"There goes my baby,
Movin' on down the line,
Wonder where, wonder where,
Wonder where she is bound?"
—There Goes My Baby
The Drifters
The Maitlands were no longer unhappy with eternity. Now they were more… resigned to it. Their neighbors were loud but friendly. Their apartment was small but cozy. Their jobs were monotonous but easy. Adam bagged groceries at their local supermarket while Barbara demonstrated her talents in the bakery. They worked the same hours, walked home together every day at the same time, and drank tea and read books and lived. Sans the living part.
Still, something was missing…
Knock, knock, knock.
"Can you get that, honey?" Barbara was busy in the kitchen fussing over a pot of something rich and savory while Adam fiddled with painting details onto a miniature figurine to join the model of their apartment building‒ his current project. "It's probably Diane. She's been hounding me for this recipe."
"Just… a… second… aaand… done!"
After placing one last vital but subtle detail, Adam scurried to answer the door, putting on a nice welcoming smile for whoever was behind it. Then, he saw who was behind it. Adam had many times fantasized about what he might do if he ever ran into the striped bastard ever again. He thought he might throw punches, maybe exercise some locker room vocabulary he hadn't dusted off since high school. He didn't do any of those things. Instead, he revolted, jumping back as if he'd been slapped while his still-tan complexion visibly whitened.
"B-b-b-b-b—"
"Adam," his wife called from the other room, a smile in her blissfully unaware voice, "who is it?"
"Betelgeuse!"
Betelgeuse rolled his eyes and put his hands to his face in mock horror. "A-a-a Adam! Good to see ya, brother how's the afterlife treatin' ya?"
He bullied his way inside, which wasn't exactly difficult, and looked around, taking in the nicknacks and belongings that he recognized from Lydia's attic. He sneered at the model in progress. He hated models.
"Oh, Babs! Aren't ya gonna come greet yer guest? I got some news that's gonna blow yer goddamn minds. I need ya to come with me, so ya might as well turn off the soup or whatever it is ya got goin' in there."
He flopped onto their couch, kicking his filthy boots up onto the spotless coffee table. Sure, he was here to ask for their help but he wasn't about to stop being him in the process. He produced a flask, filled with the fancy whiskey Juno gifted him, and took a deep swig.
Adam was helpless to do anything but continue stammering nonsensically in shock as the poltergeist jostled his way through, making himself right at home. Barbara kept it together marginally better, her emotions leaning toward rage over fear or shock.
"You!" She griped, throwing her oven mitt across the room and crossing her arms stiffly, coming to hover over his slovenly form on the couch like a scolding mother with a rebellious teenager.
"What are you doing in our house? What do you want?"
"We're not going anywhere with you!" Adam, bolstered by his wife's bravery, found his voice and took up mantle at her side. They were both flustered and bristling, ready and waiting for things to turn ugly.
"Wait—"
There was a crack in Barbara's fiery countenance and she spared a wary glance with her husband. They only had one thing in common with the filthy ghoul taking up residence on their couch.
"Is this about... Lydia...?"
Betel easily dodged the oven mitt, sighing as Barbara stormed in. "The hell do you think? Of course, it's about Lydia." He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. "We finally got hitched."
He sat up, his demeanor serious. "We got married and she's pregnant. The baby shower is happenin' right now. She's afraid that you two hate her. Seein as ya up and left... but she's askin' for Babs."
He ran his hands down his face. "Look, I'm just tryin' to do right by my wife n' kid, but Lyds is scared. N' alone, 'cept for me. Her dad's dead, but I don't think she knows. Drunk off his fuckin' ass and died between your headstones so... so just cut me some slack and come see yer daughter already, will ya!"
He growled, standing up to pace. "I can't fix this for her, do you know how frustrating that is? I mean, it's my fault she's knocked up in the first place!"
That was a Hell of a lot he just unloaded on them. As far as Adam and Barbara Maitland were aware, Lydia was on the mortal plane living her life safe and sound. What the villain on their couch was describing was their worst nightmare.
It's my fault she's knocked up in the first place!
This was too much for Adam Maitland. Whether anything Betelgeuse said was true or not, he was due for an ass whooping on principle alone.
"GrrRRAAAAHH!" With a surprising guttural cry that built up in his belly and ruminated around his chest before exploding past his throat, he lunged right over the coffee table for the moldy bastard, only for Betelgeuse to curse and pop away.
"Get back here you son of a bitch!"
He was by the hallway now, more bullshit spewing from his wretched mouth, but Adam was beyond hearing it. He wasn't allowed to speak, not after the horrendous claims he'd just made. No, he deserved a broken jaw and some missing teeth. Pop! He disappeared again, showing up next to the front door this time.
"Adam!"
Only the sound of his beloved wife's voice was able to get through to him. She sounded scared. Chest heaving with breaths he didn't need, he managed to see through the red to her panicked countenance, a wild sort of fear in her deep chocolate eyes. A lioness whose cub was in danger.
"Lydia needs us."
"Woah! Adam, congrats on growin' some balls." This wasn't the right thing to say, as Adam immediately charged for him again. He ducked out of the way, his hands held out and ready to defend himself.
Barbara's voice made them both stop and stare at her. Lydia did need them. Desperately. He dropped his hands and sighed softly. He hated this. "Look, ya know I wouldn't be here if this was somethin' I could fix on my own. But it ain't. She just wants her mom."
He clapped Adam on the back and reached for Barbara. "Come'ere. I'll take ya to her. No doubt she's still curled up where I left her, cryin'. I gotta tell ya, she's due at New Years and I cannot wait for the pregnancy hormones to get the fuck outta my house. She's a mess. I fuckin' love her, but she's a mess."
Both Maitlands recoiled from his touch, sneering and repulsed, but ultimately allowed it. However, their jaws dropped at the sheer grandiosity of the manor he dropped them in front of after pulling them through the void. It was enormous and beautiful, a couple of large dogs immediately running around from the back to greet their new guests. Adam yelled out and clung closer to his wife while Barbara pet the beasts kindly, unintimidated.
There were all sorts of cars filling the driveway, streamers and balloons everywhere. Fuck. He was telling the truth. There was a baby shower going on here in this beautiful mansion he allegedly shared with their daughter. A cigar-smoking, whiskey-drinking Juno greeted them in the foyer, high on festivities.
"Look who it is!" She laughed, elbowing Betel right in the gut amicably. "Can't believe you invited 'em. Look at my boy, finally growing up. Showing a little maturity. Being the bigger person."
The decrepit caseworker dabbed away a fake tear for the crowd, really putting on a show. Rarely was Juno given an opportunity to entertain and socialize away from her eternal pencil-pushing, and was cherishing the experience. If Betelgeuse didn't know any better, he might have thought she was drunk.
"Where is she?" Barbara was out of sorts, trying to make sense of everything she was seeing and all she'd been told.
Betel sneered as his surrogate mother put on her little show. He took her cigar and dropped it into her glass of scotch. "Buzz off, Ma. Lyds wanted em."
He could tell from their faces that the Maitlands hadn't expected the grandeur of their house. He gestured toward the main staircase and led them to the upper floor. "Ya know I took a page outta yer book, four-eyes. I restored most o' this place myself."
He slowed at the door of the nursery. "Lyds? Baby, I got a surprise for ya..." He went in first, pulling his wife to stand beside him. He turned back to the Maitlands and ran his hand down her back.
"I couldn't exactly get yer real mom for ya... so I thought maybe both of these bozos would do instead."
Lydia spent his entire time away sobbing and pacing madly between their bedroom and the nursery. What had she done?! Betelgeuse was off upending the Maitlands' happy afterlife right now, all for her selfishness. Why did she have to go and tell him that? Why did Miss Argentina‒ "Carmen" as her husband so familiarly addressed her‒ have to wear that tight dress showing off her perfectly flat tummy? Why did he have the audacity to be such a good, perfect husband?!
"It's not fair," she wept unreasonably to an overwhelmed, but supportive Ginger, the only guest she had deemed worthy of allowing into the master suite when all the ghoulish women made to follow after her in the wake of her random hysterics.
"It can't be all that bad, sweetie… I thought you wanted to see them?"
"I do," she insisted, near pulling her hair out, "but I don't! It's complicated. They don't want to see me."
"Now, I know that can't be true."
"Ginger, the last time they saw me I was wearing a school uniform and studying for a biology exam! They can't see me like this! What if they hate me? What if they hate bug? What if they never want to see me again? What if—"
Just then, Betelgeuse cleared his throat at the threshold of their bedroom, drawing Lydia's attention with a horrified gasp. There they were. Just as she remembered them, curls and glasses and all. Her husband swiftly came to her side before anyone else could move, erecting himself as a solid beacon of strength and protection at her side. Ginger, sensing that this wasn't her place anymore, awkwardly sidled past them all, muttering something about getting some punch before the pencil pushers could spike it.
"Lydia…" Barbara's expression was unreadable, this only building on the fluttering anxiety in Lydia's very full belly. She took one step forward, then another, as if pulled down by led weights. One of her immaculately manicured hands came to comb through a strand of silky black hair, admiring how long it had gotten.
"You're so beautiful."
It wasn't the first time Lydia had heard this today, but it was the first time she believed it. They broke simultaneously, falling into each other's arms and blubbering how much they missed one another in a girlish, emotional display that nearly made the men feel unwelcome.
Betelgeuse cleared his throat as the women embraced, clearly beyond caring that their husbands were so much as in the room. He shuffled toward Adam, keeping just enough distance between them that he could get away if the man started swinging at him again.
"So…. how's the afterlife? You uh… ya live near my ex, actually. Lyds met her. Didn't go well… or well. Guess it did, since that's how we got here. Anyway. Forget I said that."
He ran a hand over his face. He hated when women cried. Especially women he cared for… and if Lydia cared for Barbara, then so did he. He hated that his wife had to resort to these nobodies for a source of family.
His mind went to the man in his cellar-turned-guestroom. Would Chuck ever get to the point that he could come and see his daughter? Lydia was due in only a handful of weeks. If he couldn't get it together, then he'd miss the pregnancy entirely.
Once the initial waterworks exhausted themselves and Barbara loosened her grasp enough to let Adam squeeze in and get a hug too, she started right in on the mama bear act; cupping Lydia's flushed cheeks and checking her head to toe for injury, buzzing with concern.
"How did you even get here, sweetheart? How did this happen?" Her pitch dropped with suspicion and fear. "He's not forcing you, is he?"
"What?! No!" Lydia immediately shut down that line of thinking, shooting a wary glance to her husband to make sure he wasn't too offended by the implication to act on it. He seemed to be soldiering on well enough. "It's not like that. At all. I… I'm the one who called him. We made a deal. It's— it's kind of a long story."
Not only was it long, but it was also complex, nuanced, and made her look like a fool. Recalling how eager she used to be to die was painfully embarrassing.
"Beej?" Both Adam and Barbara had a visible negative reaction to the cutesy nickname, making Lydia wince. "Could you let us be alone for a couple minutes? We'll be down soon and then we can enjoy the rest of the party properly, okay? I'm sorry I got like this—"
"Don't apologize to him," Adam cut in, offended by the very notion. "Not ever. You cry if that's what you want, and make him do whatever you want him to do whenever you want him to do it! It's his job. Apparently."
The implication that he was forcing his wife into loving him made him bristle, his scowl deepening. These two had better watch their damn mouths.
He looked up when his wife called his name, nodding firmly at request. "Of course, kitten." He moved toward their embrace to kiss her gently, brushing her hair out of her face.
It's his job. Apparently.
Betelgeuse sneered at Adam. "It is my job. Because she's my wife and my first priority. Ain't yer wife yours? Or do you just sit around and paint while she deals with the real shit?" With a look from his wife, he left grumbling.
It didn't take long to find Juno and Carmen muttering together. "I need a drink. Now."
Lydia flushed deeply when he took his kiss while Barbara was still holding her, unconcerned for their audience. After one last pissing contest with Adam, finally, she was alone with the only parents she had left in the world— to her knowledge.
Once they were all comfortable, Barbara practically forcing her into bed while Adam gingerly explored the room, hating how much he loved the exquisite craftsmanship, she told them their story. Everything. From Mother's death— to which they both expressed deep and sincere condolences— to her foolish desire to find her, to the way Betel tricked her into thinking he was going to murder her in exchange for marriage when he never had any such plans.
There were moments where Adam had to grit his teeth and hold himself back from storming down those stairs and socking the moldy ghost right in his jaw— in particular, when he put two and two together and realized that Lydia and her foul husband married and consummated their union on the same damn day they made this God-forsaken deal.
Alas, it was too late. Lydia was here, she was pregnant, and for all intents and purposes, she seemed…
"Are you happy?" He asked, stopping his mad pacing to come to the opposite side of the bed to assess her once again, more thoroughly this time. "Is this really what you want?"
"It's okay if it is," Barbara assured, squeezing their hands tight. "We don't… quite understand. Not yet. I don't know if we ever will. But we can try. But… it's also okay if you want out and you don't know how to leave. We can help. We know people—"
"I'm happy," Lydia interrupted, smiling and uninsulted. They meant well. "This is what I want. I'm sorry I didn't contact you guys sooner. I just thought… maybe you'd be mad."
"Lydia. Honey." Adam leaned over to kiss her forehead, taking hold of the small, pale hand Barbara wasn't occupying. "I'm livid. But not at you. Never at you. There are more important things to worry about right now than old grudges. Now, come on, let's get you downstairs. A pregnant woman can't miss her own baby shower. It's not right. Besides, I want to meet these 'friends' of his…"
Betelgeuse was terrified. For all the times Lydia worried self-consciously about him leaving, he was now faced with the possibility that the Maitlands would whisk her away from him. After all, he wasn't their favorite person on a good day! And here he was with their pregnant daughter sequestered in their house.
He drank glass after glass of whiskey with shaking hands until Juno put her hand on his wrist. "Betel. It's not going to help."
He looked at her with wide eyes. "What if she leaves, Ma? What if she's not really happy and she takes Bug and goes? With them?"
His fears were somewhat put aside when his wife appeared with her parents in tow. He hurried to her side and took her hand, bringing it to his lips. "You look tired, tesoro. Wanna sit back down?" His hand ran up her arm, just feeling the warm skin.
The last thing in any dimension he could want would be to lose his wife and child. Any circumstances would be painful, but if she were to leave because she was unhappy? That would destroy him. He pressed one last kiss to her hand.
"Come on, Mia cara."
With heavy reluctance, Barbara let Lydia go so that her detestable husband could fawn over her and escort her back to her circle of worshippers. She wasn't far behind, pulling up a seat next to the rocking chair so she could remain close.
"I'm sorry we don't have anything for you. This was kind of… last minute."
"Don't mention it, Barb. Just you guys being here is enough. Besides, we have plenty. I'll show you the nursery before you go. Beej has been working on it pretty much since the day we found out."
Smiling softly, she aimed a warm gaze at her husband, who had stepped back to allow the rest of the mostly female crowd to congregate around her. This was her party, after all. Her and bug. When she jumped, face lighting up in delighted surprise, the rest of the birds fluttered their wings as well.
"She kicked!"
That was the first time Lydia had referred to their daughter as such. Suddenly, she had limbs upon limbs on her belly, everyone fighting to get a feel of the impending baby Geuse's gymnastics. There was a large furry mitt or two, a spider leg, an aged hand bedecked with heavy rings, as well as a skeletal group of fingers, not counting all the humanoid palms.
The only hand not there was Betelgeuse's, who got to feel his bug's kicking and prodding on the daily. It was a bit much, but Lydia was willing to let them all in on it for at least a moment or two.
"I felt 'er," the Monster across the street cried, grinning joyously.
"Zat cannot be," Jacques disagreed, "she eez over here!"
"Betel, what the hell is your kid doin'?" Ginger laughed, also able to feel little movements here and there from her position.
"Okay, guys," Lydia giggled nervously, quickly having grown uncomfortable with this many people touching her at once, not to mention Bug's sudden excitement, "I think she's calming down now."
Betelgeuse stood back as their company all fawned over his wife, hands and paws pressed to her stomach as the baby moved. It wasn't lost on him that she was finally calling Bug their daughter.
He stepped in when she started to get overwhelmed, sliding his hand gently onto her chest, just over her sternum. "That's enough." The gruff tone of his voice made them all step back, immediately removing their hands.
He leaned down to kiss her cheek firmly, lingering a moment to press his nose against her warm skin. "Now. Someone tell Lydia about Christmas in the Neitherworld. She's due right before the holidays."
Ginger snorted. "Bee-jay I have never seen you celebrate Christmas in all the years I've known you!"
Carmen giggled. "Not since he left the office, anyway. He used to be the highlight of the office party."
He grimaced. "Never had a reason to celebrate. But I got a family now. I'm a changed man."
"Christmas?"
Lydia immediately lit up, like the revered holiday was already upon them and a giant, shining pine tree was illuminating her pale features. Halloween had always been her favorite, but not even the dourest of tortured souls could deny the magic of Christmas. The way time worked in the Neitherworld, she wasn't even aware it was coming up. Did they miss Halloween? Oh, well. There was always next year. Really, every day was Halloween in the Neitherworld.
"Oh, Christmas is magical," Ginger batted her long, spidery lashes dreamily. "Everybody on this end goes waaaayyy over the top, bigger and brighter and more maaarvelous than anythin' you evah seen topside! N' that's not even mentionin' Sandy Claws—"
"Dagnabbit, ya got-danged spider!" The monster started up at this aggressively, pointing a firm, furry finger down at the arachnid. "He ain't real n' y'ought not be puttin' silly ideas like that in Miss Lydia's head when she don't know no better!"
"He IS real!" Ginger insisted, her face growing a darker shade of fuchsia. "You're just mad because you always get coal!"
Betelgeuse smiled as the party started to dissolve into bickering. He chuckled softly and turned to Adam, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.
"You n' the missus are welcome here for Christmas. Can't guarantee that Lyds will be in any mood to celebrate, but the invitation is open."
Juno scoffed from behind them. "You, Betel? Celebrating Christmas? This I'll have to see. You're the biggest Grinch I know. Last year you threw rocks at the tree in Central Park in New Yuck!"
He glared and stepped closer to his wife. "Hey! If my wife is only gonna get one Christmas without kids, then I'm gonna make it goddamn special!"
"We'll be there," Adam promised, a hard glint behind his glasses as he shrugged off the filthy hand on his back. It wasn't even a question. Now that they knew where their daughter was and who she was with, they'd be seeing a lot more of the Maitlands. They needed to make sure this "loving husband and father" act wasn't an act at all.
The party was dying down. People were beginning to filter out. Juno and Carmen offered to let the Maitlands share their cab— likely a ploy to keep from going back to that dreadful office as long as possible— and they politely accepted, no matter how much they would have liked to linger.
It wouldn't have ended well if they tried, anyway. Lydia was tired and Betelgeuse was beginning to lose his patience with everyone who wasn't his very pregnant wife. After hugs and goodbyes were given all around, they were finally… finally… alone.
"Oof."
That's the sound that puffed past Lydia's lips as she fell back onto the blissfully empty couch, sprawling herself out selfishly to take up every last inch she could.
"Why did we want to have a party again…?"
Betelgeuse was more than ready to usher his friends and family the hell out of his house. His wife was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and he wanted nothing more than to put her in a nice hot bath and rub her feet until he could get some semblance of a smile and maybe a hand on his cock.
If he was lucky.
If she was up to it.
Why'd he wanna have kids again? This lack of sex really had him on edge and it was only going to get worse. Even after Buggy was born, he'd have to wait at least six weeks.
He chuckled as she flopped down on the couch. "Oof is right. And I think it had something to do with the free shit." He glanced at the gift table, still piled high with things he didn't fully understand. What the hell was a breast pump for? They were already twice the size they had been.
"Come here, kitten. Let's get you and buggy all relaxed n' ready for bed. I'll come down n' clean up later."
"You're such a good husband," she moaned in exhausted delight as he came near, picking her up effortlessly to carry upstairs toward the tub, which was already full of hot water and bubbles, candles bedecking the porcelain perimeter. He was absolutely spoiling her, just like he once promised he would back in that hotel room when she was scared and nervous and wanted nothing more than to die. That was lifetimes away.
"I still can't believe you actually got Adam and Barb. I'll make them come around, I promise."
It wouldn't be easy, but half the work was already done. He got them through the front door, after all, which was more than Lydia could have done on her own. With a blink, he had her naked and was carefully lowering her into the deluge of bubbles.
"They just don't know you like I do. You can't really blame them. Don't get me wrong, you're perfect in almost every way, but you don't make a great first impression."
He chuckled as he lowered her into the water, leaning down to kiss her gently. "I'm just doin' my best, baby. Gotta make sure my family's happy or what good am I?"
He settled into the air chair that sat near the tub for just this reason. "You said ya wanted Babs. I figured havin' Adam there couldn't hurt. Besides, they were worried about ya. Thought I might be abusin' ya."
He could see where their concern came from, but the thought alone was appalling to him. "They don't gotta come around, ya know? If you want them here... in Buggy's life... then they're gonna be here. Even if they can't stand me."
"I want Bug to have grandparents. I never knew mine."
This was calmer and more diplomatic than her embarrassing admission that "she wanted her mommy", curled up and crying on the plush nursery carpet.
"My mom's parents disowned her, pretty much. Cause they were religious and... You know. I'm a sinful bastard born out of wedlock." An emotionless smirk accompanied this. Lydia was too far removed from these nameless, faceless people to care about their rejection. It was something she'd gotten over a long time ago.
"Dad kept me away from his parents… or, they kept themselves away from me. I'm not sure which. They're rich wasps. Old money. I don't think they approved of him having the gall to claim his illegitimate bastard. In any case, I hope the news of 'me' was very embarrassing for whatever hoity-toity crowds those old nazi farts were running around in."
At his puzzled expression, she laughed and explained further.
"Have I not told you this? My father's family is German. I don't have any proof, but I very strongly suspect they were not on the right side of World War II."
He snorted at the piece of family trivia. "Yeah, I'm glad I missed that one. Italy would not have been the place to be." He pulled the chair closer and gestured for her foot.
Foot rubs had become a source of intimacy for them as she got heavier with child. He was horny as hell but refused to do anything that he thought might hurt Buggy or Lydia just to get his rocks off.
So he settled for rubbing her feet, hearing her moan, and then taking care of himself when she wasn't looking. He dug his fingers into her sole, frowning softly at the memory of her fleeing the party.
"Hey, baby? Why were you so upset that I was talking to Carmen earlier? You know she's just my friend. And she ain't got shit on you."
Pft. Friend. Lydia shrunk deeper into the tub at his inquiry, until she was practically buried in bubbles all except for her mountainous belly.
"I know you slept with her."
It wasn't an accusation. Just an admission of fact. No one needed to tell her. How could they not have slept together? They used to work together and Carmen was beautiful; all the right curves in all the right places, as well as a tiny, perfectly compact waist. There was no way Betelgeuse didn't notice and unleash his lust on her. It was the only logical conclusion.
"We haven't fucked in two months."
This is part of what made Lydia hate all those bullshit compliments all the guests were spewing at her. Beautiful. Glowing. Who gave a fuck what they thought when her husband was disgusted by her?
"I get it, okay? I look like a whale. You don't have to force yourself to sleep with me just to boost my ego, but that doesn't mean I want to watch you flirt with your pretty ex-girlfriend either. Who wears a dress that tight to a baby shower, anyway?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
His mind was spinning. "I... yer not wrong. I used to mess around with Carmen, prolly fifty years ago. But she n' I got an understandin'. She's about as interestin' to me as Tilly is to Luna. She's nice to have around but I don't want her touchin' me!"
He dropped the foot and got out of his seat, kneeling beside the tub to rub a hand up her belly and onto her chest. "Baby, I've been holdin' back... 'cause you haven't felt good n' I don't wanna hurt Buggy."
He bent to kiss her firmly. "You are the only woman for me. That's why I've been goin crazy tryin' to make stuff. Distracts me from wantin' to pick ya up n' fuck ya into the wall." He took her hand, kissing over her knuckles with a dark look in his eye.
"Y'know, ya coulda just asked. I dunno shit about pregnancy but I'm never gonna pass up the chance to rock yer world. Let's go to bed, kitten. Come on..."
What!? He thought he would hurt them?
"Beej…" she breathed softly, lacing wet arms around his neck as he came close, her breath growing short at his mere touch. Everything was so sensitive. She'd been aching for him, waiting for him to come to her every night only to be disappointed when he only wanted cuddles. "I thought you didn't want me… I didn't want to put myself out there and get rejected…"
What a silly, stupid misunderstanding. They were both idiots.
"Please fuck me," she begged as his rough palm traced over her swollen breasts, causing her body to shudder, the water to ripple. "All I want is for you to fuck me. It's all I've wanted for weeks. I'm dying. All the books say it's okay, and Moira said it was fine. Just no missionary. Pretty much anything that includes bending me in half is out."
Pulling herself up as best she could with her increased weight, she went straight for his ear, nibbling and sucking along the lobe.
"You still think I'm sexy?" She hushed, heart pounding in anticipation as she ran a gentle palm down the front of his suit, emboldened to discover a rockhard erection straining to get out of his trousers.
"Prove it."
Prove it.
That dare alone made his blood sing with excitement. He pulled her up and into his arms, making for the bedroom quickly. "Can't bend ya in half. Got it. Not a problem, babes.
He thought quickly through positions he thought wouldn't cause her too much strain. A snap of his fingers brought a stack of pillows to the middle of the bed. He lowered her over them on her hands and knees, carefully supporting her back as her round belly was suspended beneath her.
He growled at the sight of her like this, ready for him after so long apart. He pressed eager kisses down her spine, fingers trailing up the inside of her thigh until they were rubbing across her folds. "Goddamn, I love you... missed havin' ya all spread out for me... how's that feel? Ya comfy? Cause you're gonna be here a while. I'm not stoppin' till ya beg me to..."
"Ah— fuck!"
Everywhere he touched was on fire in direct objection to his supernaturally chilled flesh. By now, Lydia was more than used to it. She craved it. If a set of warm hands touched her, she probably would have blanched in revulsion. Mewling, she arched into his touch like a bitch in heat, more than prepared for the ravishment he was threatening.
"Feels so goood... Fuck. Please give it to me, Daddy. All I want is your big cock. Why did you make me wait so looong?"
She was practically weeping into the blankets, begging shamelessly with vulgar phrases the way she had learned he loved.
"I'm so horny. Everything's so sensitive. It hurts. Never felt like this before… I need it."
He kept his touch light, teasing, though he knew that it wouldn't last long. He was as desperate for her as she was for him. He continued his kisses, rubbing firmly over her clit.
"You're gonna get it, baby... just be patient." He shuffled backward until he could dip between her legs and run his tongue over her hungrily. "Missed you... fuck, ya still taste so good." He repeated the action, wanting to savor the taste of her a moment.
He was getting impatient, however, and stood back to strip out of his suit, the layers going flying save his jacket, which he gently draped over her back with a kiss to her neck. "Stay." He ordered, summoning her camera. Another photo was added to his collection with a click and whir, a grin spreading over his face. "Fuck you're so sexy, kitten..."
Twisting and writhing, she pulled the jacket tighter around her as if it was him, unable to stand the way he was denying her.
"You're so mean," she whined, leveling him with a vaguely hurt gaze as he tortured her further, collecting more photos for his spank bank. He knew how self-conscious she was right now. Jerk.
Hadn't she suffered enough? Put in the work? She was having his baby for fuck's sake! She was a good girl and she deserved this. Teeth digging into her bottom lip, she pushed her round, plush ass back as far as she could, releasing a pitiful noise when she only succeeded in just barely brushing against him. The way he growled orders at her like she really was just a cock-hungry bitch— wasn't she though?— only exasperated her great need.
The only thing she was missing was her collar.
He took pity on her eventually, leaning down to kiss the small of her back as he set the camera aside. "You're so perfect, baby... can't believe I got lucky enough to have ya. N' yer havin' my baby..."
He shook his head, his cock twirling hungrily where it sat against her ass. "Damn. Look atcha... still so needy even knocked up. See. That's why yer always gonna be better than any other woman. You can take it all and beg for more."
He teased the head of his cock over her for the briefest of moments before he was pressing into her, a ragged moan leaving him. It was like getting a fix after months of sobriety. "Fuck, Lyds... shit."
She let loose a chest-deep groan as he finally pressed forward, breaching her ever-tight walls. When he didn't start moving fast enough, Lydia took it upon herself to start up setting a rhythm, gripping the blankets tight for purchase and pushing her body back against him, greedy for more.
"Fuck," she cursed, panting, bouncing off of him without any help whatsoever. The added weight gave her good momentum, causing an audible slap to ring through the room with each desperate, eager thrust. Rough and reckless, she rode him like her life depended on it, using his stationary cock like a dildo suctioned onto a shower wall.
"So— good— fuck! Fuck! AH!"
And just like that, without her cruel husband having to do much of anything, she was cumming around him, letting loose her vice grip on the blankets to slump onto the pillows beneath her in a pile of euphoric convulsions.
Before he could blink it was over, his wife bouncing back and freezing as she came, convulsing around him. He growled softly, gripping her hips tight and trying to stay still. Poor thing had to be oversensitive.
"Fuck. Shit, baby... I'm gonna need a little more'n that... come here." He repositioned them, settling her on her side and laying behind her. With a little maneuvering, he was sliding back into her and groaning into her hair as he started to thrust.
She had found her release, and now it was his turn. His hand rubbed lovingly over her stomach as he chased his release, panting and huffing into her hair as he thrust against her lush ass firmly.
In minutes he was falling over the edge, pressed into her deep as he moaned and shuddered behind her. "Fuck...Lyds..."
She found her completion once more as he humped against her, spooning and fucking at the same time. At one point his rough fingers brushed ever so lightly over her nipples, and that was all it took to send her shuddering against him again, arching and mewling, internal muscles milking his cock for every last drop of seed.
Was that it? He was motionless behind her, breathing deep, unnecessary breaths into her tangled mass of damp hair, making the baby hairs on her neck stand up with the chill. That couldn't be it. She wasn't done with him yet.
"Move," she ordered, pushing him onto his back so she could climb on top with clumsy, impatient movements and impale herself.
"God!" She cried out, leaning over him to plaster her hands flat against his chest, using that stability to bounce up and down in a heavy, rapid patter.
"Never— make me— wait— this long— again!"
Two orgasms deep and still bossing him around? Maybe he'd lost his touch. Still, he was happy to be used to her whims, pushed onto his back as she impaled herself on him again. He growled and took hold of her hips, bucking up into her eagerly as she dropped down on him over and over. He watched her face, one hand coming up to brush her hair out of the way.
"Never, baby... I'm sorry I made ya wait. Just didn't know... didn't wanna hurt ya..." He shuddered beneath her, his hands sliding up her sides to squeeze at her full breasts. "God damn, you are so sexy, baby... why would ya think I'd ever want someone else? I already got the best there is..."
He grinned and sat up to kiss her firmly. Her stomach was largely in the way, so he was forced to drop back down, completely at her mercy. "Fuck yeah... ride that cock, baby I know ya love it..."
This orgasm took a little more work than the previous ones, but she got there, helped along by his dedicated bucking. They worked in tandem with one another, his strong thrusts providing a perfect counter to her incessant bouncing.
"I dooo…" she moaned at his lewd insistence that she loved riding his cock, sounding almost as if she was in pain, though she couldn't have been further from it. "So big… so good… the best! Ah— fuck! More!"
Even as she fell apart for the third time, she continued to demand all he had to give, relentless in her lust. In the throes of passion, she didn't seem to notice that her breasts were leaking. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was the first time Betelgeuse had bore witness. Usually, she would clean the mess away discreetly and change tops before he could notice, but there wasn't hiding anything now. Not here.
He wasn't far behind her, cursing as he came a second time, pulling her flush against him and keeping her still as he rode through the waves of pleasure wracking his body.
He stared when he felt an unfamiliar sensation against his fingers, his eyes darting to where she was leaking a thin, yellowish substance. Curious, he leaned in to run his tongue over one pebbled nipple.
It didn't taste of anything, but he was intrigued. Did this mean she was close to delivering? He was suddenly very invested, sitting up with her still in his lap to press at her breasts gently, more of the thin substance dripping free. "Woah... that's... should we call Moira?"
Out of breath, good and fucked, she slumped limply against him as he started showing fascination with the premature milk dripping from her engorged nipples.
"No," she panted, reaching for his discarded button up to gently dab the moisture away. "It'll stop soon. They've been doing this for a couple of months now. You just haven't seen it."
It had been far too long since they'd indulged in carnal pleasures. Her body was doing things he'd never seen before, performing feats he'd only heard of without ever viewing in practice.
"It just means they're getting ready to start producing milk more regularly. It's kinda... gross, so I just… kept it to myself."
Gross? "What? No... it's kinda... it's fascinatin'..." It was shocking to him that he'd missed when this started. The concept of her body doing something that he hadn't noticed was uncomfortable in the least.
He squeezed again, his eyebrow raising when more of the liquid beaded on her nipples. He looked up at her and ran his tongue over her again. On the second pass, the milk just tasted like her skin.
He pulled her closer and pressed kisses over her chest and up her neck, his hands sliding to her ass. "Damn, I missed havin' ya like this. I love it when ya get all pink and sweet after sex." He grinned against her neck, squeezing her firmly.
"We ain't ever goin' that long without fuckin' again. I don't care if we gotta schedule that shit."
Now that she was coming down from her lustful haze, the sad reality was crashing down on her. He hadn't read any of the books, not like her. He'd been too busy babyproofing and going to town in his workshop to immerse himself in the medical aspects of pregnancy and birthing.
He didn't know.
"Beej," she began with a deep frown, caressing his wild hair and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek to placate before delivering the bad news. "You'll have to. We'll have to. We can't have sex for six weeks after I have Bug. Maybe longer if there are complications."
She felt terrible delivering information like this after such a lewd, desperate display. How could she beg him like that, make him promise never to make her wait knowing that he would have to? It really, really wasn't fair.
"I'm sorry…"
He frowned softly. "Well, I know that! I read y'know." He dug his fingers into her sides, tickling her gently. "That doesn't count. Yer gonna be healing from literally pushin' out a human."
He leaned in to kiss her gently. "Besides, you'll probably hate me after ya have Buggy." He leaned down to kiss her stomach, feeling a sharp jab back against him. "Hey! Fuckin' rude."
He shook his head. "She ain't even born yet and she's already sassin' me! Can you believe that?" He carefully lifted her off his cock and settled her beside him, turning to face her with a smile. "Now. Can I get ya anything before bed? Ice cream? Grasshoppers?"
"Oh," Lydia winced, leaning back heavily against the pillows as bug started in with her gymnastics. "Jacques and Ginge were right. She's doing crazy things in here. Just… just a minute. She's on my bladder."
After waddling to the bathroom to relieve herself and clean whatever cum was left trickling between her thighs, she made her slow trek back to bed, Betelgeuse hopping up to help her the short distance with persistent diligence.
"I really… really want a deep-fried tarantula. Extra crispy."
Ginger's presence may or may not have had something to do with this sudden, overwhelming craving. Thus far, Lydia had managed to keep her appetites away from spiders, her favorite type of bug. The thought of eating one was usually repulsive, but tonight, Bug wanted what she wanted.
"Thank you, baby," she expressed her gratitude sweetly, landing a lingering kiss on his cheek. "I love you. I still can't believe you actually got Adam and Barb here."
He grinned at the request, summoning up two of the requested treat on sticks. He pulled her into his arms and accepted the kiss happily. "I love ya more. You know I'd do anything for you. Even if it means more in-laws."
He chuckled and pulled her to sit beside him, handing her the spider with a raised eyebrow. He'd noticed the way she'd been eyeing Ginger. Luckily he could satisfy this craving without losing a friend in the process.
He winced as he saw what was definitely a foot push at her stomach. "Hey! Settle down in there, Buggy. Daddy got yer snack, now leave momma alone." He ran his hand over her belly gently. "Don't take this the wrong way but... yer gettin' real big. Moira say anythin' about that? She just a big girl?"
Contrary to everything they had just done and his explicit instructions not to take it the wrong way, her eyes narrowed, teeth snapping viciously right into the unfortunate arachnid's fat, egg-filled thorax. To the deliriously pregnant Lydia, it was like eating the most decadent caviar.
She was the only one who got to notice how big she was. Where did he get off?!
"Yeah, well I can still pull your jacket most of the way around my stomach, so what does that say about you, buddy?"
With a childish poke of her tongue in his direction, she was finished getting her recompense and continued happily devouring the unusual snack, vengeance sated.
"At first, she thought it was twins—" His eyes went wide with strange, unexpected delight and she felt a pang that she had to disillusion him. "But she only heard one heartbeat. It is your baby. If you haven't noticed, you're kind of a big guy."
Twins? The thought was exciting and made sense with everything that was going on in there, but the prospect was quickly shot down. Of course, he was nearly a foot taller than his wife, so maybe Buggy just took after him.
In more ways than one.
He offered her the other spider, nuzzling into her neck happily. "Well, either way, she's gonna be perfect. Can you imagine twins? That'd be insane."
He shuffled down to resume his favorite hobby, laying with his ear pressed to her stomach to hear her and Buggy's hearts beat in unison, the deep thrumming he was familiar with from listening to Lydia's when she slept, and the new, faster beating of their daughter's. He smiled when he found the right position, pressing a kiss to the taught skin.
"Hey, baby girl… you'd tell Daddy if you were a twin, right?" Both of her tiny feet pressed to his cheek. He chuckled. "That's my girl. Love you baby."