Christmas with His Omega

by Lorelei M. Hart

  It was officially the most endearing moment I’d ever witnessed.

  I cleared my throat before I could speak. “I’m pretty sure I can wait a few more weeks. I still need to figure out the basics like a car seat and cradle.” Among a thousand other things.

  “You heard your daddy. You stay in there and grow so we can get you a car seat to keep you good and safe and I can make you a cradle to give you a place to sleep.”

  “You don’t need to do that. I have some money saved to buy that stuff.” Although, to be honest, the offer of him making something for her with his own hands had me falling more in love with him by the second. He had it wrong. He was going to be the one who made a good dad. An amazing dad.

  “Money wasn’t why I was going to make it.” He brought his head up, meeting my eyes as his hands settled on my belly. “You gave her a warm safe place to sleep for the first nine months. I want to give her a warm safe place to sleep after she is born.”

  That was all it took. The tears were back in full force and no longer subtle enough he could pretend to ignore them so as not to embarrass me.

  “Why are you crying?” An adorable furrow formed between his eyes, and I cried harder.

  “Because that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. No wonder I love you.”

  It was the first time I’d dared utter the words, and they felt so right falling from my lips.

  “You love me?”

  “You know I do.” I huffed out a laugh, crossing all things I didn’t look a snotty mess.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you.” Tears spilled over my lips, tasting salty.

  “And I love you.” He nuzzled my belly, his beard wobbling. “And you, too, little one. No sense wasting your kicks on jealousy.”

  And as with every other romantic moment I’d ever been a part of, I turned it awkward, this time with the loudest rumble of my tummy ever heard.

  “Let me feed you.” He was up and off the bed in a flash, ready to provide for my demanding stomach. I, on the other hand, had other ideas.

  “Your cock?” I called just as he got to the door, his desire to provide overshadowing the lust we both obviously felt, our erections visual proof.

  “Don’t tempt me. You need real food. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that rumble.”

  I sighed, knowing I had lost this round. Which was fine now that I knew without a doubt he wanted more. He wanted me. He wanted to be our family.

  “Fine. Feed me then do me.” I pulled boxers on, not even pretending to get dressed fully. It would only delay us later. By a second, but I felt as though I’d waited years, which, in a sense I had.

  “That I can do.” He laughed as he left the room, going into the kitchen and making a gourmet meal of canned soup and toast.

  Worked for me, and, in the end, he was right. I was starving. Two cans of soup and six pieces of toast later, my belly was finally sated and my sweet baby asleep.

  “Anything else?” he asked, holding up the loaf of bread.

  “You.” I undressed him with my eyes, not trying to be coy because fuck that. It was time.

  “You aren’t very subtle.” He scooped me up, bringing me back to his bedroom—no, our bedroom. I still couldn’t fully grasp that he was mine.

  “Says the man who has had me in his bed for how long, even before we spoke about anything us related?” Not that he’d been pushy. It sort of just happened, neither of us wanting to say good-bye at the end of the night. Both of us knowing we wanted more, but neither of us saying the words.

  “I like you in my bed.” And, with that, he deposited me on his bed, shucked his clothes, and I squirmed, doing the same, although, to be fair, I had much less to remove.

  “I like me there, too.” And planned to be there every night from there on in, minus my upcoming hospital stay. “Now, come over here and kiss me.”

  “Please. You’re mine now. You do as I say.”

  My cock bobbed up and down at his possessive statement of power. Looked like my little brain was very on board with that.

  “That’s how it is?” My desire not even close to hidden.

  “Maybe.”

  Oh, it so very much was. Score.

  “So how does this work?” He gestured between our naked bodies, still not on the bed where I wanted him.

  “Well when an alpha loves an omega—”

  “Har har. I mean with your being—” He gazed at my belly, which, to be fair, was very much in the way of most things. I still didn’t know how he managed to do such a mind-blowing blow job with it in his way. Not that I was going to complain.

  “Carrying a beach ball in my middle?” I offered, pointing to the enormity that was my middle.

  “I was going to say super pregnant.” He sat beside me on the bed. Finally. I knew that it had to be weird doing this for the first time while I was this far along, but waiting wasn’t an option for me if I could at all help it. I wanted him then and there. Or two weeks earlier, but then and there would have to do.

  “Same difference. It works the same, you know.” I reached down and not at all subtly ran my finger up and down his shaft. “You and I get all hot and bothered, begging ensues.” I was pretty sure I was going to be the one begging. “You put exhibit A into exhibit B, and we both shoot our load and fall asleep as you knot me.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” He let out a groan as my fingers wrapped around him. “I...I..I want to face you, but—”

  I was distracting him, which was my goal.

  “Knotting would suck.” Not the knotting itself, but the awkward position my belly would put us in. “I thought about that, too.”

  I had thought about all the positions, including ones I needed to have far more flexibility for. Sex with Rhone had been occupying far too much brain space, or maybe just enough.

  “So, fucking me from behind it is.” I rolled over onto my hands and knees, wiggling my ass before returning to my seated position behind him. I’d always wanted to be playful in bed but had never had a partner I felt comfortable enough with, safe enough with, even in like enough with.

  “Are you always so blunt?”

  He grabbed the back of my head, pulling me in for a searing kiss, all teeth, lips, and tongues before breaking our kiss and asking me again.

  “Lately, yeah.” I inhaled deeply, finally catching my breath. “Must be the pregnancy hormones. So, are you gonna do me, or what?”

  “Wise ass.”

  “Your wise ass.”

  “Mine,” he agreed before kissing me again. Our lips broke as his hand found my cock, and I groaned loud enough poor Mrs. Miller next door was probably having a hissy. I began to kiss across his face and down his neck as he worked my cock, which I willed to behave. This time I wanted to come with him inside me, not within three minutes and then crashing.

  I got lower and lower, pushing him onto the bed and worshiping his body with my mouth until I finally got to my destination, enveloping him with my lips greedily, him barely fitting and me willing to push the boundaries and swallow him whole, just as his fingers found my hole, which was more than ready for him. Up and down, in and out, we matched each other’s rhythm until his hand pulled out and pulled me off of him, much to my dismay on both accounts.

  “Must stop. Gonna come,” he grunted.

  Damn it was hot turning him all Neanderthal and lacking words. And to think I assumed I’d be the one begging, which I was very ready to do if he didn’t touch me soon.

  “I’d say that was the point, but I need you in me.” More than my last freaking breath.

  “Roll over and let me know when you are comfortable.”

  I did as he said, hoping seeing my belly almost reaching the bed wouldn’t deter him with its lack of sexiness.

  “Not very demanding,” I teased.

  “Oh, you just wait until you recover from having our baby.”

  Our baby And I had thought his I love you was the best thing he could ever say to me.

>   “The demanding will commence in full force then.” His cock brushed against my weeping hole as he settled in behind me.

  “Fuck yeah.” I cried out, pushing back against him, needing him inside me.

  “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

  “Get in me and knot me now.” I pushed back again, and this time he met me with equal force as he filled me completely. Finally.

  “Bossy omega.” He lightly tapped my ass. Oh, sex with him post baby was going to be freaking fabulous.

  He slowly moved in and out, me meeting him move for move until I couldn’t take it anymore, encouraging him to speed up and do me with more force with my pleas and groans, which he did with abandon, bringing me closer and closer to coming. He reached around to grab my now-aching cock, barely able to skim it thanks to my stomach.

  “Touch yourself for me. Come with me,” he cried, and I did, both of us coming within seconds, falling to the bed on our sides, his knot filling me in a way I’d never before experienced as my eyes fluttered shut to the sound of his I love yous.

  Rhone

  Well, the doctor said it was okay. I wasn’t sure if she’d had any idea what she’d unleashed, however. After wanting one another for so long, once we got naked, we pretty well stayed that way, spending the long cold, snowy days and nights discovering every inch of one another’s bodies. Pierce’s would be undergoing some changes very soon, although he still insisted the contractions he experienced were Braxton Hicks, and since no baby had yet emerged, it seemed he was right.

  As Christmas approached, however, we became more tentative, less athletic, and more about the tenderness. He took long naps in the afternoon, and while he did, I worked on the nursery across the hall, wanting to surprise him when the baby arrived. So far as I knew, he believed it was still an office in there.

  The walls were painted in narrow pink and blue-gray stripes—yeah, we were both betting on a girl, but this should be good for whichever our child should be.

  Our child.

  Sounded so cool.

  Most of the furniture would have to wait for after-holiday sales. He refused to pay full price despite my insistence I had plenty of money for our baby’s needs. I had made the cradle, smoothing the wood with all the love in me. With the longing I’d never been willing to express. Although Pierce worried I’d be unhappy the infant didn’t look like me, he shouldn’t. I’d slept for nearly a month with him in my arms, spooning, the flat of my palm spread over his abdomen. I didn’t care if the parents were black, Asian, Hispanic, or white. I wasn’t even sure if Pierce knew what they were and hadn’t bothered to ask.

  It didn’t matter.

  I’d die for that baby or kill for her. For either of them. My family. Which also included Grams who stopped by once—or twice—a day now to check on us. She seemed to think us completely incompetent where pregnancy and delivery were concerned. And since she was pretty close to right, I hugged her every time.

  Instead of a sad, lonely Christmas, I’d be spending it with the love of my life, his grandmother, and, next year, our child. The doc said it could be anytime, now. Before the New Year rolled in, we’d have had our last full night’s sleep for a couple of decades. I shouldn’t be so happy about that. But I could see the years rolling out, preschool, kindergarten, high school. Prom! Her wedding. Our baby going away!

  I tried to keep my thoughts less terrifying than the child who was not even born yet, leaving our home for the big scary world.

  We had years ahead of us to enjoy her. I dashed away more than one tear. I’d never been a sentimental type...until now.

  When that little baby came home from the hospital, she’d have a very comfy bed in that cradle. One of the pile of books we picked up while shopping one afternoon recommended co-sleeping. Another said absolutely not. This parenting stuff was mega complicated.

  But between sex, carpentry, getting ready for the holidays and our new baby, and helping at the single-parent place, the days flew by. Christmas Eve dawned the first clear day in weeks, a deep-blue bowl of a sky curving over our home.

  I stretched and looked over at Pierce, curled around a belly I still swore was big enough for twins. The baby was due anytime, and, according to Doc Shaw, we were right on schedule. But I hoped he’d hold out through tonight. The folks at the single parent center had invited us to their Christmas party, and Pierce was really looking forward to it. Even though we were a couple now, he felt comfortable there, was making friends.

  Slipping out of bed, I tried not to disturb him, but he didn’t sleep easily or long anymore. Poor guy sighed and sat up, kicking his feet over the edge of the bed and blindly feeling around for slippers. As he shuffled into the bathroom, eyes still half-closed, I headed downstairs to make breakfast. We had lots to do today. Several of my friends had invited us to stop by, and since they hinted at wanting to wish Pierce well in labor and show off their progeny, we’d be on the go from morning till night. I hoped my omega was up to it. After today, we’d just hole up until the baby came. I had a rib roast and all the trimmings in the fridge for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Just us and Grams...the trio in waiting.

  No baby had ever been more eagerly anticipated. I was positive of that.

  By five o’clock, the winter sun had set and Pierce and I, with the back seat of the truck cab piled with gifts for the new baby, and even one for us, from our friends, were on our way to the single parent center for our last activity of the very busy day. We were stuffed. Everyone had insisted we partake of holiday goodies and wanted to offer lots of encouragement to the new daddies. It felt good to be one of the gang for once instead of the odd single guy out.

  Glancing toward Pierce, I thought he looked tired and uncomfortable, and those Braxton Hicks things were coming more often. His occasional grunt alarmed me.

  “I think we should just go home, Pierce.” I started to pull a U-turn, but he shifted in his seat and grimaced.

  “I don’t want to blow them off. We have to at least stop by and wish them all a Merry Christmas. They’ve been so kind to us.”

  I pulled out of the turn. They sure had been nice. He’d never been prouder of his town than since Pierce’s return. Pulling into the parking lot of the center, he shut off the engine and unbuckled his seat belt. “Wait for me to come around.”

  Pierce’s chuckle was cut off by another grunt, but before I could comment, he said, “Like I’ve gotten out of the truck myself anytime in the past month? Just hurry up. I gotta pee. Again.”

  I made tracks around and opened his door. “You sure nothing else is wrong?” He accepted my arm and stepped onto the asphalt. “Labor?”

  “Bladder, dude.” He shivered. “And I’m cold. Can we get inside?”

  Despite the clear skies earlier, big puffy, dark clouds had returned, pregnant with snow and ready to dump on us at any time. “Okay, but we’re not staying more than a half hour. I want to get you home before the storm.”

  “Pee...now.” He’d become focused, recently. I didn’t know how he stood it. I’d make a lousy pregnant guy. Pushing open the glass door, I helped him inside, and he dashed, okay waddled, into the foyer bathroom.

  While I waited, I shucked my coat and hung it on one of the hooks lining the walls. From the main hall came the sounds of Christmas carols, people laughing and chatting, and children’s giggles. Next year, our child would be one of them, since we were “honorary single parents.”

  Pierce emerged, and I helped him out of his coat that no longer managed to contain his belly and that his gram and I planned to burn as soon as he was safely delivered. I took his hand. “Ready to party?”

  “I figure I’ve got about ten minutes before I have to pee again, so let’s get in there.”

  Pushing open the glass door, I ushered him into the happy cacophony. Off to one side, the partial playground set I’d made for them was occupied by shrieking, swinging, sliding kids. It warmed my heart to see them.

  But, at our entrance, the room fell silent. Even the strolling car
olers—a group of the older kids—stopped their songs and everyone yelled, “Surprise!” Pierce stumbled, but I wrapped an arm around his waist and steadied him.

  The crowd parted to reveal not just one Christmas tree, piled with lots of presents in red and green and gold and silver wrappings, but a second. This one was white flocked, decorated with teething rings and rattles and other baby toys, bows, big ducky safety pins, winking pale-colored lights, and surrounded by another heap of gifts, these all wrapped in pastels. The carolers moved to the front and burst into a hilarious version of “The Twelve Days of Baby” unlike anything I’d ever heard. My head was spinning, and Pierce was crying as they ushered us to the tree and shoved us both...not just him!...into chairs and laid presents into our arms.

  Maria hugged me, and everyone clapped.

  “We had you, right?” she crowed. “You had no idea!”

  “None, whatsoever,” Pierce assured her, trying to balance a box on what used to be his lap.

  “But it’s Christmas. It’s supposed to be for the kids,” I protested, although I’d never been more pleased in my life.

  “It is about the kids. Our newest kid,” she said, smiling broadly. “You did such a great thing for our families and don’t think I don’t know where all the extra food and blanket and coat donations have come from.”

  Pierce grinned at her. “He’s the best.” He held up a Santa onesie. “I hope it’s big enough for next year. Doesn’t seem like she’s coming in time this year.” Then he grimaced again.

  Somehow, he convinced me he wasn’t in labor, and we stayed long enough to open all the gifts before he doubled up and gasped.

  Chapter Seven

  Pierce

  Denial. I had been in denial the entire day as my Braxton Hicks became more frequent and closer together. I had two weeks. I knew the doctor kept saying anytime now, but in my head the due date was the day the baby would come, which was ridiculous but how my brain was working, or not working lately as the case might be.