"I'm so hungry, did I mention that Evan brought salsa into the office today, and didn't offer me any?"
"Whoa, Evan. What a stand up guy!" Wally shot his wife a half grin, already signalling to make the turn down on Fourth that would take them towards the restaurant.
"I could've strangled him with my bare hands. I mean, sitting there! Just taunting me! I even went to see if he had any left over when he finished snarfing down his Number Four with the terror bean burrito, and he had eaten all of it!"
"All of it? Selfish bastard."
"I mean, really!" Chloe perked up when she noted their location. "Oooh, are we going to Los Reyes?" She flashed him a thousand watt grin and Wally felt it kiss over his skin in tiny goosebumps. "You're a mind reader." By the time he had returned to the car with the bag of delights, she was slumped in the passenger seat, the pretty pink of her cheeks gone sickeningly gray.
Wally reeled back when she heaved at the first scent of spices and grease, heeding the frantic wave of her hand to ward him off. "Nausea?" Again. Which sucked.
"Oh goddddddd, get it away." Chloe turned her face away, pressing her clammy brow against the cool car window.
"Go! Away! I'm not throwing up in the middle of Fourth Street. Go!"
Wally sighed, closing the door and heading down the street, zipping around three corners until he found a homeless guy looking for a buck. "Here, have a meal, instead. Enjoy the guacamole, buddy!" He was back in the car within moments, pulling out into traffic as he asked a hesitant,
"Orange popsicles again?"
Okay, vomit in the floorboard of the Jeep was a good reminder that he was a married man, now. A father to be. A schmuck who was going to be heaving while he cleaned that up. Super fast.
"Sorry," she whimpered as she rolled down the window and swallowed deep breaths of cold winter air.
Brushing his fingers through her hair, Wally flashed a smile and lied like any clown in love. "I don't mind cleaning it up."
Morning sickness that lasts all day. Check.
Bracing his hands behind him, Wally could've sworn he had been ambushed by someone with his own hyper kenetic speed when he was slammed back against the wall. Startled, he managed a "Muh?" before Chloe's tongue attacked.
Sweet. Merciful. God.
Shirt torn off, tugged over his head in a messy tangle of arms that left his head thumping back against the door. Barely time to breathe before his mouth was Chloe's playground again.
Pretty, oval nails, raking his skin, eliciting a gasp that she swallowed. The jerk and snap of his belt snaked through belt loops, then dropped without further ado. Nimble little fingers working open his pants, cool to the touch as they grasped his cock.
His voice hitched up to a tenor as he gasped, "Good day at work?"
"Honey?" Teeth nipping and tugging at skin, all skin, any skin, and her tight hand making him into a little bitch lap dog, oh yeah.
Something glurbled that might have been "Huh?"
"Could you maybe just shut up and fuck me?"
Increased sex drive. Big. Red. Check.
"I can't find my blue sweater."
"It's in the clothes basket." Wally shuffled through with a glass of juice and pre-natal vitamin, handing them over with a bleary smile. Late night. Damned monkey.
"Why is it in there?"
Uh oh. "It's Gleek's fault, honey. Yeah. See, I was gonna fold the laundry this morning when I got home, only we had to wait on Hawk Girl to show up and show us where the anti-bonding agent was. I mean, Batman's not kidding when he calls it Super Superglue." Stepping back from the squinty glare, Wally hiked a thumb over his shoulder. "So I'll go get that sweater, now."
Sweater, sweater, oh sweet fuck where was the blue sweater? He spotted it. He seized it. He snagged it. Shit.
"Uh, you know, I don't think you want to wear the blue sweater. It's short sleeved. Kinda cold out and, uh...I really like the red one." Wally poked his head in the bedroom door, nearly dropping to his knees in relief when he saw her buttoning the front of her black suit.
"Nevermind! I'm feeling...like basic black." Chloe squeezed her shoulders together, and if this wasn't that pregnancy glow thing, then someone needed to explain why his wife could suddenly double for the searchlight at Metropolis International.
Wally grinned. "Traditional. Understated." He bobbed his head in a nod and worked the schmooze. "Sexxxy, oh yeah."
"You are so turned on by the big boobs."
"No brainer, babe."
She brushed a kiss on his lips as she brushed by him in the hallway, smoothing a hand down his stubbled cheek.
"Mmm, someone needs to shave. Is that how my sweater got snagged?"
"Yeah, save it, stud boy. Gotta go! Can we have Mexican for lunch?"
"Sure about that?"
"Okay, I threw up in the Jeep once. Once!"
"Yeah, but it was massive pukeage. I've cleaned up oil spills that covered less wildlife. It was a spectacular amount of..." Wally shut up when she started to cry. "Awwwww, honey..."
Mood swings from hell. Check.
Wally rubbed the arches of her feet with slow, steady swirls of his thumbs. "Feel better?"
Craning her head, Chloe tried to peek over her belly. "Are they there?"
"Yep. Ten toes, all accounted for."
The forlorn sigh was a turn on. Hell, he hadn't had sex with his wife in two weeks. Rubbing her feet was a religious experience. "It's not like I can tell if you're lying or anything." Rolling her head, Chloe peered down at him, her rounded cheeks kissed with a permanent flush from the pregnancy. "I'm fat."
Super speed was excellent for dodging throw pillows.
"You're only saying that because you're horny."
Grinning like a lunatic, he made a brash offer. "If you want me to, I'll go take a shower, take care of the issue, come back, and I'll bet you'll still be beautiful."
Chloe nibbled the corner of her lower lip, brows inching up. "Sounds interesting. Can I watch?"
Some days, the hormone gods were very, very good.
Wally burrowed closer to the radiating warmth of his wife's body, trying to stay in the dream where she shimmied on a tropical beach somewhere in a coconut shell bikini top and grass skirt. "Mmmm." Pina coladas and Banana Boat and freckles all over her to taste. Sharing her cherry? Awww, what a doll....
Suddenly and violently shaken out of his tropical delight, Wally pushed up on one elbow and blinked owlishly up at his wife. "'S'time?!"
Swoosh! Labor bag, check!
Zzzzzip! Post partum bag, check!
Whish! Cellphone, check!
Uhhh. Looking down, Wally raked his hands through his hair. Naked, not good.
Wait, she was laughing? Pulling back his offered arms,
Wally scowled down. "What's so funny?"
"I never said it's time." Chloe reached for his hands, pulling him back down onto the bed and placing the warm palms against her belly. "I just wanted you to feel what your daughters are doing to me."
Sommersaults. Maybe the world's fastest acrobatics ever performed by fetuses. There were going to be grudges, because someone had to be getting kicked in the head in there. Jabs, wriggles, squirms, all of them faster than a blink.
Like lightning in a bottle.
"They're going to be like you," Chloe whispered with a pleased smile, leaning in to brush a soft kiss on his lips as she cradled his cheek.
Panic attack. Check.
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