A couple of months down the line, you were sitting on his porch after dinner, in the dark and warm air, thick with honeysuckle and smoke. He'd taken off his boots, feet resting on the railing, and his button-up shirt was half undone from a long day's work. You could still see the dirt at the cuffs of his sleeves and the muscles in his forearms as he rolled a cigarette.

"Bo said you were askin' about me," he drawled without looking over.

"Maybe I was."

"What for?"

"I like the way you work so hard, and you look mighty fine doin’ it."

He laughed then, a low rumble that curled across to you and settled somewhere deep in your chest.

"You flirtin' with a nigga?"

"I have been this whole damn month, but I guess you don't catch on to subtlety."

The cicadas filled the pause, and he took a slow drag off the cigarette, finally meeting your eyes through the smoke.

"You keep talkin' like that," he said quietly, "AndI ’m 'gon forget how to be polite."

“I ain’t askin’ for polite, Smoke. I just need twenty minutes of uninterrupted fuckin’.”

“Well, shit,” he stood and ashed his cigar. “Let’s go then.”

Little did you know, those twenty minutes weren’t going to be nowhere near enough for you.

So, a lot could definitely change in a year.

Smoke’s wagon was parked behind your place most evenings now, tools stacked neatly, shirt hung over the railing. Folks in town stopped asking whether or not he was coming by. Now they just nod whenever they see the two of you together.

You were in the front yard shelling peas when he came up from the road, sweat darkening his undershirt, tobacco smoke trailing behind him. He didn’t speak right away; he just tipped his hat, his eyes soft the way they got when he’d been gone too long.

“You eat yet?” he asked.

“Been waitin’ on you,” you replied.

He grinned, settling beside you, taking over half the bowl of peas without being asked. His knees bumped yours as you both shared a comfortable silence.

“Stack say you got me spoiled,” he muttered after a while.

“He jealous or complainin’?”

“Both.”

You laughed, and that’s all it took for the air to thicken. The kind of laugh that turned into a hum when he brushed your wrist, the kind that said we been doin’ this long enough to know where it’s headed.

He leaned back on his hands, watching you. He’s been watching you a lot more lately. You knew by now to wait for him to initiate the conversation, but you were getting kind of antsy.

Finally, he asked, “You ever think we done tied ourselves too tight?”

“If we have,” you said, “I don’t hear either of us hollerin’ to be free.”

You had a feeling that wasn’t all on his mind. Maybe he’d just come out with it after a nice meal.

Your plates were nearly empty now; the oil lamp threw soft light across the table. Smoke went quiet again, spoon idle in his hand. It wasn’t the tired kind of quiet; it was the kind that carried a question he’s nervous to ask.

You glanced up, anxiety getting the best of you. “Why you keep starin’ at me like that?”

He looked down once, then met your eyes. “Ain’t nothin’, Y/N. Just thinkin’.”

“You been ‘just thinkin’’ all week, Smoke.”

The screen door rattled in the wind. He set his spoon aside and folded his hands on the table. “Guess I been watchin’ you and…wonderin’ what comes next,” he says slowly. “A man works, eats, sleeps. But I look at you, and I start picturin’ more than that. Somethin’ that’s ours.”

You study him, the flicker of the lamp painting his features in gold and shadow. “That what’s been eatin’ at you?”

He nodded slowly, reaching one hand across the table and placing it firmly on your stomach. That’s when it finally hit you. That is what he’d been thinking all this week while staring a hole through your head.

“Elijah Moore,” Your smile appeared slowly. “You tryin’ to tell me you want to fill me up with your all your babies?”

The look he gave you was something so sharp and dark you didn’t know if you should be a little scared or excited.

He nodded, a rough thumb tracing the grain of the table. “I ain’t talkin’ outta pride, I swear. I just—every time I see you laugh, I think about how the world oughta keep that sound somehow. Maybe through me. Maybe through you.”

The words hung there, heavier than the August air. You placed your hands on top of his on your belly; it was still warm from the day’s work.

“You always think too far ahead,” you teased, but your voice was softer than the joke deserved.

“Ain’t some things worth plannin’ for?” he murmured. “Like our legacy.”

“You mean lineage?” you quipped.

“Well, yeah, but legacy too. The Moores will make our name in the world. Believe ‘dat.”

Outside, the crickets started their night song. He squeezed your hand once, slow and certain, the way a man seals a promise without needing to say more.

You smirked, and before you could think more on it, you blurted. “Want to start practicin’ tonight?”

His brown eyes widened in surprise. “Huh?”

You rolled your eyes and giggled, “You heard me, nigga. You want to put a baby in me tonight or you too tired from workin’ all day?”

He couldn't suppress a grin. “I ain’t never too tired to fill you up.”

You stood, his hand dropping back onto the table. “Well, let’s go then.”

He didn't respond. He just watched your retreating back. Thoughts racing a mile a minute.

Eventually, he slowly rose to his feet, trying to act calm, cool, and collected, but you knew he was a jumble of anxiousness and excitement…and honestly, so were you.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Apparently one heated look from you was enough for his restraint to snap. In two long strides he was in front of you, scooping you up in his arms without a warning and stomping towards the bedroom.

“Wait!” You squeaked, smacking his shoulder. “Elijah!”

He put you down gently after stepping into the room. You made quick work of removing your dress and undergarments. He kicked his shoes off while taking his clothes off. The fading light from the oil lamp on the dresser cast both your eager shadows on the wall.

He laid you down on the bed gently before joining you, cursing softly, hypnotized by the delectable folds before him, wet and juicy and all just for him. He spread his calloused hands across your inner thighs, a stark contrast with your soft skin.

He bent over until his face was right above your spread thighs, inhaling your scent. “Tonight’s all about you,” he said softly, placing his hand over your pubic bone, your soft dewy curls teasing his palm as his thumb taps rhythmically over your clit. “I need you as relaxed as possible so it’ll take.”

He was always careful with you, but tonight you could feel his deliberateness with every glance, touch, and grip.

He flattened his tongue against you, lapping up her slick. You whined as he flicked his tongue over your bundle of nerves.

“Mmm,” he hummed against you. “You probably ‘gon taste even better once you’re pregnant with my baby.”

You moaned loudly as he continued teasing your lips with strong licks, jerking beneath him as he confidently closed his lips around your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to come. His tongue was too good. Still, his head stayed buried between your thighs, and his lips were still locked around your clit.

“Elijah, pleaseeee.” You whined, not sure if you were begging him to stop or keep going.

Smoke kissed your sensitive clit one last time before trailing his tongue back up your stomach, stopping at your breasts, sucking on your dark nipples before continuing his ascent of tender kisses up your body, stopping just under your ear. He nipped at your neck, causing you to gasp his name. "Elijah!”

He chuckled softly before pressing his mouth onto yours. “You make a nigga crazy with them pretty ass noises, you know that?”

"Please fuck me." You managed to whisper against his lips.

He pressed one final kiss on your lips before lining the cock of his erection up with your entrance. He glanced down into your eyes, lifting his eyebrow in question. "You ready for me?"

You nodded vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you.

He pushed inside you, groaning as he sank all the way inside of you and bottomed out. "Shit—always so fuckin’ tight."

Smoke rocked into you with deep, slow strokes, waiting patiently for your walls to stretch just a little more around his girth. All you could do was moan. He always felt good, but tonight was different. The air felt charged as if it knew the two of you were in the process of creating something.

You grabbed his face, pulling him down closer into a heated kiss, your fingers messing with his curls at the nape of his neck as he slipped his tongue past your lips and into your mouth.

“Please fuck me harder.” You gasped against his lips. “And don’t stop until you put a baby in me.”

He paused, inhaling sharply, brown eyes damn near black with lust. He pulled all the way out of you before slamming his full length back inside of you, damn near knocking the wind out of you.

“Ohh fuck!” you yelped, eyes fluttering closed as he set a relentless pace, drawing all kinds of obscene noises from you.

“Uh-uh, open them pretty eyes while I’m deep in this pussy.” He panted, thick fingers gripping your chin.

Your eyes shot open, locking onto his lust-filled ones, holding on to his shoulders as he slammed you into oblivion. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder, the new angle causing him to hit that sweet spot that resided deep inside of you.

He grunted as you tightened around him. “I’m ’bout to make you a Mama. You ready for that?”

The way he said it made your head spin and thighs shake. “Fuuuck, I’m cumming!”

“Hmph. I'll take that as a yes then.” He groaned deeply, “Give me all of that shit.”

Your orgasm ripped through you, and you hollered so loudly that Fantasia and Jennifer Hudson would be so proud of you.

He kissed the side of your leg, sinking his teeth into the meaty calf as he fucked you through your orgasm and chased after his own.

“Please cum for me,” you begged in between whimpers. “Fill me up. I want it to leak outta me.”

“Shit—baby, I’m about to cum,” he warned, his thrusts sloppy and erratic, his grip tight on your knee. “You want this cum?”

“Yessss,” you squeaked, tears of bliss running down your cheeks. “I want to make you a Daddy! Don’t stop until my belly is swollen with your baby!”

He damn near howled at the moon. Exhaling so sharply you thought he was choking. He came with a shout, spilling so deep inside you a chill ran across your skin and your stomach fluttered.

Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, but in the most pleasurable way. Your body felt like it was preparing for a meet and greet with the ancestors.

He pulled out, catching a glimpse of his seed seeping out of you before flopping beside you, completely spent. Smoke turned on his side and pulled you against his chest. You kissed his chest, still turned on. You wouldn’t mind a round two even if his come was still dripping down your thighs. To be completely honest, you didn’t want to be able to walk straight tomorrow.

He drew small circles on your back with his index finger, while his other hand rested on your belly. “You think it took?”

You giggled, “If not, we get to try again.”

His spent dick was already hardening against your thigh.