Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

September 6th was definitely a day to remember in the Holland household. What with all the planning and time that was poured into the ocean themed nursery and such. Of course, the dilemma within this little miraculous journey you and Tom has decided to take was that the normally vicarious sex life the two of you had before and after marriage and before the sweet little boy you gave birth to was very much halted when you grew insecure of your body later in the pregnancy and then there was the whole six week, no sex just a precaution thing. 

Tom was a trooper though. He reassured you even though he was exhausted and he went and fetched the baby for the next three months leading up to Christmas and the new year. Even though your son was only three months old now, Tom couldn’t help that feeling of, “holy shit we’ll have a one year old this time next year." He was so distracted with your baby boy that sex, even the thought of it, didn't bother him up if you were unsure of yourself, or if the baby needed either of you, until the point of nearly five months with no contact just around Christmas. There was only so much he could do for himself, with his hand and you had a plan. 

Tom lays your baby in his cot, staring down at the sleeping boy for a moment with a smile. He's proud of the little family he's so far created with you and seeing a little baby that resembles him so much, laying in a crib, having been rocked to sleep by Tom, his dad, is beautiful to him. He sighs, watching the baby, unmoving for just another moment before creeping from the room, closing the door most of the way behind him before he starts towards the room, 

"Babe, where'd you head off to? You shoulda seen his little- face-" He sputters, all thoughts of how cute your son is, gone when he sees the sexy Mrs. Claus costume you'd traded your sleep tank top and pants for. Over the knee boots, stockings, a short red dress, a hat, and black silk gloves, perfect and sexy, sitting in the armchair at his side of the bed, 

"What is... what is this babe? Where'd you get this?" He asks as he walks towards your cross legged figure, an eyebrow of yours rising before you stand, 

"Just figured I'd surprise you with a little Christmas treat since you just put him down." You tell your husband who places his hands over the hips he so loves on you while your hands resort to his shoulders, his eyebrows knit, 

"Really? W- I- I love it." He mutters. You smile, turning him to sit in the chair you'd previously occupied. You hum, running your hands up his sweats clothed thighs as you kneel between them, 

"I figure we have about three hours until he's needing a rocking back to sleep so... how bout we just... resume our pre-baby activities now that we’re past that six week mark." You purr, Tom's skin goosebumping as he licks his lips and nods. His eyes flick to your gloved hands as they disappear beneath his shirt and fall around the hem of his sweats. He licks his lips again, raising his hips for you as you pull them down and off, 

"We did have a lot of sex pre-baby huh Tommy? You and I were quite the wild pair,  isn't that why you were into me? I kept up with your stamina. And you loved... you love my pussy don't you baby?" You coo, a small whimper slipping from Tom's throat at your last question. You giggle, pushing his shirt up as a hint for him to take it off. He obliges, tugging it off and tossing it over your head as you wrap your hand around his cock, a breath caught in his throat,

"Baby-"

"Shh, god, it's been so long since I've had you in my mouth baby. God, I love our baby to death and I can't wait for us to have more, but I've missed this." You tell him. He opens his mouth to speak, but he gasps as you take him into your mouth, bobbing your head in quick succession. He groans, 

"Shit... you have no idea how fast I'm gonna cum. I- fuck, I've waited so goddamn long for this." He gasps out, his head tipping back. You hum around him, reaching down to cradle his balls like you always did before your son. He presses his lips together, humming as you take him deep in your throat, gagging and pulling up to breathe every once in a while, but his cock throbs and twitches on your tongue and in your hand, his body letting itself get lost in the pleasure you give him again. You can practically hear his body scream in relief. He tugs your hat off, tossing it with his shirt so he can gather your brushed out hair into his fist, guiding you down onto his cock, 

"Fuck you're so sweet. All you think about is me when it comes to sex. You care about everyone else you sexy little vixen." He groans. You hum around him, letting him guide you along as you suck and lick at his cock, stroking what you can't take in one hand, playing with his balls in the other. He watches, his cock still twitching and throbbing, 

"Baby... if you planned on getting me inside you, you better pull up now." He pants out. You hum once more before sitting up, stroking his now glistening shaft, 

"What, are you tryna tell me we've been diminished down to you being a one pump chump in three months?" You joke. He smiles, taking your hands to follow you in standing, 

"Definitely not, I've just gotta get back into the groove of you bein all up on me." He responds, watching you lay back on the bed. Crawling over you, he smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly, 

"I don't know what I did to deserve you." He mutters against your lips before reaching down between you in the hopes of dragging your panties down, but his fingers get lost in the folds of skin he feels, soft, silky and somewhat damp, 

"You- y-you're wearing crotchless panties." He stutters out. You giggle, 

"As funny as it sounds, it's the same pair your grandma bought me for my bridal shower. We've definitely fucked in them before but... I wanna get back into sexy us." He nods, suddenly serious, 

"I know love, and we will. He's young enough that when he sleeps we can do it and he won't come barging in or we won't have to figure out how to explain to him what we're doing. Now's a good time to get back into us. Get back into me fucking wrecking you." He purrs. You giggle, rubbing up his arms and nodding, trying to wiggle out of your costume. He helps, exposing a matching set of lingerie and your signature fishnets, a new pair you'd purchased right before discovering you were pregnant, and a pair that your husband didn't get to rip off like he normally would. He hums as if the memories flood back to him too as he slips your bra off, molding your larger breasts which Tom is gentle with, unwilling to bleed you of any of your son's only meal. You reach up to run your fingers through your husband's hair as he pinches your nipples, licking his lips as his hands run down your sides and straight to the hem of your panties which he ignores. He drags your legs up around his waist as you roll your gloves down and he kneels between your legs, eyes locked on his cock as he brushes it through your folds, 

"You're never gonna believe this baby." He mumbles. You raise your eyebrows, hands rested beside your head, 

"I'm actually kinda nervous." He tells you with a giggle. You smile, rubbing your hands up his forearms as he leans in, 

"It's just me. We've been through so fucking much together. So much sex and getting married and having a baby. You have supported me through so much and you getting nervous is adorable but so useless Tom." He nods, 

"I know, but it's been a while. What if it's not as good as you remember?" Before he's even done, you hold the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again, your nose nudging his as you pull back, 

"I can guarantee that no matter what, it'll feel just as good. It's you and that's all that matters." You reassure. He nods, staring into your eyes for a moment before he reaches down and guides his cock to your entrance, his tip gliding through your folds with ease. You hum as he moves his hips forward, sliding into you like it was just yesterday that you did this. Your eyes close, hands placed over Tom's forearms as he lets out a hitched breath, tipping his own head back. When his head returns back to its original place, pointed down at you, he leans in to kiss you again, your hands moving to his shoulders. When he moves back, you nod, eyes flicking between his, 

"Move. Fast." Is all you manage before Tom nods and places a hand over your hip, the other pressed into the bed next to you, as he draws his own hips back before snapping them back up into you. You let out a moan, Tom not letting up as he thrusts up into you, drawing your knee higher up to his hip, 

"This okay?" He asks. You nod, digging your nails into his back for a moment now that your body is fully welcoming him back. Your back arches from the bed, chest pressed to Tom's for a moment before he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, hand previously placed over your hip coming up to cup your breast. His thrusts are deep and impactful, reaching deep places only he can. You moan his name, his heart fluttering as his body kicks back into its usual mode of fucking you like it used to. It's as if both of your brains are pulling books from shelves and blowing the layer of dust off, thumbing through it to find those responses you both used to kickstart within each other. 

You feel like teenagers again, the only difference being the cold metal rings you both wear that brush along the ignited skin along your bodies. The room is filled with moans and gasps and skin meeting skin, your son not quite old enough for the two of you to hide noises from. Tom's hands run along your sides, brushing your arms up to stretch above your head, his hands holding yours by the elbows, hips meeting the inside of your thighs as he half kneels, half stands between your wide spread legs. You cry out his name, back arching again as he angles his hips to strike that sweet spot inside of you, your skin erupting into goosebumps, 

"Fuck baby, you are so wet." He grunts, his hands having slipped to hold your wrists against the bed. You pant out noises he loves his eyes darkening a shade every few seconds as he pounds into you, body's internal boiler having its fire stoked. You're just as well off, fire lit by the movements of your husband. 

He draws out after a moment, tugging your arm to put you on your hands and knees. His fingers fall around the hem of your panties, dragging them down your legs and tossing them aside leaving you in just your fishnets. Tom smiles as he slides his fingers into two of the holes, giving a tug which flexes his biceps and effectively rips the stockings in half, lying beneath you in a mess until you kick them aside. His hand leaves your skin as he walks to your dresser, pulling it open and humming as he rummages amongst the undergarments until he finds what he wants. He turns, royal blue bullet vibrator in his hand and he chuckles as you lick your lips, wanton shining in your eyes,

"Whatdya say we get back to classic us? Naughty, dirty us, huh darling?" You bite your lip as you glance over your shoulder, 

"Pornstar me hasn't had as much practice these past few years. She might be a little rusty." The vibrator kicks to life and you gasp, head falling forward and legs instinctively spreading further as Tom presses the cool plastic to your clit, humming in your ear,

"I think I can wake that beast." He growls before a harsh smack rings through the air and your presented bottom is tingling with the contact of his hand. He chuckles darkly, rubbing the painfully delicious vibrating toy against your clit, your body convulsing with the movement of it. He presses back into you, resuming his pace with his free hand on your lower back. You grip the sheets in your hands, squealing and arching your back as he presses the vibrator flat to your clit, 

"Fuck... baby that feels so good." You gasp, eyes closed as he pummels into you, humming in your ear, 

"Take it baby." He mumbles. You drop to your shoulders, holding the vibrator so he can take hold of your hips. He hums, unruly curls falling in his face as he watches himself disappear into you, a whimper slipping from your throat as you find the perfect place for the vibrator to rest, a place only you could discover, Tom having to guess each and every time he uses it. Your body tingles, eyes closed again as your husband pounds into you, hips meeting your ass. But the skin stings again as he reaches down to spank you yet again, each cheek receiving a little bit of attention. You gasp and Tom chuckles darkly, leaning over you, 

"Such a naughty girl. You love being spanked don't you baby? I'm glad he's young enough not to hear us, we don't have to be quiet, heaven forbid we traumatize our kids letting them hear how kinky their mummy is." 

"Daddy's worse." You quickly imply. He grunts, 

"Mummy makes him that way. This fucking, body." He punctuates with another smack to your butt which brings out a loud cry, your body jolting forward on the vibrator which erupts it into goosebumps, 

"Fuck that's good." You moan as one of Tom's hands slips up to your shoulder, pulling you back on him, 

"Fuck you're so wet. Cum for me baby." He demands. You press your lips together, 

"I fucking hate how fast you can get me to cum. You're the only man I've been with that has me in the palm of his hand." You curse, listening to Tom chuckle, 

"That's ‘cause it isn't about the size, it's how you wield it. The other men you were with thought because they were somewhat well endowed, they could suck. I'm of decent size and I know how to use it." He growls in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your breast carefully. You hum, rubbing the vibrator over your clit, the fire in your belly being stoked the longer Tom continues. You grasp the sheets in your hand, 

"Fuck Tom, I'm gonna cum." You tell him. He hums again, 

"Cum for me. Fuck... with the baby it's impossible to get you to cum anymore." 

"I'm gonna cum." You reassure him. He nods, licking his lips as he watches you, your legs spreading even further as you chase your high. The feeling of Tom inside of you for the first time in months, the vibrator pressed against your throbbing clit has you on cloud nine. Your head falls back, legs shaking like they always did when Tom continued through your orgasm. You're grateful your son is young enough to not be woken, understand what's going on as you cry out, orgasm raking over your body. Your back arches, squeal that transforms into a moan slipping from your lips and into the sheets below you. Tom chuckles darkly, pounding into you harder to reach his own climax. 

Just before he does, he draws out, moaning as he spills onto your lower back as you click your vibrator off. Humming and reaching down to find his boxers, Tom towels you off with them, tossing them aside and collapsing beside you as you flop onto your side. Tom sighs, binding his arm around your shoulders,

"That was good. You did good." He praises, rubbing his thumb over your shoulder. You snuggle into him,

“I’m glad you think so. With my… postpartum, sometimes I’m afraid you won’t love me anymore or I’m not doing good enough to keep you pleased.” You admit. Tom clicks his tongue, moving to crawl over you,

“Baby, I don’t stay for the sex. I married you because I love you and sure, at the beginning of our relationship, I was into you for the independence. I could travel the world for work and you stayed here and you were okay, but now that we’ve had the baby, now that you need me because of your postpartum, I’m here because I can be your rock. It isn’t always about how we are apart, but how we are together. And if your emotions, your mental health is takin a blow, I can be here for you.” He tells you. You stroke up his arms, smiling as he leans in to kiss you, 

“You’re the sweetest.” You mutter. He smiles back,

“I love you Mrs. Claus.”

“I love you too Santa.” There’s a light that clicks on in his eyes at the name as if he realizes something. He gasps, 

“Shit, I never thought about that. My dad played Santa when we were younger. When we have more kids, I could totally do it.” He explains, excitement laced in his voice. You giggle,

“Your belly isn’t big enough.”

“Babe… that’s why they make stuffing. I could do it.” He deadpans. You hum, nodding and pulling him down for another kiss,

“Alright stud, lets-” A cry breaks through the air, Tom staring down at you for a moment before he giggles,

“Guess baby wants some attention now. So much for your three hours.” He mutters as he stands, pulling his sweats on as you shrug into your robe, following Tom into the nursery. You hum as he lifts your baby from the crib, laying him against his shoulder. You smile, reaching up to brush down the baby’s unruly dark hair, similar to his father’s in the morning. You cock your head,

“Even though I sometimes have my lows, you’re worth it baby. You and your daddy.” You tell Tom and your son. Tom smiles as he turns to look over at you, 

“We appreciate you more than you’ll ever know pretty girl.” He coos, cradling your son in one arm as he pulls you into the other, letting your press your hand over his arm to steady your baby boy,

“And I love you both more than anything in this world. I’ll always support you because you gave me this, and there is nothing more rewarding than him.” Tom reassures. You smile wider, leaning up to kiss him softly, laying your head over his shoulder,

“I love you too baby. You two are my Christmas presents.” You mutter. He kisses your forehead, squeezing you into his side, your baby gurgling and cooing up at you both. And despite Tom’s true gift to you come Christmas morning, your baby boy which Tom gifted you, is the best thing that ever happened to you despite the postpartum. And Tom is second best, your life partner and the most caring, selfless man you know, willing to do whatever he needs to ensure you and your son are safe, happy, and healthy. For the rest of his life. 

H-he’s here? And Willy is here too!

Heartbeat spiking up you hurriedly went in the kitchen and there he is...the man that had been in your dreams for years, the face you see everytime you close your eyes and when you stare at a certain green eyed boy.

“Mum!!” Willy’s excited voice woke you up from your trance.

“Mum?” Tom asked, looking at William and then at you.

“Yes, she’s my best mum!” Willy said as he wiggled down from the kitchen counter where Tom was holding him secured.

“I-I’m your only mum, sweetheart.”responding with your usual answer whenever he says that phrase but stuttering as you do so. You can feel Tom’s eyes on you as you kiss your kid’s forehead. “How’s your playdate with Lizzy and Sofie?”

“It was fun!” he answered smiling wide.”they fell asleep fast mum, so mister tom is helping me get a snack bitoz my tummy is crying.”

“That’s wonderful. Now go and clean you things so that we can head home.” you told him and he did as you said.

“Willy is yours?” Tom asked, staring at you intensely it made your knees weak.

“Yes…” you answered looking down at your feet. This is one of your worst fears.

“He told me he’s turning five...that means...at that party five years ago...” he looked at you angrily. “You told me nothing happened!” he whispered angrily.

Tom is a smart man. Also if you look at Willy properly it’ll be too obvious.

“I...I couldn't. You can’t even remember what happened the night b-before.” you said, tears starting to fill your eyes. “I was ashamed. It all happened because we are drunk and you are about to head out for another big project, and when I learned I am pregnant I had no courage to react to you, I didn't want to destroy those chances for you Tom...I just can’t.” you look up to see him standing in front of you breathing heavily. His hand went up and you flinched thinking hell hit you. He looked very angry.

“Oh darling...I’ll never hurt you.” He said smoothly as his hand went to pull you towards his warm embrace. “I-I just...I can’t believe this.” putting some space between the two of you he looked at you.

“I’m so sorry.” you said to him sincerely. You hated that so many chances were wasted just because you got scared but you can’t help it. He’s very famous now and respected by many. Turning up suddenly with a belly carrying his kid will surely destroy all the things he worked hard for. You can’t… you couldn't do that to him...You just accepted that William is a gift given to you for the love you can never have.

“Don’t apologize, Y/n. This is harder for you I am certain of it. If you’ll let me though I would love to be a part of his life.” he said, caressing your cheeks making you lean on his touch more as an automatic response. He smiled seeing how things never changed. You’re his sweet angel, time away did not change that.

“I-I tried...I did try to be the best for him so that he won’t look for a father...b-but I don’t think I have the right to deny him that.” you answered as he kissed your knuckles repeatedly saying thank yous. The touch of his soft lips made your face heat up.

“Y/n… I believe this as destiny slapping me with reality.” he said getting down on one knee in front of you. Hands gripping yours tightly. Your breathing hitch as you stare at him. The man you considered as unreachable is now kneeling for you.

“T-thomas...what are you doing?” you asked but he only smiled at you sweetly.

“I-I left you before thinking that I’ll be chasing my dream without realizing I end up leaving it behind...leaving you behind.” he brought your left hands to his lips leaving little kisses on our palm that brought up goosebumps on your body. “Learning about Willy made me realize where my true happiness is...will you accept me back in your life my love? I’m tired of missing you.” he stammered a little as he brought your right hand to his lips doing the same gesture.

“Oh goodness Thomas, it’s what I had dreamed for a long time.” your heart feels like it's going to explode. Tears started to flow from your eyes as you looked at his handsome face that is also wet from his own tears.

“Thank you darling. I love you, I had never stopped loving you. And is it weird that I love Willy so much already? I feel like my heart is about to explode.” he brushed his hands on his curly hair as he giggled before he stared at you intensely and held your cheeks. “I’ve longed to feel your sweet lips, will you let me?” he asked, touching your lips with his thumb. You only nodded closing your eyes. You felt his lips on yours as he kissed you slowly savoring every touch of each other's lips. He was about to deepen it when you both heard a little voice.

“Ewwww.” Willy said, covering his eyes and turning around to run back towards the living room of his grandparent’s house. You and Tom stared a each other shocked before you both ended up laughing hard. Oh poor sweet Willy.

“Are you ready to be introduced to your mini me?” you asked him as he hugged you still laughing.

“Ready as I can be.” he nervously said but he still smiled at you lovingly. “I love you Y/N, thank you for this gift.”

Kissing him quickly you tugged at his arm. It’s time for little William Tobias Hiddleston to meet his father.

-----