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“Suguru, there –!”
“I know.” Strong fingers drum boredly in place. Satoru’s voice goes shrill, his knees knocking into the kitchen cabinets below. “And I won’t stop.”
“Fuck,” Satoru keens, biting into the meat of his forearm, braced against the too-solid countertop. “You’re teasing me – your pregnant wife !”
“Mhm.”
Satoru senses Suguru’s eye roll behind him– looming over his bent-over, trembling self, his hand maintaining its easy rhythm in and out of Satoru’s cunt.
Maybe he should feel a little shame from how much of a filthy mess he is between his legs already, but why? He’s dreamt of getting knocked up for years. That’s been Satoru’s number one fantasy since he started cranking his shit– imagining his partner seeding him, consensually or otherwise, fucking his needy, pregnant body nonstop for nine months. Suguru made that want real. Flesh and blood reality. It would be pointless to act coy now– especially since Satoru isn’t the only freak here.
To be honest, he isn’t sure which of Suguru’s creampies sealed the deal. They were fucking just as much pre-bun-in-the-oven as they are four months in.
The only real difference, besides the growing swell of his belly, is how sensitized he is. How his insides feel too sore from just a finger or two, how deep-fried and dizzy his nerves feel, suffering the intensity of even an exhale in the crook of his thigh.
Suguru has never worked too hard to make him cry in bed, but now it’s just ridiculous.
“Shhh. Stop squirming,” Suguru tsks. A sharp smack to his bare ass has Satoru jolting forward, bruising his knee into the cabinet hardware again. Even if he cared to behave, it’s difficult to steady himself and prevent his hips from canting forward, from shying away when Suguru’s fingers get too deep, press too hard, rub too good. It’s too much. He can feel his slick streaking down his thighs, cooling gross and tacky everywhere.
He can only swallow so many cries before Suguru pulls out completely. His cunt protests, despite the sensitivity, and clamps down, trying to chase Suguru’s hand and suck it back in. He hears Suguru’s annoyed sigh. Satoru’s ears burn.
“You make things so difficult.”
There isn’t time to fire back anything. Satoru suddenly sobs, muscles frozen taut when the delicious stripe of Suguru’s tongue runs up his slit.
“Yknow,” Suguru teases, “your pussy tastes better pregnant with my baby.”
Satoru’s brain is mashed potatoes. He’s oxygen-deprived as Suguru licks into him, around him, sucking on each puffy, tender lip, ignoring his needy clit all the while. There’s nothing soft for nails to dig into but his own skin and he abuses what he can, biting and clawing into his arm as Suguru spreads his soaked cunt wider and licks inside so slow, slow, slow. Satoru groans, defeated, pressing into Suguru’s smirking mouth, demanding more.
Fuck, he’s gonna cum. The contractions in his cunt build so much faster, his belly tightening, warning him. Satoru brings a shaky hand to his bump and soothes himself, his baby, gasping pathetically as Suguru’s tongue pokes up to his clit and–
“You feel loose enough to take it,” is all Suguru says, mouth gone, orgasm choked dead from the vanished attention.
“I’m not!”
Satoru grips his full tummy, cursing Suguru out with incoherent complaints while Suguru ignores him, adjusting their position, and presses the thick, round tip of his cock against Satoru’s hole.
Fuck, Satoru whimpers, even he can feel how pliant he is. How easily the muscles give.
“Well,” Suguru shrugs, breath ghosting his shoulder blades. “Let’s see.”
Suguru pushes in, but it’s Satoru’s body that sucks him in even though it’s agony. His pussy tries to pull Suguru to the root, to get his heavy balls to touch the curve of his ass, entreating Suguru to smear his womb again with more of his cum.
“Ow,” Satoru shrieks. “Too deep!”
“I’m not even in all the way–”
“Suguru, stop.” And there, those stupid hot fucking tears spill out of his eyes. Delirious fog fills his skull, the entirety of his weight bearing down on his aching feet. “It feels like you’re hitting the baby.”
“I should record this,” Suguru snorts, “and play it for you later. So you can see how much of a moron you are.”
Satoru bites his lip. “All I’m saying is that it feels like you skewered my cervix.”
“Good,” Suguru says, his words too sharp for Satoru’s baby-drunk eardrums. “Maybe I’ll fuck another brat into you.”
Heat slices through his belly when Suguru snaps his hips, pressing deeper into his snug cunt. A humiliating wail rips from his mouth, and he doesn’t have time for the embarrassment to set in before Suguru moves again, upping the pace into a firm, bruising rhythm. Using Satoru’s guts like his own personal cocksleeve.
It hurts so bad that it feels good. Really good.
Satoru’s body goes limp as Suguru burrows his cock deeper than he should when he’s this pregnant. He’s too full. There isn’t room for drool in his mouth anymore, and it’s dribbling from the corners of his whining mouth as Suguru fucks him into an incoherent doll. So overstimulated his soupy brain shuts down, drowning in too many signals from frazzling stimuli, unintelligible syllables trickling from his voice box. He barely remembers to breathe.
“Mommy feels good?” Suguru teases, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock brushes, it feels like, into the bottom of his stomach, tickling his ribcage.
Satoru can’t even respond. His fists sting from how hard his nails dig into his palms.
Suguru clicks his tongue. It sounds affectionate. All Satoru can do is whine when Suguru’s heavy length grinds in too-big circles, warming and stretching his cunt with lazy strokes. He can hear the suction keeping Suguru deep, his body melting, leaking. The unhurried rocking, the pressing, the tilting of his ass so Suguru can glide his cock over and over against his best spots.
Oh, there are fingers on the swollen nub of his clit, tugging it gently between his legs, pinching and twisting it just enough to make Satoru’s knees give, posture collapse. Everything shaking. Suguru’s thumbnail strokes the underside of it, and the noise Satoru lets slip through his nose doesn’t sound like him. The little pulls black out his vision, cinching his cunt tight around Suguru’s aching prick.
“Suguru,” Satoru whimpers. “ Please. Let me cum.”
Suguru laughs at him. He flicks his angry clit, one last twinge of pain before his grip secures around Satoru’s hips, harsh, before switching to fuck the lights out of him.
“Only because you asked so sweetly.”
Too much, too deep, the pace is too frenetic. Satoru’s body gives up, he’s too overwhelmed, too ready to let go. It’s funny how quickly the tension in him snaps.
Satoru squirts when his orgasm twists up his guts, screaming into the countertop as he writhes through it. The pregnancy orgasms have been gut punches, wringing him out until he has nothing left to give. This one is no different. His slick pours down his legs as his cunt clenches in rapid-hot waves, staining his pants bunched at his ankles, wetting the backs of his knees, his calves. It chills so fast. He’s shuddering.
Oh, but it’s weird. This is too much for it just to be slick. Feels like pressure sizzling down to nothing, a painful stretch alleviated.
Satoru realizes his bladder is empty.
He just pissed all over Suguru.
“I’m sorry,” Satoru shakes, stomach tingling high up in his abdomen. “I didn’t mean to.”
Suguru stops moving. All he gets from Suguru is a breathless little huh before his grip tightens over fresh bruises on his hips and he reverts to messy, nasty thrusts. Satoru can’t breathe, his pussy is too tender, and he doesn’t have a chance to complain before Suguru is grunting into Satoru’s sweaty nape and unloading deep inside his wrecked cunt, splattering thick spend deep inside, making him feel perfectly, disgustingly full all over again.
Catching his breath, Suguru rubs soothing circles into Satoru’s hurting hips as he comes down, his touch smoothing over his belly bump, his ribs, up over his chest. A phantom shudder tingles up Satoru’s spine from Suguru’s mean laughter in his ear.
They’re slow for a little while, just breathing and touching. Cuddling. Eventually, Suguru’s touch settles onto Satoru’s tit, taking his puffy nipple beneath his shirt and squeezing.
Satoru yelps, his satiated body suddenly doubling over with a broken sound, sliding in his sweat on the counter. “Asshole.”
“My hand,” Suguru says, but stops. He sounds curious, bewildered. His cock gives a weak little twitch inside Satoru. Oh no. “It’s wet .”
“Yeah, you were finger-fucking me–”
“No, it’s fresh.”
It doesn’t compute. Satoru weakly glares over his shoulder. There’s something dark over Suguru’s expression. He hasn’t looked at him the entire time, and Satoru’s horrified by the pure glee he encounters.
Suguru tugs on the same nipple, and Satoru hiccups, the sensation connecting down to ache in his clit. But, then he understands.
He’s wet. His shirt is wet.
“Oh god,” Satoru whimpers.
“You’re lactating.”
Suguru pulls out, the thick mess oozing between their sweaty thighs. The disgust can’t register, not while Satoru is flipped around, propped up on the counter, body opened for Suguru to press up against. Suguru kisses him, lips tasting like well-fucked pussy. He lifts up Satoru’s shirt, just enough to expose his chest, just enough so he can keep sucking on Satoru’s tongue uninterrupted, lick his teeth, keep him quiet, dreamy, pleasure-soft. Make out with his drowsy mouth, distract him with tender kisses that have Satoru snaking his arms and legs around Suguru, because he can’t help himself from being so close.
When Suguru pulls away, he focuses on the sticky shine of Satoru’s leaky tit, admiring the new fullness of the skin. Satoru already knows he’s as good as dead before Suguru pops his nipple into his mouth. Sucks it, softly.
Satoru’s head flies back. Oh, god. It’s – oh he’s cumming again, rutting into Suguru as it hits him too soon. Oh, he kind of hates this. But Suguru is suckling on his tit, eyes heavy and dark, staring into Satoru’s eyes, sucking down his milk in sensual, deep swallows while his cunt squeezes around nothing. Every suck zips hot through his clit. Suguru tweaks the other nipple, wasted milk leaking down his chest while his other hand slips back into Satoru’s cunt, four fingers deep, stroking the shuddering mess inside, feeling Suguru’s cum wet the movements. Satoru rocks into the dizzying pleasure of aftershocks as Suguru feeds.
His belly feels too warm. Too heavy. His toes curl, speechless as Suguru fucks a third orgasm out of him, clumsily and more painful than pleasurable, reddening his chest and cunt and cheeks such a hot, awful color. He really starts crying then, uncontrollable, incoherent as Suguru teases his spent, dry nipple, scraping it with his teeth, chasing the last few honeyed drops as they dribble down Satoru’s heaving chest.
As he switches to his other tit, still not having had his fill of Satoru’s first milk, Suguru whispers, lips shining filthy pearlescent, “Our baby is so lucky.”