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Six Months Later: Cole

They’re in the living room on a warm spring day watching Lucy play with Flower on the floor. The cat is a good sibling, always eager to be near the baby and gentle with her reaching hands. Flower flops onto her side, offering her belly and making one-pawed biscuits in the air while Lucy pets her.

The babbling has gotten stronger lately, and they’ve hung on every broken syllable, waiting for Lucy to form her first real word. Cole’s heart jumps when she looks at the cat and makes an extra effort to get out a purposeful sound.

“Oh my god, is she…” Olivia whispers, clutching his arm in a vice grip as they stare with rapt attention.

This is it. She’s gonna say it. All their practice has paid off.

His daughter is about to call him dad and he’s ready to explode from anticipation alone. It’s not about winning the bet anymore, it never really was. They both just want to witness her doing something so special for the first time.

D-

Da …

Dat…

Ca.

Caaaaat.

Cat.

The cat in question purrs louder, rolling on the ground while Lucy erupts into a fit of excited laughter and Cole and Olivia exchange bewildered looks.

That’s not exactly what they were expecting her first word to be, not even close, but it doesn’t matter.

She spoke and once that’s sunk in, they rush to praise her, delighting as she continues to rattle off her new favorite word.

“Cat, cat, catttts, ca. Caaaaaat.”

That fluffy little three-legged cat has done more than earn her keep today. She got Lucy talking and Cole rewards her with an extra helping of tuna from a supply run later that night.

* * *

Two days later, Lucy’s asleep on his chest while the rain falls, Olivia tucked into his side and the baby lightly snoring in his arms until a crack of thunder wakes her with a start and she says Dada in the most worried voice. Wraps her little fist around his shirt and lets him snug her in close.

“Yeah, I’m your dad,” he whispers, the lump in his throat threatening to overwhelm him. “Go back to sleep. It’s just a little rain.”

She’s a good sleeper. Out like a light not long after and when he locks eyes with Olivia, she’s about ready to burst with affection, dropping a salty tear-streaked kiss to his lips.

“You still get anything you want,” she whispers in the space between them. “Rules are rules.”

“Already have everything I want, but I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Once the baby is back in her crib across the room, they finally fulfill the bet made months ago.

The next morning, Lucy says momma, too.

* * *

One Year Later: Olivia

“Let’s make another baby,” Olivia says, the wine still sweet on her tongue and her smile loose.

Cole raises a skeptical brow. “Think that’s the drink talking.”

“It’s not. Lucy is already two. If we’re going to do it, then we should try now so they can be close in age. So she can have someone to watch her back when they get older. They can protect each other.”

She’s been thinking about this a lot but hasn’t said anything yet. A bottle of wine, discovered on a supply run finally prompted her to broach the subject, albeit less delicately than intended.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes. If you do. If you don’t, it’s okay. I’m happy, just the three of us, but…”

She can’t read his face and by now she’s well-versed in those expressions. The wine might have something to do with it. They’re both lightweights after years without a sip and he’s probably feeling that fuzz same as her.

“I don’t want to lose you if something goes wrong,” he replies.

“I know the risks. I think it’s worth it if we can give Lucy a family even after we’re gone. This world isn’t kind to those who walk it alone. I don’t want that for her.”

He opens his mouth three times, only to shut it without a word, and her heart drops.

He doesn’t want this.

She’s being selfish to ask.

It’s okay, she tells herself, they don’t need another baby to be happy.

“I think….” he sets the wine glass on the table. “I think I wanna meet our second child.”

“Really?”

His lopsided, sweet smile proves it true. “You sure we shouldn’t wait to get going on this until we’re totally sober? What if you change your mind tomorrow?”

“Won’t change my mind. I’m not drunk, Cole. Just tingly. Warm.”

“Let’s put those tingles to good use, then?”

Wine has always gone straight between her legs and this time is no different. She’s already vibrating, and she laughs as he flips her over onto her back, dragging her pajama pants off her hips and lifting her shirt to swirl his tongue over a taut nipple.

Even after two years, she still yearns for him if they’re apart for more than a few days.

She’ll never get over how good that first thrust feels as he stretches her.

It occurs to her then that this is the first time she’s felt him without a condom and suddenly everything familiar is brand new again.

He comes to the same realization a few seconds later, muscles tense as he bends down to whisper in her ear that she ‘feels so damn good’ while pushing in deep.

That reverent tone turns into a struggling gasp when being unprepared for these new sensations catches them both by surprise and he spills himself into her far too early.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to yet.”

She presses a kiss to his temple. “Don’t be. This is the whole point, right?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t…”

“We have all night and half a bottle of wine left.”

They make good use of both.

* * *

Olivia loses count of how often he takes her. They should probably stick to some sort of schedule but can’t keep their hands off each other and she figures the more the better.

He finds her in the barn one day tending to the chickens and leads her up into the loft and before she knows it, she’s riding him with hay poking at her feet.

It’s not sweet and slow this time, but she’s all for a little variety.

She lifts up and down his shaft, chasing their goal with a swirl of her hips.

The sound of skin slapping together in the slick of being joined is all she can hear over her own labored breathing, until he grabs her waist and meets her movements, thrusting up into her as she pushes down as the warmth of his release rushes in.

They often stay connected after sex, and this new mission has given them more reason to linger.

He is never selfish, and she leans backward, encouraging him to touch her. He strokes a lazy hand between her legs exactly where she needs it, his fingers splaying out around the base of his cock before cupping her, his thumb teasing where she’s swollen until she’s trembling in his arms.

She could definitely get used to this.

* * *

One day in the heat of summer, they play a game where the only goal is to see how often he can fill her in one day. It’s a challenge with farm chores and a toddler to chase around, but somehow they make do.

She’s in the kitchen in nothing but one of his long t-shirts when he finds her that evening.

She left her underwear off to tease him but also for easy access and when he comes up behind her at the island, gripping her ass with a firm hand before dragging his touch up to her lower back, applying pressure until she bends over the butcher block, her body flushes with arousal.

“Did you get those fence posts finished?” she asks, her tone purposely mundane.

“Mhmm. Got ‘em real deep in the ground,” he replies.

“How deep?” Neither of them are good at dirty talk and she lets out a half laugh at the absurdity of it.

“Think this is funny, huh?” There’s a grin in his voice, but the clink of his belt buckle silences her a moment later and then she is so full of him she can hardly breathe.

There is no room for talking after that.

The countertop cools her cheek as she lays against it, her body jerking as he pumps in and out of her and a shiver ghosting up her spine when he bends to graze his teeth across her shoulder.

When his release begins to leak out around the base, he pulls out and drops to his knees, pushing it back in with his tongue.

She shivers at how eager he is and then her hips are tugged further back and the tip of his tongue finds where her pulse already throbs.

She comes so hard against his face that her legs buckle and he has to hold her up, chuckling when she finally goes slack and slides down into his lap, joking about her suffocating him.

It’s a pattern they follow for at least three months before she begins to worry that getting pregnant might not be so easy.

It’s still early. Three months is nothing. They only need a little more time.

Three months turns into four, turns into six, and by then she has an awful feeling that something’s wrong.

“What if I can’t anymore?” she tells him one evening after Lucy is sound asleep and they’re tucked under the covers, facing each other.

“Could be me. My swimmers could be duds.”

“Or it’s the stress of this lifestyle. Not that we aren’t luckier than most, we are, but it’s still…you know, the apocalypse.”

They’ll never know for sure who or what the problem is. The only certainty is that she’s not any more pregnant now than she was six months ago despite their vigorous attempts, and that’s left her feeling frustrated.

“It’s still early,” she continues softly. “Some people try for a long time before it happens.”

“Then we’ll keep trying.”

Another few months later, they decide to stop trying and let nature take its course.

“If it’s meant to happen, it will,” she tells him, while they watch Lucy chase fireflies in the pasture. “And if it doesn’t, that’s okay, too. We’re good just the way we are. The three of us. I don’t want to focus on ‘trying’ anymore, okay?”

The brush of his kiss finds her temple with his agreement. “Okay. Just the three of us. I’m happy like that, always have been.”

“Me too. ”