looks and his father's worldly sense, looking over his many brothers and sisters.
"Many, huh?" she asks as he takes a seat in front of her, and smiles when he slides a wooden bowl to her. "Just how many children are we going to have, Iron Bull?"
"As many as we can," he replies as he picks up a piece of orange between two fingers. "If you think I'm not going to bend you over at every opportunity then-"
"Okay! Okay I get the picture," she interrupts, chuckling.
He leans forward and places the fruit against her lips. She gives him a mischievous smirk before she opens her mouth, tongue swirling around his fingertips briefly before she takes the piece of orange into her mouth. His eyes darken and he shifts in his seat in an attempt to reposition his lengthening shaft. He clears his throat before he picks up another piece of orange.
"You keep that up and we're going to have to start practicing for number two."
She presses her thighs together in a desperate attempt to find some relief when the gruffness of his voice hits her. He holds another piece of orange to her lips, biting on his own when she once again flicks her tongue against his flesh. There's no point in trying to adjust his position now. The only way to relieve the pressure burning in his loins is to sink in between her thighs.
"Is he happy with a few bites?" Bull asks after feeding her a few more pieces. "Or does he need more?"
She gives him a knowing smile but no answer. The sexual tension is so thick in the air she could almost taste it. He feeds her two more pieces and she makes sure to lick at his fingers each time. On the next piece, she closes her lips around the long digit, suckling it into her mouth. The fire lights in his eyes seconds before he jerks to a stand.
He rushes to the other side of the table to draw her against his body. She squeals as she's gently, but forcefully, pulled against his body. He leans over her, smashing his lips against hers. Their lips war at one another, desperately attempting to claim dominance. She gasps as he grasps her ass in both hands and pulls her closer and deepening the kiss, and he takes advantage of the surrender by sweeping his tongue between her lips. She moans and grasps his neck, desperately wanting to be as close as possible.
He pulls away from the kiss with a smirk, enjoying when her body swayed towards him. Her eyes flutter open, tawny eyes meeting those of the stormy sea. Carefully, he places his forehead against hers and inhales deeply, enjoying the smell of vanilla and cinnamon that wafts through his nostrils.
"I have a few ideas of what we could go do," Bull says before nipping at her bottom lip. "Whadda you think, boss?"
Whatever she has to say dies on the tip of her tongue as she feels a pressure between her thighs. She frowns when her thighs become wet. They glance down in tandem, focusing on the pool of liquid growing larger by the second.
"I think," she says, eyes wide, "our son has a different plan entirely."
"Did your water just break?"
"It's definitely time to send for Mineave, my love."
Bull continues to stare down at the floor, the words not registering. Amelia's lips twitch as she turns to go down the hall, towards her quarters. She wasn't about to walk out of the room with wet pants. Once in her quarters she strips out of the soiled linen. She's stepping into one leg when she hears his strangled shout and hears his steps thundering down the hallway.
"DID YOUR WATER JUST BREAK?!"
"Yes. Now help me get these pants on, will you?"
"We need to send for Mineave!"
"Yes, Bull. I said that."
"You don't have trousers on. Why don't you have pants on?"
"My other pair were wet?"
"You can't go anywhere with no pants on!"
"Maker's breath! Bull!"
"WHAT?!
"Calm down," she chuckles, taking his face in her hands. "We're fine. I promise you. I need to get these pants on and we need to send for Mineave. And Dorian. We definitely need to send for Dorian."
Bull nods slightly, not pulling from her grip. "Okay, boss. You got it."
Six hours of pushing, fretting, and hurled insults, Amelia sits on the bed, a tiny bundle in her arms. Her eyes are misty as she runs a fingertip over the sleeping babe's cheek and lips. Behind her, Bull held them both against him, his long legs stretched along side hers. He gazes down in awe, still unable to believe he's here – with his lover, his son, his crew working alongside the Inquisition alive and healthy. Had someone told him all those years ago this is where he'd end up, he would have laughed.
"Did you really call me a three headed, sharp toothed bastard, Kadan?" he whispers.
"I did," she replies, not looking away from her son. "And I won't take it back. 'Let's try something new, Kadan. What's the worst that can happen?'" She finally turns her gaze to meet his. "I'd say shoving a boulder out of a hole the size of a marble is 'the worst that can happen.'"
He chuckles before placing a soft kiss to her temple. "I don't know, boss. If it's the size of a marble it stretches pre-"
"Our son is right here and you're over here talking about doing inappropriate things with his mother," she says, shaking her head but not attempting to hide her smile.
"He's perfect," Bull breathes, one large finger tracing his son's nose. "He looks so much like you I can't believe it. He even has your nose. Do you think he'll scrunch it like you do?"
"Time will tell," Amelia says softly, eyes tearing up as she watches her boys interact, her heart full. "And we've got the rest of forever to find out."
He grins at her before taking her lips in a soft kiss. "Rest of forever, huh? I like that."