I've been chewing on this chaptered story for a good long while. There's a lot of room still yet for me to play with leading up to the break-up that's in Not Supposed To Be This Way. This story will explore the relationship issues heading towards that event.
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Life itself is an intrinsic principal and often the result of passion and lust between two lovers.

Most people, when caught up in their emotions, will only concentrate on the initial act of intimacy and give little thought to any consequences. Even less attention is given to the microscopic cells that can be left behind, as evidence of their lovemaking.

Once all millions of spermatozoa are released in a glorious climax, they take off for their intended destination. Every single cell shares the exact same focus: to find the prized ovum.

Regardless of what Fred and Daphne want, these squiggly cells bump along her inner walls to and fro, down vast caverns, and continuing on a great journey. Normally they fail at their task, their whole voyage a complete waste of time.

The monthly ovum had always been absent, kept at bay by daily birth control pills, until one day it doesn't. Along the inner lining it floats on it's own little cruise, waiting hopefully, and signaling it's arrival to the sperm like a beacon.

The swimmers start to get lively and excited; gearing up what energy they have left for the greatest race known to mankind. What was once a group effort, has now become a fierce competition.

They all make a mad dash. Each one selfishly wanting the egg for itself, hoping to be the chosen victor. While the egg sits patiently and watches the ensuing chaos, the sperm go wild; they slam into the outer walls of the egg, trying to get inside. Some become permanently damaged, their tails broken or their heads smashed.

After many die in the attempt and fall away, a single sperm on the lower end makes headway and forms a tiny crack. It works the fissure open until it's big enough to wiggle inside, completing it's goal.

The egg is thrilled, nearly bouncing. It has no idea what will happen when it merges with the sperm, only that it must do so, and that the ending result will be spectacular!

And it is!

Almost immediately the changes begin. Cells divide and merge and split, and then separate again. They will become the basis of tissues and organs. A whole new person. An entirely unique individual.

And all of these events, life-altering as they are, have gone completely unnoticed as Daphne sleeps. Her chest rising and falling slowly with her breathing, her head tucked up against Fred's neck. Totally at peace and completely unaware.

Fred's arm is across her waist, holding her close to his body, protective of her even in his slumber. He too, is utterly oblivious as to his part in this new cycle of life.

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Daphne's thighs tightened around Fred's head as he diligently worked. Nearing her limit, he could feel the quivering in her legs. Luckily, she wasn't standing, but perched on the kitchen island counter while he was before her on his knees.

"Yes…Oh…," she panted.

The silk robe she was wearing was wide open, and since she was bare underneath, it revealed absolutely everything. Sliding down off her shoulders, the silk had pooled at the joints of her elbows. Her fingers were tangled in Fred's blonde hair as she held him closer to her center, moving his head where she wanted him to be.

"Don't you dare stop, Freddie," she hissed.

Ever since he had shown Daphne his skill with this particular form of pleasure, she had become a slave to it. So much so, that he often used his tongue as a bartering tool to get out of doing his least favorite chores, like vacuuming under Shaggy and Scooby's seat after a weeklong mystery roadtrip.

Without breaking his focus on his task, Fred slid his free hand up to cup her breast, before swiping across a peaked nipple.

It seemed she was beyond words now as jarbled nonsense tumbled from her lips. Daphne rocked her hips against his face, demanding that grande finale, and Fred had no wish to deny her. Just like unlocking a forbidden safe, he tilted his fingers at the perfect angle, coupled with his tongue giving the right amount of pressure and-

A loud, annoying knock on the front door ruins everything and rattles them both. As if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Fred hastily stands up, "Who could that be?"

Daphne's face is flushed and bewildered, as if she has no idea where she is. "Jeepers, I hope it's not that kid asking if I need my grass mowed again."

Fred shrugged, unbuckling his belt buckle and freeing himself quicker than lightening, "Let's ignore him. He'll think we're not home."

"I dunno, Freddie," she said, moving to close her robe, cutting off his view of her body, "The grass is getting pretty wild. And the kid only charges ten dollars."

Leaning forward, he slipped his hands inside the garment, letting his knuckles gently brush the nape of her neck, before trailing lazily downwards to stroke a breast.

She gasped sharply when his thumb rubbed across her nipple, her eyes fluttering closed. Pushing the silk back down, he planted soft kisses to her jawline, "I'll mow your grass, Daph. And I'll do it for free."

Dragging his fingers southward very slowly, he grazed over the slope of her stomach, his palm briefly skimming her navel, before dipping between her thighs.

Shivering at his touch, Daphne teased, "Oh, I'm sure there's a price to pay, Mr. Jones. But two can play at that game."

In a devilish move, her fingers found his thick member. When she caressed the tip with her thumb he helplessly bucked his hips on instinct, seeking more friction against her hand. When she gripped him completely and stroked him slowly from the base to the top, he nearly whined.

His lips connected with hers and the world around them was lost. Much as it always was when they were intimate, nothing else in the universe mattered but them. Only the teasing touches, the erotic sounds, and-

This time, the knock at the door is booming and impossible to block out. But Daphne tries anyway, continuing to work his length. "Like you said, Fred. We should just ignore it."

Unfortunately, neither one could tune out the high-pitched squeal that follows, "Daphne dear, it's your mother! We're supposed to go to the bank today, remember?"

Groaning in frustration, he placed a kiss to her forehead, "Yeah, I don't think ignoring her is going to work this time. Raincheck for later?"

Daphne closed her robe for the second and final time, tying it in a knot for good measure. "Dang it. I totally forgot I'd agreed to go with her."

Accepting that the mood was officially over, Fred tucked himself back inside his pants with a wince and raised an eyebrow. "Why can't she just go to the bank alone?"

"Because numbers freak her out," she explained, hopping off the island counter and wrapping her arms around Fred's waist for a hug. "But she's here early. Wasn't supposed to meet up with me until noon."

"So, she can't read a clock either?" He asked, while returning the hug with one arm and smoothing down his hair to perfection with the other.

"Clocks have numbers, hence the problem. She says it's all gibberish."

Fred tsked and Daphne narrowed her eyes, poking his chest with an index finger, "Hey, don't be so judgy. Peggy's got some interesting quirks, too."

"Name one," he challenged, crossing his arms.

"Okay, momma's boy. She literally puts tuna in everything, Fred. Everything! Remember her Spinach and artichoke dip? And her Chicken noodle soup? And don't tell me she didn't sneak tuna into those Mashed potatos at Christmas, I know she did!"

He melted at that and laughed, "Yeah, I guess she does. Come to think of it, the only people who enjoy her cooking are Shaggy and Scooby."

"Only when they are desperate and starving," she giggled.