I tap the glass where the bright colored orange and turquoise discus fish are cheerfully greeting me.
After Wes found out Penny was using one of the exotic fish she had him order to help poison my mother he threatened to destroy the entire room. It took a little naked persuading, but eventually I convinced him not to punish them for her bat shit crazy mistake. Plus, I reminded him how much me and Clark loved them, which definitely helped sway the vote. He already felt guilty enough exiling Clark’s only daughter. Taking away the one thing he finds relaxing in the Beast’s castle seemed like an excessively cruel way to treat his surrogate father.
They’re playful moment of following my finger brings a genuine smile to my face.
At least they’re able to have fun in captivity.
“Playing with Spock and Uhura?” Wes cautiously questions from the doorway.
I opt out of glancing his direction. “Is that alright? Did I need to get my permission slip signed first?”
His sigh is heavy. “Can you stop making me out to be the bad guy in this situation?”
“Then stop being one.”
“Bryn-”
“No.” Tapping at the glass again forces them to rush away to find somewhere to hide.
Whenever we come to the manor, I always, always, make time to come visit this pair. They were a birthday gift from J.T. He named them too. Wes was initially jealous, but eventually accepted it as what it was. A gift from a friend who is basically a sibling at this point. I wish he would just learn to accept what I tell him, rather than wait until he’s doubled checked. Again. Where the hell is the trust?
“You wanna sit and look at ideas for adding a tank to the penthouse? Maybe look through the latest exotic auctions for new ones to add here?”
“Guilt gifts? No thank you.” I make my way toward one of the beige colored couches in the middle of the room.
Silence settles between us as I adjust myself into a comfortable position.
The pain is infrequent and also unpredictable. For the most part the swelling has seemed to disappear. My head on the other hand has a pattern of aches, but I know it’s not from the bump. It’s from the overthinking about an unanticipated situation, and how to tell the constable of control his entire life is about to change. Again.
“Do you want some more space?” He sheepishly asks. “I can disappear to the office if you want. Fuck around with some paperwork I have waiting. Sort through some emails. Check the latest updates from the wedding planner.” Wes tries to offer me a smile. “Whatever you want, baby.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “I want you stop treating me like a child.”
His cringe is brief. “It’s not my intention. I’m just…concerned.”
“Overly concerned. My own mother hasn’t even checked on me this much.”
She’s come close with the constant texts, but we’re not going to give him ammo.
“It’s just…if anything ever happened to you….” Wes’ expression becomes bleak. “I don’t think I could handle that loss.”
Guilt grabs me by the nape of my neck.
Of course that’s where his mind goes. He still blames himself for his parents’ death. Blames himself for my mother’s close call. He carries so much unnecessary shame and a need for penance that he ends up making situations far worse than they have to be.
My mind immediately begins to wonder how he’ll handle my changing body during pregnancy. How tight he’ll try to tighten the reins on my out of sight choices.
Quietly, I state, “Not everything is life or death, Wes. Sometimes bad shit is small. Like a sprained ankle.”
And other times is catastrophic like an unexpected pregnancy.
“You’re going to have to learn to deal out appropriate amounts of emotion.”
He sulks further. His blue and brown eyes soften in sadness, yet he nods.
I pat the cushion space beside me.
There’s no hesitation in his relocation to my point in the room. He drops down next to me and does his best not to let his attention drift to my propped-up foot.
Sensing his need for reassurance, I lean against him, attention diverted back to the tanks. “It’s fine, babe. I promise.”
His shoulders seem to relax. “Are you hungry?”
“Are you asking because that’s the normal thing to do or are you asking because you wanna spoon feed me like a Gerber baby?”
He lightly laughs, and I let the corner of my mouth kick upward.
“I’m good. Stomach’s still….unsettled.”
Wes turns my face to meet his. “Nerves from everything that happened yesterday?”
The decision whether or not to tell him right now tears me in two. This is definitely not an ideal time and most likely will do nothing more than send him back into the paranoid zone. Then again, how much longer can I really keep this to myself? Well, knowing me, probably until I’m like six months in and can no longer pull off the ‘it’s just a beer belly’ bullshit.
My mouth starts to move yet rather than actually speak it lunges for his. His vacillation to instantly kiss back increases my efforts. I give his bottom lip a hard nip and let my tongue invade his mouth the moment it cracks open. Wes groans at the contact and abandons the kid gloves he was using with me. His tongue aggressively does the scolding he wishes his voice could. Our kiss intensifies, and I willingly succumb to the pending passion.
Wes’ gives my nipple an unanticipated sharp tug.
A breathless moan escapes at the contact.
Are my nipples extra sensitive or is he just hitting the right spot?
“Is that what you really need, baby?” His hot breath feathers the side of my neck. “Need my hard cock buried deep inside of you?” He pulls at the hardened nub again eradicating the previous contemplation. “Need me to make you moan?” The slightest increase of pain amalgamates with deliciousness of his dirty descriptions. “Need me to make that pretty pussy come?”
I barely release a whimper before his mouth is back on mine.
With complete disregard to the part of my body that is injured, we heedlessly shed our clothes and tangle our bodies tightly together. Between broken kisses and begging him to replace our constant fighting with constant coming, Wes manages to blanket my body with his.
Teasingly, I tempt, “Doctors recommend elevation, right? Shouldn’t my ankle be up higher?”
His growl is dark. Brooding. “Ankles.”
In one swift motion both are resting on his shoulders and his thick cock is being coated in my wetness. We share a loud, mutual moan of satisfaction. My muscles squeeze his dick tightly, protesting its long absence. Another grumble festers behind his gritted teeth, and he ferociously begins to pump. In spite of the sprain, I lock my ankles around his neck while I dig my nails sharply into his biceps. He flashes a smile of enjoyment from my brutal actions matching his. The pounding suddenly grows fierce as I watch his eyes flood with the desire to punish me for the position of my wounded limb. I offer him a smirk and drink in a sight I’ve become completely addicted to. His muscular frame is strained. Mismatched eyes hooded. Breathing tenuous.
I love nothing more than when he’s willing to own his true self. To be the powerful man who’s not afraid to push or be pushed.
The sensation of Wes’ balls lightly tapping against my ass fuses with the burning that seems to be bursting throughout my entire body. Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I yield to every command of his cock. His sharp thrashing mercilessly taps my g-spot until I detonate with enough force to shatter the tanks in the room.
On a high-pitched scream, my arms link around his neck right beside my feet, and I do my best to withstand the unstoppable withering that’s invaded my system. Wes only manages two more thrusts before his balls tighten to the point of no return. He growls into the crook of neck as my pussy milks from him exactly what he ripped from me. A collection of cries echoes off the walls for what feels like an eternity. Eventually, a sated sigh slips from my lips, and I slink backwards onto the couch.
This was a much better idea than discussing my injuries or being pregnant. After all, I’m sure the two of us will be back at each other’s throats sooner rather than later. Whether or not Wes knows it we both needed this moment. We both needed to be connected. We both needed to feel like we’re on the same team because I have a sick, twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach our relationship is about to endure another God awful test.