Price finds out youāre pregnant and becomes the worldās most doting husband.
Spoils you rotten from minute one. You want pickles and ice cream at two in the morning? Heās already lacing his boots, grumbling fondly about how youāre gonna be the death of him while he kisses your forehead. Stay put, love. Daddyās got it. Three am milkshake run? No problem. Heās pulling up to the twenty four hour drive thru in his truck, voice low and warm on the phone the whole way back so you donāt feel alone for a second.
Feet hurting? Heās got you propped up on the couch with a pillow under your knees, those big calloused hands working slow circles into your arches until youāre practically purring. When his thumbs start cramping after the third night in a row, he books you the fancy prenatal massage place downtown without being asked.
Heās there for every single appointment. Sitting in the waiting room like a proud fucking peacock, flipping through baby magazines with that little furrowed brow of concentration, asking the nurse questions that make her smile because most dads donāt bother. Heās read every book. Watched every clichĆ© movie. Stocked the nursery. He knows about the Braxton Hicks, the swollen ankles, the weird cravings.
Heās prepared for everything.
Heās not expecting how fucking horny you are all the time.
Christ, the way your body changes does something to him. Heās hard half the day just looking at you- that soft swell of your belly stretching your shirts tight, the way your tits have gotten fuller, the little waddle you do when youāre tired. You catch him staring and he doesnāt even try to hide it.
And listen- John Price is more than willing to dick you down good and proper. Heās got the stamina of a man whoās seen some shit, but heās not a spry young buck anymore. Two rounds, maybe three on a really good night, before his back starts protesting and his knees remind him heās closer to fifty than heād like to admit.
Heāll fuck you slow and deep, hands reverent on your belly, whispering filthy praise the whole time- thatās it, love, take it just like that, look at you, all swollen and needy for me- until youāre shaking apart around him. But then youāre still whining, still squirming, still slick and desperate, and heās tapping out with a wrecked groan, cock spent and softening while youāre left frustrated and teary-eyed.
You sniffle into the pillow. Trying so hard not to cry because you know heās giving you everything heās got, but the hormones have you keyed up like a live wire and nothing feels like enough. And god, doesnāt he feel like the biggest jackass on the planet. He canāt keep up. Heās lying there afterward, one arm curled protectively around your belly, the other scratching through his beard while he stares at the ceiling like it owes him answers.
Heās definitely scratching his head at a solution.
Right up until Nikolai comes to visit.
The big Russian shows up with that lazy smirk already in place. You light up the second he steps through the door, literally melt into those massive arms when they open for you. Nikolai chuckles low, enveloping you completely, and you bury your face in his chest and let out this soft, needy little sound.
All the pieces slot together so perfectly he almost laughs out loud. Heās not jealous- fuck no. If anything, heās relieved. Because Nikolaiās got that endless stamina, that rough patience, that filthy mouth that could probably talk you through three orgasms before Price even catches his breath. And the way youāre already clinging to him, hips shifting just a little like you canāt help it?
John Price is already picturing it. Already hard again just from the thought.
Time to have a little chat with his old friend.
