I get on my bicycle when a terrible ache increased in my lower stomach. I rubbed it to ease the pain. Ignoring it and I rode on my bicycle to the first stop. I rang the doorbell and delivered it to the gentleman that came out. I turned around to get on my bike when a sharp pain caused me to fall to my knees clutching my stomach. I moaned and breathed through the pain. After it was over, i got on my bicycle to the next stop. Meanwhile I did, I felt a burst of fluids draining from my
Gentle hands eased him back in the bed, Arthur’s hands. Those same hands propped pillows behind him, helped him to sit up then gathered their son from his cradle and carefully passed him to Merlin. It wasn’t until the baby was in his arms that Merlin realized just how profoundly weak he still was. He could barely lift his arms up to hold his son. He trembled with the effort and felt a tear roll down his cheek. He made a pathetic mother.
The sudden squeak of rubber soled shoes on polished floors signaled that apparently sick, demented cow noises, was a good clear signal to trained medical staff that a baby was arriving imminently. Jared moved out of the way of the flurry of arriving staff, to the head of the bed where Jensen had managed to partly drape himself as he pushed and strained to deliver their baby girl.
"Her name." John explains. "Sarah and I decided that we were going to name her Nora." And he held his breath in wait of Sherlock's response. He remembered the grief that Sherlock had given him when he and Sarah were deciding on names for their son, Rory; how they couldn't have come up with something more unique. This coming from a man named Sherlock who has a brother named Mycroft... Sometimes it was nice to be normal. And darn it if he was going to let Sherlock change...
It was just as he was pressing the 'SEND' button that a pained cry of "Sherlock! It's coming!" came from the other room, sending his heart racing with nerves. Quickly, he grabbed the last thing, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubbed some into his hands before heading back. Running back into the room, he stopped short at the sight of John perched on the edge of the bench; his lower body already undressed as he pushed with what was left of the contraction, his face flushed red from the exertion. It was surreal for Sherlock to see; John, his only friend, going through what as an Alpha he could only imagine (and had no desire to experience for himself) but handling it with the calmness and determination of...well...a soldier. The contraction over, his whole body seemed to go limp as he let his head lean forward, his eyes distant as he attempted to relax.
On the other hand, it felt so fucking good. He’d not been aware enough – or too focused on other agonies elsewhere – to realize they’d put some sort of pump on his cock and it was milking him like a farmer’s hand late for a date. At some point the nurse, the one who never had wiped that stupid grin off her face, had started gently massaging his swollen balls and it was both the best and worst sensation ever.
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