12. Metaphorical Knees
Chapter 12
Metaphorical Knees
Tatum || 17 weeks pregnant, October
I didn’t mean to say out loud that I’d do anything for her. It just slipped out, spurred by the weight of her arms around me and her faint vanilla scent wafting into my nose. I mean it, though. Watching her bear our child has me feeling a fierce sense of protectiveness over her heart, her mind, fuck even her body.
Darcy went to lie down after our conversation, and as I’m passing by her bedroom door I overhear faint whimpers emanating from within. At first, I think that she’s crying, or maybe not feeling well. But, as I edge closer to the door—tempted to stick my ear against it like some peeping Tom—her whimpers turn into pleasure-filled moans and I find myself stopped dead in my tracks.
My cock immediately grows stiff in my slacks. The faint buzz of a vibrator softly carries outside the room and I think back about our first, and only, night together. I relive the way that her pussy stretched around my fingers as I pumped them into her, the way her back arched in the throes of her orgasm, and I wonder if she ever masturbates while she thinks about us. My hands move of their own accord, and I unbutton my pants, pulling my cock out, and slowly stroke it in the middle of the hallway. Jesus, I am acting like a horny teenager .
As her moans become louder and more erratic, I pump my cock faster, my forehead falling lightly against the door. I bite my lip to stifle a groan when she lets out one last, long sigh of pleasure, and I imagine her body writhing beneath mine as she comes. Following her over the edge, I cum all over my hand. Careful not to make a mess, I stuff myself back into my underwear and head to my bedroom to clean myself before falling into bed for a fitful night's sleep.
* * *
Darcy has one last week of her job before she can focus on writing and resting. At that point, her rest and hydration are going to be the priority. Her nausea came back with a vengeance last week. She says she isn’t vomiting as much as she was, but she’s miserable and on the verge of upchucking every time she eats.
I’ve fallen into a routine of finding her curled up on the couch, a giant jug of water in hand, and Gilmore Girls playing on repeat in the background. She loves it so much that I’ve covertly been watching it in my room at night, trying to catch up to her current season. Today though, I came home to pervasive silence, and she’s not on the couch where she typically lays.
“D?” I holler into the condo, to no response. I check the kitchen and balcony, to no avail, before heading towards her bedroom. Her door is cracked, but the room is dark and full of the same silence that’s greeted me elsewhere in our home. I knock, and gently call out, “Darcy?” Still, nothing, so I push in and see her small form curled up in the middle of the bed under her favorite, purple and fuzzy blanket.
“Hi.” She’s quiet, sounding dispirited.
“What’s going on Mama?” I ask, approaching the bed and sitting on the edge beside her, placing a hand gently on her forehead to make sure she’s not running a fever.
“I’m just really tired and the vomiting gave me a migraine,” she mewls.
“Can I do anything? Have you eaten?” Side-eyeing the very full water jug on her nightstand, I know she’s possibly dehydrated—especially if she’s unable to keep her water down.
“I just woke up. I had some eggs and toast this morning, but then I fell asleep. ” Fuck. It’s been almost nine hours. It’s hard when eating makes her nauseous, but I don’t want her passing out when I’m not around. I’m going to have to get the girls over here while I’m at work.
“Can I get you something? Maybe some chicken soup? Or rice? A banana?”
“Mmm, soup sounds good.”
“Be right back.” I gently squeeze her leg. “Try to drink some water, please.” I’m down the hallway and pulling a can of soup from the pantry in a dash. I pull out my phone while heating the soup on the stovetop. I call Harley first—her school schedule offers her the most free time, but her voicemail greets me. I try Sinclair next, saving Kodi for last. It might be hard for Kodi to manage both Arabella and Darcy.
“Tatum, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Sin’s silky, smooth voice comes through the phone.
“I need to call in a favor. Darcy’s nausea came roaring back, she’s been prone to migraines. When I got home from work today, she hadn’t eaten since this morning. Please tell me you’re off the next few days and can come sit with her while I’m gone?” Metaphorically or not, I am not above getting on my knees and begging Sin to help me with Darcy.
“You’re lucky she’s one of my best friends. I was supposed to spend the next few days resting and hopefully getting some action,” She jeers, her tone laced with aggravation.
“Well, I tried Harley, but she didn’t answer. I think it would be too hard for Kodi with Bella running around. Plus you’re the nurse, so she’ll have to listen to you. I will pay for you to get a massage every month for the next year, Sin, please.” I stir the soup in the pot, noticing it’s beginning to boil. I turn to grab a bowl with my phone tucked in between my ear and shoulder. I pour it into the bowl before carefully making my way towards Darcy’s room. “I’m bringing her soup as we speak.”
“Whoa, you care about her don’t you?” Sin, of all people, is the one to call me out but, at this point, it no longer matters. I do care about Darcy and I do intend to make her mine if or when she’s willing to give herself to me.
“I do.”
“What time do you head in tomorrow? Try to focus on getting her fed and bathed tonight then just let her rest.”
“Around ten in the morning, it’s a pretty light day.”
“Perfect, see you then.”
“Thanks again, Sin.” With that, she hangs up and I push Darcy’s door open. She’s sitting up now, head resting against the headboard, her eyes half open, with purple bags making them appear sunken in.
“Here ya go, D. Try and eat some. I’m going to start you a bath.” She takes the bowl from me and begins slowly but surely eating it as I enter her bathroom. I haven’t been in here since she moved in. Inside, her vanilla scent is overpowering, an array of beauty products lies skewed across the counter, and a bright pink hairbrush sits on the counter with blonde hairs intertwined between the bristles. She’s added a fluffy rug in front of the counter and another aqua one sits in front of the shower. The shower curtain is patterned in tiny disco balls and ghosts wearing cowboy hats. I move it to the side and turn the faucet on, testing its warmth before plugging the drain. Peeking under her cabinet, I find Epsom salts that I throw in along with some of the bubble liquid she has sitting on the edge of the tub. I don’t want the bright bathroom light on for her, so I grab a candle and lighter sitting on the back of her toilet, letting its soft flame illuminate the bathroom.
“Your bath is ready.” I exit the bathroom and see the soup bowl is empty, sitting on the bedside table, but she has laid back down—the cool rag I brought in earlier draped over her eyes as she gently rubs circles over her temples.
“I can’t.” She sniffles.
I can’t believe I’m about to offer this especially after my cock was in my hand about twenty feet away from here last night so seeing her naked is probably the last thing I need to do right now.
“Would you be okay if I lifted you?”
“You don’t have to do that. I can just shower when I’m feeling better.”
“I know, but I want to. I think it may help, especially now that you’ve eaten.”
“Ugh, fine.” She reluctantly lifts herself to a sitting position, swaying a little. “I’m too light-headed to argue.”
I step towards her, placing one arm around her back and the other under her legs, and carry her into the bathroom. I stand her on her feet, helping her stay steady as she pulls her shirt over her head. I keep my eyes firmly focused on the little freckle she has above her left eyebrow.
“I need you to take my pants off, Tatum, because I don’t think leaning over right now is the right move.”
I'd love to hear her ask me to take off her pants in any other circumstance, but here my sole focus is making sure she’s cared for and hopefully feeling a bit better afterwards. I grasp the waistband of her sweats, pushing them down and holding her steady as she steps out of them and into the tub.
I take a seat on the edge of the tub. We sit in silence for a moment before I lean over and get two pumps of her shampoo and gently rub it into her scalp. She relaxes into my touch, her eyes drifting closed. I probably spend more time than necessary to lather her hair, getting a little carried away.
“Do you want to brush your hair with some conditioner, or after you're out?”
“Probably with the conditioner.” Her eyes remain closed and she seems to be the most relaxed she’s been since I got home. I can’t help but feel a little pride over helping her to feel this way. After rinsing her hair out and then letting the conditioner sit, I run her hairbrush gently through her head, working the knots out and avoiding jostling her head around too much.
“You ready to get your body washed and then I’ll help you get to bed?”
“You are being such a mama bird right now.” She sighs at me, sounding exasperated. Her attitude coming back is a good sign. She pulls the drain before slowly standing and turning the showerhead on before shooing me and pulling the curtain closed. I relocate to the closed toilet seat.
“Maybe I am, but coming home and finding you sheltering in the dark while not having eaten all day warrants a little overzealous care for you.” I contemplate telling her that Sin will be here tomorrow before just spitting it out. “And Sin is coming to sit with you tomorrow.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Tate.” She sticks her hand out of the shower with a ‘give me’ motion and I grab and place her fluffy pink towel in her hand.
“I feel compelled to make sure you’re okay since I have some long days coming up. Just think of it like some bestie time.”
“It’s Sin. She’s going to be all over me.” I know and it’s exactly why I want her here, but Darcy doesn’t need to know that. The shower curtain flies open and I extend a hand, helping her step out before following her into her room. She heads over to the dresser, picking out a large t-shirt and a pair of black cotton shorts. Darcy pulling those shorts over her hips sans underwear is an image I store for later.
She rests a hand on the dresser for a moment. Fearful the lightheadedness just hit her again, I don’t waste time thinking. Reflexively moving across the room to lift her again. Pulling her sage green comforter back, I lay her down and tuck her in. Turning to leave, a small hand grasps my wrist and I pivot back to look at her.
“Stay with me? At least until I fall asleep.”
“Let me change out of these clothes.” I’m still donned in my white button-up and navy slacks from work today, not having changed before entering her room earlier.
“You’ve quite literally been inside me. I don’t think you need to be modest now.” She chuckles, “But if you want, your shirt is on top of the dresser. Just throw that on and lose the pants.”
“It’s more that I wanted to be comfortable laying in bed.” I wink at her, undoing my button-up and placing it where my shirt was. I shuck my pants off and place them with the shirt. I can feel her eyes on me the whole time, making my spine tingle. I try to flex my biceps a little more than necessary.
I slide into her bed with her, resting my back against the headboard and opening my arms to her just as I did a few weeks ago. Holding her is intoxicating. She snuggles into me, slinging an arm over my stomach.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her, keeping my voice low as I rub gentle circles on her back.
“My head is still pounding, but I think the shower and food helped a bit.” I feel her smile against my side.
“So, what do you want to do for the gender reveal?”
“I’ve seen a few viral videos where the parents have a cake made, then they each stick a champagne flute in and lift it at the same time. I feel like that’s easy and cute. Plus, we get cake out of it—who doesn’t like cake?” She continues, “Then, to share it with everyone we would make the video black and white and change it to color after our reactions so everyone could know if blob is going to be a girl or boy.”
“I love that idea. Do you want a boy or girl?”
“Truthfully…” Darcy pauses, briefly. “I don’t think I have a preference.”
“Yeah. Me either.” I imagine a mini version of Darcy running around, and that gives me heart palpitations. I can’t tell Darcy no, there's no way on this green earth that I would be able to tell a smaller version of her no.
“I think I need to rest. Thank you for caring for me even though you didn’t have to.” She says in a gigantic yawn.
“Goodnight Mama.” Within minutes her breathing evens out, and I tell myself I need to leave. To go shower and sleep in my own bed, but the lulling of her soft breathing has me closing my eyes and joining her in sleep.