I awoke disoriented and with an acute need to piss.

It took me a full minute to remember I was in the new house. Alone in our big bed, because Sunshine was actually listening to me all of a sudden.

I stumbled over boxes and bubble wrap on my way to the bathroom. Of course, there wasn’t any bulb installed and I had to guess where the fucking toilet was.

When I was done, I decided to find the twink inmate and pull him to bed, maybe even indulge in a little midnight snack.

I found him downstairs, in the living room, slumped on his stupid bean bag, sketchpad on his chest, sleeping deeply.

Slowly, I extracted the sketchpad, and looked at his latest piece of art. The moon’s light helped me see the page better as I shuffled to the big windows.

I’d specifically forbidden him to draw me in this condition. I felt hideous, even though everyone told me otherwise. Lindsay and Debbie even tried giving me good arguments on how to appreciate the changes my body was going through.

I could only see the downsides—weight gain, stretch marks, aches of all kinds, even poor sight.

But staring at Justin’s drawing, I could actually see what everyone was telling me. He knew how to show and express everything he felt in his drawings. He must have done this one day when I was sleeping, because I was on the bed at the loft, curled on my side, my shirt had ridden up exposing a silver of flesh, my hand was resting on top of my belly, protectively.

I peered down at my stomach, then at the drawing again.

Fuck.

I still couldn’t believe this was real, that this was happening to me.

Glancing over my shoulder at Justin, I was grateful for his presence. I doubt I’d been able to go through this shit without him by my side. As selfish as it made me, I preferred him here, rather than on the other side of the country, getting sucked in that fake world Hollywood created.

At least, having him with me, I knew he was safe.

“What are you doing over there?” Justin’s sleepy voice came from behind me.

“We agreed no pictures.”

His eyes followed my hand waving his sketchpad. “Give that back!”

“Nope. You’ll have to catch me.”

I turned to head up the stairs, but I’d forgotten I wasn’t in shape to run like I used to. Justin grabbed a handful of my shirt before I reached the third step.

He turned me around, extracting the sketchpad from my hands and chucking it over his shoulder, then his mouth came crashing onto mine.

I moaned, losing my footing and leaning against the banister. Justin slid his hands under my shirt, pushing it up, over my head, throwing it away. Then he deftly unbuttoned my pants, dropping to his knees.

“Fuck, Justin.”

“Mhmm. Fuck, yes. Turn around.”

It had been a few days since our last round of sexing. I tried to resist his persuasion of topping me, but lost the battle when he practiced his deep-throating skills.

I twisted around, leaning over the banister, succumbing to his skilled tongue. I taught him well in Rimming 101.

When it got good, he stood slowly, kissing and licking at my back until he reached my ear, breathing harshly into it.

“It’s been over six months since we’d fucked anyone but each other.”

“Yeah, so?” I wasn’t in the mood of chit-chat.

“So…” He whispered seductively, pushing a wet finger into my ass. “Can I bareback you?”

“What the fuck?” I spun around, pushing him away. “I thought we had that talk before.”

“But Brian…”

“No buts. Unless we’re speaking of this butt.” I pointed to mine. “Which you won’t get in until you wrap your dick.”

“You suck.”

“Are we seriously arguing about this shit, Justin? No. We won’t do it raw. Now or ever. Get over it.”

He huffed, storming back into the living room.

You’ve got to be kidding.

I pulled my pants up and followed the drama princess. “I’m the one with mood swings, dear.”

“Fuck off, Brian.”

“Why is it my fault that I want both of us healthy? Look, Justin.” I tugged him down to his stupid bean bag, sitting him between my legs. “We might be okay, I don’t care. It’s still not going to happen.”

“What? Why? Do you plan on going back to…tricking after Peanut is born?”

“Munchkin,” I reminded him gently. “I don’t know. I doubt it, but who knows?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” He rolled around, putting his hands on either side of my stomach and his chin on top of it. “So you’ll leave Munchkin with me and go get your rocks off in the backroom of Babylon then come home to us? Is that what you want to do?”

“I haven’t thought about this, Justin. That’s who I am. I thought you knew me.”

“So it’s hard for you not to get your rocks off in the backroom of Babylon now?”

“Frankly, I haven’t even thought of it.”

“See? You don’t need it! It’s just some stupid thing you got in your head: I’m Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue, hear me roar! Ow!” He pulled his hand away, staring in disbelief at my belly.

“That hurt,” I mumbled, rubbing the spot Munchkin kicked. He had great aim, I had to admit. “Stop screaming. You’re getting me worked up, and it distresses Munchkin.”

“Oh. Well, sorry. But this isn’t over, Brian.”

“How about we pick up this argument after Munchkin arrives? Right now…you were demonstrating your skills gained in my Rimming 101 class.”

He sorted, slapping my thigh, half-heartedly.

“Or maybe, I can take you for a joyride on your new toy.” I patted the bean bag under us.

Justin squirmed in my arms, but I managed to push him face first into the leather, before straddling him.

“No! I wanted to be on top,” he protested, still trying to free himself.

“Stop, or I’ll have to spank you.” My words made him push his ass up, wriggling it. I swatted one of his cheeks. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please…anything!” He wailed.

“Jeez. I’m supposed to be the horniest out of the two of us.”

“Forgetting my age? I’m at my sexual peak.” He flashed me a smile over his shoulder.

“Twat.” I spanked him twice more for good measure, then fished in my pocket for lube and condoms. I prepared him hastily, before pushing in all the way. Tight. Always so tight. I closed my eyes, keeping a strong grip to his hips as I started moving.

Justin slapped a hand to the back of my thigh, bracing himself, his back arching.

Fuck. It’d been too long since we had a good fuck.

But when it got better, I remembered why we’d been avoiding strenuous activities.

Munchkin started kicking me, and didn’t stop until I ceased all movement.

“Why did you stop? Don’t stop now,” Justin pleaded in a breathy voice.

“If you tell your kid to stop using my organs as his soccer ball, I’ll continue.”

“Let me up.” Justin slid out from under me, making me moan at the loss of warmth. “Lie on your back.” He climbed on my lap, made sure the condom was still in place, then slid on my dick. “Aaaah! Yes.” He threw his head back.

I reached up, twisting his nipple, trying not to move my hips in fear of jostling the monster. It was harder than I thought—fucking without both of us moving, but Justin was doing a stellar job at getting both of us off.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Justin kept his eyes on my stomach painted in his cum. Using one finger, he scooped up a dollop then brought it to my lips, before leaning to kiss me. “Mhmmm. Tastes—”

“Like cum?” I laughed, nibbling on his lower lip.

He laughed louder, snuggling into me.

“Let’s go to bed,” I suggested after a while.

He hummed sleepily, nuzzling my shoulder.

“Justin, get up. You can sleep upstairs.”

After a lot of prodding and pushing and pulling, I got Justin upstairs and in our bed.

It was early morning judging by the first rays of sunlight, but I was too tired to think of what day it was or if we had any social obligations to show our face to the world.

Facing the reality came faster than I thought. It felt like I’d barely closed my eyes when my phone started ringing.

“Make it stoooop,” Justin whined, tugging the blanket over his head.

We needed pillows, since Mr. Decorator has forgotten about that important part of the bed. We might bring the ones from the loft. They were perfectly squishy.

“Briiaaaan!”

“Hold on, I can’t find it. Oh. Got it.” I snatched my phone off the floor where it’d fallen yesterday, and accepted Cynthia’s call. “Morning.”

“Did I wake you?” She gasped. “Tell me you’re awake and on your way to work,” she whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” I fell back on the bed.

“Because Mr. Brown is here!”

“Holy fuck!” I shot up as fast as the intruder inside me allowed. “Fuck. Shit. Damn it.”

“I’ll make him coffee and have Mark keep him entertained with his ideas for the new campaign. How long until you get here? Ten minutes? Fifteen?”

“Try…forty five. We’re at the new house. Do keep him there. I’ll be over as soon as I can.” I hung up, pulling the blanket off Justin. “Get up. I’m late. I totally forgot about Leo Brown coming in today.”

“You work too much,” he mumbled, seeking the blanket’s warmth with his eyes still closed.

“Justin, Leo’s money paid for this palace. Now, get your bubble butt out of the bed while I piss. Again. Do something productive and find our clothes,” I called through the bathroom’s open door.

When I was done, Justin had actually disappeared from the bed, but I found him right outside our room, leaning into the wall, and rubbing his foot.

“For fuck’s sake, move.”

“I stubbed my fucking toe into the doorframe.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention where you walk. If you’re not ready to leave in five, I’m leaving you here.”

“Be nice to me or I won’t rub cream on your stretch marks anymore.”

I cringed, glancing at said stretch marks. “Come on.” I grabbed his elbow, dragging him after me.

We dressed in record time. I was only missing a sock and my shirt.

“The shirt…I think I threw it around the stairs somewhere last night.”

“What about my sock?” I complained, looking under the couch’s cushions. “Fuck, Justin.”

“You took your socks off. The fuck should I know what you did with it. You can have mine.”

“It’s white. Mine are black.”

“Have both mine and stop whining.” He pushed his socks to my chest.

Crisis averted, and shirt retrieved from the kitchen, actually, we were ready to go. There was only one problem. I had no clue where I’d put the fucking keys.

“I put that fucking bowl there for a reason. Now you understand why keys go in there and not condoms?” Justin put his hands on his hips.

“Help me find them. You can scold me another time.”

“Did you try your pockets?”

I threw him an angry look. Of course. “Might be upstairs.” I raised an eyebrow in expectation. “That means you go and see if they’re in our room.”

“You’re getting off with all kinds of shit just because you’re pregnant,” he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Thanks, Munchkin.” I patted the side of my stomach. “We’re a great team.”

Justin returned five minutes later, hopping on a foot but with the keys in his hand. “Stubbed my toe again,” he explained.

“That doorframe will hate you.”

“My toe hates me right now. No!” He shouted when I made to take the keys from him. “I lock up. I keep the keys. Do you have everything else? Phone? Wallet?”

I patted my pockets and nodded.

“Good, go ahead. I’ll lock up and join you.”

He was so thoughtful, he clicked the alarm off so I could get in the passenger seat.

We drove directly to Kinnetik, where I breezed into my office, thanking God I kept clothes in case of emergencies there. I freshened up as fast as I could, changed into the latest new designer suit I got, and probably the last I’d find for my actual size, before rushing into the conference room.

“Leo!” I grinned. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Traffic is horrible.”

He stepped closer, shaking my hand and patting my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I had an interesting conversation with the head of your Art Department. He has some pretty amazing ideas I’d like to discuss for my new campaign.”

“Of course.” I nodded, showing him back to the chair. “Thanks, Mark,” I whispered into his ear as I passed him on my way to my chair at the head of the table.

He beamed at me, proud to be of so much help.

Thirty minutes into our conversation, my back started aching and the need to pee became too much. I hated getting up and leaving my client, but it was my pride or a pee stain on my pants.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” I said, interrupting Mark abruptly.

“Everything okay, Boss-Man?” He was the only other one in the company, besides Ted and Cynthia, that knew of Munchkin.

“Yes. Why don’t we take a five minutes break? Coffee, Leo?”

I didn’t stop to look at his stunned face on my way out.

“You done already?” Cynthia was in my office.

“I’ve gotta piss like a motherfucker. Can someone explain to Munchkin it’s not polite to make me leave an important meeting so he should stop pressing against my bladder?”

“Munchkin?”

“Oh, yes. Justin upgraded Peanut to Munchkin. It’s manlier. I really have to piss.” I rushed past her to the bathroom. “Stop laughing! Just wait until you decide to pop a kid. I’ll return it tenfold!”

“I’ll never get pregnant!”

“That’s what I said too,” I answered amused, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Go, be awesome.” She pushed me in the general direction of the conference room.

I sank back into my leather chair, sighing in relief. I felt much better. “Sorry about that.” I glanced at Leo. He was staring at me oddly, but didn’t comment on it.

“I got you some tea,” Mark said, pointing to the cup in front of me.

“Thank you.” I took a sip. He’d learned what I liked lately too. Herbal was my thing. I used to hate this shit. “So where were we? Oh, yes. You want a sports team advertising your new sporting articles.”

“If you could get the Penguins to do it… I used to root for them.”

“Why, Leo. Betraying your home team?” I laughed, leaning back in the chair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Football’s okay too,” he added.

“A friend of mine helped one of the Pirates with his wedding and engagement parties.” Honeycutt had to help me. "Remember Drew Boyd?"

“That’s settled.”

I nodded. “So where do you want the photo shoot to take place? The locker room or the studio?”

“I’d leave that to you, but I’d like it in the locker room. More real, you know?”

Mark agreed about the locker room.

“Great. Locker room, it will be.”

A few minutes later, we wrapped up the meeting. When I got up from the chair, Munchkin decided it was time to practice soccer with my intestines.

“Ah.” I grabbed the side of the desk, hissing in pain.

Fuck. Not now, kid.

“All right, Brian?” Leo came closer.

“Yes,” I said under my breath, taking a few gulps of my tea.

Even though he’d stopped kicking, I could still feel pain flaring from my left side. Damn, he’s got a strong kick.

“You sure? You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I plastered a fake smile on my face. “Let me walk you out.”

With my hand on his back, we walked slowly outside. When I felt another sharp pain, I realized it wasn’t actually Munchkin.

Shit.

I fisted my hand on Leo’s jacket, sucking in a breath.

He turned to stare at me in shock as I unbuttoned my own suit jacket and grabbed my stomach. I didn’t give a fuck what he thought.

“Cynthia,” I gasped. “Get Cynthia.”

While he disappeared the way we came, I pushed the unsuspecting employee out of his chair and slumped on it, biting on my tongue to keep from screaming.

Something was wrong.

The pain wouldn't stop. I felt like throwing up.

If something happened to Munchkin, I’d kill myself. Dr. Hump had told me to take it easy, but I spent regular hours at the office and lately, I’d helped Justin at the house even though he said he could do it on his own.