Fine Line

Shane goddamn hated being pregnant. His feet were constantly swollen now, his lower back ached like hell, and he could no longer play hockey. And he wouldn’t be able to for a very long time, because damn Ilya Rozanov, with his magnificent eyes and muscular arms, couldn't goddamn pull out in time during Shane's last heat. Was Shane to blame for seducing his gorgeous alpha with his scent? Well, maybe only in part. Although, to be honest, Shane at the same time loved being pregnant. He was carrying a new life. Not even just one, but two. After much thought and conversation, he and Ilya had already decided to give the twins names that started with the letter A, but only after they were born in two months. He also loved how everyone, especially Ilya, had become so affectionate and helpful toward him. His mother, in particular, was buying up what seemed like tonnes of baby clothes and toys, insisting that twins needed a lot of things and it was better to take care of it in advance. And the sex. Sex during pregnancy was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He would have given Ilya a million more children just to experience those sensations over and over again. The way their bodies rocked in tandem, the way his belly had grown and become incredibly sensitive. How his breasts filled with milk and Ilya could spend hours driving him to the edge just by playing with his nipples, only to stop right when Shane was almost ready to come and start all over again. Ilya’s cock now pressed perfectly in all the right places, and Shane's body was constantly aroused, which led him to drag Ilya to bed several times a day. But right now, he wanted nothing. No sex, no kisses, no hugs. He wanted to destroy, to crush all their expensive dishes, tear up their tastefully selected pillows, and smash the pricey TV. Two hours ago, Ilya had bolted out of their shared home like he’d been scalded after a massive argument, leaving a very pregnant Shane all alone in this empty, cold space. Of course, he didn't doubt that Ilya loved him, but a tiny worm of doubt inside, sharing the space with their children, whispered otherwise. It writhed and squeaked that Ilya would leave him as soon as the twins were born. That no alpha would want such an washed-up omega who had already given birth. That alphas would always choose younger, prettier ones who hadn't given birth and certainly didn't have kids in tow. He would probably have to move back in with his parents. And then find some kind of job, because there was no way he could return to hockey, to the same team where he played alongside Ilya, while raising two children on his own. He’d end up as a gas station clerk, spending his evenings selling cigarettes and greasy food to lustful truckers and tipsy teenagers. Or worse, he’d have to work two jobs. Two kids — two jobs. He’d have to go scrub floors at the stadium where he once won cups and medals, skulking in the shadows so Ilya wouldn't notice him and start feeling pity. Or maybe Ilya would just laugh and kick Shane while walking away arm-in-arm with his new omega. Shane hadn't missed how the rookie on the team was devouring Ilya with his eyes. Maybe Ilya had gone to him just now? He’d probably already made up his mind and, upon returning, would ask Shane to pack his bags and get the hell out of their shared home. Maybe he should start packing right now? Yes, he would calm down, wipe his eyes, and like a proud, grown man carrying two children, he would stand up, obviously with God's help, because there was no other way to get up with a belly like that and go gather his belongings. Should he pack everything or just take things for the first few days? Would he be able to collect the rest later, or would Ilya throw his trophies and medals onto the curb and make Shane crawl on his knees to pick them up, all while their children were crying? Before he can stand, he hears a key turn in the door lock. Oh, look who finally showed up, his better half. Should Shane say everything now or wait until he’s packed to bring up the divorce and custody of their unborn twins? And what about their house and jobs? What about the truckloads of things his mother bought? God, they’d already promised Luka he’d be the godfather to one of the twins. Now they’d have to find a new godfather because Luka would definitely side with Ilya. Ilya enters the room, his cheeks slightly flushed from the Canadian frost. He’d stormed out of their house so fast he was only wearing a hoodie and a jacket. He’s holding a bag. What’s in there? Divorce papers, surely. And he was gone for so long because he was probably cheating on Shane with that rookie. After all, the rookie gets to play hockey instead of being stuck within four walls. Ilya goes into the kitchen, fusses with something, and returns to the room empty-handed. Where did he put the divorce papers? Shouldn’t Shane read and sign them, agreeing to measly alimony and joint custody? Ilya smiles. Shane would be smiling too if he were in his place. He’s not the one bloated like a damn balloon, unable to go anywhere or play hockey. "Babe, why are you so sad? I bought what you asked for. Strawberry yogurt with chunks and the pickles from that Russian store on 9th. Babe, why are you crying? Damn, did I forget something? Was it condensed milk? Did you want condensed milk? I can run back, it’s no trouble, just don’t cry. You shouldn't be stressed." Shane smiles through the tears welling in his eyes. Ilya hadn't forgotten; he’d bought everything Shane had asked for two hours ago. That was why Ilya had rushed out of the house in such a hurry. Because that morning, Shane had woken up with a sudden craving for the most disgusting combination possible: strawberry yogurt with fruit chunks and pickles from that specific Russian store on 9th. And Ilya, being the best husband, alpha, and father to their two future children, had gotten ready and run to the store without even eating breakfast to find that hellish combination. Now Shane could finely dice the pickles, pour the strawberry yogurt over them, and snuggle up next to his wonderful husband to watch his favorite movie for the millionth time.