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It’s a poorly kept secret that John wants children. Not just one or two, but a whole brood of them. If he had his way, he would have an entire baseball team and more if only his spouse would side with him. They indulge the idea with soft ‘mhm’s and ‘that would be nice, John,’ but there’s still no firstborn to be spoken of and you are always sure to include the many cons of his few pros.
“Think about- ah- how many mouths we’d have to feed,” You continue the conversation as John works, his head buried between your legs. The man is multitasking by eating you out and trying to talk you into his daydream at the same time. “The groc-grocery deal. Oh, fuck, right there.”
You bury a hand in his hair, trying to grind your mound into his mouth, but to your dismay he overpowers you with a single hand and pulls away to speak. “That’s what money’s for, pet. To be spent. We both know we could handle the costs. I’d retire and get my pension for you, and you could stay at home to watch our kids. Keep you pregnant and barefoot. I could get a non-military job.”
Even though the shine of your arousal of his lips and the tip of his nose is distracting, you’re not that lost to pleasure just yet. “Yeah baby, as if. I’m not going to be a stay-at-home parent. We would share the duties. Hypothetically. And one-“
A whine pours from your mouth as he tries to distract you by sucking your clit, trying to eat you out to incoherency. “Nice t-try. But one job won’t cover the b… the bills… Right there, right there, just like that. D-Don’t stop…”
To your dismay he pulls away once more with a ‘tsk’. “I wouldn’t make you a stay-at-home parent if y’didn’t want to, pet. Although the image…” He lets out a hungry growl that has your thighs twitching around his head. “The image of you making a warm meal with six or seven kids ‘round you… fuck.”
You’re pretty sure they can see the hard-on in his boxers from the space station with how high it’s standing, the grey of his boxers wet with pre-cum and straining to keep him contained.
What possesses you to say your next words is beyond your comprehension.
“What if we start with one?”
The speed with which his pupils dilate is almost scary. It feels like you’re prey suddenly faced with an apex predator, pinned under their starving gaze. John licks his lips like he’s dying of thirst. “Are you giving me permission, love? Think real hard before you answer, there’s no getting out of this after.”
“Um…” You swallow the lump in your throat and fumble for your phone on the nightstand to check the cycle tracker app. Day 12, marked with a little blue circle. You haven’t felt shy in front of your husband in a long time, but this is different. This is something monumental and life-changing, this is the beginning of starting a family if you answer yes. “I’m ovulating.”
The restraint in his body is remarkable, the way his jaw muscles ripple even as his cock twitches and visibly further makes a mess of his boxers. “That wasn’t the question, pet.”
No going back now.
Your voice doesn’t come out as shaky as you were expecting. “Yes. Y… yes, I’m giving permission for you to knock me up. I want to have your baby.”
His hand wraps around your ankle and drags you down with one quick pull, drawing a startled squeal from your lips. You don’t even get a chance to speak before his lips are on yours, hot tongue immediately invading your mouth. It’s pure, unbridled passion. John seems hellbent on devouring you, whole and as quick as possible with how his tongue shoves down your throat. There’s a snap of elastic a second before he springs free of his boxers. The wet, hard heft of him hits the swollen and sensitive clit peering out, making you whine.
“You ask, you get,” John informs. He pushes your legs apart to grind against your drenched pussy with a groan. Between his pre-cum, your arousal, and the remains of his spit from eating you out, the friction is nothing more than a suggestion. Twin moans spill into the heated air. Your mind spins with the shift from teasing, lighthearted John to a man with one mission.
Getting you pregnant.
He has your body shoved up into a mating press with dizzying speed and his enthusiasm can be felt when he slips himself into your tight heat with a near-feral sound of pure pleasure. “Fuck…”
It’s been a long time since you and your husband felt secure enough in your birth control to go bareback, since you got your IUD removed and never bothered with a replacement. The pure, unadulterated connection between your bodies feels like melting into one soul and the act you’re doing with the goal in mind only furthers that sensation. You fumble to hold onto his biceps, needing some way to ground yourself when he finally settles hip-to-hip with you, deep and pressed against your G-spot with the familiarity only a loving spouse can have. J-John-”
“Yeah, pet?” Price growls into your ear, keeping your legs spread wide and high so he can get even deeper. It feels like he’s in your throat with every thrust, drawing choked moans from your lungs as the tip of his dick kisses your cervix with maddening frequency. “Yeah, you like that idea, don’t you, love? Want me to breed this sweet, perfect little cunt?”
You nod rapidly and continue to claw at his biceps, arching and squirming underneath his body. “J- baby. Baby. Want- want baby.”
He lets out a low laugh that makes your skin break out like goosebumps, that distinct predator-prey sensation sinking in time with his thrusts. If your ovulating, hormone-soaked brain could focus, it might be asking how you ended up in this situation in the first place. Getting load after load fucked into your womb until you’re sure it’ll be visibly distended and he just. keeps. going.
The stamina he displays is nearly inhuman and it’s a wonder he isn’t giving you dry orgasms by the time you pass out from equals parts pleasure, overstimulation, and exhaustion.
The bedroom light’s been turned off by the time you resurface, mind hazy and words difficult if not impossible to find. Your cervix feels bruised, your pelvis ground to dust, and your pussy… still full.
John shushes you when you make a soft, confused sound and pulls your body closer, warm hairy chest pressed against your back and large arms keeping you trapped in the spooning. “Shh, pet. You’re alright. Wore you out, didn’t I? Took yourself a little nap.”
You make a vaguely agreeable noise and he laughs, back to the warm and devoted husband you know so well. “Yeah, you’re still blissed out, aren’t you love?” His cock twitches and slowly starts to stiffen but he makes no move to start another round.
When you push at his arm he merely holds tighter and kisses the column of your throat, taking a deep breath against your pulse. “Hush. We have to make sure it takes, hm? Stay still so you can start making me a daddy.”
It’s to nobody’s surprise when you end up pregnant--twins, to John’s utter delight, and the tiny bump of a third Price making itself known in your womb barely a year after delivery as you stand barefoot in the kitchen making your twin girls eat their strawberries.
Just like John wanted.