Take care of her.
He re-read the end of Kenny’s text multiple times on the subway. He confidently knocks on their front door and waits. The bag in his arms is starting to ache but he won’t put it down on the damp doorstep. It takes her so long to open the door that he’s worried that she is out or had some kind of fall.
She finally opens the door to him, and he’s relieved to get out of the New York chill. The added weight makes her look even shorter and her dirty blonde curls were even wilder. She is wearing a dumpy purple and blue smock dress.
She greets him with two air kisses and lets him into their apartment. It’s cosy and just about messy enough without being a headache.
“Oh, he didn’t, did he?” she says, blushing slightly at the grocery bag in his hands.
“A delivery for the lady. You know where I can find one?”
“Let me take that,” she says, trying to take the bag out of his hand.
“Look at you,” he says. “Looking all cute and prego.”
“Oh, don’t,” she scolds, trying to flatten her wild hair. “I’m old, tired and fat.”
He watches her waddle up the hallway, admiring her explosion of curves. Her hips are wide and her breasts bigger, as if he couldn’t be more attracted to her. Her slippers thud on the hallway floor and he can’t help but smile.
“Looks alright from here.”
“Oh, stop it.” She loves it, loves to be the center of male and female attention. She loves to be worshipped by him and he gladly indulges in it.
“Where do I put this?” He follows her into the kitchen, still admiring the sway of her hips. He gently places the brown paper bag of groceries on the kitchen top.
“Did Kenny send you? That grumpy little man, he worries too much.” He watches her take out the groceries one by one, admiring her little hands and slight wrists.
“He loves you.” He tries to say that without being jealous that she wasn’t his wife. He respected and idolized Lonergan but he was batting out of his league with J. Kieran had wanted her from the moment he met her. It had evolved from Lust to Love to Complicated uncomfortably quickly.
“I know,” she tuts. He understands why Kenny was concerned, remembers the drunken meltdown after losing their child, remembers the glazed look Kenny wore for weeks after.
He wraps his arms around her waist, curving his hands under her round belly. She’s grown from a woman with a belly to a full-on pregnant lady since he has last seen her. He’s relieved when she leans back into his arms. He rubs the underside of his belly under the ugly floral dress and is relieved when she purrs in response.
“How long you got left being you go full John Hurt and an alien explodes out of you?”
“7 weeks,” she sighs. She goes to put a jar in the top cabinet, but he takes it out of her hand and does it for her.
“Got to respect your elders,” he says. She turns around and he finally feels how big her belly is. It feels hard against her own soft tummy, and she feels so far away. “What’s on the TV box?” he says, adding a strange accent that is somewhere between Bela Lugosi and Humphrey Bogart.
“She likes the musicals,” she says, looking down at her belly. She’s looking up at him with long lashes and a slight pout. Her face rounder, her skin brighter, he didn’t think she could look any more perfect but there she was. He was worried when Kenneth told her she was pregnant, she was five-months gone when he told everyone, selfishly worried about his place in their lives (whatever that place was exactly). He had avoided them a bit, well as much as he could in little New York theater world, concerned that he had become a spare part in the complications of creatives in an open marriage.
He throws his jacket off and sits on their couch, sprawling his limbs all over it, trying to take up as much space as possible. She joins him, moving slowly through the apartment. She kicks off her ugly slippers, sits beside him, and rests her feet on his lap. Her toenails are painted bright pink and clipped precisely. He rests his hands on top of her feet and gently traces patterns from ankle to toe.
“Oh goodness, I didn’t even offer you a drink. I swear my head has been everywhere recently. You know I called Kenny earlier crying because the button fell off my favorite blouse? It’s so embarrassing.”
“It’s pretty fucking cute.” He is still rubbing his feet, feeling how smooth the skin is. He runs his hands up her calf, massaging the fleshy skin. She makes a purring sound and settles back into the sofa. The film on TCM in the background is being ignored, they are too lost in each other to notice anything or anyone else. She is heavy-lidded, her shoulders relaxing as he rubs up and down her bare legs.
“I missed you,” she whispers. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I thought four would make a crowd,” he shrugs. She concentrates on massaging her feet and calves, enjoying her little sighs.
“Kiss me,” she demands. He looks up at her with a furrowed brow to see her intently staring at him, biting her lip gently. “I would bend down but I can’t reach,” He smiles, leaning up and over her belly to kiss her gently. She automatically deepens it, her fingers clutching at his shoulders. “I didn’t know if you still wanted me.”
He doesn’t quite have the words to explain how much he still wants her, so he kisses her deeply. “I have always wanted to fuck a pregnant lady.” He doesn’t, he has never thought about it before, but he wants to fuck her, a pregnant J.
He clutches at her dress, trying to gain access to her new curves. She rearranges herself, helping to pull the dress up and allowing him to see the new feature. He dips his head and kisses the firm mound, following the orb to the plain navy blue panties. He keeps his eyes fixed on her face, and waits to be told he was a disgusting piece of shit who was trying to fuck his friend’s pregnant wife. She doesn’t, she keeps on looking at him with pure lust.
He sniffs her panties, already smelling her arousal. He leans to gently kiss her thigh and she opens up for him. He hooks a finger in her wet panties and slides them aside so he can access her. She is wet and swollen when he licks up her. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, breathily. He licks up and down her wet slit, teasing her with his tongue. She had made it very clear what she liked and wanted early on. She tastes different, swollen and wanting, louder and wetter. He slurps at her as she gasps, clutching the upholstery of the ugly brown couch. He pulls off her panties and leaves them to get lost down the back of the couch, a gift for Kenny.
She comes quicker than ever before and he is drowning in her, holding her hips as she fucks his face. He gently licks through her comedown, placing a hand gently on her bump. He wishes he could see her face but it’s hiding between the expanse of stomach.
He comes up for air, wiping her juices off his chin. She is breathing heavily, heavy-lidded, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
“Are you okay?” he asks, sitting back and thanking higher powers his jeans were baggy.
“I have been so horny later,” she says, her voice high and breathy.
“Oh, really?” he says. He crawls up her, putting all his weight on his wrists. He dips down and kisses her again, she is greedy in response, his tongue thrusting into his mouth. Her hand gently runs down the front of his jeans before making quick work of his belt buckle. She shoves her hand in his jeans and grips his dick. He lets out an embarrassingly loud moan and she smirks.
He jumps up from the couch, startling J a little. He strips down as quickly and as manically as he can. He throws his sweater across the room and hops around, tripping over his pants as he kicks them off.
He strips completely naked and feels like a pathetic boy in front of her, lounging on her couch like some fertility goddess. She never seems to mind that he manages to be too skinny and too flabby at the same time. She looks on appreciatively at his naked form.
He bounces back onto the couch, his dick standing to attention between his skinny thighs. “Is this okay, you know, considering the situation?”
“The situation?” she smirks before bursting into laughter. “You mean my daughter?”
“I don’t know,” he scoffs. “Should my dick be going in those places?”
“Honey, how big do you think it is?” she says with a light giggle.
“You’re a little bitch,” he snarls.
“One that is wondering when you’re going to put your cock in me,” she pops her mouth as she says cock, emphasizing every letter. He pulls at her dress, finally getting it over her head. Her maternity bra isn’t very attractive, but it doesn’t last long on her body. Her breasts are more glorious than he could ever imagine, full and round, bouncing free from the bra. He leans down and kisses her breasts, but she winces away. “Can we skip that bit?”
He looks down at how sinful she looks, all round and curvy, sweat glistening on her pale stretched skin. He kneels in front of her and enters her, she is wet and swollen around him. She feels different, smells different, tastes different and he can’t get enough.
He starts gently, worried about hurting her, hurting the child, getting barred from ever working on stage again. She grabs his wrists, a few gentle strokes in. “Harder, I’m not going to break.”
He starts to thrusts into her at a more normal pace, one hand on her thigh, the other on the back of the couch for leverage. She is loud, her mouth shaped into a pornographic o shape. He grunts as he thrusts in and out of her, the sound of their bodies slapping together. Her whole body is shaking as he thrusts, her tits bouncing and her belly jiggling as his cock thrusts inside her.
He’s close to coming, the sound of her breathy moans sending him wild. She grabs his wrist and forces him to stop. “Fuck, did I do something,” he panics.
“I need,” she breathlessly tells him. “Come here,” she beckons. He slips out of her and squeezes into the gap between her and the back of the sofa.
“Can’t keep up with me, eh?”
“Just not used to you lasting so long,” she quickly bats the verbal ping pong ball back. She rolls over so her back is to him and he instinctively wraps his arms around her. He enters her gently from behind, kissing the back of her neck as he fills her up. She makes a gentle sigh and leans back into him. They slowly move together, and it’s so easy for him to imagine this is how he could spend every Sunday afternoon.
He rubs at her belly, marvelling at how smooth it feels. He dips one hand down to her clit, with a few flicks she is falling apart in his arms. Her orgasms are so much more intense, her muscles clenching tightly around his dick. He comes soon after, jerking inelegantly into her. He strokes her perfect ass as they both pant through their comedown.
They manoeuvre themselves so he is sitting leaning against the arm of the couch and she is beside him, using his chest as a pillow. Both of his hands are rubbing the belly, feeling little flutters beneath his fingertips, “Is it mine?” he regrets it as soon as he asks it. She looks up at him with a furrowed brow and smiles. It isn’t a dumb question; they had been having sex regularly eight months ago, but he feels bad for saying it. Sometimes she fucked him and Kenny on the same night, within the same hour.
“We’ll see whether she comes out with a little gremlin Culkin face," she says. He doesn't reply, his feelings are hurt for no reason. "You want kids?" Only with you. He wants to say but knows that would gain a laugh. He just shrugs. "Oh honey, one day you will meet your soulmate and just know you will want children with them. Just don't wait too long, eh?" Don't wait for me.
She curls up into his chest and falls asleep. He kisses her forehead and pretends for a second this is his life. The TV is still glowing in the background, the low rumble comforting to him. He feels a little flutter under his hand as he strokes her naked belly. He wishes it was his daughter in there. He wishes it was him worrying about her at work.