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Bringing home one baby was a mind-fuck… but TWO?
And Hope… After we got back to the States, that first week, I walked in on her laughing and singing Mary Had A Little Lamb while she was feeding Diana, holding her like a little football. And then the second she looked up and saw me, Hope burst into tears.
I tried to ask her what was wrong and she just shook her head and sobbed more, then detached the baby from her breast—which made Diana start to sob—and left me with the crying baby while she went to shower.
Meanwhile I was left all alone with a three-week-old baby that I tried, mostly successfully, to keep alive for the next twenty minutes while Hope showered. I didn’t drop her. Did that count as a fatherhood win? Fuck, I was shit at this.
So it wasn’t like I could exactly tell Hope right then the bomb Milo had dropped on me. Or the next day. Or the next day.
And now here it was, eight weeks after Milo had first told me and these babies had come into the world.
It felt like a year ago. And like yesterday. Time had entered a strange warp in the last couple months. I barely knew up from down half the time. I was either burping a baby, changing a diaper, trying to calm a fussy baby, washing a baby, washing baby clothes, helping Hope with something or other, or catching a few hours of sleep until the next baby began crying.
Janus took Hope to the doctor today and apparently had finally gotten the go ahead for—
Hope turned back around, her face radiant in spite of the bags under her eyes. “You all better make me feel like a woman and not a mother for the next fifteen minutes. Milo, you got the baby monitor?”
“Got it,” Milo grinned.
I stared at him. He’d been family to me since I was a kid and lost my parents. Besides Janus, he was the only other solid in my life.
I couldn’t even bring myself to be furious at him for what he’d done.
How could I? His reckless, devious action was… a betrayal to Hope and all of us… but at the same time it had given me my son and daughter.
I was so tired. So exhausted. So… fulfilled.
And again, my mind shied away from what seemed like too big a puzzle to figure out as Hope pulled us all into the theater.
She waved us in, smacking Janus on the ass with a grin and then pulling the soundproof door shut behind us. Then she stripped off her shirt and exposed her ripe, breastfeeding-chapped bosom. Just as quickly, she pushed down her pajama pants, underwear, socks, all of it.
In moments, she was naked before us.
It was astonishing almost, to see her so naked and succulent before us now.
For so long we’d all just been… caretakers. We were just a bundle of arms, hands, legs, and in Hope’s case—breasts—that were in service of those two babies in the other wing of the house.
But now…
Just looking at her, my cock hardened in a way I’d almost forgotten it could.
I sank to my knees in front of her.
One by one, I kissed her knees. Precious flesh. Then up her thighs.
On each side of me, my brothers joined me.
I was so furious at Milo, but I didn’t shun him when he dropped to the floor at my right as Janus took my left.
Janus cupped Hope’s ass and she looked down at him. A little desperate. Almost feral.
She reached down and clutched Janus’s hair in a harsh grip, and then she begged him, “Please. Daddy.”
Her message was apparently received loud and clear.
Because while she still had grip of his hair, Janus reared back his hand and walloped her ass.
The erotic, high-pitched noise she let out, you would have thought one of us was sucking on her clit.
“Yes, Daddy. Please may I have another?”
Janus’s nostrils flared, and his eyes briefly skittered to Milo and me, before he grinned back up at Hope.
“Yes, baby. When you ask so nicely. You’ll get ten. But only if you beg me for every one. Bend over the sofa right here so I can see this ass get nice and pink with my handprints.”
Chapter 18
JANUS
I knew my brothers were exhausted and Leander was hilariously overwhelmed by the babies. They were just small humans. Their needs were basic. It wasn’t that hard. Ok, Paul was a bit fussy, but still.
I mean, I was living my best life.
After working myself to the bone on the movie, working myself to the bone to care for two little babies—my children—was an honor.
And it felt… better. Because this wasn’t working with me as the star, you know.
Taking care of babies was the most ego-free work on the planet.
They didn’t care about my star-power or lack of it. They didn’t give a shit whether it was me or Leander or Milo cleaning up their shit that had somehow yet again escaped their diaper and slid up their backs. Ruining another onesie. How their little bodies were capable of so much shit, I still could not comprehend. They were nonstop little shit factories.
