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"I need your honest opinion. How do you think I look?" Hob emerges from the bathroom with a tentative glance towards the Corinthian, who is currently sprawled out in Hob’s own bedroom armchair. The nightmare looks up, and gives Hob a long look over.
"Pregnant. Definitely pregnant." He says, after about 15 seconds. Hob pinches the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.
"Ok, ok, but imagine you're a human. You're what, 19 years old. You're hungover and sad because it's almost the end of the semester but you still have shit to do. You don't know anything about magic pregnancies. You just think I'm that annoying guy who makes you read old books."
"Well then I'd say you look… fat, but in a weird way, and a way that looks like you're trying to hide it." The Corinthian says, unfolding and refolding his stupidly nice long legs. "You did ask for an honest opinion."
"I did." Hob admits, and tries very hard not to cry. It's very difficult. He cried about mushrooms yesterday, of course he's going to cry when his weird nightmare friend says he looks fat. "Fucking hell. I didn't look like this last week! Did I?"
"In all honesty, no. A little chubb– I mean, it totally wasn't obvious when you put that big sweater on." The Corinthian quickly readjusts his answer mid sentence when he sees Hob’s bottom lip wobbling dangerously. "It's not that bad, buddy! There's only two more weeks til you go on leave. Who cares what you look like?"
"I care." Hob mutters, and stalks back into the bathroom. He glances in the mirror, and knows deep down that the Corinthian is right. He'd hit the second trimester a couple of days ago, and it was almost like his body had taken that as a sign to go absolutely crazy. He'd "popped" almost overnight, and as far as he's concerned now, he looks pretty fucking huge. Which makes his life for the next few weeks extremely inconvenient.
He'd argued with Dream for hours over his decision to continue teaching. It had seemed so silly to sit around the flat doing nothing when he was only a few weeks along. His symptoms had proved to be mild and he'd felt completely vindicated in his choice. Now, he thinks that Dream might have been right after all.
"Tell them you've got a benign tumor." The Corinthian suggests, popping his head around the bathroom door. "It's true! Kinda. They probably won't even notice anyway. You think a pregnant looking dude is gonna bother Gen Z? They've seen it all already."
Hob manages to grin. He knows that the Corinthian is attempting to cheer him up. "I don't know why I'm getting all worked up about it, really. I'm sure you're probably right, and it's… it's nice, that the kid's growing alright in there." He puts his hand against the side of his stomach. "I could just really do with Dream being here right now. I feel like shit."
"I know." The Corinthian reaches out and ruffles Hob’s hair. "You're gonna be ok, though. He'll be back as soon as he's done. He doesn't want to be away any more than you do." He leans back, and then suddenly shrugs off his long, tan coloured overcoat and hands it to Hob. "Try that on. Might cover up your front more, especially if you put your hands in the pockets."
Hob does as instructed, and finds himself quite pleased with the result. He'll look like a weirdo for teaching with his coat on, but it does a good job of disguising his stomach from prying eyes. "That's… yeah, that'll work. Thanks, man. Now fuck off out of my bathroom before I cry on you."
It's been five days in the waking world since Dream announced that he would be unavoidably detailed in his own realm. Lucifer Morningstar had at last agreed to negotiations, and it was not something that could be avoided or pushed back to a later date. Hob understands that his boyfriend is a literal king – he has a life outside of their relationship, and Hob certainly isn't mad about it. Dream had been anxious about leaving Hob and their unborn baby alone, and had insisted on sending the Corinthian to stay at the flat in his absence. It's been nice having a friend about the place, someone who can trot down to the 24 hour grocery shop to buy ice cream and smoked fish without complaining too much.
But God, he really misses Dream.
Hob’s back is starting to hurt if he tries to stand up for too long, and it's getting hard to stop himself from resting a hand over his belly. Teaching is usually his pride and joy, but he's honestly just pleased that he gets through the day without yelling at anyone. He's sure people are looking at him weirdly, something that doesn't usually bother him, but today makes him feel all weepy. By the time the Corinthian picks him up in his very attractive but also very uncomfortable classic car, Hob is just about ready to throw in the towel.
"I think I need a hug." He sighs, and the Corinthian wrinkles up his nose slightly.
"Best I can do is KFC. And one of those weird Norwegian films that you like for some reason."
"The Seventh Seal is a masterpiece. And it's Swedish." Hob grumbles, finally giving in to the urge he's had all day, and resting his hand over the top of his belly. "I'm starting to think you know me a bit too well. I've been thinking about chicken all afternoon."
"Just doing my job, bucko." The Corinthian says cheerfully, and Hob is grateful for him, and he thinks that they are friends, but he wants Dream so much. For Dream, taking care of Hob is neither a job nor a chore, but simply a pleasure. Hob knows that Dream will be sad to have missed the beginning of the second trimester, and all of Hob’s little breakdowns, and the way his body has changed. For Dream, all of that will be a wonder, a joy. It will be such a relief to have him home, Hob thinks he might not let Dream go again.
Over the fast few days he's been trying hard not to be too overtly horny in front of the Corinthian, but it isn’t easy. Despite the fact that he feels miserable and lonely and rather ugly, he's also constantly operating at a base level of mildly aroused . He's been that way since he got to about six weeks, and it's only been getting worse. As much as he's distressed by the fact that his pregnancy is becoming increasingly noticeable, he's also undeniably turned on by the whole thing. It's very inconvenient to be crying while also getting his underwear all sticky.
(Because, oh yes, he has the whole womb-vagina-vulva set now. Obviously necessary for the whole thing to go ahead, but still in the realms of Very Weird for Hob.)
After an Ingmar Bergman movie and a bucket of Depression Chicken (as the Corinthian is fond of calling it), Hob makes his excuses and barricades himself into his bedroom for the night. He's tired and horny and he wants to be soothed and petted and fucked, but the best he's going to get is a sad and lonely wank. Still better than nothing.
He wriggles out of his jeans with no small amount of difficulty (he hasn't caved and worn his favourite stretchy jogging bottoms to work yet ). The underwear beneath is soaked with nearly see-through fluid and he tosses them towards the laundry basket to be dealt with later. He'll need new ones soon – he swears that his arse is getting bigger. Not that it's a bad thing.
He drops onto his bed with an appreciative groan and strips away the last of his clothing, leaving it all the drop onto the floor. He's usually rather tidy – domesticated, according to the Corinthian. But he rebels against the idea of getting up from the very comfortable mattress, and instead he curls up on his side in a pleasing position. His cunt is a raw ache between his legs, especially when he rubs his thighs together. If he flexes his muscles just right inside, he can make that ache bloom more and more without even touching himself. It’s a nice precursor to the main event.
Once again his hands have drifted to touch his belly, like they've been magnetised somehow. In the privacy of his own bed, he allows himself the luxury. His body feels different, which is only to be expected. His skin is still soft around his stomach, as it has been since he decided to indulge himself and stop going on miserable 6 a.m jogs. He doesn't need a soldier's body, and Dream likes him just fine with his thickly muscled arms and his padded waist (Dream always protested about him getting up at 6, anyway). The way his belly curves out is different, though. The skin is starting to tighten up, and he’s sure that the stretching will leave marks on him. To him, it looks obvious that he's carrying a child. He can cup almost his whole hand beneath his stomach and hold it. He feels embarrassingly into the whole thing. It feels weird to be turned on by his own body, especially when Dream isn't even there to share it with him.
"Just you and me, kiddo." Hob murmurs, rolling over onto his back. His body looks so normal, apart from the obvious. He hasn't even been able to talk to Dream about the possibility of breastfeeding, but at the moment it certainly isn't going to happen. His pecs are the same old swells of flesh over muscle, nothing different at all. Perhaps it would be nicer to formula feed instead, and then Dream can have a go too.
"Dream is your daddy." He explains to the baby, having rather lost interest in getting himself off all of a sudden. He's so tired and achy, it seems more trouble than it's worth. And his mind has developed this new habit of jumping around all over the place, so it's hard to concentrate. "Had you developed your ears before he went away? I can't remember." He continues speaking aloud. "Anyway, you'll like his voice. He tells the best stories you'll ever hear."
"I would not claim that title for myself." That very voice replies, warm and deep, and for a moment Hob thinks that he must have sunk into sleep without realising. But no, he's awake, and Dream is standing at the foot of the bed with a broad smile on his face. He looks tired and worried, but evidently thrilled to be home.
With no thought for his previous exhaustion or his condition, Hob absolutely flings himself into Dream’s waiting arms. The hug he's been craving all day settles deep in his bones, and he doesn't let go for a long while. When he finally leans back to take a good long look at his favourite man-shaped being, he feels both of Dream’s cool hands settling on his belly with clear intent.
"My love." Dream says softly, gazing at Hob in one long look from head to toe. "Are you well? I never intended to be away from you for so long. I cannot apologise enough."
"I'm fine, love. Just tired and a bit sore. It's not even been a week, you don't have to be sorry at all." Hob presses his mouth to Dream’s throat and kisses softly there. Dream’s hands are mapping over him as though to relearn the shape of his body.
"And yet you have changed so much." He whispers. "You look so – so…"
"So pregnant?" Hob finishes the sentence for him with a chuckle. "I know. This morning was a total crisis, when I finally realised that I can't really hide this much longer." He rests his hands right alongside Dream’s, watching his stomach move with each breath he takes. They look really good together, just like this, him and Dream and their little one.
Dream's cheeks are flushed faintly pink. "You are beautiful. You will only become more so, as our child grows within you. I confess I am not sure that I will be able to keep my hands off you."
"Flatterer." Hob sighs happily, absorbing the praising words. "I'd better watch out. At this rate you'll be fucking me pregnant again as soon as I pop this one out."
The pink of Dream’s cheeks abruptly turns to scarlet. "Do not tempt me, dear heart. I am not sure that I could resist."
"You're such a perv, you know? I think that's an underrated fun fact about you." Hob pulls him backwards towards the bed and lowers himself carefully onto the mattress. Dream follows suit and drags his restless hands up and down Hob’s sides as they lie together in an awkward tangle at the foot of the bed.
"D'you want to talk about the negotiations, sweetheart? We can do that, I don't mind." Hob murmurs, petting Dream’s night-sky hair. He half expects to find a star nesting in the messy locks.
Dream makes a dismissive noise, and bends his face to kiss the top of Hob’s belly. "Tomorrow, my love. I have more important things to concern myself with, at this moment."
"Mmm. That does feel good, love, when you touch me there. I love how much it turns you on to have me pregnant." Hob sighs softly, feeling Dream’s hands make a wandering path all the way to his arse.
"You forget that I see your daydreams too, my only one. You are just as enamoured as I am." He purrs, and he peppers kisses all over Hob’s stomach and then down, all the way to the sweet little arch of his Venus mound.
"Guilty." Hob sighs happily and spreads his legs, settling more comfortably on the bed. Dream’s head retreats rapidly in between his thighs and he rubs the point of his nose against Hob’s outer labia. The evening has taken a surprising turn for the better, and Hob’s arousal has returned threefold.
"You smell so good." Dream murmurs, knowing full well that the buzz of his lips sends a wave of pleasure through Hob’s entire body. "Fertile, strong and mine ."
"I didn't feel very strong today." Hob admits, still brushing his fingers through Dream’s hair. Dream is lazily mouthing at the folds of his cunt and it feels so good, a consistent and satisfying warmth slowly building through Hob’s body. Dream kisses just below his clit, then slides his hands up the length of Hob’s torso and wiggles upwards until they're lying face to face again.
"However weakened you may imagine yourself, you must remember that you have a strength that even I do not possess. Your body nurtures our baby." Dream says, wrapping Hob up in his long, bony arms. Hob snuggles into him, laughing against Dream’s neck as his belly rather gets in the way.
"Only because you gave me the right bits to do it." He drapes his thigh over Dream’s hip. He can feel Dream’s half-hard cock stirring against him, and he shuffles forward against it with an innocent smile. "Speaking of which, I need new underwear, dearest. I'm beginning to soak through the ones I've got at the moment. I don't want to be leaving little messes around the place."
Dream groans throatily. His hand slips right back down to Hob’s cunt, skimming a fingertip against his clit. "You confound me, Robert Gadling. How am I supposed to run my realm, when all I can think of is your sopping little quim?"
"Mmm, maybe you ought to spend less time ruling, and more time attending to your pregnant husband." Hob sighs dramatically, making it quite clear through the tone of his voice that he's only teasing.
"And how may I please you now, my love?" Dream whispers, pushing the tips of two fingers just inside Hob’s cunt. Hob hears himself mewl pathetically as he pushes down on the digits.
"With your cock. You can fuck me as you did when you put this baby in me." He draws Dream’s spare hand across to his belly invitingly, and he hears Dream’s unnecessary breathing quicken in response. His skinny black jeans abruptly vanish and his cock presses thick and hard against Hob’s hip. Hob groans, soft and low, feeling precum spread over his skin like Dream wants him marked with it. They still lie face to face on the bed, so that Hob can feel almost every inch of Dream’s body pressing against his own.
“Lie still, dearest one. Allow me to take care of you.” Dream murmurs, gently cupping his hand around Hob’s thigh and lifting it. For a moment he hesitates, seeming slightly crestfallen. “Ah. I am not sure that this position will be satisfactory to either of us.” He says, glancing up and looking Hob in the eye. “I do not think I can reach. There is. Something in the way.”
“Hmm. Not sure if I’m sad or horny about that. Too pregnant for face to face sex.” Hob reaches for Dream’s thigh this time, and tugs him in closer. “C’mon, love. You’re killing me here. Go and try around the back instead.”
Spooning sex proves far easier and more sensible. Dream tucks himself in a long line of warmth down Hob’s back, and wraps a slim arm around his waist. His hand splays wide over Hob’s belly, fingers gently running over the new, developing gravidity of him. And his cock presses forward at last, nudging pleasantly through Hob’s soaking folds and into the waiting gape of his cunt. Hob makes a noise of pure relief as he’s finally filled up and the lovely thick head of Dream’s cock finds just the right place inside.
Dream’s hands never stop moving, appreciating Hob’s new form with his elegant fingers. He seems to know precisely where to touch, from the tender place below his navel to his swollen clit. His palms squeeze at Hob’s pecs until he whimpers softly, and imagines them swollen too, plump with milk. Dream moans against his ear, obviously seeing the daydream as well.
“I will not leave you again.” He growls, and his cock leaks profusely as he thrusts in deeper. “My beloved. You drive me almost to madness, and I do not know how I will allow you out of this bed as you grow bigger with our child.”
“Nnnngh, you don’t know how needy I’ve been for your cock. At work, at the shops, at home. Can’t stop thinking about your cum filling me up. God, no wonder I’m pregnant.” Hob feels his toes curl as Dream’s fingers return to his clit and worship it in short, lovely strokes. “Did you think of my pussy while you talked to Lucifer? Bet you couldn’t stop yourself. Bet you imagined my cum on your tongue even as you spoke your fancy words of diplomacy.”
Dream whines like he’s been wounded, and Hob is quite sure that his cock swells bigger. It feels incredible, anyway. He’s definitely going to cum, especially if Dream keeps worshipping the folds of his cunt with his cool, sweet fingertips. He slides one of them right inside, alongside the thickness of his cock, and Hob nearly screams.
“Always wanting more. Always greedy.” Dream growls into his neck, and it sounds very much like a compliment.
"Always." Hob agrees, clenching himself vice-tight around Dream’s cock until it almost aches. He whimpers, and Dream soothes him softly. The pad of his thumb presses into Hob’s clit and rubs, once, twice, and Hob simply can't hold back any longer. He shudders, cunt fluttering deliciously, and cums in one long wave of slick fluid and muffled moaning.
"So pretty, coming on my cock." Dream grunts softly, tracing his tongue over the juncture between Hob’s neck and shoulder. Each thrust of his cock is careful and deliberate, but Hob can feel his entire body shaking with the effort to hold back. He grabs Dream’s hand and pulls it back to rest on his belly, so that they can feel how his body has changed and bloomed together. Dream whines, long and high like an animal, and spills a load of cum inside Hob’s eagerly waiting cunt. Another little orgasm shudders through him as he's filled up with Dream’s seed, and he luxuriates in the feeling until it finally fades away altogether.
He cranes his neck backwards at the most awkward angle possible, and manages to wetly kiss the tip of Dream’s nose. “Thank you for coming home, love.” He mumbles, feeling very sleepy and cum-drunk. Dream pulls him closer, which shouldn’t be possible when they’re already pressed together so tightly, but he manages it somehow. He hasn’t pulled his softening cock from Hob’s cunt yet, knowing that Hob likes to stay stuffed full for as long as possible.
“I will always return to you. Through hell or high water.” Dream rumbles, his voice felt inside Hob’s body more than it’s heard. If Hob was a cat, he'd be purring.
"You owe the Corinthian a vacation, by the way." He mutters sleepily. "Or at least let him stab someone. He's been very good. He even let me borrow his coat."
Dream grumbles something about Hob being too soft on the nightmares. "I will allow him limited stabbing privileges. Depending on his continued good behaviour." He relents, mouthing at the side of Hob’s neck. "You know you may always borrow my coat."
"Jealous little sod, aren't you." Hob says, sounding absolutely thrilled and enamoured with the fact. "If I borrow your clothes I'll only end up stretching them."
"I will look forward to that." Dream whispers, and fuck, if Hob wasnt too tired to be turned on he'd be absolutely feral with horniness over those words and that voice.
As it is, he almost immediately falls asleep instead of doing anything remotely sexy, and Dream can't be mad about it because he gets Hob entirely to himself, in the warmth and comfort of his own realm.
They have five nights of lost dream sex to make up for, after all.