Chapter Text
Aurora's milk was always warm. Always sweet. Always exactly what Sarah needed.
The morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting golden light across the tile floor as Aurora leaned against the counter, one hand cradling the back of Sarah's head, the other supporting her own heavy breast. Sarah's lips worked eagerly, her eyes half-closed in that blissful, dreamy state that meant she was already slipping deep into her headspace.
Aurora smiled down at her, brushing a strand of dark hair from Sarah's forehead. "There you go, mami. Take what you need."
Maxwell Ricardo Alma pressed a warm kiss to his wife's lips, then bent lower to press another to the top of Sarah's head. She hummed around the nipple but didn't stop nursing—she never did when she was this far gone.
"I have to work late tonight," he said, his voice a low rumble that Sarah always found soothing. "Do you have any more of those El Salvadoran empanadas from last night?"
Aurora chuckled softly, careful not to jostle Sarah. "In the fridge, bottom shelf. There's about six left. And I made fresh horchata."
"Perfect." Maxwell's hand found Sarah's belly—that wonderfully round, heavy belly that had become such a central part of their daily life. He rubbed it gently, feeling the taut skin and the fullness beneath. Sarah whimpered softly, pressing her belly into his palm like a cat seeking attention.
"Someone's feeling full this morning," Maxwell murmured, his eyes meeting Aurora's over Sarah's head.
"She was up late," Aurora replied. "Couldn't get comfortable. I gave her a little extra before bed, and she finally drifted off around two."
Maxwell's jaw tightened slightly—not with anger, but with that quiet protectiveness he wore like a second skin. "Did she have a nightmare?"
"Nothing specific. Just restlessness." Aurora shifted, bringing Sarah closer as the younger woman's sucking slowed, her body growing heavy and limp with contentment. "She's fine now. She's always fine in the morning."
Twenty minutes earlier—before the nursing, before the sleepy morning light—Sarah had woken in her oversized crib.
It wasn't a real crib, not technically. It was a custom-built bed with high rails, padded in soft pink and white, filled with more pillows and stuffed animals than any adult should reasonably own. But Sarah wasn't an adult right now. She was small. She was safe. She was exactly where she belonged.
The first thing she felt was her belly.
Heavy. Full. Perfect.
She pressed both hands to the round mound, feeling the warmth and weight of everything inside her. The enema from last night was still holding strong, her body accustomed now to carrying this fullness for hours, sometimes days at a time. Her nightgown—soft pink cotton with little bunnies on it—stretched taut over the curve, and Sarah smiled sleepily.
She was so pregnant. So wonderfully, beautifully pregnant.
She'd been this way for three months now—ever since Maxwell and Aurora had learned exactly what she needed. It had started with a whispered confession, tears streaming down Sarah's face as she admitted she wanted to feel full. Wanted to feel heavy. Wanted to feel like she was carrying life inside her, even if it wasn't a real baby.
Aurora had held her. Maxwell had rubbed her back. And the next day, they'd gone shopping for supplies.
Now, Sarah couldn't imagine her life any other way.
"Baby girl?" Aurora's voice floated through the baby monitor on the nightstand. "Are you awake, mija?"
Sarah whimpered softly, her thumb finding its way to her mouth. She couldn't form words yet. Not when she was this deep.
"I hear you, sweetheart. Mommy's coming."
Aurora appeared in the doorway like an angel—which, to Sarah, she absolutely was. Her long brown hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore a soft robe that gaped open just enough to show the tops of her magnificent breasts. They were so full this morning, heavy with milk, and Sarah's mouth watered immediately.
"There's my baby," Aurora cooed, crossing to the crib and lowering the rail. She scooped Sarah up with practiced ease, cradling her against her chest. Sarah immediately nuzzled into Aurora's neck, breathing in her familiar scent—coffee, cinnamon, and something sweet that was just Mommy.
"Someone's hungry," Aurora murmured, carrying her toward the kitchen. "Daddy's still getting ready for work, but he'll come say goodbye before he leaves. Is that okay?"
Sarah nodded against her shoulder, her thumb still in her mouth.
"Use your words, baby."
"...'Kay."
Aurora pressed a kiss to her temple. "Good girl."
Now, in the kitchen, Sarah was in heaven.
Aurora's milk filled her mouth in warm pulses, rich and creamy and sweeter than anything she'd ever tasted. She sucked lazily, one hand resting on Aurora's breast, the other splayed across her own round belly. The fullness inside her—from the enema, from the milk—made her feel like she was floating.
When Maxwell's hand found her belly, she nearly melted.
His palm was so warm. So steady. He rubbed in slow circles, and Sarah could feel the pressure of his hand against the fullness inside her. It was almost too much, almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and admiring. "So full, baby girl. So beautiful."
Sarah whimpered around the nipple, her hips shifting slightly. She couldn't help it. The combination of Aurora's milk and Maxwell's hand on her belly was everything.
"She's close," Aurora observed, her thumb stroking Sarah's cheek. "She's going to drift off any minute."
"Let her," Maxwell said. He pressed another kiss to Sarah's forehead, then one to the very top of her round belly. "I'll see you both tonight. Be good for Mommy, okay, little one?"
Sarah managed a sleepy nod, her eyes already fluttering closed.
Maxwell's footsteps faded toward the front door. A moment later, they heard the lock click.
"Just you and me now, mija," Aurora murmured, settling more comfortably against the counter. "Take all the time you need."
Sarah's last conscious thought, before the milk and the warmth and the beautiful fullness pulled her under, was simple.
I'm home.