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Oscar had been married to Lando for four years. Which meant he knew exactly when his omega husband was about to become a problem.
Unfortunately, this weekend in Melbourne, the problem had arrived in the form of a six month old paddock baby wearing a tiny Williams headphones.
Oscar should have realized something was wrong the moment Lando disappeared after FP2 and came back twenty minutes later carrying someone else’s child like he’d personally acquired it.
Not metaphorically, an actual baby.
Tiny little thing asleep against Lando’s chest while Lando looked down at her with the exact same expression he used whenever he looked at their two year old son, Bruce Piastri.
Oscar stopped mid sip of his coffee. “Whose child is that?”
Lando looked up immediately, far too innocent for Oscar’s liking. “Carlos’ engineer’s daughter.”
“That does not answer why you have her.”
“She likes me.”
The baby sneezed softly. Lando’s entire face melted. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “That was adorable.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes immediately because he knew that voice. That was Lando’s omega instincts kicking in.
The same dangerously soft tone he used with Bruce. The same expression he’d worn two years ago while holding their newborn son in the hospital bed and crying because Bruce had wrapped his tiny fingers around Lando's hand.
It's very dangerous, especially because Lando had been obsessed with babies again lately. Bruce turning two had somehow triggered something catastrophic in him.
Now every time they passed baby clothes in stores, Lando sighed dramatically. Every random toddler in airports became “so tiny, Osc...” Every conversation somehow turned into discussions about siblings.
Oscar, meanwhile remembered his husband pregnancy very clearly. Mostly because Lando had threatened divorce three separate times over food.
Lando adjusted the baby against his chest and walked closer. “Look how small she is.”
“No.”
“She’s wearing little Williams headphones.”
“Yeah I can see that.”
“She fell asleep on me earlier.”
“Lando,” Oscar sighed automatically.
Lando of course ignored him completely. “I just think,” he said casually, “Bruce would be a really good older brother.”
There it was, Oscar closed his eyes briefly. “For the last time, we are not having another baby because your omega instincts activated over a six month old.”
Lando gasped dramatically. “That is not why.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes,” Lando said seriously. “It’s also because Bruce keeps trying to make friends with random children at airports.”
“That is not sibling behavior.”
“He offered another toddler his dinosaur crackers yesterday.”
Oscar deadpanned, “Heartbreaking.”
Lando pouted at him immediately before bouncing the baby gently when she started fussing. The motion came naturally to him, comforting and instinctive in a way that made Oscar’s alpha instincts warm despite himself.
That was the issue. Lando was annoyingly good at this. Bruce adored him completely. Their son cried whenever Lando left for media duties too long and demanded bedtime calls every single race weekend and somehow Lando still wanted another one.
“You know what your problem is?” Oscar asked finally.
“What?”
“You see one baby and immediately forget pregnancy exists.”
Lando blinked once. “Okay, rude.”
“You cried for three weeks last time.”
“In my defense,” Lando said seriously, “everything hurt.”
“You also threatened to bite me because I ate your fries.”
“You ate my fries during a hormonal crisis.”
Oscar snorted despite himself. Unfortunately, that tiny smile was all the encouragement Lando needed. His eyes lit up instantly. “So you agree?”
“No.”
“But you smiled.”
“That was not agreement.”
Lando handed the sleeping baby back once her mother returned, but the damage was already done.
Oscar could practically see the gears turning in his husband’s head. Another nursery, another tiny papaya hoodie, another baby asleep on Oscar’s chest while Lando complained dramatically about cravings.
Absolutely not.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Oscar warned as they started walking through the paddock together.
“Like what?” Lando asked innocently.
“Like you’re already planning how to get pregnant again.”
Lando immediately burst into laughter loud enough that several mechanics turned to stare. “Oh my god,” he wheezed. “You make me sound insane.”
“You cried yesterday because Bruce called a duck family cute.”
“They were holding wings!”
Oscar groaned. Lando grinned shamelessly and slipped his hand into Oscar’s. “I’m just saying. One more baby wouldn’t be that bad.”
“One more baby,” Oscar repeated flatly, “is exactly how we ended up with the first one.”
Lando paused. “…Okay, fair point.”
The second time Lando asked for another baby happened three weeks later in Monaco.
Oscar came home expecting peace. Instead, he walked into emotional devastation.
“Daddy!”
Bruce came sprinting across the living room immediately, tiny socked feet sliding slightly against the floor before Oscar caught him easily with one arm.
“Hey, mate,” Oscar said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Where’s papa?”
Bruce pointed dramatically toward the kitchen. “Crying.”
Oscar froze. “What?”
“Crying,” Bruce repeated confidently before whispering, “because teamwork.”
Oscar felt immediate fear. Because there were only two things that made Lando cry lately:
- Very emotional animal videos.
- Babies.
Oscar slowly walked into the kitchen carrying Bruce on his hip and immediately found his omega husband sitting dramatically at the island with red eyes, clutching his phone like he’d just received catastrophic news.
“Oh no,” Oscar sighed immediately. “What happened?”
Lando looked up at him with visible betrayal. “Bruce said he wants a sibling.”
Oscar blinked once. “…That’s why you’re crying?”
“It wasn’t just that,” Lando defended instantly, voice wobbling. “He said he wants a sibling for teamwork.”
Bruce nodded proudly from Oscar’s arms. “Teamwork!!”
Oscar stared at his son. “Do you even know what teamwork means?”
Bruce thought about it seriously. “Dinosaurs.”
“Right.”
Lando sniffed miserably from the kitchen stool. “You don’t understand how emotional it was.”
“I actually think I do.”
“No, because he said,” Lando continued dramatically, “‘Papa, I need a teammate.’”
Oscar closed his eyes briefly. Of course he did because apparently their toddler had inherited Lando’s ability to accidentally emotionally manipulate people without even trying.
Bruce wriggled out of Oscar’s arms and ran over to Lando immediately, climbing onto his lap with the confidence of someone who owned the apartment.
“Papa sad?” he asked softly.
Lando’s entire face crumbled instantly. “A little bit.”
Bruce patted his cheek. “Need cuddle.”
Oscar watched in horror as his husband visibly got worse.
“Oh my god,” Lando whispered emotionally, wrapping both arms around their son. “Osc, look how sweet he is.”
“I am looking unfortunately.” Bruce looked between both his parents seriously before announcing, “Need baby.”
Oscar pointed at him accusingly. “Stop saying that.”
“But teamwork,” Bruce insisted.
Lando looked one second away from ovulating directly onto the kitchen floor. Oscar knew that expression. It was the same one Lando got every heat cycle lately whenever Bruce did something remotely cute and honestly, Oscar blamed himself a little.
Because Bruce was cute. Disgustingly cute. Tiny curls everywhere, permanently attached to one of them at all times, constantly saying things that sounded accidentally profound despite only being two years old.
Still, Oscar remained strong. “No more babies,” he said firmly.
Lando gasped like he’d slapped him. “Wow.”
“We talked about this.”
“You’re crushing Bruce’s dreams.”
“Bruce’s dreams are currently about dinosaurs and yogurt.”
Bruce lifted his head immediately. “And teamwork.”
“Traitor,” Oscar muttered. Lando buried his face dramatically into Bruce’s hair. “It’s okay, baby. Papa understands your vision.”
“Thank you,” Bruce whispered.
Oscar stared at both of them in disbelief, they were unionizing against him. In his own home. “Lando.”
His omega looked up innocently despite still clinging to their toddler like a Victorian widow. “Yes?”
“You cannot use our child as pregnancy propaganda.”
Lando looked genuinely offended. “I would never.”
At that exact moment, Bruce looked at Oscar and asked softly, “Daddy…baby brother?”
Oscar nearly walked back out the apartment.
The third time Lando asked for another baby, Oscar almost gave in.
Which was deeply humiliating for him personally because this time there were no paddock babies involved. No emotional speeches, and no Bruce asking innocent questions about teamwork.
No, this time Lando simply decided to become unbearable. It started after dinner in Monaco.
Bruce had finally fallen asleep after demanding three bedtime stories, one glass of water, and emotional support from both parents because apparently two year olds lived harder lives than Formula 1 drivers.
Oscar was exhausted. Lando, unfortunately, looked freshly recharged. Which should have been Oscar’s first warning sign.
The second warning sign was the fact his omega husband kept smiling at him from across the kitchen island while Oscar cleaned bottles.
Not a normal smile either. A stupid one. Soft around the edges. Slightly smug. Pretty enough to make Oscar’s stomach flutter in the most irritating way imaginable even after four years together.
Oscar refused to look directly at him. That only made it worse because Lando knew exactly what he was doing.
“You’re staring,” Oscar muttered finally.
“I’m literally sitting in my own kitchen.”
“You’re doing it weirdly.”
Lando smiled wider, Oscar immediately looked away again. Disaster, oh absolutely disaster.
“Osc,” Lando said softly.
“No.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“You’re about to.”
Lando hummed innocently before walking around the island slowly until he was standing directly behind Oscar.
Oscar closed his eyes immediately, because now there were hands. Lando’s hands sliding around his waist. Warm palms sneaking under Oscar’s shirt lazily while his chin rested against Oscar’s shoulder.
Alpha instincts were genuinely the worst thing that had ever happened to him.
“You know,” Lando murmured near his ear, “Bruce looked really cute today.”
Oscar gripped the counter harder instantly. “You’re not subtle.”
“I’m not trying to be.” That stupid smile was definitely still there. Oscar could hear it in his voice.
Lando pressed one soft kiss beneath Oscar’s jaw before speaking again. “I just think another baby would fit us.”
“No.”
Another kiss.
“Bruce would be happy.”
“No.”
Hands slipping lower against his stomach slowly, Oscar hated his life. “You’d look really handsome holding another newborn,” Lando whispered.
Oscar’s brain genuinely short-circuited for a second, because that was unfair. Lando knew exactly what his alpha instincts reacted to. Knew exactly how to make Oscar blush despite being married for four years already.
“Stop weaponizing me with your omega pheromones during negotiations,” Oscar muttered weakly.
Lando laughed softly against his neck. “Negotiations?”
“This feels more intense than my McLaren contract talks.”
“Interesting,” Lando hummed thoughtfully. “Does that mean I’m winning?”
“No.”
“Your heartbeat says otherwise.”
Traitorous body, Oscar could practically feel Lando’s smugness increasing behind him then came the final attack.
Lando moved around in front of him, leaned back against the counter between Oscar’s legs, and looked up through his eyelashes with the prettiest smile Oscar had ever seen in his life. Absolutely evil behavior from his omega.
“Come on,” Lando said softly, fingers tracing lazily over Oscar’s wrists. “One more baby.”
Oscar stared at him for a long moment. Warm skin, Lando soft scent, his pretty flushed cheeks and that stupid smile.
Dangerous, so incredibly dangerous. Oscar’s stomach fluttered embarrassingly hard and somehow—he still managed to say, “No.”
Lando gasped dramatically. “You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely do.”
“You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You blushed.”
Oscar immediately shoved him away lightly while Lando burst into laughter loud enough to probably wake Bruce.
“You are impossible,” Oscar informed him.
Lando grinned shamelessly. “And yet you married me.” Unfortunately.
Even worse, unfortunately Oscar still couldn’t stop thinking about another baby for the rest of the night.
The fourth time happened during Silverstone race weekend. Which honestly felt unfair to Oscar because he was already vulnerable there.
Silverstone always made Lando softer somehow. Maybe because it was home. Maybe because the crowd loved him louder there. Maybe because every room they walked into smelled faintly of rain and nostalgia and familiarity.
Or maybe it was simply because Lando knew exactly how to ruin Oscar’s self-control.
FP1 and FP2 had been exhausting.
By the time they got back to the hotel, both of them were too tired to even talk properly. They showered together mostly in silence, slow and sleepy beneath the hot water, Oscar washing shampoo from Lando’s curls while his omega leaned against him bonelessly.
Afterward, they ended up tangled together in bed wearing soft hotel robes while an old Formula 1 documentary played quietly on the television.
Lando sat between Oscar’s legs with his back against Oscar’s chest, warm and relaxed after the shower. Oscar had one arm wrapped around his waist automatically, chin resting against Lando’s damp curls.
It was quiet and comfortable. The kind of peaceful moment that made Oscar remember why he married him in the first place. Then Lando decided to become a problem again.
Oscar should have noticed immediately when soft fingers started playing with his hand absentmindedly.
Still distracted by the documentary, Oscar only hummed quietly when Lando guided his hand lower. Right onto his stomach.
His stomach is flat and warm. Soft beneath the thin fabric of Lando’s robe.
“Osc…” Lando murmured sleepily.
Oscar pressed a lazy kiss against his shoulder. “Hm?”
Lando was quiet for a second before whispering softly, “See? A baby would fit again inside here.”
Oscar nearly choked, actually physically choked.
The documentary continued playing completely unnoticed while Oscar stared at the side of Lando’s face in horror.
Because first of all—insane thing to say. Second of all—Lando sounded so soft saying it. Like he’d genuinely been thinking about it for a while.
Oscar swallowed hard. “No.” His answer was very firm and very serious. Unfortunately, his hand betrayed him immediately, because even while saying no, his fingers still brushed slowly over Lando’s stomach instinctively
Omega instincts were terrible. Alpha instincts were somehow worse. Lando tilted his head back slightly against Oscar’s shoulder, clearly pleased with himself already. “Your hand says yes.”
“My mouth said no.”
“But your hand did the soft thing.”
Oscar cursed quietly under his breath because Lando was right. His palm was still resting there protectively.
Lando smiled faintly without opening his eyes. “You’re thinking about it.”
“I’m absolutely not.”
“You’re literally rubbing my stomach.”
Oscar immediately stopped moving his hand. Two seconds later Lando guided it back himself.
Disaster, complete disaster.
“Oscar,” Lando said softly, voice all sleepy and fond, “another baby would be cute.”
“We already have Bruce.”
“Bruce is cute. Imagine two little cute people.”
“No.”
Lando turned slightly then, enough for Oscar to see the stupid tiny smile forming on his face, the one Oscar hated. The one that still made his stomach flutter after years together.
“Three?” Lando suggested hopefully.
Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “You’re negotiating children like they’re upgrades.”
“Okay but you’d love it.”
“No.”
Lando’s fingers intertwined with Oscar’s again before guiding their joined hands back over his stomach slowly.
Oscar’s entire brain went painfully blank for a second because God. Lando skin was warm, and he has sleepy omega scent. Lando half curled into him in their hotel bed looking impossibly soft while talking about babies.
Cruel behavior honestly. “You know what your issue is?” Oscar muttered finally.
“What?”
“You keep asking me these things when I’m biologically incapable of thinking straight around you.”
Lando grinned immediately. “Sounds like a you problem.”
Oscar sighed deeply into his shoulder. Still—his hand never really moved away from Lando’s stomach the entire night.
The fifth time happened during a heat cycle. Which meant Oscar never really stood a chance.
In his defense, he usually handled Lando’s heats perfectly fine. They’d been together long enough that he knew every sign already.
The clinginess, the sweeter pheromones, the way Lando’s omega instincts became dramatically stronger until he practically turned into a living weapon specifically designed to destroy Oscar’s self-control.
But this heat cycle? Traitorous. Absolutely traitorous. Mostly because Lando had apparently decided he wanted another baby more than oxygen itself.
They were back home in Monaco for the week, Bruce safely staying overnight with Lando’s parents because “Papa and Daddy need rest,” according to his very serious toddler logic.
Oscar should have been suspicious immediately. Instead, he made the catastrophic mistake of relaxing.
Now he was standing in their kitchen at nearly midnight while Lando wandered around wearing one of Oscar’s oversized shirts and absolutely nothing else underneath, omega scent thick and warm through the apartment.
“Osc,” Lando called softly from the living room.
Oscar inhaled slowly. “Yeah?”
No answer from Lando, which somehow felt worse. Oscar walked into the living room cautiously only to stop immediately.
Lando sat curled into the corner of the couch, flushed from heat, curls messy, looking devastatingly soft beneath the dim apartment lights.
Then Lando looked up at him and smiled. Oscar’s brain genuinely stopped functioning.
Unfair, deeply unfair.
“Omega manipulation,” Oscar informed him weakly.
Lando tilted his head innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You looked at me.”
“Tragic.”
Oscar should have walked away. Instead, he moved closer automatically like every alpha instinct in his body had already surrendered.
Lando reached for him immediately the second he got close enough, soft hands sliding beneath Oscar’s shirt while pulling him down onto the couch.
As Oscar buried his face briefly against Lando’s neck with a quiet groan because his omega smelled incredible during heats. Comfort and home and something dangerously tempting underneath it all.
Then Lando kissed him softly and suddenly coherent thought became impossible.
Oscar’s hands settled instinctively on Lando’s waist while Lando kissed him slow and sweet and devastating enough to make his mind completely blank.
“Osc…” Lando whispered against his mouth.
Oscar hummed distractedly. Lando kissed him again before saying softly, “Want another baby.”
Oscar froze immediately, actually froze.
Lando took advantage of his silence instantly, kissing him again while guiding Oscar backward slowly toward their bedroom.
This was tactical warfare.
“Lando,” Oscar warned weakly while stumbling after him anyway.
Lando only smiled sleepily and pulled him closer by the front of his shirt. “You’d make me so pretty pregnant again.”
Oscar’s brain short-circuited so violently he nearly walked into the doorframe. Because that—was illegal actually.
“You can’t just say things like that during your heat,” Oscar informed him hoarsely.
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
Lando laughed softly before kissing him again, guiding him backward until Oscar’s knees hit the bed.
Everything smelled overwhelmingly like omega pheromones now. Warm nesting blankets, soft skin, heat.
Oscar’s alpha instincts were hanging on by threads, Lando climbed into his lap immediately, all clingy affection and soft kisses while his fingers tangled into Oscar’s hair.
“Please?” he whispered against Oscar’s mouth. “Just one more baby.”
Oscar closed his eyes briefly because God. Lando in heats was already impossible to resist normally. Heat-cycle Lando asking for another baby while kissing him like this?
Oscar’s hands slid instinctively over Lando’s hips before settling against his stomach again without thinking.
Lando noticed immediately. His smile turned dangerously soft. “See?” he murmured. “You want it too.”
Oscar stared at him for a long moment. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, soft omega scent wrapping around him completely.
His husband, the father of his child. The love of his life.
Dangerous, dangerous Lando Norris.
Oscar kissed him once slowly before muttering against his lips, “You fight dirtier than McLaren contract negotiations.”
Lando grinned instantly. “Is that a yes?”
Oscar looked at him then at the bed, then at Lando again. “…I’m blaming your heat cycle for whatever decisions happen tonight.”
Lando’s entire face lit up bright with victory.
The plus one happened because Oscar Piastri apparently forgot how babies were made.
That was the only explanation. Because four years into marriage, one child already running around their apartment, and countless conversations about “absolutely no more babies,” Oscar still somehow let himself get completely destroyed by one heat cycle and his omega husband smiling at him sweetly afterward.
Humiliating, honestly.
The worst part? Lando looked entirely too pleased with himself afterward.
They were tangled together in bed in Monaco, sheets messy around them while Oscar tried to remember how breathing worked.
Beside him, Lando was flushed from heat and giggling quietly into the pillow, looking so unfairly pretty Oscar almost got angry about it, almost.
Then Lando casually dropped the worst sentence Oscar had ever heard in his life. “Oh, by the way,” he mumbled sleepily, “I took my IUD out last month.”
Oscar went completely still. “…You what?”
Lando blinked at him innocently. “I took it out.”
Oscar stared, actually stared. “Lando.”
“You said I looked pretty when I was pregnant.”
“That was not consent to ambush me with fertility.”
Lando dissolved immediately into laughter, burying his face into Oscar’s shoulder while Oscar groaned loud enough to concern the neighbors. “You’re evil,” Oscar informed him.
“You love me.”
Unfortunately true, very unfortunately true. Oscar buried his face into the pillow dramatically. “We already have one child.”
“Mhm.”
“One very loud child.”
“Mhm.”
“One child who ate paper this week.”
“That was experimentation.”
Oscar turned to look at him flatly. “You planned this.”
Lando gasped dramatically. “I would never.” Silence, but then Lando answered again, “…Okay maybe a little.”
Oscar genuinely considered sleeping in the simulator room at McLaren for the rest of his life.
But then Lando curled closer immediately, pressing soft sleepy kisses against his shoulder while purring happily beneath the blankets, and Oscar remembered he was weak.
Deeply weak and apparently fate hated him. Because four weeks later, they were standing together in their bathroom at two in the morning staring at two very obvious pink lines.
Neither of them had spoken for nearly a full minute. Lando stood beside him in oversized sleep clothes, messy curls everywhere, holding the pregnancy test like it had personally offended him despite this being entirely his fault.
Oscar still hadn’t blinked. Somewhere in the apartment, Bruce’s dinosaur nightlight glowed faintly from down the hallway.
Lando looked down slowly at his stomach, then suddenly gasped softly. “Oh,” he murmured.
Oscar finally found his voice. “Oh?”
Lando looked up at him with dawning realization. “So that's why I cried over dinosaur nuggets.” Oscar closed his eyes immediately because yes that had happened.
Three days ago Lando had burst into tears in the kitchen because Bruce ate the last dinosaur shaped nugget and apparently “they were emotionally important.”
Oscar should have realized then. Instead he’d just assumed hormones and exhaustion.
Now? Now Oscar wanted to disappear into the Mediterranean permanently.
Beside him, Lando suddenly started laughing. Small helpless giggles at first before he leaned against the counter holding the positive test while laughing harder.
Oscar stared at him in disbelief. “You’re laughing.”
“You should’ve seen your face,” Lando wheezed.
“My life is over.”
“No it’s not.”
“We’re having another baby.”
Lando’s smile softened instantly then, one hand drifting unconsciously down to his stomach again.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We are.”
Oscar looked at him for a long moment. At the flushed cheeks, sleepy green eyes. Tiny smile pulling at his lips.
His omega, his husband, the father of his child—children.
God.
Oscar groaned dramatically and dropped his forehead against Lando’s shoulder. “Bruce is going to use this against me forever.”
Lando laughed softly and wrapped both arms around him immediately. “Probably.”
“You trapped me.”
“You’re literally an alpha.”
“You trapped me emotionally.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Four years later, Oscar sometimes looked around their house and wondered where exactly his life had gone wrong or more specifically—where exactly he had failed to stop reproducing.
Because somehow, despite all his very firm “absolutely nots,” he and Lando now had five children.
Five.
Bruce was six now and deeply proud of being a big brother, mostly because it allowed him to boss everyone around “for teamwork purposes.”
Then came Ellie, who had inherited Lando’s curls and Oscar’s terrifyingly judgmental stare.
Then Noah, then Lily, and now, currently asleep against Lando’s chest while Oscar reconsidered every decision he’d ever made, three-month-old Jamie.
Oscar blamed all of them on one catastrophic heat cycle in Monaco.
Lando disagreed completely. “You’re acting like you weren’t involved,” his omega laughed one evening while sitting cross-legged in the middle of their living room surrounded by children.
Bruce was building dinosaurs near the couch. Noah was asleep on Oscar’s shoulder. Ellie and Lily were fighting over crayons loudly enough to concern nearby countries.
Jamie slept peacefully against Lando’s chest completely unaware he’d destroyed Oscar’s remaining sanity.
Oscar looked around slowly, there were toys everywhere. Someone had drawn on the wall. Bruce was trying to teach the baby dinosaur noises.
And Lando—Lando looked happier than Oscar had ever seen him.
Soft curls messy. Wedding ring glinting beneath warm apartment lights. Baby tucked carefully against his chest while smiling at their chaos like this had always been his dream.
Which, apparently, it had.
“You did this to me,” Oscar informed him seriously.
Lando grinned immediately. “Actually I remember you being pretty involved.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes. Lando only looked more pleased with himself. “Besides,” he continued innocently, “you said no every time.”
“That feels legally untrue.”
Bruce suddenly looked up from the floor. “Papa?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can we get another one?”
Oscar nearly dropped Noah. Lando burst into laughter so hard he almost woke Jamie while Bruce looked deeply confused by the reaction.
Oscar stared at his oldest child in horror. “Absolutely not.”
Bruce frowned. “But teamwork.” Traitor, completely traitor. Lando was still laughing against Jamie’s hair when Oscar walked over and dropped onto the couch beside him with a dramatic groan.
“You encouraged this behavior,” Oscar muttered.
“Mhm.”
“You manipulated me.”
“Mhm.”
“You weaponized with your omega pheromones.”
Lando leaned over to kiss his cheek softly. “And yet you still kept getting me pregnant.”
Oscar looked at his husband. At their children. At the loud, messy, overwhelming life they somehow built together. Then he sighed deeply and pulled Lando closer against his side automatically.
Unfortunately—he wouldn’t actually change any of it.