TeenDad2: omg can I come on the adventure??
TeenDad2: I’ll bring snacks
GlitterDoctor: I’ll bring antibiotics
KnotMyProblem: What the fuck
KnotMyProblem: Antibiotics?
KnotMyProblem: We’re going into the future, not the past
GlitterDoctor: Uh, yeah, but have you seen how things are going lately? If we overshoot and end up five years in the future instead of five hours, it wouldn’t surprise me to find society’s collapsed and everyone’s gone back to living like it’s the middle ages
KnotMyProblem: Good point
KnotMyProblem: I’ll bring the guns
TeenDad2: I’M DYING
KnotMyProblem: No you’re not. I left the safety on
GlitterDoctor: All the stogy old doctors I work with are giving me the biggest stink-eye for laughing at my phone
KnotMyProblem: Let ‘em look. If they want to give you shit about enjoying your life, that reflects more on them than it does on you
Damien set his phone down and cracked his knuckles, then considered the stack of papers in front of him. He could review them on the flight and wing the rest. It wasn’t like he was unfamiliar with the Phigma case. Besides, there were other things around the office to tend to—checking in with his account managers, for one. It’d been too long since he’d last poked his head in to see how things were going. Now that he was making an effort to leave every night around six, there were fewer hours in the day to get work done, and he’d had to prioritize what he did on any given day. A lot of the time, checking in with his team came secondary to catching up with his own workload. It wasn’t all that big a deal—unlike the Goldcorp Group’s legal department, they were all competent—but it was part of his responsibility as a senior account manager to offer them guidance.
But if all of them were going to treat him like he’d sneezed all over the salad bar at the buffet, what was the point?
Frustrated, Damien reviewed the remainder of his list. He had several phone calls to make to check in with current clients. He’d bump them up the list and give his team time to cool their jets. In preparation, Damien accessed his contacts list and scrolled through restlessly. It should have been easy—find the client, call the client, talk to the client—but Damien kept swiping up and down. His thoughts lingered on Matthew.
He’d been sick that morning—gray like February slush kicked from the fender of a car. Dr. Triassi had diagnosed it as severe morning sickness—hyperem… hyperemi…something—but said that it wasn’t anything to be concerned about unless Matthew started to lose too much weight.
But Dr. Triassi didn’t know Matthew like Damien did.
She didn’t understand that Matthew deserved not to feel like shit while doing something as miraculous as carrying their unborn child.
So while the good doctor insisted Damien needn’t worry, he worried. He couldn’t help himself. It didn’t matter how shitty things were at the office or how much work Damien had to get done—he had to know that Matthew was okay.
Needing answers, he sent Matthew a text.How are you feeling?
Like shit :( But Emily is playing doctor and being really sweet with me
Are you taking it easy?
Yes, Daddy. I promise
Good boy.Damien smiled. In his mind’s eye, Matthew was curled up with Emily in her bed, the two of them snuggling while Matthew did his best to feel better. It was hard work to bring new life into the world, and it was made harder yet by caring for a young child. Matthew deserved to spend his days lounging while Damien spoiled him.
The thought appealed to Damien more today than it usually did—his cock started to stir.
I’ll be home soon to wait on you hand and foot,Damien told Matthew.Until then, make sure you get some rest. Tell Emimi that I say she needs to make sure you get plenty of sleep.
I will
Have you found the ginger lozenges I bought for you? They’re in the pantry near the boxes of mac & cheese
You bought them for me??
