76 for Bevon :p
Devon had been lounging on the sofa, his swollen feet propped up. It was the first time he’d really seen them in weeks. Every time he looked down lately, he could only see his protruding stomach. His back ached & his joints felt tired. It had become too difficult to get much done in the shop at all but it still didn’t quell the constant exhaustion he felt. On the television was some celebrity gossip show. Though he had no interest, he couldn’t find the energy to look for the remote control.
His eyelids finally shut as he nodded off. Just as he had fallen into a steady sleep, he was suddenly awoken by a loud scuffle outside the door. When it opened, his dog came clambering in excitedly. Hey Killer, he smiled, reaching a hand out to scratch the canine behind the ears. What’s going on out there? And where’s Dad?
As soon as he’d said it, he heard the door slam loudly behind him. Bentley came stomping into the house, throwing the dog’s leash onto the table. When Devon turned to find out what was upsetting him, he started to laugh. He hadn’t meant to, especially since he could tell that his fiancé was furious, but he couldn’t help himself when he took in the sight.
Bent? Baby? Devon called out cautiously, still trying to contain himself. Why are you covered in mud?
The blond fumed as he turned towards his pregnant mate. Is this fucking funny to you? he hissed through clenched teeth. Why don’t you ask your damn dog?
Devon quirked a brow playfully, waiting for the man to realize what he’d suggested. Finally he sighed when he realized it would take a little longer for his fiancé to calm down. I already tried. Killer won’t tell me.
Killer! Bentley spit loudly. Killer decided he wanted to be a cat today. A fucking humming bird, the teeny tiny, quick moving, flower sucker was fluttering around a bush on the path we took today during his walk. Fucking cat-dog there suddenly took off before I even realized what happened. He yanked me forward, broke his fucking leash, & sent me flying into a damn pile of filthy fucking mud.
Devon could no longer hold back & let out a boisterous laugh, holding his stomach as he fell back against the cushions of the couch. Holy shit. I’m sorry, Bent.
Yeah, you sound SO sorry, the tattooed blond huffed as he pulled off his soiled shirt, gripping it tightly in his fist. You know I’m doing this for you. There should be some level of sympathy here, Dev.
But I’m carrying your child, lover, Devon returned.
Nice try, dick. I carried both boys, remember?
Okay. Okay, the other man conceded, throwing his hands up in the air. Thank you for walking Killer, baby. Now go take a nice hot shower & calm down before you pop that anger vein in your neck.













