"What are you doing?" she asks.
"Making love to my pregnant wife." I strip off my pants, cover her body with mine. "Celebrating."
"Pyotr, I just threw up."
"And now you're carrying my child. I'm going to worship that." I kiss down her body, paying special attention to her fuller breasts, her sensitive nipples. "Going to worship every change. Every sign that you're growing my baby."
When I reach her stomach, I spend long minutes just kissing it. Reverent. Possessive.
"My baby," I murmur against her skin. "Mine. Growing inside you where it belongs."
I make love to her slow and deep. Different than the feral breeding of the past two weeks. This is tender. Worshipful. Celebrating what we've created together.
She comes apart beneath me, gasping my name, her body clenching around my cock.
I follow her over, groaning as I fill her once again. But this time it's different. This time there's no urgency to breed her—she's already bred. Already carrying my child.
This is just claiming. Just love. Just mine.
After, I hold her, my hand splayed protectively over her stomach.
"How do you feel?" I ask.
"Overwhelmed. Scared. Happy." She covers my hand with hers. "All of it at once."
"Good. That's normal." I kiss her temple. "I'm scheduling a doctor's appointment. Today. Best ob-gyn in the city."
"You already have one picked out?"
Of course I did. I plan everything. "You're mine, Vera. And now you're carrying mine. I take care of what's mine."
She turns in my arms to look at me. "You're going to be insufferable, aren't you? Overbearing and controlling and obsessed."
"Yes." I don't apologize for it. "You're pregnant with my child. I'm going to make sure you have everything you need. That you're safe, healthy, comfortable. That our baby has the best possible chance."
"I'm not fragile."
"You're precious." I cup her face. "You're carrying my child. That makes you the most important thing in my world. Get used to being spoiled and protected and obsessed over."
She sighs but doesn't argue. She's learning. Learning that fighting me on this is pointless.
"When do we tell people?" she asks.
"After the doctor confirms it. After we're sure everything is healthy."
"And then?"
"Then everyone knows." My hand tightens possessively on her stomach. "Everyone knows you're pregnant. That you're mine. That I bred you exactly like I promised."
She blushes, which makes me smile.
"You like that," I observe. "Knowing everyone will see you pregnant and know what it means. Know that I filled you. Bred you. Made you mine."
"I hate that I like it," she admits quietly.
"Don't hate it. Embrace it." I roll her onto her back, cover her body with mine. "You're mine,malyshka. Pregnant with my baby. Walking proof that you belong to me. And I want everyone to see it."
I kiss her stomach again, that possessive gesture that's only going to get worse over the next nine months.
