by TJ Cross
I wasn't going to make it a secret or anything. It wasn't going to be, after all. But I was damned if I would let someone judge me over it. Sure, it was weird -- sure, going to a party where probably nobody else would have heard of the concept of male pregnancy was hardly the best idea.
Let's not even forget the fact that I would have to experience tonight without even the help of a drink or two -- while there was no doctor capable of telling me what was safe or not when it comes to alcohol consumption, I was more than willing to err on the cautious side.
This was my baby, and it was the most important thing in the world to me.
When we got to the party, I made it my job to just shadow Rufus and Jodie everywhere. They inevitably split up, meaning I tagged with Jodie, greeting friend after friend and trying my hardest to come up with mundane non-explanations as to why they hadn't seen me in a while.
Funny how I was looking forward to saying things like, "I've actually be so bored lately, nothing special happening in my life, we should definitely hang out more!" instead of confessing the truth, in which I was indisputably the most interesting person at the party.
I had a freaking belly bump under my loose shirt, dammit!
Adam only appeared in the periphery of my attention when I went to the kitchen to grab Jodie her second beer, as well as my third Pepsi. He was there fixing a cocktail out of a messy kitchen counter.
"What's that supposed to be?" I asked, turning over to his side.
He was dressed in a flannel shirt, glancing behind his shoulder to see me. He had his cocky grin on. "A Singapore Sling, sort of."
"That's not a Singapore Sling," I said, raising my eyebrows and looking at his ingredients. This was an area where I could shine: I was a bartender for a long while and had gotten deeply interested in mixology -- which happened to be a great way to meet guys, just not the right ones, alas.
"Oh yeah, why's that?" Adam asked, not sounding especially convinced by my skepticism.
With a laugh, I sidled over to him and picked up the bottle of liquor he was holding. "A Singapore Sling is a gin drink, and you're holding some really terrible rum. I can smell the fumes off it, and I feel like I could get a personal injury lawsuit just from sniffing. And next, now listen here, where's the maraschino cherry?"
Adam laughed, setting the glass down. "Clearly you've caught me in the act. My attempt at mixing and matching isn't quite as cool as I thought it would be. Don't know who you are, though, but I think I've got to fix that. I'm Adam."
"I know," I answered. "I'm Finn."
He had green eyes that flashed with humor as he offered me his hand. I shook it, and then looked around the room, trying to find another conversational hook based on the kitchen. "So you live here?"
"Me and a couple of artist friends. It was supposed to be a studio of sorts, channeling a suburban household and turning that energy into our art... but hell, that hasn't worked."
I laughed. "Well, you should leave this counter as-is and then say it's a special installation describing bad attempts to mix drinks at a house party."
"Post-post-postmodern, I like that," Adam said. He looked at me, drinking in the sight of me with barely-restrained lust tinged from the heavy drinking he no doubt had been indulging in all night.
I leaned closer. "One day I'll make some real art too," I murmured. "With all the really weird things I've experienced in the last few weeks... I feel like I need an outlet for all my creative thoughts."
"That's super cool," Adam nodded. "Hey, it's pretty noisy here. Do you want to check out my studio slash room?"
"Aren't you supposed to be the DJ? It's your party..."
He patted my arm. "Nope, I just play host... someone else gets to volunteer for all the chores I don't want to do, in exchange for the space."
Adam led me upstairs, negotiating our way around bottles and cans of beer left on the floor, reminding me of the maze at Senor Esteban's place the day I wanted the shifter shaman to give me a reading.
We sat on his bed. He kicked his shoes off and told me to do the same. I had parachute-material Converse mid-top sneakers on so I couldn't do it with the same casual grace he removed his shoes. Adam watched me sensually, amused as I carefully unlaced and pulled my feet out of the shoes.
"So why did I have to take my shoes off?" I asked, shooting him a look of game curiosity.
"A friend of mine has this theory. That you can tell a person's personality traits best by looking at their feet. That means you're going to have to take your socks off, handsome," Adam said, tugging at my legs.
I did as he asked, playing along, until I had my toes and feet exposed for him, just as he had his. "So... how do we do this? You guess first, I guess first?"
He nodded. "I'll go first."
I sat up straight as Adam fixed his gaze on my feet, concentrating and looking serious as he lowered himself just the slightest so he could get a better look. I wiggled my toes, trying to not feel too self-conscious over the attention he was giving me. I even tried to say something, but he interrupted me with a hand, whispering that I wasn't to break his process of intuiting my personality through looking at my feet.
Clearly I had been spending too much time with various types of psychics lately.
"Okay," he eventually said, inhaling dramatically as he prepared to tell me what he sensed about me. "You're someone who doesn't suffer fools gladly. People can disappoint you, or they can impress you... but in the end, you know that you handle things best when you're in charge of your own life."
"Not a bad start," I nodded, "but anyone could say that. It's something everybody wants to hear about themselves."
He agreed, pausing to glance once more at my still-wiggling toes. "But you're going through some particularly special circumstances where not having the support of others you can trust will make things a lot harder. Either way, you'll kick ass. That's what you always do. You can always rely on yourself."
"Thanks for the flattery."
"No flattery, promise. You're a messy person, not very organized, and often more than a little impulsive. But you've got a strong sense of what's right and wrong, and you're sensitive enough to live by that moral compass," Adam said, sounding more confident in his reading than before.
"Go on..."
He looked in my eyes, the dancing humor in his eyes making way for a more serious gaze. "You've always been a little more uninhibited than your friends, but you make it a goal not to have that be too obvious to others. You're guarded in a way, if only because you've dealt with a lot of bullshit... and I might even go on to say that you're even more guarded now because..."
"Because?"
"Because you're sober as hell. Seriously, it's a party, get a drink," he said.
I laughed. "I can't. Not by my own volition, though. Crazily, I'm forced not to drink."
"You're of age, mommy and daddy can't stop you."
With a playful punch, I rolled my eyes and said, "I can't even find the words to describe how serious I am about this. It's crazy, and you'd never believe me anyway."
"You're an alien with a toxic allergy to alcohol?" he tried, raising his eyebrows.
"Almost... almost..." I flirted, giving him a wink.
He breathed out and tried again, clearly hoping to impress me with his clairvoyance -- or lack thereof. "You're in Alcoholics Anonymous and you've actually been sober for exactly four years and three hundred and sixty four days, and if you drank today, you wouldn't get that extra special coin for five years sober."
"Talk about dark!" I laughed. "No, that's not it, Adam."
"What is it then? Give me this whole crazy story," he said.
A rebellious streak came over me, and I ended up wanting to tell him after all -- but in a way where I could be telling the truth but he wouldn't just jump out of bed and nope the fuck right out of there. So I considered the right words, and eventually came up with what I was going to say.
"Over the last two weeks my body has slowly begun transforming and
now there's a winged parasite inside me threatening to consume my body and destroy anyone who dares mess with me," I said with a lopsided grin. "Even cute strangers with a foot fetish."
"No foot fetish, feet repulse me normally," he quickly countered. "But parasite, huh? You beat me, you really did."
"You must be so terrified, now," I said, winking at him again. "Are you sure you want to sit right next to me still?"
He theatrically performed a flinch for me. "You're so right. I don't think I want to be sitting next to you. I think I want to be on top of you..."
The next thing I knew, our bodies were against each other and he was already kissing my neck, the smooth side of his jawline rubbing against my light stubble. Fuck, I thought, feeling like I was betraying some sort of unspeakably powerful oath by not resisting his kiss.
A strange ripple effect came over me as he began pressing his body against me, grinding with his hips. I felt the physical reaction of pleasure here, but I also felt a distant one -- but it wasn't the same pleasure. It wasn't the pleasure of receiving the sexual attention Adam as giving me. It was a hunger that didn't quite seem like my own, it was a hunger that was more powerful than what I could muster for Adam.
Because like it or not, I was thinking about someone else.
Everett.
I wiped his name off my lips as I started reciprocating Adam's grinding, not quite able to muster the ability to kiss him, but still touching him, grabbing him, pressing myself into him.
The cute DJ with his dancing green eyes mussed my hair as he continued kissing my cheeks, enthusiastically playing with my body. I felt my cock stir from the physical reflex of it all, although I still knew my heart was beating only for Everett.
But this was exactly what Jodie and I had been talking about: I needed to fuck someone to get the dragon out of my system.
If Everett had wanted me, he'd show his desire for me.
And right then, I sensed him. It was a bond we had somehow built every day psychically, through the common experience we shared. Through the mind-blowing night at the Pacifica, to the awkward but understanding discussion about the baby.
He was reaching out to me.
I pushed Adam away and I immediately began blurting out apologies. He blinked, looking surprised and unable to say anything, as I stood up, looking to the ceiling -- only seeking out the psychic connection.
Everett.
Want bled away to need as my thoughts transitioned from the physical passion Adam had lavished onto me to the desire I held for the alpha dragon who had impregnated me.
I could sense the hesitation in Everett slowly breaking down the arrogance of his previous feelings regarding me. I felt like I was no longer in Adam's dark bedroom but instead in another place -- possibly the Copperwind office I had met him in. The decor was similar, but also distinct enough that it would have had to be another place...
Reaching out with my mind, I could clearly make out Everett, the heat of his body providing the source for my psychic seeking. There was someone else in the room... someone the dragon playboy had hoped he could use for pleasure...
Jealous rippled through me, but I could also feel it double up in the reverse direction as Everett clearly sensed out Adam's presence, and the arousal that had marked my state a few minutes back.
"Everett," I murmured, oblivious to Adam who was watching me and trying to speak to me, demanding to know what was going on.
I had to leave. The overwhelming feeling I had was that there was only one thing I wanted, and only one person I could be with.
It was Everett.
And somehow, miraculously, hope sprang in my heart as the psychic connection we both tapped into clearly told me that Everett felt the same way about me.
CHAPTER NINE
I had been drowsily drifting in and out of sleep from sheer exhaustion until I glanced at my phone, the screen already lit up from an app notification well before I saw it.
What the fuck, how is it 2pm already?
Jumping out of bed, I took the time to breathe and realize that I didn't really have anything I was going to be late for, anyway. I was still dressed as I was yesterday, and the feeling of the clothes clinging to my skin made me feel gross and uncomfortable.
"Shower," I grunted, walking towards the bathroom as I slipped my clothes off, standing naked in front of the sink.
That fucking baby bump.
It was incredible to see how quickly my body had started morphing to accommodate the dragon womb. I knew nothing about shifter anatomy, but surely this was abnormal, the way my stomach had gotten round and taut, as visibly pregnant as I could be.
My hands lowered to the bump and I felt my bump, thinking about my baby. "I love you," I murmured to my baby, praying that it could hear me... or at least feel my love.
As ridiculous as this scenario was playing out for me, I was absolutely intent on raising my child right. There was no question of me not being with the dragon baby that would one day come out from me... I was going to protect this dysfunctional family of ours.
Maybe it would have Everett, too. It's still not too late.
Under the hot water of the shower I kept thinking about the night before. In hindsight, I was happy I didn't proceed any further with Adam. He was cute, he was sweet... he was even funny and charismatic, but he wasn't what I needed or wanted in my life.
I needed the alpha male, the father, the protector.
And deep inside I knew that Everett was still the right man for me, even as he contemplated and considered, even as he took his time to come to that truth... that we were meant to be together.
Then I just sighed, as the steam of the hot water rose for me. There was a sound somewhere, but I couldn't place it. My phone?
I turned off the water and I waited for the sound once more.
Ding-dong!
"Not expecting visitors," I murmured, hopping out of the shower, water still dripping down my torso, curving around my belly and then clinging to my cock. Towelling off quickly, I slapped a grey t-shirt on and walked over to the door, tracking water with every step.
"Hello?" I asked, before peeking through the peephole.
Goddammit! It was Everett. There the handsome devil -- dragon, really -- was standing, holding a bouquet of flowers. I laughed at the ridiculousness of being in a towel and a damp t-shirt receiving a bouquet from an alpha dragon, but paused that thought in time to open the door.
"Everett," I greeted.
He smiled at me, looking incredibly dashing just standing in his suit and holding flowers without a single care in the world. I instantly knew how he got my address -- he must have gotten it from his mother.
"Finn, I was hoping we could go for a little walk. Have a talk. Something real, something deep. If you're not too busy, that is," he said.
"No, sir," I shook my head. "Free as free can be. Just groggy. Had a crazy night last night."
"Ha, me too," he said, with a tone of curiosity that instantly told me he was recalling our strange, psychic connection that interrupted whatever it was he was doing when I turned down Adam at yesterday's party.
I was about to step outside but he got in my way, glancing down. I didn't understand at first until I followed Everett's gaze. "Oh, of course," I said, laughing as I finally understood -- I was still only in a towel. "You wanna come in while I put some pants on?"
