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    Summary

    He's pulled close, tucked against his master's chest, and Amadeo whimpers when his belly brushes his master's front. "Careful," he murmurs, and then, before he can think too hard about it, "you'll hurt the baby."

    A frozen heartbeat passes, just long enough that Amadeo starts to worry he's given offense, and then his master chuckles. "Oh?" The air ripples around them, Master's feet passing slightly over the ground as he carries Amadeo away from the table. "Are you in a delicate condition, my dear?"

    "Yes." Amadeo licks his lips, tastes salt. "It's a baby, Master." He's warming to the idea, now. "Ours."
    ___

    Or, Amadeo's imagination runs away from him after a party.

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