Epilogue

C illian

"Fuck, baby." Queenie clawed at the back of my neck, legs tightly wrapped around my waist. We didn't have much time before someone noticed we were gone, so my thrusting hips had to put in work to make sure she got there.

"Come on, baby." Repeating that mantra, a time or two more, hoping the encouragement helped. I couldn't rely on the voice that made her crazy, because I couldn't raise my voice loud enough without being obvious.

"Fuck, Cillian. I love you." Whatever sense of control I'd been able to hold onto was now emptied into my wife.

"I told you not to do that." I leaned in for a kiss.

"I didn't want to leave Riona and Cilly with your sister too long," she said, knowing that when she brought up my kids, there was no arguing.

"You came for me baby?" This time, leaning in for an even hungrier kiss.

"Mmmhmm." She nodded.

"You better not be lying to me. Or I'll make you pay for it later," as I withdrew, and all of a sudden, insistent knocking came at the door. Only getting a moment for Queenie to slip her knickers back on, I pulled Queenie in for one more kiss, smacked her bottom, and prepared to open the door to a black hole of chaos.

Ever since we bought a house, Cillian and Queenie's was the place to be on Sundays. Queenie honestly loved being able to bring back Sunday dinners for me, but it was nothing less than chaotic the weekend of a holiday.

Relatives from both sides filled our house to the brim, which meant next to no privacy to be husband and wife. We loved it, but honestly couldn't wait for the holidays to be over, so we could get used to privacy again.

"Open this door right now, Cilly. Little Cilly's nappy needs changing, and I think I've earned the right to not to have to change another one," órfhlaith yelled from behind the door. From the moment I unlocked it, I was being handed a newborn made by me.

"I'll do it," Queenie offered, but she had a lot on her plate with hosting, I could change a damn nappy.

"I can change my own son, woman." I carefully laid him on the bathroom counter we'd used moments prior to fuck on. "Just don't piss on me this time, Junior. Or at least if you're going to do it, have better aim."

I always thought I'd prefer to have a son first given all we're taught about legacy and family. But honestly, I liked having a daughter first. I wouldn't have wanted the presence of a second born daughter eclipsed by having a first-born son.

"Why can't you be good like Riona? Hmm. She's never pissed on me," I teased wiping down his bottom, securing his nappy and pulling down his shirt. Leaning in, I kissed his forehead admiring how much he looked like Queenie.

Despite the little ginger tendrils poking on his head., he didn't inherit my spots. Strangely, Riona had inherited all of them and then some, but so far, we'd seen ourselves in both of them, that it'd be strange if the next one favored one of us more than the other.

Queenie took my free hand, guiding me through a hallway full of running kids. As I was trying my best to make her younger siblings feel welcome despite not seeing them much, so we hosted them whenever we felt physically able.

We found our daughter getting an airplane ride from her uncle Bellamy, as I switched one kid out for the other, admiring my growing baby girl. "Hi, Riona." An Irish name that I suggested that had just meant queen. Queenie didn't seem to mind it much, as it was better than having four Elizabeths.

"Did you miss Daddy. Because he sure I missed you." I cooed, as I peppered her face in kisses.

"And to think, you're about to put down another set. Collecting kids like prizes in a crackerjack box."

"Fuck off." Dismissing Paddy's tasteless joke.

"Don't swear in front of my baby." Queenie tugged at my shirt.

"I'm sorry. Sorry, Riona." I kissed her freckled cheek.

It was true that Queenie was along about eight weeks, but this time we had planned them. We just didn't plan we'd be having twins.

"Hopefully Riona doesn't get unlucky like me," órfhlaith said, as her son, Eoghan clung to her leg. "One daughter stacked against a litter of four trolls for brothers."

"You're getting smart, órfhlaith. Don't think I won't flip you in front of your son." órfhlaith smacked Paddy in the back of the head.

"What are you going to do, hmm?"

"Ow! You didn't have to hit me so hard. I was only messing."

"Don't forget. You may be bigger and stronger, but I'm older. And I'll be dead before I let my daft brothers make a fool of me in front of my son."

Tadhg who had been glued to the phone for the last twenty minutes, stormed the kitchen calling for a family meeting in the garage.

"You should go, I'll take her," Queenie offered, as it was time for her to take her nap anyway. My brothers and me all made our way to the finished garage, our refuge where we played cards or listened to the game, so our rooting and cheering didn't wake the babies.

Before things got started, Queenie surprised me and the boys with a stashed piece of cobbler, and a full glass of Guinness to wash it all down with. She tried to leave without giving me a kiss, so I pulled her on my lap and kissed her soft lips before sending her back inside.

" What?" I asked defensively, as my brothers eyed me down.

"We didn't say nothing," Bellamy argued back, holding out his hands out in front of him, whereas Paddy dove into his cobbler.

"This is a deadly cobbler. Can see why you're on kid number three and four. Food this grand is practically an aphrodisiac."

"Stop making fun of me. It's my curse, I can't help it. Every time we say we're not having another one, her she comes, fucking pregnant again."

"Well, you ain't exactly fighting her off much," Paddy said, a full mouth of cobbler.

"Or taking a fucking breather," Bellamy added.

" Or pulling out," Tadhg baited, and suddenly I was brought back to we were young and they all used to team up on me.

"I told you, it's my curse. Don't help that the woman practically drains my balls dry. She just accepted it. Who am I kidding? I fucking love the woman. I'd be a madman to turn her down?—"

"There it is," órfhlaith said sneaking past, pulling up a seat and sliding Tadhg's cobbler away from him. "Queenie told me she snuck you the last piece, but I don't think so. Not when I did half the cooking."

"And why don't you find something to do, órfhlaith." Paddy said, kicking her chair.

"I don't take orders from babies. Sullivan hierarchy and all," she argued back, forking her dessert.

"Normally, we'd never dream of discussing indecent matters around a woman, but seeing as how there ain't no women present—" Paddy spat.

"Fuck off," órfhlaith interrupted, enjoying the last few traces of her cobbler.

"Anyway, you're not talking business, you're talking about the Sullivan curse. You're just lucky to have found a woman wanting to put up with that filthy mind of yours," órfhlaith teased.

"Well, I can't help it if I'm despicable," I defended.

"And I can't help it if I'm a degenerate," Paddy smirked, proud in his depravity.

"Hell, I ain't apologizing for being a deviant," Tadhg added.

"Did anyone call for a deplorable?" Bellamy countered.

"Well, we all inherited the Sullivan's curse," órfhlaith said, reaching in to take a sip from Bellamy's beer. "So, sometimes, we're all just going to be a little bit diabolical."