30. Pregnancy （Part 2）

30

PREGNANCY (PART 2)

Niall’s other wrist ached. Dr. Rutherford had just removed the second implant, and he felt itchy all over.

It had taken him a few weeks to adjust to the first implant removal. Niall hadn’t realized just how much the drugs messed with his body chemistry, until he’d found himself grouchy, tired, and achy.

And now he was about to suffer through it all over again.

Jag brushed his fingers through Niall’s hair, slipping his hand under Niall’s shirt for some skin contact.

“That helps,” Niall admitted.

Jag smiled. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

They walked up to the mansion’s front door and pressed the bell. Children shrieked somewhere in the house. Niall shivered, rubbing his belly with his wrist. At eleven weeks along, there was definitely a bump. A bump that Jag kept touching.

Jag’s smile grew. “Looking forward to ours?”

Niall nodded and snuggled into Jag’s side, jumping when the door opened.

“Hey!” Evan beamed, holding his arms out for a hug. Niall fell against his chest, hugging him tight.

“Feels like forever since I last saw you.”

Evan sighed. “Feels like forever since I last slept.”

“You slept the other day,” Troy pointed out.

“Yeah, that you interrupted.” Evan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

Landon brought up the rear with their oldest child, Zeke. All of them looked tired, but happy.

“Will you guys be okay with Ryan for a while?” Evan separated from Niall to hand over a wriggling baby. “We picked him because he’s the most chill, out of the three of them.”

Niall carefully hugged Ryan to himself. The boy was small, all bright eyes and grinning mouth. “He’s so adorable.”

“We’ll be fine,” Jag said.

“How do you know that?” Niall asked.

“Used to babysit when I was a teenager.”

“That was so long ago!”

Jag raised an eyebrow. Niall only grinned, yelping when Jag smacked him lightly on the ass. “Have fun,” Jag said to their brothers and Landon. “Thanks for letting us get in some practice.”

Niall’s heart swelled at the way Jag said ‘us’, even though Niall was the only one who needed help.

Their brothers drove off with their family. Jag shut the door and headed to the nursery, stroking Niall’s back as they went. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. I hope I can care for a baby.”

“I know you can. You’ll prove it to yourself today.” Jag guided Niall to Ryan’s playpen.

He had Niall carefully lay Ryan down. With help from various videos on arthritis and baby care, Niall found a way to pick Ryan up, and support him using mostly his forearms and elbows.

“I’ll have the crib bed raised so you won’t have as much trouble leaning over,” Jag said. “A changing area nearby, too.”

“And if any clothing gets dirty, it’s on you to get our little one dressed,” Niall said dryly.

“I won’t be too far away.” Jag smiled fondly down at Ryan.

Ryan flailed his little arms, kicking again. Jag caught Niall’s hand and moved it out of Ryan’s reach.

“I’ll get you a pair of leather gloves,” Jag said. “Something to distribute the impact in case you get smacked.”

“No gloves will fit my hands.”

“Custom-made.” Jag looked Niall in the eye. When Niall began to protest, Jag continued, “Don’t want you breaking your hands again.”

Niall deflated. “That was tough.”

Jag had stuck with him through that entire time, and he was still here now. Still helping Niall find solutions for his hands, even though he was just as responsible for childcare.

Ryan began to whimper. When Niall clumsily checked Ryan’s diaper and found it clean, he scooped the baby up. “Maybe he needs some formula?”

“Let’s find out.”

Jag had bought a variety of bottles that were supposedly easier to open. Niall set the first bottle on the table and hugged the towel-wrapped kettle to his chest, carefully pouring warm water into the bottle.

With the water weighing down the bottle, Niall used his easy-grip spoon and a funnel to get formula into the bottle. Then he carefully picked up the lid with his forearms, and screwed it loosely onto the bottle.

He brought the bottle to a chair and sat down. Using his knees to grip the bottle, he tightened its lid, before shaking the bottle from side to side.

“It’ll be easier when your milk comes in,” Jag murmured, rubbing Niall’s nipple through his shirt.

Niall blushed. “I hope mine won’t take weeks. This method is... really slow. I’m sure a normal person prepares formula three times as quickly.”

“If anything gets overwhelming, call me, sweetheart. I’ll take over.”

Niall nodded. And he understood why Jag had insisted on having only one baby at a time.

Shaking the bottle horizontally seemed to work best, even if droplets of milk landed on the kitchen floor. Niall used a stretching contraption to get thick rubber bands around the bottle and his forearm. Then he returned to Ryan and scooped him up awkwardly, guiding the bottle to his mouth.

Ryan finished half the bottle.

Niall could’ve cried; he was doing something right. Jag gave him a proud kiss, and Niall carefully burped the baby. Then he used the stretching contraption to get the bottle off his arm.

“I’ll wash the bottles when our little one is born,” Jag said.

“I need to know if I can, just in case.” With Ryan back in his playpen, Niall sat down, holding the bottle between his knees. It was more difficult to unscrew the lid than it was to screw it on. The pronounced grip helped, but it also rubbed layers of delicate skin off his forearms.

With the lid off, Niall drank the rest of the formula. He dropped the bottle into a plastic wash basin, that he filled with soapy water.

From there, he could give the bottle a thorough clean, or it could wait for Jag.

“There we go,” Jag murmured, trapping Niall against the sink. “You did it, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

“We haven’t done a diaper change yet,” Niall pointed out.

Jag huffed. “Let’s take a break, and figure the rest out later.”

His smile was all soft and warm, and Niall’s insides turned into mush. “Okay.”

Jag scooped him up and kissed him on the lips.

They returned to Ryan’s playpen and curled up on either side of him, looking at each other as the baby napped.

“This will be us, not too long from now,” Jag whispered.

Niall rubbed his belly, his heart thumping. Jag reached over and rubbed his belly, too.

This was how their brothers found them hours later, curled up with a tiny baby between them.

They were in the waiting room of Changing Biologies when Jag pulled out a bottle of lotion.

“Here?” Niall yelped. “I can’t just drop my pants in the middle of the waiting room!”

Jag raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to.”

He squeezed a glob of lotion onto his fingertips and pulled open Niall’s sweatpants, pushing his entire hand down Niall’s pant leg.

The receptionist giggled.

Niall choked. “This should go into a book.”

“I’m not jerking him off,” Jag told the receptionist, even as he made up-and-down motions with his hand.

“No, of course not,” the receptionist said very seriously. Her mouth twitched.

Niall covered his face with his mittens. “Oh, gods.”

Jag was shoving his hand down Niall’s other pant leg when the nurse showed up to bring them in.

“Niall? Dr. Rutherford is ready to see you.” Her gaze dropped to Jag’s hand in Niall’s pants. Niall wanted to hide under the waiting room chairs.

“Just putting some lotion on him.” Jag continued to move his hand up and down.

“You shouldn’t have told her that. People use lotion when they don’t have lube,” Niall hissed in embarrassment.

“Would you rather I use lube?”

“No!”

Jag pulled his hand out and put the lotion bottle away. “This omega,” he said to the nurse, shaking his head. “Wants lotion even though I offered to use lube.”

“For my stretch marks,” Niall howled.

Jag smirked. The nurse laughed.

Dr. Rutherford smiled when they stepped into his office. “Looks like you’re having a good day.”

“I was until he told everyone he was jerking me off!” Niall scowled.

“I did no such thing.” Jag put his hands on Niall’s shoulders and sat him down first, before going to sit next to him. “People interpreted it however they wanted.”

“There’s not many ways to interpret your hand in my pants.” Niall rolled his eyes, then squawked when Rutherford’s eyebrows shot up. “It was not PDA!”

“It’s totally PDA,” Jag said, to the doctor’s increasing confusion. “Rubbing lotion into your stretch marks is a sign of affection. Publicly.”

“I’ll write that into a book, and people are going to one-star me for it,” Niall muttered.

“No, they will not,” Jag said firmly.

“Back to serious matters,” Rutherford said mildly. “How have you been doing since the last extraction, Niall?”

“Better now,” Niall said. “I took a while to get used to it.”

Rutherford listened to his heart, then had Niall climb onto the exam bed to do an ultrasound.

On the screen, they saw little hands and feet—and a face. Niall’s heart swelled. “That’s our baby!”

“It is.” Jag grinned, squeezing Niall’s ankle.

Niall couldn’t stop staring at the black-and-white image. His belly was half the size of a watermelon, and before today, he hadn’t any idea what their baby looked like. “That’s amazing.”

“It gets better,” Rutherford said warmly. He looked at the fetus from different angles, taking various pictures. “The baby’s looking good. Would you like to proceed with the final extraction?”

“Yes.” Niall clenched his fists. After this, Gruyere would have no more impact on his life.

“Let’s get started, then,” Rutherford said.

Like before, Jag hugged Niall while Rutherford injected him with a local anesthetic. They waited for it to take effect, Jag gently scritching his fingertips against Niall’s scalp.

When Niall’s neck and shoulder were numb, Rutherford had Jag hold him tight.

Niall felt the vague press of the scalpel, the tweezers probing in his flesh. It still felt horrible, but at least this was something he’d chosen to do.

After a few prods, he felt the thing leave his body.

“It’s out,” Rutherford said. “Now I just have to stitch you up, and you’re good to go.”

It felt like liberation, one stitch at a time. Niall sucked in a shuddering breath, burying his face against his alpha.

“How are you feeling?” Rutherford asked gently.

“Like I’ll have one less nightmare.”

“I’m glad.”

Jag rubbed Niall’s back while Rutherford sewed him up. Then the doctor stepped away, and Jag kissed Niall’s forehead. “All done,” Jag rumbled. “You’re free, sweetheart.”

Niall cried a little, the weight in his chest finally easing like a boulder rolling off. Jag hugged him tight.

Maybe it was his pounding heart that triggered what happened next.

Something fluttered in his belly, followed by a kick. Niall gasped and pulled away, looking down.

“What is it?” Jag asked in concern.

Niall grabbed Jag’s hand and pressed it to his belly, waiting for another kick—but no more came. Jag’s eyebrows went up.

“I felt a kick,” Niall said, his shoulders sagging. “But I guess it isn’t happening again.”

Jag sucked in a slow breath. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll happen again.”

He looked so hopeful, his hand still pressed against Niall’s belly. Niall desperately wished that they’d feel another kick; he wanted to see Jag’s smile.

When a long time passed without another kick, Niall met Rutherford’s calm gaze and squirmed. “Maybe we should wait outside...”

“No worries,” Rutherford said with a friendly smile. “I don’t have another patient for a while yet.”

Jag pulled Niall’s back flush against his chest, covering Niall’s belly with his hands. “I’ll wait.”

It took a while, Jag slowly rubbing Niall’s belly. But their baby finally, finally kicked again, and this time, Jag felt it.

He sucked in a sharp breath, growling low in his throat. “I felt that. I felt it, sweetheart! Our baby.” He turned Niall around and kissed him deeply, before kissing down the other side of Niall’s neck, where he didn’t have a scent gland. “I want to bite you so badly. Put my bonding mark on you.”

Niall’s heart skipped. “But you haven’t.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’m waiting for your scent glands to heal. I want to bite them all at once.” Jag nipped at Niall’s throat, his large hands sliding down Niall’s arms to his wrists, kneading his healed scent glands.

“You can bite two of them first,” Niall said, his voice stuck in his throat.

Jag looked into his eyes. “You’re going to be mine, if I put my bonding marks on you. For life.”

Niall flushed and nodded. “Please.”

Jag growled. He brought Niall’s wrist up to his lips, sniffing it over—except there was no longer any scent. Rutherford had said it might take a while for his original scent to present. Jag kissed all over Niall’s wrist, then pressed his teeth to the newest scar—on Niall’s scent gland.

And he sank his teeth in, breaking skin.

Pain and pleasure twisted down Niall’s arm. He jerked against Jag, panting. Jag bit me.

“Another?” Jag growled, his pupils blown.

“Yes,” Niall gasped.

Jag’s gaze was intense, brow furrowed, as he pressed kisses all over Niall’s other wrist. Jag bit hard into that scent gland, and Niall shuddered again.

Both his wrists were bleeding now. But that was fine—because Jag’s teethmarks would heal on top of everything else, a reminder that Jag had seen the very worst parts of him, and still desired Niall as his bondmate.

“Love you,” Jag growled, licking the blood off Niall’s wrists.

Niall bowed his head, offering his submission. “Yours.”

Jag rumbled. Except he tilted his head sideways, giving Niall access to his neck. “Bite me.”

Niall forgot to breathe. Jag was watching him patiently, expectantly— “You want my bonding mark.”

“Yes.”

A whimper escaped Niall’s lips. He sniffed out the spot that smelled most strongly of mahogany, kissing it softly like Jag had done. He pressed his teeth to it, too.

Jag didn’t pull away.

Niall felt so powerful in that moment, with his teeth on his alpha’s neck. He bit down hard—hard enough that his dentures managed to pierce skin somehow. Jag grunted and shuddered against him.

“Lick it,” Jag murmured. “Get your saliva in there. I want to wear your bonding mark.”

Niall’s throat tightened. He licked Jag’s wound and buried his face in Jag’s throat, hugging him tightly.

“Good boy,” Jag whispered. “So proud of you.”

Niall cried a little, smiling so hard that his face ached.

Niall’s scent surfaced on a warm spring day forty weeks into his pregnancy.

He’d been feeling vastly uncomfortable for weeks; he constantly had to pee, his back and feet hurt, and he felt like a beached whale.

“I think this is payback for all the books I wrote,” he moaned, struggling to change positions and giving up. “I knocked up all those omegas and now life is knocking me up!”

Jag snorted. Niall glared, and Jag sobered.

“To be fair,” Jag said. “The usual phrase for that is ‘Life is fucking me over.’”

“I like being fucked. This is nothing like being fucked. Why do people even use that phrase? They should say ‘Life knocked me up with five hundred lemons.”

Jag bit down his smile and came over to help Niall shift around until he found a comfortable position. “What would you do if you were pregnant with five hundred lemons?”

“Is it cannibalism if I make lemonade with them?”

Jag laughed so loudly that it teased a smile onto Niall’s lips. “I don’t think so,” Jag said seriously. “It might be cannibalism if you were pregnant with, say, five hundred monkeys, but lemons are not sentient.”

“What if they’re sentient lemons? What if all my lemon children have thoughts and feelings?”

Jag raised an eyebrow. “It would be murder of some kind, at the very least.”

“I like how you talk about murder as though it’s no big deal,” Niall said, thinking back to the book he was trying to finish. “Wait. How hard do you have to hit a person to break their face?”

“Depends on what’s going through your alpha’s mind. What weapons he has. The brass knuckles are really good for breaking bone because they’re metal. Gives his punches more impact. As for how hard he’d have to hit... It’s a lot easier when he’s real fucking pissed. When his goal is to destroy. But if your alpha doesn’t want to kill someone, he’ll have to use a lot more strength, because he’s fighting against himself, too.”

This might’ve shocked Niall’s past self, maybe. His present self was only too keen on using the information to make his fight scenes more real. He opened his laptop to continue writing. “Dammit. I want to finish this book before our little one gets here. I’m so close to the end.”

“Don’t let me distract you.” Jag sat next to Niall on the couch, slowly rubbing his extremely-round belly.

Niall sank back into the flow of his chapter and spoke into his mic, picking up where he left off.

He was barely aware of Jag leaning in, sniffing at him. Jag pressed his nose lightly to Niall’s shoulder, then tucked it against the crook of Niall’s neck, where there was now a silvery bonding mark. Jag sucked in a slow breath.

When Niall paused to consider what happened next in the book, Jag said, “Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

Niall had given up on having an actual scent. Months after he’d recovered from the final extraction, his body only smelled like honey, and nothing else. Sure, he was disappointed. But it was far better than clogging up everyone’s noses with a scent he’d never wanted, so it wasn’t bad.

“You have a scent,” Jag said.

Niall blinked, sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

“You have a scent.”

Jag closed his hand gently around Niall’s wrist, and brought it up to Niall’s nose. Niall flared his nostrils and took a deep breath.

There was a different sweetness there than usual. Something floral underneath the honey.

Niall’s gaze snapped to Jag’s. “What is it?”

“Dahlia.” Jag leaned in and sniffed at Niall’s wrist. “That’s your scent, sweetheart.”

Niall breathed in, filling his lungs with it. The dahlia scent smelled ordinary. Faint. Less sweet than vanilla, certainly.

But it was his own, meant to be his, and it had been overdue for more than a decade. “Wow.”

Jag cradled the back of his head, kissing him slowly. “Congrats.”

Niall couldn’t help smiling. “I’d given up on it.”

“I know. I told you not to.”

Niall snuggled into his alpha, almost knocking his microphone off his belly. His thoughts were still buried in his book. If he could finish it over the next two days...

His belly tightened in another practice contraction. Except this contraction was harder than usual, and...

“Something feels wet,” Niall said when he could breathe again.

Jag looked sharply at him. “Do you think...?”

“Want to feel me up? I don’t want to get fluids all over my laptop or mic.”

Jag rolled Niall over onto his side, pulling apart his sweatpants and loose shirt to slip his fingers between Niall’s cheeks. “Yeah, you’re wet.”

“I’m not suddenly horny.”

“I know.” Jag pushed his fingers into Niall, and more fluid leaked out. “I think your water just broke.”