Page 22 of Brood (After the End #5)

Chapter Eight

It’s still dark in the room when I wake up, having to pee for the ninth time tonight.

My due date was two weeks ago, but I still haven’t gone into labor. Dr. Cameron says not to worry, which doesn’t make me feel better. Bella also says not to worry because first births are often late. While that’s reassuring, it doesn’t relieve my discomforts—both emotional and physical.

For the past month, all the pleasure and excitement about this pregnancy transformed into intense impatience.

I need to get this baby out of me, and it won’t come.

After I pee, I glance at myself in the dimly illuminated mirror.

I don’t like what I see.

The braid I slept in is half-undone, loose strands tangled haphazardly around my face. There are deep shadows under my eyes, and my face looks slightly puffy.

My breasts and belly are more than puffy. The oversized white gown I’m wearing makes me appear three times my size.

I want to look and feel like myself again.

As soon as the thought hits, I brush it away in a surge of guilt. Giving birth means the baby will start living in the nursery. I can’t stand the thought, but there’s never been any choice in the Refuge. Babies get better care in the nursery, which means they have a better chance of survival.

That’s all that should matter to me, but I hate the thought of giving this baby up. At least inside me, he or she is still ours.

With a quick shake of my head, I wash my hands and trudge back into the bedroom.

Will got into my bed yesterday evening to give me a back rub, and he’s still there. I managed to get up without waking him the other times, but he blinks at me groggily as I climb back into bed now.

“You okay?” he mumbles as I clumsily arrange myself on my right side—the only sleeping position that’s remotely comfortable for any length of time.

“Yeah. Just peeing. Again.”

Although I try to keep the deep frustration from my tone, he must hear it anyway. He scoots close to me, fitting his front against my back so he can spoon me. He strokes the curve of my belly for a minute and then keeps his hand resting there.

“Must be asleep,” he murmurs after a minute.

“Yeah. No kicking for a couple of hours.”

He nuzzles my hair. He’s fully awake now. I can sense it even though his body is completely still.

“Sorry I woke you up.” I glance over my shoulder at him.

“I don’t care.”

“But you have to work.”

I haven’t worked at all in more than two months. While I believe I’m capable, they won’t let me. For five weeks now, they haven’t let me exercise or go eat in the dining room. They bring my meals here and expect me to lie around doing absolutely nothing.

I hate it.

Never in my life has it felt like the walls of the Refuge are closing in around me the way it’s felt for the last month.

“It won’t be much longer,” he says in that same gruff but oddly soothing voice.

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “But then they’ll take Bun away from us.” I cover his hand on my belly with one of mine.

We’ve been calling the baby Bun for months now after Will told me a pre-War joke about having a bun in the oven. Dr. Cameron knows whether Bun is a boy or a girl, but he won’t tell us.

It’s not our concern, he explained. Our only responsibility is to conceive, bring to term, and breastfeed until the baby is ready for solid food.

“They won’t take Bun right away. You’ll have to nurse for a long time.”

“I know. But they won’t let us keep Bun with us.”

I’ve always known this is our reality. The way things work best. They way they have to be. And it hasn’t been until these past months when it’s occurred to me to want it otherwise.

I don’t know this baby yet, but Bun is mine. Ours. No one else’s.

“We’ll figure it out. Maybe I can get them to give a little.”

“We have to be careful. They can’t know we disagree with the rules here, or we’ll both be in trouble.” I grab for his forearm and hug it to my chest. “You’ll be in danger.”

If I’m able to give birth to a healthy baby, my own life and health will never be in danger.

Will might be useful to the Refuge for his technical knowledge and leadership abilities, but he’s still disposable.

If he becomes more trouble than use to Brody’s group, they won’t hesitate to get rid of him.

Then I’ll get trapped with someone terrible.

The very idea nauseates me, but even that’s not as strong as the devastated panic that overwhelms me at the thought of losing Will.

Ever since he confessed the truth to me, it’s been like this. We’re together in a real way—close to each other—but only in our quarters. To the rest of the world, we’re appropriately detached. The good, dutiful rule followers we’ve always been.

“Promise me you won’t take any risks,” I continue when Will doesn’t respond. “Promise me, Will.”

He nuzzles my hair. The crook of my neck. “I promise. I won’t.”

I blow out a long breath. Intentionally relax my body so random muscles don’t cramp up. “Thank you.”

I’m still hugging his forearm, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He snuggles me closer to him. “We’re going to be all right. I’m going to take care of us.” He pauses. “All three of us.”

“Thank you,” I breathe out again.

We stay like that for a long time, both of us silent. Holding each other in the dark. Eventually I grow aware of something new.

Something poking against my bottom.

Will has an erection.

I shift restlessly at the feel of it against me.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It will go away.”

We haven’t had sex in more than a month, since I’ve felt so uncomfortable and unattractive.

I hear him taking care of himself in the shower sometimes.

He’s never spoken a word of complaint, although it’s now clear that he loves having sex with me purely for the experience.

Not only to make a baby as I originally believed.

“Or I can get up if it bothers you,” he adds.

“No!” I grab for his arm when he starts pulling it away. “Don’t get up.”

“Okay.” He relaxes behind me.

“We can have sex,” I say without thinking it through.

“What?”

“We can have sex. If you want. As long as you think we can manage in this position.”

“We can definitely manage, but I don’t want to have sex unless you genuinely want it too.”

“I do.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t really seem like you’re in the mood.”

“I’m not in a hot, sexy mood, but that doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“I want to be close to you. And I want to give you what you need.” I turn my head again to look over my shoulder. It’s still dark, so I can only see the general form of his head. “Isn’t that enough for me to really want it?”

He must realize it’s a real question because he thinks about the answer. Finally, he says slowly, “Okay. We can try. But if it’s not good for you, then we’re going to stop.”

“That’s fair. Maybe get the lube.”

“Good idea.”

He climbs out of my bed to gets the tube of lubricant from his nightstand drawer.

Then he climbs over to settle behind me again.

It takes some maneuvering for us to get out of our underwear and him to get in the right position behind me.

He rubs us both down with lubricant. His fingers in my pussy don’t feel as uncomfortable as I thought.

In fact, they feel kind of good. And even better when he massages my clit.

My belly is still a huge, unwieldly nuisance, but I’m feeling pretty good overall when he lifts my top thigh to make room for him to edge his cock inside me.

He’s not very deep in this position, so the penetration feels snug. Familiar. Good.

Will’s breathing is fast and ragged behind me, blowing against my loose hair. He’s holding himself very still, but he’s so tense, I can feel the urgency shuddering through him.

“I’m good,” I tell him, turning my head back toward him again. “It feels good. You can fuck me now.”

He lets out a soft groan. Tilts forward slightly to brush a light kiss on my cheekbone. Then he starts pumping his hips in a tight, steady rhythm. The slide of his cock makes a wet sound in the otherwise quiet room.

“It’s good,” I murmur again, fumbling with my hands since I don’t have anything to hold. “I like it. I like it. I missed it.”

His thrusting speeds up. He releases another stifled moan. “I missed it too, love. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His words and the obvious pleasure he’s taking in our connection wash over me like a wave. A wave that lifts me rather than drowns. “Will. Will.”

“Yes, love. Cadence.” He’s getting more urgent now. Already. He’s not going to last very long. “Cadence. Love.”

I move a hand down past my belly so I can rub at my clit. The stimulation pushes my vague arousal forward with a rush of pleasure.

“That’s right.” He’s panting fast and loud. He moves his hand down to cover mine on my clit, applying more pressure. “Just like that. You come first.”

“I’m trying.” I whimper and squirm as the sensations rise and rise but don’t break. “Oh, fuck, Will. Help.”

He bends his neck enough to get his mouth on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He bites down on it. Hard enough to bruise but not hurt.

The sharp jolt of unexpected feeling throws me into orgasm before I know to expect it. I cry out loudly as the pulses of pleasure overwhelm me.

“That’s right. That’s good. You’re doing so good. You can let go.” He keeps murmuring hoarsely and rubbing my clit through my own fingers until I’ve worked through my orgasm. Then he falls out of rhythm and pushes into me from behind in fast, clumsy thrusts until he’s coming too.

His exclamation of release is as loud as mine was. As unselfconscious. Will ejaculates in several strong spurts. He fills up my pussy.

We’re both gasping and our hands are still applying pressure to my sensitized clit as Will’s hips finally fall still.

I can hear a smile in his voice as he says, “How was it?”

“You know how it was. That’s why you’re grinning back there.”

He chuckles and nuzzles my hair. “It was incredibly good. I needed it. So thank you.”