#lactigate continued

You are 18 weeks along when you wake up one morning to find the front of your shirt soaked and embarrassingly cried in his arms. Silco holds you through it, shushing you gently and assures you that, according to the books you had both been reading, it was perfectly normal.

Bras were uncomfortable to wear now and so were shirts. Everything about it aches and brushes against your oversensitive nipples, you’ve been forgoing shirts altogether as you stayed and did paperwork in your shared room rather than the office.

You had gone to Singed for advice. The good doctor assured you that, just as the books had said, what was happening was perfectly normal for first time mothers.

"How do I fix it? It's getting to be unbearable."

"Simply supplement breastfeeding." You raise an inquisitive brow and he waves a hand. "Pump it out."

Your brow remains raised and you shuffle in place.

"Do you have a…?"

"I have said it multiple times. Maybe this time you'll listen." He gives you frustrated glare. "I am not that kind of doctor."

That had been that.

So, you try to find a pump but before you can even begin to look, Silco pulls you aside.

"May I suggest an alternative?"

You raise a brow.

Alternative? You're willing to try anything if it means getting the ache and dribbling to stop.

He looks down at your chest then back at you with his own raised and suggestive brow. You see his throat flex with a heavy swallow.

It clicks and your face flushes.

"You want to…?"

"I'm not put off by the idea."

And surprisingly, you weren't either.

Neither of you would have ever guessed just how into the idea both of you were.

Heat, wetness and longing gathers between your thighs and the walls of your cunt throb and clench around nothing. You wiggle your legs, shifting your thighs together to try and alleviate some of the desire.

You whimper as you roughly run your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and earning a pleased groan. You bow your head to pant against the back of his neck as you keep him firmly in place if not pull him closer than he already is.

The room echoes with the sounds that can only be described as wet debauchery. Neither of you are really keeping quiet, you with your broken whines and moans of relief and pleasure and Silco with his wet slurping. 

Another firm suck at your nipple has your toes curling and your walls clenching again. You would not be surprised if you could come from this alone but that wouldn’t be as satisfying as something stuffing you. You need something firm, you need him but can’t tell him to let go. You don’t want him to. God, it feels amazing and judging by his groans and his firm dick pressed against your thigh, he shares the sentiment.

"Oh god." You shudder as his hand gently massages and rolls your other tit, the nail of his thumb brushing strokes against your nipple, not pinching thank heavens but giving a gentle little tug that causes it to leak and you to whimper.

His mouth breaks from around your other tit and he takes a breath, lathing his tongue gently against the bud. You know there is a bruise forming around the point of your mound, skin turning red and purple. You know but you can't look. Despite the pleasure you remain embarrassed as you feel liquid trickle down from your sensitive nub over the curve of your aching chest. It's quickly lapped up by your lover with another almost primal moan.

He is laid against your side, careful for your swollen stomach and his long legs are wrapped lovingly around yours. His hips grinding against you, and you can feel his dick twitch with every moan you let out, gently rocking as he treats your breasts like a feast.

Because it is.

And that's where you are now, face red and tears of oversensitivity leaking down your cheeks as Silco sucks out your breast milk as vigorously as a man dying of thirst.

You give a broken sob as he latches back onto your nipple and your walls clench again and you can't take it anymore. You need something inside you. The one hand digging crescents and scratches into his back surges down between your legs and you slide your finger against your clit, crying at the touch.

His other hand quickly snatches from your other tit and slaps your fingers away before replacing them with his own. Both his middle and ring finger stuff into your wet cunt with no need to gently prepare and he curls them against your spongy walls, hooking them directly into your g-spot. He expertly rolls his palm firmly and sets a punishing pace against your clit.

You are actually crying now, the pleasure far too much, climbing higher and higher. You back arches and you throw your head back against the pillows. You scream his name at a sharp pitch as he coaxes you through the most earth shattering orgasm you've ever had.

He released your nipple to let out his own moan, his hips rolling against your thigh in jerking motions before coming to a complete halt. He throbs against your leg as hot spurts of cum land across your thigh.

The both of you pant from your shared orgasms, everything drawn to a halt. You sigh in relief and he rests his cheek between your breasts and with his own content and pleased purr.

In your boneless state you manage to release your death grip on his hair and apologetically dig your fingers into his scalp, a thankful massage. He hums in appreciation before rolling onto his chin and looking up at you lovingly.

"Thank you for the meal." And he kisses you on your collar, then your cheek and gives you a raised brow. 

"You okay?" He asks, because that's what he always asks after. Are you okay? Self assurance and reassurance. You give him a soft smile and tired nod.

"Yeah."

And then a dark look crosses his face and he gives a devilish grin.

"Well then," And he carefully rolled over you to the other side, still wary of your growing stomach, even giving it a single tender stroke. He settles against you once more, just as he was to your right as he is now to your left.

You look at him with half lidded eyes and hiss as his fingers start to stroke at your folds once again.