"Wally, I'm huuuunnngry…"

"I say, I hear you, darlin'! Whaddaya fancy?"

Verosika stretches like a cat in her favourite armchair, one hand rubbing circles over her pregnant belly. "I want pickles and ice cream."

"Absolutely, love, won't be a moment!" Wally ducks into the kitchen for a minute, and returns bearing a bowl of bubblegum-pink ice cream and uncut dill pickles.

Verosika looks at the bowl and mock-pouts. "Just one scoop?" she whines melodramatically I'm eating for two, Wally, you know that."

"Ah know, love, but – but I couldn't do it." Wally moans theatrically, going down on both knees. "One plate of – of food crime – tested my will plenty, please, darlin, believe me!"

They're both cracking up now. Verosika wipes away a tear of laughter.

"I know it's weird, Wally, I don't know why I'm craving pickles and ice cream – but I am!" She sighs and catches her breath.

"Really, love, I can get ya more if ya want – "

"Maybe later, Wally – this should be good for now." Verosika pats Wally's hand and digs in to her snack. She dips a pickle into the ice cream and chomps.

Wally turns just enough to hide a sudden twitch in his eye.


Verosika shifts, squirms, grimaces at the ache in her back. She just can't seem to get comfortable today, even sprawling on a luxurious leather sofa with a cushion futilely stuffed under the small of her back.

The door bangs open, and Wally strolls in with a bounce in his step. "Darlin', I say, I'm home!" He must spot her discomfort straight away, because he makes a concerned beeline to her. "What's wrong, dearest?"

"It's just my back," she sighs. "It's fine, Wally, I mean, it's not really surprising considering how big my bump's getting… I can survive until bed…"

"Now now, Verosika, honey," Wally tuts, bustling around the room grabbing bits and bobs, more cushions, a towel & a container of lotion. "Just you let me take care of ya. Scooch over, love, an' roll on your side"

She does so, awkwardly, and Wally clambers behind her, positions retaining walls of cushions on both sides of her, scrubs oil over his hands, places them on her back and starts to delicately massage away…

And…oh, it's immediate relief.

She moans happily and melts into his touch.

"I say, you got some real knots in here, Pretty in Pink," Wally coos. "Whatcha getting worked up about, huh?"

"You're away all day," Verosika murmurs lazily, relishing the impromptu massage. "I get lonely."

"Aww, now we can't have that, love." Wally hums. "I think perhaps I oughta go work-from-home starting tomorrow."

"Aww, you're so good to me babe."

"That's cause you're so good, I say." He leans over to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, easy on the charm offensive, you big ol' flirt. Just keep doing your magic hand stuff, alright baby?"

"Of course, darlin'." Wally returns his full attention to the backrub, and Verosika lets out a happy sigh.

A half-hour passes. Wally's skillful hands whittle her backache down to nothing, and Verosika is in bliss.


On the TV, Gabriella and Alejandro have just made up for the umpteenth time, and Hell-a-novella credits roll.

Verosika sighs and pops another piece of popcorn in her mouth, the half-full bowl perched on top of her baby bump. She should probably change the channel now, she thinks; Vox only programmes trashy shows on the higher even-numbered channels. At least Hell-a-novella is tolerable, in a so-bad-it's-good way.

She has another go at reaching, stretching for the remote, trying to do so without having to get up from her decadently slumped sitting position. The bowl balanced on her stomach wobbles and starts to tip –

"Careful, darlin'". Wally comes to the rescue, catching the bowl before it spills and securing it on the coffee table. He grabs the remote and passes it to her.

"Thanks, Wally." Verosika beckons him in for a kiss, and he gladly complies.

"Anything you want to watch?" she asks as he sits back down next to her.

"Nothing springs to mind, I say," Wally hums.

She can't think of anything either, but she's quite comfortable at the moment and there's nothing better to do so channel surfing it is. She taps the remote a few times.

Jeffrey Dahmer's cooking show on Channel 666. Katie Killjoy's new late-night talk show, where she does most of the talking (ugh, Verosika hopes she's never asked to appear on that.). The Star Wars Holiday Special. Some imported mockumentary from the human world about vampires – it's good, but she's seen it already. Succu-bye Bay – hold on!

"Ooh, ooh, Kiki's on this!"

"Is she?"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember! She told me she was putting her name forward, that's why she was hitting the gym and going on all those hikes in the forest!"

"Well I say, good luck to her!"

They settle in for half-an-hour of survival show-dating show crossover. The participants (Kiki among them, looking proud and confident) have to both survive a wild island on the Lust-Wrath border and find true lust.

It's just getting to the really good parts (a Baphomet bitten by a venomous snake, host Fizzaroli stuck fast in quicksand, Kiki playing the long game by making moves on both her toughest-looking competitors at the same time) when Verosika suddenly grumps.

"Need to go to the bathroom," she mutters, and Wally, chuckling, takes her hand and helps her to her feet.


She needs his touch, the lightest feather-brush of his claws on her skin setting her body aflame tonight. She needs his hands on her body, running reverently across her new curves. Beached on the bedsheets, she needs his ministrations; his gentle worship; his deliverance.

She needs his lips on her lips, his tongue on her. She needs to fully perceive his love for her.

"Wally – I need – I need – " Verosika gasps, her breath hitching with euphoria. She can't get the words out, but he still knows just what she's craving, pleading for.

And by golly, by Asmodeus, does Wally give her just what she needs.

After, as they spoon in a sea of sheets, she still needs him; his presence curled around her, his chin hooked over her shoulder, his toes tickling the backs of her knees, his hands cupping her belly and framing their daughter within.

The sounds of his contented snores slowly lull her into peaceful, sated slumber.


"Wally, Wally, c'mere."

Even though it's late in the day, even though he was yawning just a minute ago, Wally practically teleports to her side. "I say, what is it, love?"

"She's kicking." Verosika's eyes and her smile are both sparkling as she presses a hand to the side of her rounded midsection.

Wally's hands go tenderly to her belly, too, and he laughs a wonderful laugh as he feels the little bumps and pulses from within her. "My, oh my, we got ourselves a feisty little girl in here."

"Uh-huh," Verosika nods, beaming. Their daughter's little workouts in her womb do keep her awake half the night, but can she complain at the physical, present, grounding reminders that soon she'll be holding her and Wally's child in her arms?

Wally kneels so his face is level with "You gonna be a fighter, I say? Or a sports star? I say, your daddy knows a thing or two about football, an' when you're big enough he'd love to teach ya."

Verosika can see that now in her mind's eye; their family in a few year's time, out in one of Pride's crimson fields, their little daughter and Wally playing a vigorous match of one-a-side soccer while she referees. Or it might be Wally refereeing, and her on the makeshift pitch. She was pretty good at sports way back when she was a precocious little succubi child.

"Just a few more weeks," she murmurs, blinking back sudden happy tears. "Then we'll be three."

"I say, we can't wait to be properly introduced, li'l ma'am," Wally baby-talks to her bump. "No we can't. We can't wait!" He presses a kiss to the crest of her stomach – then jerks back in surprise. "Kicked me in the mouth, she did!"

"Oh no!" Verosika bursts into laughter, and so does Wally. "Do you need a kiss to make it better?"

"I say, that would be quite nice."

So, she kisses him. And he kisses her right back. And their daughter drums her feet happily away in Verosika's stomach, right under where both their hands rest. Just the way things should be.