Work Text:
Dewlight Pavillion was always peaceful in the mornings, its grand halls void of all outside chaos. Decor that seemed eerie and lifeless during the nights looked more serene bathed in sun’s soft rays. Sunday could always rely on the stagnant quiet to analyze documents and finalize decisions without worrying about interruptions.
It wasn't that the peace was shattered when Aventurine moved in. No, the palace atmosphere was still much the same even with the presence of one pregnant gambler, but Sunday simply couldn’t relish in it anymore.
When the sun seeped in through his bedroom windows recently, the angel didn't notice; he was too entranced by the much more radiant man sleeping next to him to even realize dawn had arrived. Likewise, morning work revisions were a thing of the past. It's quite difficult to focus on intangible decrees when a very needy, tangible man is in the next room over. Aventurine's mere existence in Sunday's life managed to completely enthrall the halovian, and in truth, he didn't mind. It wasn't like Sunday's mornings would be peaceful once Aventurine gave birth anyway. Call it preparation.
“What do you think you're doing?”
Sunday let out a breathy chuckle, “I'm saying good morning to our babies.”
“It could be just one baby,” Aventurine interjected, “we don't know the number for certain yet, so stop wishing more work for us.”
The silver-haired man hummed in contemplation, slender fingers still rubbing circles onto Aventurine's bump. “With all due respect, my dear, you look like you're carrying multiples. Not to mention your luck hardly leaves a doubt in my mind that there's anything less than twins in here.”
“You're going to wake them up!” Aventurine whined, prying the halovian's hands off of his belly.
A victorious smirk found its way onto Sunday's face, “So you agree then? I'm going to wake them up?”
Both men glanced down as the surface of Aventurine's stomach suddenly rippled with movement. The blonde groaned in annoyance, mourning the loss of his comfortability, but a look of realization lit up his eyes soon after. With one hand, Aventurine tugged Sunday up from where he had been kneeling between Aventurine's legs. With the other, he motioned for the halovian to sit by him. When Sunday was settled on the sofa, Aventurine carefully shifted himself onto the other man’s lap.
“You can continue now,” Aventurine said, shoving up his pajama shirt to rest on top of the baby bump.
Sunday smiled and dutifully began his massage. To Aventurine, it probably seemed like a punishment to make the older man service him until the babies went back to sleep, but Sunday saw only an opportunity to touch his lover and observe all of the ways pregnancy had altered him up close.
And, oh, what a lengthy list of changes that was.
For starters, the blonde man planted on top of Sunday now was quite a bit heavier than the one who'd rode him in his office half a year ago. Sunday had watched in silent approval as Aventurine's willpower broke down bit by bit these past few months. With every extra helping at dinner or celebratory pastry Sunday offered, he seemed to grow less wary of indulging himself. Enough so that at this point, Aventurine actively sought out his cravings and complained to Sunday when they weren't fulfilled (much to the silver-haired angel's endearment).
All those calories did have to go somewhere, though, and Sunday certainly didn't mind buying new pants for his growing boy. Especially when it meant that he could buy a size larger than needed and watch Aventurine happily snack away none the wiser. His lover deserved to be spoiled after his years of suffering and abuse, and Sunday would be damned if his pampering mission was derailed by a little extra weight.
“I have to say I'm impressed,” Ratio had said during their last monthly check-in. “It appears you've tripled the size of his behind in a matter of weeks.”
At the time, they'd been seated in the living room, the doctor's chair facing the kitchen where Aventurine was leaned over the bar chatting with Robin. Sunday followed his gaze to the Avgin, and immediately stifled a low whistle at the sight. Even covered by brand-new pants, it was hard to distract from the virtual mountain of ass Aventurine was carrying when he was bent over like that. Every minute movement the blonde made sent it jiggling, shaking like the rich chocolate pudding he'd grown to love so much. Under those globes of fat, his thighs, too, were not spared from the gain. A thick layer of pillowy chub completely eliminated any semblance of a gap between them. They trailed into even wider hips that threatened to tear the seams on either side of the leggings he wore.
Robin had said he looked healthy and motherly. Ratio shook his head on the way out the door, muttering something about his coworker being built like a bottle of SoulGlad; fitting that Aventurine now closely resembled his cravings.
“Helloooo, anybody home in there?” Sunday snapped back to the present, Aventurine’s hand waving in front of his face.
The halovian supposed that his attention had drifted back to older memories. Unfortunately, this seemed to have halted his ministrations as well, long before his lover could tell him to stop. He decided, then, to offer physical acknowledgement over a verbal response, squeezing the mass in his hands.
Except that wasn't Aventurine's belly, he quickly realized.
A fiery red blush rose to the Avgin’s cheeks, “Not saying that feels bad, but fondling my ass doesn't really help me at all, Sunday…”
Sunday would have almost apologized if it hadn't been for Aventurine’s wording. “So you like it when I touch you here?”
“That wasn't an invitation. I can feel your boner poking me, and it’s not even 9 AM yet,” the blonde man pouted. “You can do your worst after there’s breakfast in me. Eating for at least three, remember?”
How could Sunday possibly forget when the evidence of said habits is overflowing his lap in a waterfall of creamy pudge?
“Right, of course, Darling,” Sunday grinned, lifting Aventurine off of him to pad into the kitchen.
Sunday thought to himself as he pulled out the ingredients to mix pancake batter: It was true that Dewlight Pavillion wasn't nearly as peaceful now compared to when he was living alone, (Aventurine was up every morning at the crack of dawn hungry, aching, and in desperate need of cuddles.) but was that really so bad? Sunday would gladly take a loving partner and the promise of several children any day over a lifetime of quiet and guaranteed tranquility.