Ages:

Faith - 63
Jim - 33
Melinda - 29
Katie - 4

Jim always thought that cravings were nothing but an old wives' tale. His mother didn't have them when she was pregnant with Dan—and as far as he knew, she didn't have them with him, either. She did tell him that while she was pregnant with him that she had to steer clear of anything spicy.

Melinda hadn't craved anything too crazy while she was pregnant with Katie. Mostly peanut butter and she loved anything sweet, but there hadn't been anything too crazy.

It wasn't like that with Aaron at all. She wanted anything greasy, anything from fast food or Lento's. It was like they ate out for the last nine months straight, but Jim could handle that. It wasn't until she was in her thirty-seventh week that she started to get a little, irritable.

It came out of nowhere, waking her up in the middle of the night. When her eyes flew open, staring out into nothing, she just laid there, alert and wired, trying to remember what it was that yanked her so abruptly from some vague dream about her ghost.

She was just about to open something, damnit. The breeze was making the glass of the window rattle in the panes, and she slid up to sitting, with this strange gnawing inside her—a hunger she can't even put a name to, let alone shake.

Melinda was salivating. She was so hungry. She had no idea what she wanted yet, but she knew her taste buds were desperately seeking a particular sensation. Something sweet. Silky. Decadent.

She poked at her sleeping husband, feeling a sharp kick to her ribs. "Jim..." She whispered. He didn't stir. He was still curled up against her body, his arm slung over her lap, hand on her belly. He gave an involuntary twitch at the sound of her voice, tugging on her hip. "Jim!"

She slapped his arm this time and he jerked awake, the pillow he'd tucked his head under, flopping to the floor.

"What is it? Are you having contractions?" Jim blinked twice before he wiped his eyes. "I'm up. I'm up."

"No, nothing like that." She laughed, kissing him.

He blinked a few times, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness, then he rubbed the heel of his hand over his forehead. "It's almost four in the morning," he muttered. His words stretched out, across a yawn. "Do you want me to close the window? Is it making too much noise?"

"No," she yawned and felt another kick, reassuring her that even if she wasn't craving sweets that their unborn son would've woken her up anyway. "I'm hungry and the baby is kicking, which means no sleep. Feel here, your son is keeping me up."

Melinda moved to put his palm against her belly and he smiled as he felt their baby kicking against his hand. He stopped rubbing his forehead and looked up at her. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness, too, and she can see his brow was furrowed.

She got him worried.

Early on in the pregnancy, she'd wake him like this, trembling and bathed in sweat, muttering like a madwoman, telling him she believed someone was going to steal the baby from her. It was a reoccurring dream, one that she never knew where it came from. It hadn't happened in a few weeks and Melinda prayed it wouldn't again. And each time, he'd have to calm her down, cradling her until she'd stop crying, telling her it was just a nightmare.

"I'm okay," she whispered, smiling at him. "No nightmares."

"You're sure?" He asked.

"I'm sure. I've just got a craving," she sighed. "That's all."

"Oh." There was confusion on his face at first, as he tried to process her words. Maybe he was expecting something else. Then he broke out into a smile, and a few seconds later, she heard him laugh. "Oh, I thought... Thank God that's all it is... Well, what are you in the mood for?"

"I'm not sure. I want something sweet," she groaned. "And if I don't have something in the next few minutes, I may lose my mind." He chuckled under his breath and kissed her as he kicked the blankets aside. "Where are you going?"

"To get you something for your craving," he said matter-of-factly. "I'll be right back."

"I can come with you," she said, moving to get out of the bed. It took her a second, but she was able to get herself out of bed on her own. "Ooh point for mama. I haven't been able to get up on my own for two weeks!"

"Although I am proud," Jim met her where she stood. "You are supposed to be on bed rest."

"I haven't gotten out of bed other than to pee in the last week and a half like you've asked... it's not going to kill me to go downstairs." She sighed, pouting at him. "Please?"

"Don't pout at me," he said, moving to help her lay back down. He got her to sit, but that was all. "Please? Just lie down and let me go make you something."

"I guess," she muttered, pulling the blanket back to get into her bed. "But only because you're making me something sweet."

"Thank you," he smiled, kissing her lips before kissing her stomach. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

"I'm a statue," she muttered, turning on the lamp on her side table and grabbing the book from inside the drawer.

Melinda poured herself into the pages, getting through almost a chapter. This book had a vice-like grip on her mind, a recommendation from her current ghost Rachel, a young librarian who died last year. She had only been able to get Rachel to agree to crossover after agreeing to read said book, the sequel to one of her favorite books. It had come out post mortem and she was happy to oblige. It was even kind of good, not as good as the first, which she'd read on her own, not knowing about the sequel.

There was clanging down in the kitchen a few moments later, causing her to grab her bookmark. She set the book aside and listened, hearing the snap-hiss of a stove burner turned on, and it wasn't long after that when an intense sweetness hit the air, wafting upwards and reaching the bedroom. Her mouth watered at first sniff.

Another few minutes go by and she couldn't stand it anymore. The fragrance was maddening, teasing her, and finally, she rolled out of bed and padded her way downstairs, almost delirious with anticipation.

"Hey," he said, looking up at her when she entered the kitchen. "You didn't have to come down, I was going to bring this up to you because you're on bed rest, Melinda."

He was pouring something out of a saucepan and into a bowl. It was thick and dark and glided down, plopping into smooth clumps. Remnants of it cling to the sides and he had to reach into the pan with his spatula to scrape down every last bit.

"The smell was taunting me," she grinned, coming up behind him. Her belly met his back a lot sooner than she wished, but she settled her head against his shoulder, and as uncomfortable as it was, Melinda loved feeling her husband against her.

"Was it now?" he said, kissing her hands as they rubbed up against his neck.

"It's not nice to make fun of the mother of your children," she muttered into his bare skin.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he moved out of her grasp to set the saucepan down into the sink. He's about to put the spatula in there, too, until I grab hold of his wrist. "Ah, you want to lick it clean..."

She should be mortified, for being almost thirty and wanting to lick the spatula clean, but she's not. All she knew was that she wanted a taste of whatever he'd made.

He ran a finger down the surface of the spatula, picking up whatever was still clinging to it. She saw now that it was something made with chocolate. Thick and silky and gleaming in the brightness of the overhead lights in the kitchen.

The scent of it hit her right between the eyes. He offered her his finger and she smiled as she took it into her mouth, letting her tongue swirl around as she went for every smidgen of chocolate.

It was pudding, but unlike any other pudding, she'd ever tasted—with hints of orange and almond and spice. The creaminess of it coated her tongue and left an imprint of its bittersweet flavor long after she'd taken it in and its warmth settled in her stomach.

Her brain went into a frenzy. She loved this man so much. He knew just what she wanted.

"Like it?" She could hear the chuckle in his voice as he stepped closer to her, kissing her cheek.

All she could do was close her eyes, lean back against the sink, and nod. He laughed and she felt his breath on her face when he leaned in to kiss her. His tongue gently pried her lips open, the tip of it teasing hers. He'd had some of the pudding, too.

"Does this satisfy the craving?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist, smoothing down over her ass, and giving it a light squeeze.

She reached down into the sink, picked up more of the leftover pudding on the spatula, then licked it off. The bowl lay untouched on the island, still warm and glistening.

"Suddenly, I've got a different kind of craving," she presented her clean finger from her mouth and grinned.

His smile in return told her that he knew exactly what she meant. He grabbed the bowl of fresh pudding and put it in the fridge, knowing she'd want it tomorrow.

"Come on," he grinned, pulling her by her hand. "You know, you look radiant in that nightgown." She blushed, leaning into him as they walked through the foyer. He kissed her head, swinging her up into his arms as they faced the stairs. "What? You're supposed to be on bed rest."

"Yeah, I do. They also limited our sex life." She huffed, rolling her eyes as they made it to the landing. "It's not fair, Jim. I should be able to have sex with my husband whenever I want."

"Shh, you'll wake Katie." He laughed, setting her on her two feet as they made it to the top of the stairs, kissing her neck. "You know I'm on your side. I love you and right now, I don't care what the doctor says as long as I can get you to stop that look." He walked forward, entering their room.

Melinda leaned on the doorway, fiddling with the end of her loose braid, "Stop what?" she said licking her lips. They're a bit chapped, but that didn't matter at the moment.

"Looking at me like that," he said exasperated, he pulled back the comforter, sitting down.

He turned to look at her, almost regretting, she looked perfect, clad in her purple nightgown. It was new, beautiful. Sheer almost, her belly was prominent, but not straining against the flowy material.

"Looking like what?" she said with a filthy grin that left little room to interpret her real intentions.

Her skin seemed to glow under the moonlight, which splashed down its watery white-silver glow onto the room, the hazy warmth of her bedside lamp lit her face. Her cheeks were blushing, eyes smoldering with desire.

He flushed at her expression, standing to walk to her, "Like I'm your next meal," he said breathlessly.

It was becoming almost poetic how she could take his breath away even after all these years together. She tilted her head a little, her grin becoming wider, she gave him a look-over that made him shiver head-to-toe.

"You do seem edible," she licked her lips again, appraising him, he had only a pair of loose sweatpants on that hung low on his hips, displaying his torso, much to her satisfaction. She was selfish enough to keep him all to herself.

"You were gone, all day. I was all alone with Katie," she said in a sad tone, but he knew that she wasn't truly sad or disappointed. She loved being home with Katie, just the two of them. "It was fun and all, but I missed my hubby." At this point, he knew damn well that it was a trap, and she was very good when it came to traps.

He stopped before her, his hand touching her shoulder delicately as traced over her skin, eventually encircling her waist with an arm and pulling her close to him he whispered in her ear, "I was thinking of you at work. It's slow up until the holidays."

She let a gasp fall from her lips, placing her hands on his bare shoulders. She didn't waste any time before sucking greedily at the point where his jaw met his neckline.

He placed a hand on one of her breasts and she moaned at the touch, the tip of his index finger rubbing against her nipple. She was moaning now, shamelessly, as his hands trailed her body, leaving her skin tingling when it finally cupped her, a throaty moan escaped her. she was damp.

"We need to get in bed," she gasped between moans. "Close the door."

Wasting no time, he hoisted her up, and she automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, slightly surprised and more turned on with the fact that even with her extra-weight from the past eight and half months he could still carry her like she weighed less than nothing.

They're kissing fervently to their bed, Jim balancing her and kicking the door closed. He placed her rather gently on the bed next, quite gently considering that he was attacking her mouth like a man possessed.

She looked wrecked, he had somehow loosened her hair from its braid, her lips were swollen and red and eyes glazed, add all of that the moment where she opened her legs most sinfully and suggestively possible. It all made him lose it right there. He moved the lace straps of her nightgown from her shoulder, moving it up and over her head.

He kissed her again, more sweetly now, and made his way lower, kissing her chin, then her throat, giving more attention to her breasts, listening to every gasp and whimper she let out. He purposely spent more time on the swell of her belly.

"Stop teasing you – oh yess..." she cried when he finally reached her center, lapping and sucking greedily. She was whimpering under his ministrations, her legs quaking and the feeling of the pool of heat building inside her, that she always associated with Jim, made her tremble even more, she couldn't even hear her thoughts anymore due to her screams when it all finally came crashing down on her.

He was kissing her inner thigh and rubbing a soothing hand on her side, "I love when you get like this," he said with a rueful smile.

And she couldn't get if he meant the current debauched state or the pregnant one, and she got to the conclusion that it didn't matter, the answer was the same, "I got like this because of you."

He stopped smiling then, a more deep and meaningful look settling on his features. In the earlier stages of their relationship, it made her feel weird and uncomfortable when he gave her that look, now she craved that more and more every day.

"You look beautiful," he nearly whispered, and that made her tingle all over, and damn be her hormones if that simple phrase didn't make her hot all over again. She surged forward, in a rather uncomfortable angle, and chased his lips, a mewl came from her when he kissed her back with equal eagerness.

The position didn't allow him to take his sweatpants off, so he stood up much to her dismay who missed his warmth instantly. In haste, he took his pants and underwear off and pounced at his wife, being careful of her belly, but reveling in the skin-to-skin contact. Her belly had been larger for the past few months, to the point of becoming an issue, so he'd become used to it. She was on her back, hair sprawled over the white pillows like dark ink in a blank canvas, hands clutching the sheets, entire body twitching in anticipation and with one swift thrust, they became one.

Her warmth made him teeter on the edge that would lead to completion, he let her body adjust to his girth and he could notice how both of their breaths were coming hard and loud. Steadying himself in one arm, he let the other one travel to her breasts, which were bouncing with every thrust, she gasped when he groped one, kneading with his hand while his mouth worked at her collar.

"Shh... sleeping toddler." He whispered, nipping at her neck.

It was an inferno consuming her, and she could sense by his uneven movements, the rapid pace that he was at told her that he too was close, she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him for all that was worth.

"I love you," she said impossibly close to his mouth for the words that could be heard.

With a grunt he came, filling her with and bringing her to her climax, their bodies in sync. He used the last of his stamina to not fall on top of her, instead, he settled at her side, his hand finding her stomach, their breaths still coming ragged and labored, "You say all the right things, Mrs. Clancy," he whispered, turning to look at her.

She gives a small huff, waving him off. It came with a playfulness that he knew that she only used with him, it was something that he cherished in their relationship, the small mundane things that they would only share with each other.

"Don't think too highly of yourself, I'm only in this..." she pointed to the rings on her finger, "...because you make my food. And your muscles too."

He laughed aloud, "Really? Now?" fully understanding what she was saying, "You want the pudding?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.

She pondered for a second, "Please?" she eyed him expecting him to laugh.

He kissed her before getting out of bed, "You do realize that is like four in the morning right? And my mom is going to be here at nine and Katie will probably be up at seven."

She turned on the bed, pulling the sheets around her naked form, grinning at him. "I guess I should wish you a Merry Christmas then," she said. "So, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he said while putting his pants back on, he turned to look at her and noticed that she was staring at him, eyes alight with lust.

He met her with another kiss, but she pulled him back to bed instead. The pudding could wait.

Katie had woken them up at eight-thirty that morning, which was better than the previous year.

They'd opened gifts, laughed, and Faith arrived at nine as she'd told them. And on the twenty-seventh Melinda went into labor. They had a son named Aaron, the second of five.