All familiar characters belong to Janet. Mistakes are mine alone. Warnings for some mild bedroom fun.

Two things have never changed in all the years we've been together … Stephanie's love of cake and her lust for me. And being able to form any thought right now is impressive since she's currently straddling me. She believes this position is better for the baby, but I can honestly say it works just as well for me. I can watch every emotion and feel every second of pleasure ripple through her body as I was buried as deep as I could be inside her.

And all the feeling and intention I'm inspiring is entirely mutual.

"I can't …" she whispered as she clenched around me.

I agree. I can't hold on any longer especially with her tightening her internal hold on me. I slid my hands from her breasts, down over where our son is continuing to grow strong, and stopped at her hips to steady her for the final thrusts that will take us both not just to the brink … but light-years beyond it.

She collapsed onto me afterwards and I felt no need to move either of us. I wrapped my arms around her and held her to me until I heard her groan into my neck and sensed her need to be more comfortable than she has been lying on my muscles which equals a hard surface. I kept my hold on her but turned us so her back would be cushioned by the mattress.

"I love our kids, but I do miss being able to sleep on top of you, whether or not I know I'm doing it," my wife said into the few inches separating my mouth from hers.

"You can claim ignorance or unconsciousness all you want, Babe, but you never could keep any distance between us."

Now her hand slid over her pregnant belly. "Clearly."

I leaned in close enough to kiss her and get us both well on the way to round two. But my protective instincts kicked in and I left the bed instead so I could clean us both up since pregnancy is no longer a factor in what we do together.

I quickly realized that I was more stoking the fire between us rather than cleaning up the wreckage of a spent one. I started stroking the smooth skin of her inner thigh and got predictably distracted. Her legs immediately opened for me as her arms stretched over her head in a seductive way that I know wasn't her intent. Likely my wife was just trying to get feeling back into all her limbs, but my dick has its own theory.

I'd walked to the bathroom and back out without turning on a light. One reason is that I don't need a lamp or light to navigate a space I know like the back of my hand. The second reason being, Stephanie is far more willing to say what's on her mind when she thinks she can't be seen and judged by it.

"I don't think I can do that again," Steph said into our shadowy bedroom as my fingers turned more exploratory.

I tossed the washcloth on the pile of clothes I'd peeled off her as soon as Olivia was sound asleep and leaned in to speak against her lips. "You don't have to do anything, Babe. You can just relax and let me make you feel good all over again."

I'm not a man who boasts without being able to back up every statement I make, so my wife fell asleep with a smile on her face that only I'm able to put there.

I felt like I'd only been asleep for minutes when I heard my cell buzz on the table on my side of the bed. The bedroom is still dark, so I already know this isn't something I want to address … and something I know I won't be able to ignore.

"Wha …?" Steph asked, clearly still mostly asleep but aware that something is going on.

I kissed her bare shoulder and eased myself away from her. "Go back to sleep."

She didn't need any more prompting. She burrowed her head deeper into her pillow and took advantage of her body still being exhausted enough to rest easily. I stepped into the uniform I only recently shed and grabbed my phone on the way out of the bedroom.

"We have to be quiet," I told Gunny and Mo who came out of Olivia's room to see why there's movement in the apartment at this hour, "the ladies are still asleep."

Mo went back to Olivia's room while Gunny stayed on my heels as I walked into the kitchen to make a call.

"What happened?" I asked Tank.

"Santos got his ass shot."

"Literally shot in the ass?" I had to ask because it is very much a possibility. "Or something serious?"

"Semi-serious. He's in the ER awaiting surgery to have the bullet removed from his shoulder. He got tagged as they were leaving the scene of a break-in call. Brown neutralized the fucker responsible."

Which means Rangeman won if Santos is alive and likely pissed off, and the asshole who injured one of us is headed to the morgue.

"What does the doc say?"

"He'll be okay, but he'll need PT after surgery and some recovery time preferably out of the line of fire," Tank answered.

"He's going to hate that."

"He will, but he'll be scared of what you do to him if he doesn't do what he's told."

"He's at St. Francis?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I'll be there in ten."

"You …"

"Save it," I warned him. "If one of my men is hurt, I'm going to be there for support. And Santos is more than just an employee."

"I know, but there's Stephanie to consider."

He's not wrong. This is the only issue I've found with being married to my Babe … wanting to protect her from every piece of shit or shitty news the world offers up but respecting and loving her so much I feel the need to include her in everything taking place in my life and my work.

"She'll shoot me herself if I leave in the middle of the night without telling her."

"Good luck with that," he said more to himself than to me.

I disconnected before I told him where he should immediately shove his cell phone.

I looked down at Gunny. "You may want to rejoin Mo, this conversation isn't going to be a pretty one."

Our mutts being protective, yet incredibly intelligent … he sought refuge back in my baby's room, leaving me to head back to the bedroom to face my wife's dismay alone.

I took a moment to study how her curls spilled out like thoughts all around her head, and how she had already turned towards the space I'd vacated as if looking for me even as she slept. I wanted to beat the shit out of myself for waking her up, but there's no way she'd forgive me for not telling her Lester had been injured.

I sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook her shoulder this time rather than just being able to kiss it. "Babe?"

She stirred and rolled over towards me as if she was already on the move without completely waking up or knowing where she's going.

"Easy. I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I didn't want you to wake up alone and not know why."

That woke her up. "What's going on?"

Something I don't want to say, but she deserves answers whenever I can give them to her. "Lester was shot while responding to a reported break-in."

She bolted upright in our bed, so upset she forgot she wasn't wearing anything. I forced myself not to get distracted by all that skin as I tucked the sheet around her under the pretense of being worried that she'd be cold.

"He's alright," I assured her. "But he needs surgery to get the bullet out. I want to be there before and after it."

She scooted off the bed, taking the blanket with her. "I want to be there too. Give me five minutes to cram all of this," she said gesturing towards her body, more accurately her belly, "into something."

"Babe, you don't have to …"

She gave me a more terrifying look than what I would've given Tank for the same assurance that my presence isn't required.

"I'm … going. Lester's family. He's not gonna be stuck in a hospital suffering alone."

"I guarantee that Tank is there as well as Bobby, and likely at least five other men that will rotate to a new shift on the hour."

"And that's great, but they aren't us. I will drive myself if you take off before I come out of the bathroom."

As much as I'd love to do just that so she could stay home and rest, I know she'll be three times as worried if she's left out of the loop. Her imagination can turn every situation into a life and death disaster if it's given enough time.

"I'll see who can stay with Olivia," I said so she'll know I'll wait for her.

As soon as Steph disappeared into the bathroom with some sweatpants and one of my shirts, my cell buzzed again. This time from Ella.

"I'm already awake and would be happy to sit with Olivia if you need me to," she offered.

"I hate to make your day even longer, but Stephanie wants to be there for Lester," I told her a beat later.

"I thought so. I'll be right up."

"Was that Ella?" Steph asked, joining me back in the bedroom so she could shove her feet into her Chucks.

"Yes. It seems the women in this building are all hooked up to the same SOS signal. She'll be here in a minute to watch Olivia."

"She and Louis need a looong vacation after this year," my wife said, walking past me towards Olivia's room.

One thing we have in common is checking on our daughter before and after having to leave her.

She backed out a second later. "She's okay. Still breathing and smiling at something in her dream."

"We can't ask for more than that," I told her, reaching the front door before Ella had a chance to softly knock. "We'll be back as soon as possible."

"Take all the time you need to be sure Lester will be alright," Ella told me. "I have a few things up my sleeve to keep our Olivia busy until you return if it's after she wakes up."

"I can't thank you enough," Steph told her. "I know Lester's in good hands, but …"

Ella nodded. "You need to see that for yourself. Go. Olivia and I will be fine, just don't forget to take care of yourself and that little boy of yours. Lester will not approve of you getting sick or upset on his behalf."

My wife smiled, knowing how right Ella is. Santos comes across as an immature player, but he takes no shit when it comes to the people he loves. And he cares about Stephanie more than just about anybody else, even those of us he's served alongside.

"I'll be okay. I just need to make sure Lester is," my wife replied.

We took the elevator down and met Junior and Zero in the lobby as they were leaving for the hospital. My goal for my company was to create a support system for those who've never had one or thought they'd never have that kind of safety net again. A zero-dark-thirty hospital run told me I've fulfilled my promise to these men. If one hurts, they all hurt … and everyone tries to alleviate whatever pain they can.

Santos was still waiting for an operating room to open out, so Steph and I were allowed a few minutes with the patient. Not that I would have allowed us to be turned away.

"Sorry to disturb you," he told Stephanie, sounding only marginally cranky despite the discomfort.

"If you don't want to disturb me, try not getting shot," my wife fired back.

"I was told there was only one intruder by the cop on-scene, which is who they already had in custody," he bitched. "I should've trusted my gut over a couple of newbies. This shit is on me. I was about to search the grounds for an accomplice when I was hit by the asshole."

I was worried about Steph's blood pressure skyrocketing. "The only one to blame for your gunshot wound is the a-hole who shot you. It's not nice to piss off a pregnant lady so don't you dare blame yourself for getting hurt."

"Listen to the woman," Tank ordered. "Just get through surgery and your recovery. We'll handle the rest."

"You don't need to handle jack. I'll be back to normal tomorrow. No one here has met anyone like me. I can grow a whole new arm if I have to."

"You sure about that?" Steph asked him. "If you were scared or worried about how quickly you can or will recover, Ayanna may take pity on you and try to help your healing along."

I cut my eyes to her. "Are you suggesting he milks his injury to get the girl?"

"No. Because he wouldn't stand a chance in hell if she wasn't interested in him. But if she does like him and just doesn't want to admit it to him or herself yet, a reminder that tomorrow isn't guaranteed could get them both one step closer to where they wish they could be."

Santos lifted his non-injured arm and pointed to my wife. "I like that. If my arm and aim has to be shit right now, I can at least use it to reel in a reluctant catch."

My wife sighed. "I was on your side until you said that."

"Hey, I didn't mean that disrespectfully. I like Ayanna … really, really like her. I just meant that if I'm lying here and helpless, she'll be able to see a different side of me."

My wife snorted. "You helpless? I'm sorry to say this, but no one will ever see you as that."

He's in pain, but masking it well as he smiled at Stephanie. "Thanks. I needed a pick-me-up after getting tagged by an amateur asshat."

Steph rolled her eyes. "Anybody can be hurt at any time. This isn't a reflection on who you are or what you're able to do."

"Easy for a civilian to say," he whined.

"I get it. I was never sent to fight overseas or trained up to my ears to do so. But I do know how it feels to be taken down by something I didn't see coming and how embarrassed I felt for trusting the wrong people. You did your job, Lester. And nobody except that asshole who shot you got hurt. That's a reason to celebrate in my opinion."

Santos cut his eyes to me. "You couldn't have left her at home?"

"No," I told him. "If you thought getting shot was painful after years of avoiding it, what my wife would have done to both of us would be a hundred times worse."

"Ranger's right. I would've used you both as target practice if you didn't tell me that you had to be brought here. But if you promise to be completely alright and never get shot at again, I promise you can be our son's Godfather."

"Hey! What the fuck, Steph?" Brown asked, opening the door just in time to hear what she said. "He gets an honorable title for getting in the way of a bullet and I get nothing for taking out the bad guy who fired it?"

"Chill, dude," Santos told him. "If you can tuck away your girly shit for a sec, you'll realize she added a qualifier to the godfather offer, which she knows there's no way I can promise her that. I wake up, I look good, and I get shot at … it's what I do."