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Life With Levael: First Date
Took a bit longer than I wanted it to, but here’s the next chapter! Once again, a special thanks to @sacred-dragonair/ @brushbrulee on twitter for being my beta reader!
Ever since Renyr had asked him out on a date, Levael had been anxiously waiting for the moment he would see the dark elf again. He’d agonized over what clothes he would wear, whether or not he should use any perfumes, if it would be appropriate to bring flowers on a first date, and more. Mother and Father had told him to always put his best foot forward after all, but he didn’t want to come on too strong. He’d just have to try and act casual and wing it.
Looking at his reflection in the cafe’s window, Levael saw a mortal staring back at him, and he sighed. He felt bad lying about his demon nature, but what other option did he really have? Mortals didn’t much care for demons, to say the least. The war between demons and… well, everyone else may have been millennia upon millennia upon millennia ago, but in all that time the demons were living apart from mortals for their own safety. Down in the seven spheres of the underworld, right where the angels trapped them, they kept to themselves even after they discovered a way to reach the world of mortals. No one had ever asked for the demons’ side of the story. Not when the angels had already written the history books. So demonkind was largely condemned to being the villains of history, and if Levael was to live in the mortal world then he had no choice but to hide his true nature.
And yet, even if Levael had no choice in the matter, he felt bad about lying. It’s hardly the foundation of a healthy relationship after all. Maybe Renyr would understand once it was explained to him. He would have to cross his fingers on that one.
“Hey!” Called a voice, and Levael whipped his head about to see his date hurrying down the sidewalk and up to him. “Sorry, bus had to take a detour.” Renyr asked, breathing heavier than usual. “Were you waiting long?”
Unaware of just how long he had been waiting, Levael checked his wristwatch. The dark elven man had only arrived a bit under ten minutes after their agreed upon meeting time, but in his excitement for their date the disguised demon had arrived about twenty minutes early. “Oh no, not long.” Levael said, smiling to his date.
Smiling, Renyr held out his arm for Levael to hold, which the demon did with a smile and a blush. “Get whatever you want, I’m insisting on paying.” He said as the pair joined the line of customers.
“Oh no, that’s not-”
“I insist.” Renyr’s voice was friendly, but firm enough to make clear that this was non-negotiable.
“Well, if you’re going to insist so strongly, I suppose it would be rude to refuse.” The pregnant demon relented.
After getting their drinks, the two men took a seat by the window. The people of the city were coming and going just on the other side of the glass as they sipped their tea and coffee.
“So,” Renyr said, putting his coffee cup down, “You said you worked nights yesterday. What do you do for a living?”
“I work as a singer at this uptown lounge, Velours Rouge.” Levael said. He was careful in the way he handled his tea, very particular and proper. Centuries of etiquette lessons from his parents had deeply ingrained the habit into him, and he had to consciously tell himself to behave more casually.
“Sounds swanky.” Renyr said with a low whistle. “Swanky and expensive.”
“Oh yes. It’s the sort of place you don’t really visit unless you have money or you’re looking to impress someone.”
“Hopefully ‘swanky’ means ‘pays well’.”
“Mmm, I make enough to live comfortably. I’m not swimming in money, and I certainly can’t afford any sports cars. But my apartment is nice, I have money to buy what I need and give myself some treats, and my bank account is healthy.”
“I see that’s not the only healthy thing.” The dark elf smiled, looking at the shifting of the infants in his date’s womb. “What about the money you make from surrogacy?”
Levael gulped. Of course he would ask that. Obviously he couldn’t say that he was a demon built for breeding, so what explanation would work? “Not a lot, truth be told. I work privately, and my clients are typically those who can’t afford to go through an agency. They’re very expensive, you know.”
“So you do it almost as a charity?”
“I’ve never really thought of it that way. I suppose you could say so, but I’ve always just believed that everyone should get a chance to have a family. Well, if they’re suitable for the role, that is. But some people have trouble conceiving, and they don’t have the money that large agencies would ask of them. So that’s where I come in.”
Nodding, Renyr sipped his coffee. “That’s very generous of you. Pregnancy’s a lot to go through, and for not much money? Damn.” He placed his cup down and looked again at the other man’s visibly shifting belly. “So, how far along are you?”
Oh crap.
For as often as Levael was asked this question, he was never sure what the answer should be. Mortals gestate their children for so much less time than demons, what number should he give to not raise any suspicion? He certainly couldn’t tell him the truth.
Thank you for asking, potential boyfriend. I’m currently nine months pregnant and I have approximately six months left. After that I have to go out and get pregnant again so I can help my race survive.
Yeah, there was no way THAT wouldn’t raise questions.
He would just have to rely on his old fallback non-answer and hope Renyr would be too polite to ask for further details. “I have a hereditary condition which lengthens the duration of my pregnancies, and induction doesn’t work on me. I would prefer not to talk about it.”
Renyr’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask anything too personal.” He said quickly, desperately trying to avoid the blowback of whatever landmine he’d stepped on. The sincerity of his apology was evident on his face and in his eyes.
He didn’t need to be tortured over thinking he made some horrible mistake, so Levael shook his head and offered a smile. “It’s fine. Goodness knows I get asked this question too much to be offended by it anymore. But enough about me,” He said, placing his teacup on his belly and leaning back in his seat, caressing his bump, “tell me about you. What do you do for work?”
It took a second for Renyr to register the question, his eyes lingering on his date’s tummy. “Hm? Oh!” He snapped out of his trance and refocused on Levael, clearing his throat. “I work as a freelance graphic designer. I’ve been doing it since college, which means about a century and a half or so. I’m no millionaire or anything, but I live comfortably and I like to think that I’m fairly well-known in the industry by this point. At least here in Bohemia. That’s what I like to tell myself.”
“Trying to live off your art, huh?”
With a deep sigh, the sort that suggested this subject had been an issue for a while, Renyr nodded. “Yep. Nobody’s noticed my original stuff yet, so this’ll have to do.”
“How does someone get noticed in the world of art anyway?”
The elven man made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “For the most part? Have enough money to aim the spotlight on your work. Or have a name that’s already known beforehand. Or hire someone else to make it for you.” He grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “Me, I can only rent out space at the gallery.”
“I knew that the gallery gave space to local artists, but what’s the process of your work being on display?”
“Easy. Talk to one of the curators, and you tell them what it is you want to put on display. The price is different based on what it is, like paintings are cheaper than statues, smaller statues are cheaper than larger statues, and so on. You figure out how much it’d cost for you to keep your piece up in the gallery for however many days, you pay, and boom. Your art’s on display for the amount of days you paid for.”
“I see. I hope their prices are at least reasonable, if people buying their recognition is truly a problem."
"It's fair, I'd say." Renyr looked into his coffee cup and smiled. "The gallery's actually pretty cool for smaller artists. They've got a ton of spaces in the back that you can rent out to work on your stuff. Painting, sculpting, making really weird and elaborate pieces, they'll let you make whatever once you're there. And if you can't finish your piece in one session, they'll hang onto it until you come back at no extra cost."
"So you rent out a space for a week and your work stays there waiting for you?
Renyr shook his head. "No, you typically rent by the hour. I'll usually rent for about four or five hours, for instance. Then when my time's up, they clean up after me and it's someone else's turn. You can pay for extra time, but renting for a week? You'd need some serious cash to do that."
Levael nodded, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "I see. It sounds like they really care about giving lesser known artists a chance to shine."
"Yeah." Renyr took a sip of his coffee and looked at his date with a smile. "Okay, back to you. Where are you from?"
Hoping to stall for time, Levael took a few drawn-out sips of his tea. Getting-to-know-you type questions were the worst. As usual, he’d have to fall back on old lies. “My family moved around a lot. I’ve lived in so many places, I don’t think I can say I’m really from anywhere.”
“I get that. Which place would you say was most important, though? Or which one did you enjoy living in the most?”
Well shit, Levael thought to himself. What now? “Oh, it was so long ago, I can barely even remember.” He said with a laugh he dearly hoped didn’t sound forced. “It was this little town in the far north with the sort of name you’d never be able to pronounce and could never hope to spell on your own. I’ve certainly forgotten, anyway. I really only remember it because I always loved watching the northern lights, or the Light River, as the giants call it.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the northern lights.” Renyr said, smiling at the image of lights across the sky. “I’m from the Undercity myself, so as you can imagine the sky is kind of a big deal for me.”
“Yes, the Undercity is the home of dark elves, isn’t it? What’s it like?” Levael asked as he removed his cup of tea from his belly and leaned leaning forward, resting his chin in his hands.
Judging by Renyr’s frown, however, he wasn’t as interested in the topic as his date. “You know, I never liked the term ‘dark elf’. It makes it sound like surface elves are the norm and we’re the aberration.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” Levael said, moving to place his hand on Renyr’s forearm before thinking better of it, “I wasn’t aware that was a touchy subject.”
Renyr just sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure what to say. “I mean, I think it might just be a me thing? I dunno. Whatever, it’s fine. You’re hardly the first person to refer to us that way.” He took a deep breath and slumped back in his seat. “So, the Undercity. When I was growing up, we were still sealed underground, right? Thanks to the surface elves,” He grumbled, “And we didn’t have any of… of this.” He said, gesturing around the cafe, gesturing to the city on the other side of their window. “No electricity, no fresh air, no indoor plumbing… Basically just imagine how cavemen lived and you’ve got a pretty accurate idea.”
“Oh dear. But that’s not the case anymore, right? I mean, it’s been almost two centuries since the Undercity was unsealed.”
Renyr pursed his lips and shook his head. “But that’s not very long at all for an elf. Imagine living for centuries knowing only the underground. No sky, no sunshine or starlight. Just darkness, cold stone, and stagnant air. All you know of what’s above ground is that there are elves who are like you but different and they have it better, and their ancestors are the reason you’re stuck underground because your ancestors wanted to avoid conflict with orcs. And you only know that because you heard it from your grandparents, who only know it because they heard it from their grandparents, stretching back to who knows how long.”
“Then one day, everything opens up. After a life of never seeing the sun aside from the occasional crack in the cave ceiling and having every reason to think you never will, it’s suddenly just there. And not only that, but there’s also more people than just those surface elves and orcs your grandparents told you about. There’s dwarves, giants, vampires, werewolves, faeries, all of them speaking languages you can’t understand. And as if that wasn’t enough, it turns out that while you and yours were painting on walls and fighting off cave monsters and trying to grow food in a place with no sunlight, they were all developing electricity, automobiles, the radio, the television, freakin’ airplanes.”
The disguised demon was listening with rapt attention, fascinated to learn how the dark elves live. “That sounds like a lot to take in all at once.”
“It was. It still is. And that’s why it’s taking so long for us to catch up to the rest of the world.”
“Because they’re scared.”
“Exactly. I guess the dwarves see something of themselves in us, what with how we both come from underground, because they’ve been helping renovate the Undercity to catch up with the modern world. Been quite a while since I’ve been back there, but I understand we have plumbing now. They’re taking it slow, giving everyone time to adjust. But that’s just another way of saying it’s going to be a good long while until we’ve caught up with everyone else.”
“I see. Maybe I’ll visit at some point.”
“Ehh, I wouldn’t really recommend it.”
“Because it’s so low-tech?”
“No, because you’re too tall for the cave ceilings.” Renyr said with a charming, lopsided grin.
Levael chuckled despite how lame the joke was. “That was terrible.”
“Then why are you laughing?”
The disguised demon snorted and laughed a little harder, but was interrupted when he felt a sharp kick inside his womb. With a small yelp, his hands flew to his belly, rubbing the spot he’d been attacked. “Excuse you, we’re having a conversation here.” He said to his swollen middle. “If my laughter is bothering you, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to suck it up.” Patting his belly, he looked up and caught Renyr looking rather intently at his belly, his eyes betraying fascination with a hunger simmering just beneath the surface. Levael felt himself beginning to blush at the attention he was prompting from his date. “Would you like to feel?”
Renyr snapped his head up and looked at Levael, his eyes a touch wider than the elven man probably would have preferred. “Uh, yeah sure!” He placed his hands on his date’s belly, his touch gentle. Softly, as though going out of his way not to inconvenience the pregnant man, he rubbed the bump offered to him. “It’s soft, but firm too.”
“Pregnant bellies tend to be like that.” Levael said with a small giggle.
A sudden kick made Renyr jump and pull his hands away in surprise. “Whoa! Did you feel that? I mean, you must have since it’s your belly they’re in, but still! They’re strong little guys.” He said, replacing his hands on his date’s belly and gently patting the spot where the kick had been aimed.
“Yeah… I’m proud of them.” Levael cooed, stroking the underside of his bump.
The two men stayed that way for a time, with Renyr rubbing and patting the pregnant tummy before him and Levael enjoying the attention. The demon was blushing slightly as he watched the other man’s fascination with his swollen womb and trying desperately to shoo away thoughts of having his belly rubbed while they were both shirtless.
I can’t think like that, this is only our first date!
Eventually, Renyr managed to pull his attention away from the magnificent belly in front of him to look at the clock. "Oh hell, is that the time already?" He groaned, clearly not wanting the date to end just yet. "Sorry Levi, I gotta get going. I've got a work meeting in a little bit and I need to go home and get ready." Reluctantly, he pulled his hands away from Levael’s pregnant swell, leaving the disguised demon quietly wishing he could follow his date and continue receiving belly pats and rubs.
"Ah, it's fine. This was hardly going to be an all day affair, after all.” Levael said with a reassuring wave of his hand. On the inside, though, he was a bit disappointed that their date had to end already. The clock said it had been a couple of hours, but it felt like time had gone by much faster than that. Still, he didn’t want to make Renyr feel bad when the matter was out of his control, so he put on a smile instead. “I had fun today.”
Renyr returned Levael’s smile, reaching into his pocket as he did. “I did too. Here, let me just…” He snatched a napkin and quickly wrote something on it, passing it to his date with a wink that sent a shiver down the demon’s spine and to the tip of his tail, causing it to spasm as it was wrapped around his leg, hidden down the leg of his pants. Looking at the napkin, he saw that Renyr had given him his phone number. Levael felt himself begin to heat up as his heart raced, further riling up the little ones inside of him.
Be still, my kicking babies.
“Could I borrow that pen for a second?” Levael asked, one hand desperately gripping his chair to try and keep himself centered. Renyr nodded and handed him the pen. Levael quickly grabbed a napkin and scribbled his own number on it, then passed it back to his date. “You’ll have to excuse my handwriting. I don’t think anyone writes well on a napkin.” He said with a small, nervous laugh, trying to ignore how his voice had cracked at the last second.
“You’re pretty cute, you know that?” Renyr asked.
At this, Levael became so flustered that he almost completely lost the ability to speak, only just managing to squeak out a small “Thank you.”
The elven man picked up his coffee cup along with Levael’s teacup. “I’ll take care of these on my way out. I’ll call you!” He said over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving behind a flustered and frozen demon in disguise.
When Levael finally, FINALLY snapped out of his stupor, the biggest, dumbest smile crossed his face as he snatched up the napkin Renyr had written his number on. Holding it like some kind of precious treasure, he went as fast as he could (or as fast as the bus would drive) back to his apartment, at which point he jumped onto his bed, clutched his pillow, and began squealing with excitement like a giddy teenage girl. He kept looking back at the napkin as if trying to reaffirm that he wasn’t dreaming, and he really had gotten the phone number of a cute guy. Every time he saw the number again, he’d start shrieking into his pillow with delight all over again. His heart was fluttering away, and it felt as though there was an entire swarm of butterflies in his stomach. That or the babies were kicking again, but he couldn’t care less. The rest of the world melted away and the pregnant man was alone. Suddenly he was an infatuated teenager all over again, on the phone with his bestie and squealing with delight over fantasies of being asked to prom by his crush. Though instead of prom, it was being asked out to dinner at a fancy restaurant. The sort with candles setting the mood, musicians providing a romantic ambiance, Renyr in a dapper suit and Levael dressed in a beautiful gown, all eyes in the building on the most beautiful couple as they took their seats…
It was a while before Levael was able to calm himself down, excited as he was. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Renyr. Thinking back on what he had been told about the gallery, he realized that he had no idea how long it had been since he’d last sat down and painted something. Suddenly he began to miss the feeling of brush against canvas and the satisfaction of transforming something blank and empty into something colorful and beautiful. He missed the pride he felt in knowing he had given shape to something only he could dream up. Ever since he’d gotten a job as a lounge singer, his creative pursuits had become limited to music (and knitting, but that was beside the point). Levael loved singing and playing instruments just fine, but he had put aside visual art for too long. Then and there, Levael made a promise to himself that he would visit the gallery and finally paint.
Life With Levael: Levael Meets Renyr
Man, I haven’t finished any stories in forever. Feels good to have something done! Of course, the fact that I always get carried away doesn’t help either lol.
This story is about several of my OC’s who live in a modern-ish fantasy setting. Think if there were elves and dwarves back during the 80s lol. I hope you enjoy!
Special thanks to @sacred-dragonair/@brushbrulee on twitter for being my beta reader!
It was a cold and gray afternoon, the sky blocked out by heavy clouds and a chill carried on the wind. The day’s weather was rain, though thankfully it was the sort that was so light, it wasn’t really even a drizzle, but more of a mist. Levael didn’t mind it one bit. It was the perfect weather for a mug of hot chocolate and a nice book. Even if the demon was presently doing neither of those things, instead taking a walk to the downtown art gallery, that was okay. He found a nice mist-rain to be refreshing, and he enjoyed how crisp and clean the air felt in his lungs. If it was a nice day to spend at home, then it was a nice day to spend looking at paintings and sculptures as well. And today, the gallery was promising something special.
It was Mother's Day weekend, and the Metropolitan Gallery of Contemporary Art was holding a special two-day exhibit to honor all parents who carried their children, regardless of gender. (Which was nice, considering the holiday’s antiquated name. Someone really needed to update that.) Today, the subject of the art on display was going to be pregnancy. Tomorrow, on mother’s day proper, the theme was parenthood. Levael was more interested in the former, which would be obvious to anyone who saw him as he walked down the street, cradling his large belly.
Of course, even without his pregnancy, Levael was a very difficult man not to notice. Even when disguised as a mortal, as he presently was, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His magic could hide his ebony horns and matching tail, his sharp teeth and claws. It could turn his inhumanly pink skin to a more natural looking fair color. It could give him normal mortal blue eyes instead of black sclera, white irises, and even whiter pupils. It could turn his long, flowing white locks of hair into black. But it couldn’t hide everything. Chief among the things he couldn’t hide was his height. At seven feet and three inches tall, the only chance he had of blending in was among larger races such as orcs. He couldn’t hide his enormous belly either. Which was a moot point since that was something he’d never do, he quite loved his tummy and would never want to hide it. But it was larger than pretty much any other race could manage. Combined with his pointed-but-less-than-an-elf’s ears, he looked like an unnaturally tall, enormously pregnant half-elf of some sort.
Thankfully, the average person was too polite to say anything about how odd he looked.
The gallery was crowded today, with couples and families coming to see the pregnancy-themed art on display. Statues, paintings, lighting displays, art of all mediums brought together to create an exhibit honoring the beauty and importance of pregnancy. Smiling, Levael rubbed his belly, feeling the babies inside squirm and kick from all the outside noise, as well as the excitement of the man carrying them. The demon was delighted at all of the pregnant people who were attending the exhibit ─ and when the gallery was allowing all pregnant folks free admission for the day, why wouldn’t they be ─ as it meant a sea of round bellies just like his own.
Of course, as much as he loved and appreciated pregnant bellies, it wasn’t what Levael was there for. No, today he was here for the art, and the art would be his focus. The first piece he came across was a pregnant female mannequin. Her hands rested on her belly, and the left and right sides of her bump were removed. The vertical center of her belly, where her belly button sat and her linea nigra ran, was the only remaining part of her motherly swell. Internally, this remaining patch separated the left and right parts of her womb. In the right hemisphere of her belly, the part most easily seen to anyone passing by, was half of a model fetus. Walking around to the other side, the left half of her belly contained half of a model of the earth. Looking at the plaque before the sculpture, it read:
“They who carry new life, carry the world within them.”
Standing beside the display was an orcish gentleman, looking rather proud of himself as he spoke with what looked to be a reporter from the city’s newspaper. He must be the artist behind the piece. It was nice to know that local artists were being given a chance to show their skill, and this sculpture certainly deserved to be there, at least in this demon’s opinion. After taking another moment to take in and appreciate the piece, Levael moved on.
As he walked through the exhibit, admiring everything on display, Levael saw a painting which had him enraptured. It was a man, heavily pregnant, laying in bed and giving birth, with his baby beginning to crown. He gripped the sheets of his bed with one hand and his belly with the other, while his mouth hung open, crying out.
The disguised demon was in awe. He could so easily see himself in it. He’d given birth before. Hundreds of times, in fact. As a high demon, such was his job to ensure the demon population remained healthy. And while demon pregnancies and births were different from those of mortals, he knew what it was like all the same. He had been in that same situation many times before, and would be again soon, as the little ones currently within his womb reminded him with their kicks.
To look upon a piece of art honoring the creation of life while feeling life growing within his own body was intoxicating. He was lost in the sensations given to him by both the painting and the unborn in his womb.
“Excuse me,” said a voice.
Levael blinked as he was broken from his trance, startling slightly from both the stranger speaking to him and a sudden sharp kick. As he soothingly rubbed the spot where he’d been attacked, he turned to see just who was addressing him. A man was standing beside him, looking up at the demon. A dark elf, no less. The average elf was hardly rare; they were as common as any other race, but dark elves? Most weren’t quite used to the wider world and generally preferred to stay within their home, the Undercity. Or at least the elven kingdom of Aerendyl, or so Levael understood.
Like most dark elves, his skin was gray, and his hair was a stark black. He spoke with a noticeable elven accent, though clearly different from the sort most people were familiar with. He also spoke a certain way which suggested he was trying to hide it. His eyes were blood red and he was, naturally, short. He was just about the perfect height to rest his chin on Levael’s belly while standing perfectly straight. If Levael had to guess, he was about five feet and four inches tall. Hanging off of his shoulder was one of those tubes people would store rolled up papers in, looking awkward as it bumped against a messenger bag he was also carrying.
“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that I noticed you really seemed to like this piece.” Said the stranger.
“Yes, well… Wait, have you been watching me?” Levael asked, narrowing his eyes.
“No, more people-watching in general,” The stranger reassured him, “And I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but you sort of stand out. It was impossible not to notice that you were standing here for ten minutes staring at the same piece.”
Level felt his face heat up as he cleared his throat. “I uh, hadn’t noticed I’d been appreciating it for so long.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. The painting resonated with you, and that’s something special, isn’t it?”
The disguised demon glanced back at the painting. “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Would you mind if I asked you what it is you like about this piece, and the exhibit as a whole? I’m trying to get an idea of what makes the art here today connect with people. But only if it’s no trouble. I don’t want to tag along if it’d be a bother.”
“Alright. I suppose it would be nice to have someone to discuss the pieces here with. I haven’t had anyone to do that with for a long time.”
The elf smiled, clearly happy that someone was willing to talk shop with him. “Awesome! So, tell me something about it that spoke to you.”
“Well,” Levael and the elf turned and looked at the painting in question, “I suppose the first thing that caught my attention was that the painting was of a man. I’ll admit I haven’t seen everything in the exhibit yet, but from what I’ve seen so far most of the depictions of pregnancy here either show a woman or someone gender-ambiguous. This one is clearly a man. Like me.”
“And not just that,” Levael continued, “but look what he’s doing. He’s laying in bed, giving birth. I know what that’s like. I’ve been where he is.” He said, absent-mindedly rubbing his belly.
“It’s special to find something that you can see yourself in.” The stranger nodded.
“What about you? Is there anything you like about it?”
“Oh yeah. Look at what he’s doing with his hands. One of them is gripping at his sheets, and you can see his knuckles are turning white. He’s in so much pain. But his other hand is cradling his belly. The artist did a fantastic job; you can really see how gentle he’s being toward his child while still being in so much pain.”
“Yes, I definitely see it.”
“It’s the duality that comes with parenthood; that you have this little thing that makes your life so much harder, yet it means the world to you, and you cherish it to no end. Or maybe duality isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean right?”
“No, I get it completely. Except, birth doesn’t always mean pain. Look at his face here. I can definitely see how someone would see it and say he’s in pain, but look at it differently. He looks as though he’s feeling pleasure. Look again at how he’s gripping his sheets, the way his toes are curled. Doesn’t he look like he could be experiencing rapture?”
The dark elf looked at Levael as he spoke, then looked back at the painting, searching for what he was talking about. “Oohh, I see it. You’re right, he may well be orgasming.” He looked back to the disguised demon, slightly confused. “But birth is painful, isn’t it? Does that really happen during labor?”
Levael felt his face heating up as he realized what had been asked. “Y-Yes, actually,” He said, clearing his throat, “There’s, ah, a lot going on down there. During birth, that is.” He said the last part quickly.
Pregnancy and birth were perfectly normal and routine to Levael, and demons in general. Talking about this normally wouldn’t have him hesitating so, but he wasn’t just talking about a natural fact of the birth process, he was indirectly admitting to having derived pleasure from it. Especially since demon physiology made pregnancy and labor much easier than it was for mortals, reducing the experience from excruciating pain to merely great discomfort and blending it with toe-curling pleasure. Sure, some were more uncomfortable or pleasurable ─ after all every birth is different for demons and mortals both ─ but regardless, for any demon like Levael to deny receiving sexual pleasure from birth would be a bold-faced lie.
“Huh. I never knew that.” The stranger said, rubbing his chin. “Ya learn something new every day, I guess. Makes sense now that I think about it.”
Levael turned his attention back to the painting. “It’s a beautiful piece. It’s almost a shame there’s so much left of the exhibit to see. I could stand here and get lost in this one forever.” He sighed.
“They’re selling replicas of some of today’s paintings in the gift shop.” The elf said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, like I said it’s some of them, but if the artist gave permission for them to make copies then you can buy one on your way out.”
“Good to know. I’ll have to see what’s for sale before I leave.” Level looked around. “Should we move onto the next piece?”
“If you’d like to. I’m tagging along after you today, so you can set the pace.” The elf said. As the pair walked toward the next piece of the exhibit, he cleared his throat. “I just realized, I never told you my name. You must think I’m some weirdo to ask to follow you around without even giving you my name, huh?”
Levael shook his head. “No, I don’t. You were excited to speak with someone about the art and it slipped your mind. It happens.”
“I’m glad you understand. Still, it’s pretty rude.” He stopped walking and turned to the pregnant man, extending his hand for a shake. “I’m Renyr.”
“Levi.” Levael said as he shook the offered hand.
The next piece the pair stopped to view was a mannequin of a pregnant female body. A soft light was shining inside the chest, illuminating a heart inside and synced with a light inside the belly, revealing the silhouette of a fetus as the two glows pulsed in time with the beating of a heart.
After that was a marble hewn-statue of a pregnant woman, surrounded with real flowers which grew around her feet and covered her body. Water was also trickling gently from her nipples, nourishing the flowers.
As the two men walked through the gallery, they stopped to discuss the pieces which most caught their attention. Levael never had anyone to discuss his thoughts on art with, not since leaving the underworld. Plus, going through the gallery with someone like this, talking about points of view and sharing the occasional laugh, it kind of felt like a date. The very thought had Levael feeling slightly flustered, the babies inside of him kicking and squirming in response to his racing heart.
“Your lil’ guys are going nuts in there, aren’t they?” Renyr grinned, watching the movements unfolding beneath the fabric of the demon’s shirt. “You and your partner must be excited.”
Levael gulped and rubbed his belly in an attempt to calm the babies inside of him, though his heart rate was keeping them riled up, and it wasn’t exactly slowing. “Ah, I, uh, I don’t have… a partner,” He said, clearing his throat, “I just do surrogate work.” It wasn’t a total lie. The babies didn’t belong to Levael and he wasn’t going to be the one raising them; he was going to be sending them off to a public nursery in the underworld after their birth. He just wasn’t being paid for it, since he wasn’t living in demon society anymore.
“Oh, I see.” Renyr nodded. “That’s kind of you, helping others build families. I’ve always had a lot of respect for folks who do that.” He looked up at Levael with a smile. “Knowledgeable about art and a nice guy to boot. Hard to believe no one’s come along and snatched you up.”
Levael wasn’t sure if it was Renyr’s words or a particularly strong kick to one of his ribs, but either way he felt that he might swoon right where he stood. He tried desperately to spit out some sort of response, but coherent words were beyond his reach. The best he could muster was to keep silent and avoid sputtering out random syllables like a toddler.
Renyr didn’t seem to mind Levael’s sudden silence. Judging by the tiny smirk on his face when his eyes fell on the disguised demon, he was aware of how flustered he’d made him.
“So,” Level said, clearing his throat once he’d calmed down a bit, “This one is rather eye-catching.” He motioned to a painting that the pair were passing. An oil painting of a woman in the middle of giving birth, surrounded by other people tending to her. Wiping her brow of sweat, holding her hand, preparing to handle the baby as it slid out of her, all kinds of little things to offer her support and make birth a little easier. The plaque read It Takes A Village.
As soon as he saw the painting, the elven man was no longer smiling. “Hm. I saw this one while they were setting up the exhibit.”
“You don’t seem to particularly care for it.”
Renyr didn’t deny the statement, merely pursed his lips as he thought. After a moment he opened up his tube and pulled out a rolled-up painting, carefully straightening it out before showing it to Levael. It was a watercolor painting of dark elves crowding around a heavily pregnant man, casting off a divine light and warding off the darkness of their cave. The elves of the crowd were reaching out toward him and trying to feel his belly in the same way that poor, put-upon masses would grasp for salvation.
“Oh my…” Levael breathed. “That’s beautiful.”
“Glad you think so,” Renyr said with a dry and humorless chuckle, the corner of his mouth tilting upward ever so slightly, “I submitted it for the exhibit, but I guess the curators didn’t share your opinion.” Taking a deep breath, he let out a long sigh as he looked back and forth between his own painting and the one on the wall. “These two have the same subject, but they still rejected me.” He looked over to Levael, “That’s why I’ve been asking folks about their thoughts on the art on display today.” He turned his attention back to his painting. “I’m trying to see what mine’s missing.”
“I see.”
Renyr took a seat on a nearby bench and motioned for Levael to join him. “What do you think?” He asked as the pregnant demon took a seat.
“I’m sure it’s not that your painting is missing anything. The exhibit could only show so many pieces, so there were always going to be artists that had to be turned away, even if their work is as good as yours.” Level suggested.
“So someone was going to get cut either way, and I just happened to draw the short straw, huh?”
“Exactly.”
Renyr grimaced. “I think I like that possibility even less.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if the problem is that my painting is missing something or my technique isn’t good enough, then I can address that. I can practice and improve my skill. That’s on me. I can fix the problem. But if it’s just dumb luck, what can I do about that? I’ve got no control and I’m stuck at someone else’s mercy.”
“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Levael nodded sympathetically, “Let me take another look. Maybe I can find something.”
Eyes looking hopeful, Renyr nodded and showed his painting to Levael once more. He didn’t say anything, just allowed him to analyze the two pieces. Minutes ticked by, but the elf was patient. If it meant he would get the feedback he was searching for, then he seemed prepared to wait as long as it took.
“I think I see it,” Level said after a pause as pregnant as he was, “Your painting and that one have the same general subject, but the way you approach it is different.”
“Go on.”
“Look at the way the other painting frames the pregnant woman it has as its subject.” The demon said, pointing to the piece on display. “She’s in the center, the main subject, and she’s surrounded by other people, just like yours. Look at the way she’s depicted, and look how the people around her are acting toward her compared to yours. Everyone’s coming together around her to help deliver the baby. Mother and child are pulling the community together.”
Renyr nodded, eagerly awaiting for him to continue.
“Now take a look at yours. Everyone’s coming together because of the pregnant man, but the tone of it is different. He’s portrayed not quite as a part of a community or a family, but as some kind of divine being. He’s above them, and they’re reaching out to him like religious disciples. I can see that your intent was to depict the beauty of pregnancy just like all the other artists here, the problem is you did so in a way that might be missing the point of the exhibit.”
Renyr said nothing, merely studying the painting on the wall before looking back to his own painting. After several minutes of thought, he spoke again. “...son of a bitch, I think you’re right.” He said with a deep sigh. He rolled up his painting and placed it back in the tube before looking up at Levael with a smile. “Thanks, Levi. I don’t think I would have put that together without some outside perspective.”
“It’s easy to have a bit of tunnel vision when it comes to your own work, isn’t it?” Levael said with a small laugh.
“You’re preaching to the choir.” The elven man looked around before turning back to Levael. “We’ve pretty much reached the end of the exhibit. There’s a small cafe right by the gift shop, near the exit. Let me treat you to a drink.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Level began to say.
“I insist,” Renyr’s tone of voice was cool, firm yet friendly, “You let me pester you all afternoon and you gave me some really important feedback on my work. Buying you a drink is the absolute least I can do.”
Levael gulped and cradled his belly. Suddenly the kicking inside his womb felt like the babies were trying to push him to accept Renyr’s offer. Was this a date now? Was he trying to turn it into one? “Well, if you’re going to insist…” He quickly checked his watch, hoping that he might have time to enjoy some tea with Renyr. Unfortunately, time was against him, and Levael frowned.
“I’m so sorry. I’d take you up on your offer, but I work nights and I need to be getting ready for my shift.” He sighed.
Renyr didn’t do a very good job of hiding his disappointment, though he was clearly trying to play it cool. “That’s fine, I totally understand. How about tomorrow? I know this nice little place not far from the gallery.”
Levael smiled and blushed slightly, nodding. “I have time tomorrow, yes. Somewhere around the early afternoon works perfectly.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” The elven man said with a nod. He began rifling through his messenger bag, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper. He wrote out his note and handed it to the pregnant demon. On it was the name and address of the cafe, as well as the time to meet. “Maybe it’s for the best that we put it off for a day. After all,” He said, a smile crossing his face, “A guy needs time to get ready for a proper date.”
Immediately, without fail, Levael’s face went red as he felt his heart trying to beat its way outside of his chest. Holy crap, this was a date! What should he wear? Should he go casual, or with a little more flair? Would this lead to another date? Did Renyr give good belly rubs? Did he like pregnant tummies as much as Levael? What did Renyr kiss like?
Could Renyr be “the one”?
“Um, Levi?” Renyr said, reaching up and waving his hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?”
Hundreds of scenarios were running through Levael’s head all at once, branching out into all of the possibilities this date could possibly lead to. When the shorter man’s hand waved in front of his eyes, he snapped out of his daze, then began desperately trying to save face, lest his handsome man rescind his offer. “I’m fine!” He blurted out, unable to stop himself. Renyr flinched at the sudden outburst, and a few heads turned in his direction.
“You sure? Your face is looking pretty red, and your babies…” He pointed to Levael’s belly, visibly shifting and bulging with the movements of the unborn within. “I mean, that’s gotta hurt. Or at least be uncomfortable.”
“Oh nonono, don’t worry, i-it’s no bother, not at all! I’m used to it! Doesn’t phase me in the slightest!” The pregnant demon said with an awkward laugh. A tiny voice in the back of Levael’s head told him that it was time to leave before he made himself look like an even bigger idiot. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
Renyr smiled. “Looking forward to it.”
Levael nodded and hurried off before he could make himself look like an even bigger fool. Though in his hurry, and as flustered and distracted as he was, he wound up bumping his poor belly into several people, at one point knocking over some poor dwarf and nearly falling over himself.
As he waited at the bus stop, giggling and rubbing his belly with the giddy excitement of a teenage girl, Levael took the note out of his pocket and read it over and over again, taking in the curves of Renyr’s handwriting. It would be hard to wait until tomorrow, but hey, good things come to those who wait.
At first I was like "Hunt and Grant try to have as many kids as they can" but now I'm gonna be more realistic because they would have like 3 or 4 kids, before Grant and Hunt both get their tubes tied lmao
I wrote a new fic and Tumblr wont let me share it AAAAA
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
This might be tagging them again bc idk what the hell is tumblr doing, but thanks again @crypt-tids and @undergl0w bc I used their OCs again
Hunter has a twin brother named River and I often feel guilty for not including him in my content.
Basically, Rive and Hunter are mirror identical twins. They have a lot in common, but not everything. River is only autistic and has vitiligo, while Hunter has those plus his MS, Scoliosis, hearing loss and bipolar disorder.
Not only that, but while Hunt is very fertile, Riv struggles with conceiving a child of his own, and he often pretends to hate kids to make it hurt less. But deep down he yearns for a baby, and Hunt promised one day to be a surrogate for his twin, once Hunt and Grant's own babies are born 🥺🥺💕💕😭