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"Zanka…" a voice whispered in the twilight of night, the only sound apart from it being tiny crickets singing their midnight banters with their whole stomachs. "Zanka? You awake? I know you are…" it continued.
Zanka, of course, was not asleep and was merely ignoring that tempting voice. Or rather, his technical “wife", if you will (even though no actual papers have ever been signed, legal or religious, that the voice was).
You might call it cruel, I mean, ignoring the mother of your children calling for you? Who would do such a thing?
Well, Zanka would, since he knew damn well that voice's usual urges and desires.
After Jabber had gotten pregnant with the Nijiku's child, unlike most wives and in general people with his anatomy getting children in their stomachs, would soften up their grip, words, ect… not Jabber though.
Throughout the entire pregnancy—from the first weeks the cleaner found out the guy he’s been going to once in a while practically almost every week to stick his dick in, was accidentally knocked up by him, to Jabber's weak and sweaty body in the cleaner's infirmary giving birth to literal life—he always teased him, every waking day.
I mean, no surprise there, right? Even when they were still enemies, Jabber almost gored his ass twice. Basically, he’s learn to ignore him, because it could be either the most ridiculous shit only meant to piss Zanka the fuck off into not being able to fall asleep, to literally telling him his water broke with the most casual look ever—as if he was telling the weather.
"Zankaaaa.. your eyes are twitching, man..I can tell you’re not sleeping.. why are you ignoring your wife?" Jabber giggled, clinging unto Zanka's back tighter, making the younger man's shoulder as tight as a strung up bow.
Finally, Zanka gave up on playing dead, finally turning to face the other man in their shared bed. Tired, confused and blurry blue eyes met hyperactive—yet with a clear hint of sickness—magenta eyes.
Jabber's thick dreadlocks spilled messily across the pillow, the little golden rings woven into them catching the faint moonlight whenever he shifted. Across from him, Zanka’s messy blond-and-brown mullet stuck out in every direction from sleep.
The bi-colored haired man groaned, "What?"
Jabber blinked a few times deeply into thought—as if he had forgotten what he wanted and woke up Zanka for in the first place—and before the other man would chalk it down to pissing him the hell off until he can’t fall asleep from anger, he spoke up,
"Zan-zan.. my tits feel so damn sore.." he mumbled, his tan hands disappearing into his comfortable, oversized clothes, gently rubbing at his sore breasts with his hands underneath his pyjamas. He had a little frown on his face, but it was more-so of a mock frown than actually one,
"you wan' help?" It was more of a statement than a question really. Like the man had already decided the answer and the actions that would then take place.
Zanka, on the other hand, felt his cheeks flush up deeply into the color. No surprise there, Jabber had been frequently complaining about how soft and tender about—quite literally every single fucking part of his body felt: tits, hips, stomach and limbs in general. All of them had gotten dramatic, loud, fussy little wails and howls from him (a few times, Zanka even carried him bridial style to get him to shut up—out of annoyance or pure pity is to be guessed).
It’s to be expected, not only is pregnancy is huge toll on.. about anyone out there, it was even harder for Jabber. On top of his body's condition changing, he also had to pretty much had to quit 99% of his favourite little substances that make him hallucinate, vomit, and much other for the security of their baby. For the sake of their flesh and blood.
Even now that their baby was born, the man with dreadlocks had absolutely no time to whip up some little quick hallucinogens and let alone vanish to head unto a fun little trip with Mankira, as he had to take care of their little runt when Zanka was too busy with cleaner duties.
"Come on. Help me.." He shifted beneath the blankets, trying to find a position that didn’t make his aching body complain more than it already was. It was as fussy as the kid that was birthed from it, "you wanna try actin’ like a baby for a bit? For me?"
Zanka was confused for a second before realizing what the other man went. Although his face was already reed before, this time, it was as scarlet as it possibly could with all the blood rushing to his cheeks and forehead. "Jabber."
“What?” Jabber purred, but it was clear he already knew "what" was up.
Asshole. Creep. Weirdo. There were plenty of words Zanka could’ve and would’ve used, and he’d used most of them before and even more during their multiple fights before the whole… them having sex ordeal. Sometimes Zanka genuinely wondered why he’d ever started hooking up with Jabber in the first place.
Was it his looks? Well, he was a really pretty guy and still is, but that can’t be it. Personality? Oh definitely not, not with his crazy ass. Maybe it was how delicious but pretty his face looked when Zanka tore him a new one?
Those round, wide blue eyes ran down the taller man's relaxed body underneath his sleep wear. One thing he can’t forget tho, o matter what he does or could do—Jabber's the one who carried their child.
He was the only one in their couple who had to spend those numerous, gruelling months of dealing with constant nausea, beyond heavy exhaustion coupled with piercing migraines, pain and soreness in his joins and just everywhere in general, and all those many other miserable pieces of pregnancy Zanka had to look up.
The one who’d gone through one of the most horrible, gruesome and just overall piercing-hot pain called childbirth and now had to deal with a body that apparently still wanted to fuck his up some more before turning back to what it looked like before.
A small part of Zanka liked seeing Jabber a little chubby though… a little fat here and there never hurt anyone.
But goddamn it, paternal instincts.
Zanka sighed deeply, shuffling underneath his covers, already missing their warmth, "…Fine."
Jabber blinked. For once, he looked genuinely surprised despite knowing damn well his little scheme was going to work anyway, "Wait. You for real, zan-zan? No joke?" He purred, clinging harder to the cleaner.
Zanka rolled his deep, blue eyes, cheeks flushing an adorable strawberry red, "Don’t make me repeat myself.”
A grin slowly stretched across Jabber’s face, kind of like the Cheshire Cat but much, much moremalicious, "Man, I knew you’d fold for your adorable little wife…"
The younger man's face darkened at the comment, "Yer lucky I’m feelin’ sorry fer' you."
The raider just shrugged at this answer—negative or not, he was getting what he wanted anyway, "sure."
Jabber snorted, the other man rolling his eyes once more before grabbing unto the darkskinned man's sleepwear with a calm, almost focused expression, "Here. Don’t wriggle yer' ass."
After saying these words, carefully helped pull Jabber’s pajama shirt upward, getting it out of the way without jostling him more than necessary and avoid him any kind of pain, especially that of the fabric of the sleepwear rubbing against his tender and raw nipples.
Jabber whistled at this, giggling to himself like a cat that had gotten the cream, "dayumm. Look at you. Such a gentleman.”
"Oh, shut the hell up."
"Didn’t know you had it in you. Mr. Bad attitude can be kind to lil' ol' me when he wants to me, hm?" Jabber giggled, feeling a little uncomfortable when his wicks touched his nape as the pyjamas shirt was pulled up.
"I’m about two seconds from puttin’ this shirt damn right back down." Zanka growled, helping to pull off the stuck, cotton sleeves to free his partner's sore arms.
"You know you wouldn’t do that." And yeah, pretty much. The raider felt a little weird as his naked chest hit the cool, slightly humid air of their room.
Zanka rolled his eyes before looking down at the darkskinned man’s body and those cute, perky breasts.
Actually, it had been quite a bit of time since he had actually had the time to look but really look at the other man's body. He looked at the added fat on Jabber's skinny frame, the small and slightly light stretch marks which added themselves to his already existing past scars. He hadn’t really seen the changes Jabber's body had gone through.
Between the raider's pregnancy and the increasingly absolutely chaotic months surrounding and up until the birth of their kid, sex had been the furthest thing from Zanka’s mind. Especially toward the end when Jabber could practically lose his waters and give birth any second—the older man had been too uncomfortable, too exhausted, and too damn pregnant and close to giving birth for Zanka to even consider risking making things harder on him or his baby.
Jabber had asked a few times for it/-just to relax for atleast a few minutes and get out of pregnant headspace—but the cleaner just couldn’t let a single risk exist and possibly happen that could be avoided by just keeping it in his damn pants.
Now, though… he could fully admire him without having to worry about hurting Jabber and their daughter peacefully slumbering inside his stomach.
The dim light of their room made it quite difficult to see much—if not anything at all, aside from a few shapes here and there illuminated but the bright moonlight that filtered through their thin curtains—but even in the darkness, the cleaner could tell how sore and exhausted the body of his partner looked. He was acting all teasing and mocking, but by a quick bat of his eyes, Zanka would very well tell that Jabber's expression was nowhere as shit-eating as he thought it was. His nose was scrunched up, teeth and small piercings under his top lip from his angel bites digging into his bottom lip which was a clear, instinctive reaction to his uncomfortable the fullness in his chest had become.
The younger man felt like he needed to say something, but that could be done obviously layer—right now, all that mattered was Jabber's desperate comfort and he was surprisingly ready to easily give him that much. Zanka carefully shifted him from where he laid on the bed next to him until he rested nicely against their wooden, slightly bit and eaten headboard. Jabber’s dreadlocks slid over one shoulder, the tiny golden cuffs threaded through each clicking softly against each other in the dark of the night, amplified by the silence.
"You ready?" Zanka mumbled, breath slow and steady, but his head was full of rushing and chaotic thoughts.
Jabber just nodded lazily, picking a little at his locs, lips slightly pursed, "mhm.."
Zanka positioned himself beside him and took a slow breath, his mouth slowly latching unto the first breast, carefully beginning helping the raider ease the painful pressure.
Jabber hissed at that, sucking in a breath, thighs slightly quivering and almost closing on instinct. He hissed, legs kicking a little at Zanka, nails and fingers gripping tighter into the sheets underneath him, "Ah—fuck.”
The cleaner stopped for just a second licking and sucking slowly at the raider's tit, looking up at the other man, "Too much?"
Jabber quickly shook his head, trembling a little, "Nah," his head tipped against the headboard, eyes squeezing shut, wicks like a halo around his neck and pooling down his shoulders, "Just sensitive as.. fuck..!"
Zanka rolled his eyes, but didn’t bother pushing the issue further. Unfortunately for him, a small but definitely present part of himself liked it. Way too much to admit it. He continued sucking on the raider's raw, tender and swollen right tit, until he felt a burst of some sort of creamy, almost nutty but sweet flavour fill his mouth.
Frankly. It didn’t taste too bad.. kind of. Like cow milk or almonds milk but not really, either. It was pretty creamy and sweet, but with some sort of distinctive, sour taste to it—however, it was anything but unpleasant.
Deciding it wasn’t too bad, Zabka closed his eyes softly, continuing to greedily suck at Jabber's swollen, fat nipple to get more of that creamy liquid into his mouth and down his throat—he even started licking at the dark aeolas selfishly, like an actual baby.
The sun-kissed man would’ve probably made fun of him for it, if he could even think right now. It hurt so, so fucking good, making him kick a little at air like an excited jackrabbit, dark and decorated dreadlocks sticking to his tan skin. Jabber bit his lip, hard, one of his hands clinging to Zanka's messy hair and scalp, ringed fingers and painted nails tugging at the shorter man's coloured strands like they were a life line. And that was only one of his breasts.
"Zan..kaa—agh.. fuckk.. fuck, please.." Jabber whined, begged even. And Jabber Wonger neverbegged—or at least, begged only but a few minutes after starting. Zanka felt oddly proud of himself for it.
With a smirk twisting his lips, he opened his eyes to look up at his partner, the younger man continued his ministrations on Jabber's tender chest. Since all his attention and love was currently on only one of his tits—and feeling weirdly confident in himself—Zanka raised up his left hand to Jabber's left breast, kneading at the fat like a cat making biscuits.
Jabber almost yelled. Like actually, almost did, but somehow his body remembered their baby that they had taken atleast four hours and seven different toys and ways of rocking to fall asleep, so he kept it in only to turn into a whiny, almost timid groan.
Jabber's bright, magenta eyes almost rolled into his head, skull pushing up against their headboard. His grip on the other man's hair grew tighter, making Zanka hiss a little at the tiny sparks of pain erupting on his scalp, "ZAN..kaa.. ahh.."
Fuck. He was getting so, so wet—slick already dripping from his covered pussy to the bed covers below them. Who knew a few hours without feeding could make his tits feel this damn sensitive. He could maybe—probably—cum just off being played with his nipples like this.
"Jab.." Zanka groaned, his voice slightly husky, broken with pleasure which made his throat go sore and painful, "wan' play with yer pussy too…"
Oh. Well never-the fuck-mind. That was a much, much better idea than just finishing off with having his sore body touched.
The man with dreadlocks purred at the idea, slowly moving underneath Zanka's body, "fuck…" he mewled, feeling his cunt throb painfully, slick sticking his swollen folds to the cotton fabric of his underwear, "please… please do it, zan-zan—agh, shit.."
That was all the younger man needed as confirmation, the hand that was previously fondling his neglected breast removing itself (much to Jabber's dissatisfaction even though he expected it, a tiny whine escaping his lips) to place itself on Jabber's hips, slowly pulling down the strands of his panties.
You have to give the man props though. When he’s really focused, he can do miracles. I mean, both sucking on Jabber's tit, swallowing up the creamy liquid from them and keeping his blue eyes trained on that same man's flushed face—all while slowly pulling off his panties to let his wet pussy breathe.
Once those fussy undergarments were finally off, Jabber's folds shivered at the hot air outside, automatically kicking a little. Zanka paid it no mind, two fingers already clumped together and ready to thrust into the wet heat of his partner's core. A core he had not touched for a while, yet had not realized how affected he was by that—you know, taking care of an infant kinda takes all that energy from you.
At the mere touch of the tips of the bi-colored haired man's fingers on his slick folds, grazing his gummy insides, Jabber whined. "Zan..zannkaaa—eughh..m so hard it hurtss.."
"Yer' sure are, Jab.." Zanka pulled off Jabber's breast to respond to him calmly—with a wet, slick pop—his voice rough and needy before going back for seconds, as if the other man's chest was a full course meal. Inside however, all he could think of was:
Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He’s so hot. At this rate, they’ll have another kid before their first even has the chance to turn two years old.
Finally, after what felt forever, Zanka's thick, rough fingers—covered in small calluses from months on end of using Assistaff to fight, train, and so on so forth—entered the dreadlocked man's swollen and needy cunt, the digits bumping Jabber's sensitive clit in their movement, the organ having been pierced rendering it even more sensitive then it would’ve already been.
It was instinct, like fireworks jumping into the taller man's vision, bright magenta eyes turning so fiery they almost glowed in the dark of their bedroom. And gosh, the noises, he made. Like Zanka was a musician, and Jabber his strings—sweet, soft noises, yet they were rough and rugged like a stray dog.
"A-aggh! Z—Zanka..auegh..!"
Now Zanka was no pervert. But. He did have a bit of a mean, sadistic streak when he could unwrap his partner like this—like fresh meat picked out of a box, all ready to be served to him as if he were a cannibal. He needed more.
More, more.
More, more, more, more of those lovely noises.
Zanka's rough, calloused fingers thrusted in and out of Jabber's wet, red pussy with a lewd and moist "shlick", sometimes the tip of his digits getting stuck—almost as if that hot, drenched hole was physically holding him back from leaving. As he continued his rough, violent in their rhythm ministrations, the soft and "gentle" sucks on the darkskinned man's tits grew more aggressive as well—he was biting, gnawing on them like a teethy little baby.
Jabber's pink eyes almost rolled to the back of his skull. Ah. Ah shit fuck. He can’t even control his own body—pathetic, how so little action on him had him shaking and quivering with white-hot pleasure. The things pregnancy do to you were actually crazy, especially regarding being fucked like this.
"H-hhhaaahh..— Zan..Zann.. you're doin' .. swo gwood—!" Jabber was barely able to breathe out these words—they practically took out all of his energy, the follow up being weak and pathetic whines and moans, all chanting Zanka's name as if he were an almighty god.
The praise—little was it and barely audible—immediately got to the other man's head—a metaphorical puppy tail wagging on instinct, "sh—shut up.. yer' voice is annoyin'.." Zanka hissed around Jabber's bitten up and raw, practically bruised up nipple, already turning some shade of beat-up red and violet—there were even some droplets of milk running down his jaw and clinging to the darkskinned man's skin.
Jabber, despite the heavy daze and euphoria, felt a small smirk build on his lips at the degradation.
Zanka was such a bad liar, his dick was twitching in his pants as the taller man's words escaped his mouth—it was fussy even, hurting and throbbing so hard in his underwear at the prospect of having a wet, needy hole to fuck as roughly as he wanted without the person underneath complaining. He wanted Jabber to chant his name some more like he was a god among men, praise him even harder and louder like he was asking for a blessing.
While his words escaped his mouth, his actions revealed how truly filthy he was. Two fingers inside Jabber's cunt quickly turned into three, then four, with barely any stretching in between them (just like how the taller man liked). He finger-fucked his pierced pussy until slick and fluid started leaking on the bed sheets with each thrust.
Quicker than he’d like to admit, Jabber slowly felt that familiar hot bundle in his stomach build, one he hadn’t felt in weeks, even maybe months since he’d the last weeks of his pregnancy and then birth of their child. His sun-kissed thighs—riddled with different marks overtime—tightened up like a coil, slowly closing in on Zanka's lean arm.
Thick, salty sweat began gathering on the top of his forehead where his dreadlocks rooted and down his throat and collarbone, making his hair stick uncomfortably to his skin but at the moment he couldn’t even feel any of it.
Even worse, he felt tears gathering at the corner of his eyes, eyes rolled almost all the way back while he bit down so harshly on his bottom lip, some blood began to seep down the sore flesh.
Then, finally, that tight coil unfurled, and unfurled it did. Within seconds of it roaring open, Zanka's hand and half of his arm were covered in Jabber's transparent squirt—some of that sweet love nectar that Ben landed on the younger man's shirt and a little on his gray sweat pants, painting them a darker color.
Jabber probably didn’t even realize he had came so easily and quickly, tan-colored thighs still shaking, twitching here and there like his nerves light themselves on fire for a few seconds.
"Zaaann..—! Zan..! Kaahhh..—aeugh.." he could barely form sentences, still riding down from that orgasm that had been snatched from him ever so aggressively.
Zanka paid it no mind—well, his face anyway not so much, his cock however twitched more than happily, pre-cum bedding in his underwear and wetting the area of the fabric hugging the tip—but he lowered the roughness of his teeth and tongue and mouth on the darkskinned man's breast.
Only just a little though, just enough for the last drops of uncomfortable, creamy and fatty milk left his swollen breasts, down Zanka's guzzle like a calf milking its mother. Finally, he removed his mouth with an audible, almost loud, tacky little "pop", licking his lips with any excess of that delicious liquid while his blue eyes stared sharply at the art piece he made of Jabber's left breast.
It was visibly less full than earlier—atleast twice as less, which makes you wonder just how much of the cleaner had drank the contents sitting inside—and seemed atleast less of a hassle due to their tenderness.
However it had plenty of bite marks here and there, where the younger man gnawed on him like a feral animal—some spots still held the rounded, deep shape of Zanka's teeth like molded clay.
"H..hahh..eufgh.." jabber whimpered, thighs still shaking—his pupils were so dilated, they looked like a cat's eyes in the deepest, darkest of moonlights. His throat felt extremely full, throbbing as if he needed to vomit but in a good, pleasant way.
Zanka watched the older boy, gagging and huffing like his lungs had became candle wax and unable to take in even a single gulp of air—his thick, long fingers were still deeply lodged inside the darkskinned man's soaked cunt, albeit, as a contrast to a few seconds prior, we’re just lazily playing with Jabber's awfully swollen and tight folds along with his slowly shrinking clit, retracting back to its original state hid behind Jabber's hood after the man had aggressively squirted all over Zanka's arm and sleep wear.
The scent in the room felt intoxicating, too—a strange mix of something dairy and creamy, along with the sour scent of sex covering every single inch of Jabber's quivering, tan body.
After a few seconds of pure silence—though, it was more than often not interrupted by the loud sounds of Jabber's hissy breaths and wet whines of both fiery pain and delicious pleasure and squelching from Zanka's fingers absentmindedly playing with the other man's hot core—Zanka finally spoke up.
"Yer good?" His voice was, as you’d expect, extremely husky, borderline on needy even, "we will have the second one to do.." obviously referring to that other ball of heavy fat and milk on his boyfriend's chest. Smart, making it sound he it’s for Jabber, when it was just he who was a pervert.
Jabber would’ve noticed under any other circumstances, but here, just giggled as he was practically in the clouds due to pleasure. Slowly, he nodded, dark brown dreadlocks messy and sticking to his sweaty cheeks and forehead, "a-agh..fuckk zanzan.. mhm—pleaseeee.." Jabber huffed out, brightly pink, magenta eyes completely unfocused and vision blurred from tears.
The blue-eyed man blinked, staring at his beautiful boyfriend for a few more seconds before smiling like a creep, eagerly diving for the Jabber's second, slightly touched breast, "yah sure.."
The next morning felt like it came way too early, birds at the couple's window already starting their melodic, morning gossiping. Jabber slowly woke up from his slumber, blinking a few times to unblur his eyes before sitting up in the bed and rubbing them to remove the built up crust in their corners. He felt.. oddly refreshed. Well, as refreshed as one could be while raising an infant, but it was still something! Not only that, his breasts felt… weirdly light.
Obviously, there was still some food in there for his and Zanka's baby, but just enough for hours of feeding and not an overwhelming amount that made his back hurt and chest awfully tender and spike with pain everytime clothes rubbed against their tips. Only thing that hurt somewhat were those numerous bite marks all over them and slowly fading, red marks of suction on both of his breast's aureolas.
Wait speaking of Zanka…
Jabber looked to his side where his partner laid there, still sleeping. He looked so exhausted…. Ah, right. Anyone would be after yesterday… Jabber almost felt a little guilty remembering how he didin't even give any pleasure back to the man.
I mean, he could’ve totally used his pussy if he wanted it and the darkskinned man would’ve not even complained. Instead—while it was very, very blurry as he was practically nodding off to sleep by that point—he remembered once they were done Zanka running to the bathroom and coming back atleast ten minutes later (or so he believes, he passed out asleep until his partner came back with some wet towels to avoid him waking up sticky and disgusting).
Jabber smiled back at the memory. His zan-zan was just too adorable and kind and thoughtful for his own good despite, trying to always act careless and rude. He was tempted to wake him to mock him, but as if on clockwork, their baby started crying in its crib in the next room—which immediately made the blue-eyed man wake up like a sleeper agent, his body having trained without realizing to react to their baby's loud cries and quiet whines faster than Jabber could so that the mother of their child could rest somewhat.
Thank the Sphere for him however, the dreadlocked man was already awake, and jeez, he looked so fucking tired. Thick black bags stained the underneath fat of beautiful eyes, bi-colored hair messy with a few strands sticking out like ahoges.
"Fuck, the baby.." he sighed tiredly, already groaning as he rubbed his eyes, moving to sit up and looking to the side of the bed expecting to see his boyfriend slowly waking up, "i got it, get yer ass back to slee…—"
"Mornin', zan-zan.." Jabber giggled, barely leaving time for the other man to even react or respond before putting his arms behind his nape to kiss him deeply. How cute.
Zanka, at first surprised and taken off guard because he was expecting to see Jabber as asleep as a damn rock on this bed, already up and kissing him like he was a soldier coming back from war kissing his wife again after 20 years. He didn’t fight it, though, letting Jabber's chappy lips covering his with spit, even putting his own lean arms behind the man's waist to hold unto him a little.
When the pink-eyed man pulled off, Zanka even whined a little at the loss of contact, "i got it, Zanka. Hehe, go back to sleep wontcha'?"
The bi-colored man didn’t need to be told twice—he nodded and let go of Jabber to lay back down. Wow. Did not even try to not respect his decision and insist to do it like princes in children book.
Jabber shrugged. Oh well.