Chapter Text
"Say it again," Liam gasped, fingers clawing at the bedsheet beneath him as Marcus drove into him, hard and relentless. The headboard thumped against the wall in a rhythm that would've been embarrassing if either of them cared about the neighbours.
"You want me to breed you?" Marcus murmured against the sweat-damp skin of Liam's shoulder, his voice rough but playful, teeth grazing just enough to make Liam shiver.
"Fuck, yes, " Liam arched back, pushing into him, the words spilling out half-desperate, half-laughing. "Fill me up, fuck me, knock me up!"
It was ridiculous, objectively speaking. They'd joked about it before, how absurd it was, the way they played at this, Marcus pressing deep into Liam, like he could somehow make his boyfriend pregnant through sheer force of will, as he ploughed into his ass. But that was the thing about kinks; they didn't have to make sense.
Marcus laughed, low and dark, pressing his forehead against Liam's shoulder blade as he pushed into him, "I'm gonna fuck a baby into you," he told his boyfriend, his warm breath against Liam's ear.
Liam moaned, pushing back against him, but Marcus held him still with a hand splayed between his shoulder blades. "Christ, yes!"
"Greedy," Marcus murmured, but he wasn't teasing anymore. His voice had gone rough, the way it did when the game stopped being just a game and tipped into something else entirely. Liam could feel it in the way Marcus's grip tightened, the way his hips snapped forward like he was trying to prove a point.
For Liam, it had always been just that, roleplay. A dirty little fantasy they'd whispered, and groaned into each other in the dark, something to make Marcus fuck him harder, deeper, like he was trying to spawn a new life into him. But for Marcus, it was so much more.
Sprawled across the couch with Marcus's fingers tracing idle circles on his thigh, Liam hesitated before speaking. The dream had clung to him all morning, sticky and electric, like sweat after a fever. "I had the hottest fucking dream last night," he said, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. Marcus arched an eyebrow, pausing their Netflix rewatch. Liam exhaled, half-laughing at his own nerves. "You were fucking some woman. Like, properly *breeding* her, hands on her hips, grinding deep like you do with me when you're playing at it. And I was just... watching you." His throat tightened around the admission. "I woke up so hard I had to jerk off, immediately."
Marcus's fingers stilled. Something flickered in his gaze, recognition, hunger, a mirror of the dream's heat. "Fuck," he murmured, low and rough. "And you *liked* it?"
Liam swallowed, and chuckled, "Yeah, I did. I liked it a lot." He shifted on the couch, legs spreading slightly as Marcus's fingers resumed their slow tracing, higher now, teasing the hem of his shorts. The Netflix show had faded to background noise, forgotten. Marcus exhaled, slow and deliberate, like he was turning the idea over in his head, testing its weight.
"Would you really want to see that?" Marcus asked, voice dropping into something darker, rougher. His thumb pressed against the inside of Liam's thigh, just shy of where he wanted it. "Me fucking a woman for real? Filling her up until she got pregnant?" The words curled between them, sticky with a dangerous possibility.
Liam swallowed hard. The dream had planted the idea like a seed, and now Marcus was watering it, watching it grow. "Yes," he admitted, breath catching when Marcus's fingers tightened. "Fuck, yes. Watching you do it for real, like actually *breeding* someone, would be the hottest fucking thing ever." His pulse hammered at the thought of seeing his boyfriend like that, raw, unrestrained, and *manly* in a way they could never fully replicate between the two of them.
Marcus exhaled sharply through his nose, his heart pulsing at the idea, fingers tightening on Liam's thigh almost imperceptibly. Liam recognized that look, Marcus was already mapping it out in his head, constructing the scenario with the same precision he applied to his woodworking projects. A slow smile curled Marcus's lips, and Liam felt it like a spark catching dry tinder. "We *could* make it happen," Marcus murmured, voice thick with promise. "I mean, if you're serious..."
They spent hours that night hunched over Marcus's laptop, scrolling through forums and niche sites Liam hadn't even known existed. The search felt illicit, thrilling, like they were planning a heist instead of a hookup. Most women balked at the request or assumed it was some elaborate prank. Then Mary found them.
Her message popped up a little before midnight, just as Liam was rubbing his tired eyes. *"So let me get this straight,"* she'd typed, *"you want your boyfriend to fuck me raw until I’m knocked up, while you watch us? And you’re both... into that?"* Liam's pulse jumped, his fingers paused over the keyboard before replying, *"Yeah. Exactly that."*
Mary took three agonizing minutes to respond. Then: *"God, that’s so hot! Let’s talk."*
They met her the following weekend at a dimly lit cocktail bar, neutral territory, Marcus had insisted, somewhere they could all back out gracefully if the vibe wasn't right. After all, this could be anyone, given some of the fishy sites they'd been searching and posting, they had to be sure she was genuine and not a threat. They were sure she felt the same way.
Liam had been fidgeting with his beer bottle when she walked in, Mary, a brunette with sharp cheekbones and a smirk that made his stomach flip. She slid into the booth beside Marcus, close enough that their thighs brushed.
Mary worked as a midwife, ironic, she’d laughed, and had been single for two years after a string of disappointing relationships. "Men who don’t know what they want," she’d said, swirling her drink, "but you two? You seem to know exactly what you want." Liam had grinned at that, nudging Marcus under the table.
Marcus told her about their first date, how Liam had spilled wine on his shirt and tried to clean it with napkins until Marcus just took it off him. "Romantic," Mary teased, but her eyes flicked between them with something like fascination.
By the second round, Liam was loose-lipped, confessing how the fantasy had started, Marcus pinning him down one night, growling *"I’d breed you if I could,"* and the way Liam had come undone just from the absurd notion of Marcus impregnating him. Mary listened, chin propped on her hand, and when Marcus admitted he’d been jerking off to the thought of Liam watching him *actually* do it, She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Christ," she said, "you two are practically vibrating with lust for each other. It's a miracle you're still this cute."
The next evening, Mary arrived precisely at seven, wearing a silk blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. Liam let her in, his pulse hammering as she stepped past him, her perfume lingering, something warm, like amber. Marcus was already pouring wine in the living room, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, forearms tensed in a way that made Liam’s mouth go dry.
Mary took the glass, her fingers brushing Marcus’s, and Liam watched the way Marcus’s gaze dropped to her mouth when she licked her lips. "So are we OK with the ground rules?" Mary asked, settling onto the couch. "No kissing, it's just too intimate for me. The kind of thing I only want to be doing with a full-time partner. And I assume Liam still wants to watch everything, right?"
Marcus glanced at Liam, who nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I want to be there to watch. And it would feel too much like him cheating if I wasn't. When I'm there with him, it's something we're doing together as a couple, even if I'm just watching," Liam told her. Mary laughed, low and warm, and took a sip of wine. "Fair enough. But if at any point, any of us wants to stop, we stop. No exceptions." Marcus nodded immediately, his hand finding Liam's knee, squeezing once in silent agreement.
Marcus and Liam led Mary to their bedroom, the air already thick with anticipation. Liam lingered near the doorway, watching as Mary unbuttoned her blouse with deliberate slowness, her eyes locked onto Marcus’s. The way Marcus’s fingers trembled slightly as he undid his belt sent a jolt through Liam, this wasn’t roleplay anymore. This was actually happening. Mary’s breasts spilled free, full and soft, and Marcus exhaled sharply through his nose before reaching out to cup them, hesitating just long enough for Liam to see the unfamiliarity in his touch. But when Mary arched into his hands, a soft moan escaping her lips, Marcus’s grip tightened, his thumbs brushing over her nipples with a curiosity that made Liam’s stomach feel funny.
Liam sank into the chair by the dresser, his fingers clung to the armrests as Mary’s hands slid down Marcus’s chest, brushing his shirt off his shoulders. The sight of Marcus, *his* Marcus, standing there, his breath stuttering as Mary traced the lines of his torso, sent a jolt through Liam that was equal parts arousal and something sharper, almost painful. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. More like the dizzying realization that this no longer had the control of something that had always been just a fantasy they'd whispered in the dark. Marcus’s cock strained against his briefs, thick and eager.
Mary’s fingers hooked into the waistband of Marcus’s briefs, dragging them down slowly, her lips curling into a smirk as Marcus’s cock sprang free. Liam had seen it a thousand times, had taken it in his mouth, his hands, his ass, but watching Mary’s reaction was like seeing it again for the first time. Her breath hitched, eyes darkening as she wrapped her fingers around him, stroking once, twice, her thumb swiping over the head where precum beaded. "Fuck, you weren’t kidding," she murmured, glancing at Liam with something like amusement. "He really *is* thick."
Liam’s fingers dug into the chair’s armrests, knuckles whitening as Mary’s lips were now wrapped around his boyfriend's cock, her tongue swirling in a way that made Marcus groan, a sound Liam knew intimately, but one caused by someone else’s mouth this time. The wet, slick noises filled the room, mingling with Mary’s soft hums of approval. Marcus’s hand tangled in her hair, not guiding, just *feeling*, his other palm splayed across her bare back as she bobbed lower, taking him in deeper. Liam’s own cock ached, trapped in his jeans, but he didn’t dare touch himself. This wasn’t about him.
The air in the bedroom crackled with tension, thick with the scent of sweat and arousal, as Mary had now straddled Marcus’s lap, her fingers gripping onto his shoulders for balance. Liam’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her shift forward, the glistening wetness between her thighs catching in the soft light of the room. Marcus’s hands trembled slightly as they settled on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh there, like he wasn’t quite sure how he should hold her.
Mary exhaled and asked them if they were still okay to continue. Marcus hesitated, his fingers flexing against Mary's hips, eyes darting to Liam for confirmation, like he needed to see it written in Liam's expression before he could believe this was actually real. Liam nodded, swallowing hard, his pulse hammering in his throat as Mary shifted her hips, pressing Marcus's cock against her entrance. The first inch slipped in with a wet, slick sound, and Marcus's breath hitched in a shaky, uneven gasp, his body tensing with anticipation, his fingers tightening convulsively on Mary's hips as she sank down, taking him deeper, inch by obscene inch, until she was fully seated on his lap.
Liam watched, transfixed, as Marcus's expression flickered, first shock, then something raw and primal, his lips forming a perfect 'O' of disbelief as a wave of understanding washed over him. The furrow in his brow smoothed out, replaced by a quiet focus that seemed to settle deep within him. His gaze, once clouded with a heady mix of arousal and anxiety, now sharpened into a focused, unwavering intensity, a silent acknowledgment that he'd crossed a threshold from which there was no return.
Mary rocked her hips experimentally, a soft gasp escaping her lips as Marcus's cock stretched her open. "Jesus," she breathed, hands braced against his shoulders, and she began to move, slow at first, then with growing confidence as Marcus's grip tightened on her waist. Liam leaned forward in his chair, transfixed by the sight of Marcus's shaft, glistening with Mary's arousal, disappearing inside her with each downward stroke. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by Mary's soft moans and the sharp hitch of Marcus's breath whenever she clenched around him.
Liam had seen Marcus lose himself in pleasure before, eyelids fluttering, muscles taut, but this was different. The way Marcus's gaze locked onto Mary's body, tracing the swell of her hips, the softness of her stomach, with something like reverence, sent a jolt through Liam that was equal parts arousal and something sharper. Marcus's fingers splayed across her thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as Mary rolled her hips, taking him deeper with each stroke. There was hunger in the way Marcus watched her, not the playful dominance he wielded with Liam, when they acted out their kink, but something raw, almost animalistic.
Mary arched her back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and Marcus's grip on her hips tightened, pulling her down harder onto him with a groan that sounded like it had been ripped from his chest, Mary's cunt quivered, clenching around Marcus as she came, her moans sharp and desperate. Marcus followed seconds later, his hips stuttering upward as he spilled into her with a ragged gasp, face contorting, hips jutting up into her with unthinking urgency, like his body was overriding his mind, driven by something older and deeper than any fantasy he'd shared. Liam watched, transfixed, as Marcus's fingers still clinging to Mary's hips, holding her flush against him, both of them shuddering through the aftershocks.
Mary exhaled sharply as she peeled herself off Marcus, her thighs glistening with sweat and the evidence of their coupling. She swiped a loose strand of hair from her forehead and grinned at them both, the flush on her chest deepening. "So?" she asked, reaching for her discarded blouse. "Did it live up to the fantasy?"
Liam managed an answer first, his voice rougher than he expected. "Fuck, yeah. That was..." He swallowed, eyes flicking to Marcus, who was still catching his breath, "so incredibly hot, watching you both together."
The shower hissed in the background, steam curling under the bathroom door as Mary rinsed off. Liam watched Marcus pull up his sweatpants, fingers lingering at the waistband like he was still processing what had just happened. "So?" Liam asked, toeing off his shoes. "How'd it feel? Actually *breeding* her?" The question hung between them, sticky and electric.
Marcus exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. "It was.... fucking incredible," he admitted, but his voice lacked the usual post-coital rasp, it was smoother, almost detached. "Like we finally took it all the way, you know?" He glanced at Liam and smiled, but his gaze slid past him, landing somewhere near the rumpled bedsheets.
Liam hesitated. "And...the rest of it? What was it like being with a woman for the first time?" He tried to keep his tone light, but his fingers twitched at his sides. Marcus shrugged, tossing his shirt into the hamper with a careless flick of his wrist. "It was... fine. Nothing special. Just different, I guess." He turned away slightly, avoiding Liam's eyes. Though whether it was from embarrassment, or something else he wasn't saying, Liam couldn't tell.
The shower cut off abruptly, leaving only the drip of water in the silence between them. Liam wanted to press, to find out what he really thought, but Mary emerged wrapped in a towel, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. "My Uber ride's about ten minutes out," she announced, rummaging through her bag for her clothes.
They made new plans for following weekend, Mary had told them that's when her ovulation would peak, when Marcus’s seed would have the best chance of taking root. Liam nodded along as she explained the timing was crucial if they really wanted this to happen.
The moment Mary's Uber disappeared around the corner, Liam pushed Marcus against the front door, hands fisting in his shirt. Marcus barely had time to exhale before Liam's mouth was on his, hungry and possessive, teeth scraping his lower lip just hard enough to sting. "Mine," Liam growled against his mouth, tugging him toward the bedroom with a grip that brooked no argument. Marcus followed, eyes dark, letting himself be manhandled onto the mattress with a quiet chuckle that dissolved into a groan as Liam straddled him, fingers working his belt buckle with frantic urgency.
Liam didn't tease, not tonight. He yanked Marcus's pants down just enough to free his cock, already growing hard again, and sank onto him without preamble, biting back a moan at the stretch. Marcus gasped, hands flying to Liam's hips, fingers digging in as Liam rolled his hips in slow, deliberate circles. "Fuck, Liam!" Marcus choked out, but Liam silenced him with another bruising kiss, tongue sweeping into his mouth as he ground down harder, taking Marcus deeper, reclaiming every inch of him.
The heady scent of Mary's perfume still clung to Marcus's skin, mingling with sweat and sex, and Liam buried his face in the crook of Marcus's neck, inhaling sharply as he rode him with rough, unrelenting strokes. He could feel Marcus trying to hold back, his muscles coiled tight beneath Liam's palms, but Liam wasn't having it. "Cum inside me!" He demanded, voice ragged against Marcus's throat. "Breed me. Like it's only us again."
Marcus's hips jerked upward, a broken sound tearing from his chest as Liam clenched around him, the pressure deliberate, cruel in its precision. "Fuck!" Marcus's fingers dug into Liam's thighs, blunt nails leaving faint marks as he spilled into him, hot and pulsing, just the way Liam had demanded from him.
Marcus exhaled in the dark, his breath warm against Liam’s temple as he pulled him closer, their sweat-damp skin sticking together in the humid aftermath. Liam curled into him, pressing his cheek against Marcus’s chest where the steady thump of his heartbeat lulled him toward sleep.
Mary arrived the following weekend with an ovulation test already positive, which meant she was currently at her most fertile, during the month. They enjoyed a light meal and a glass of wine, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Liam could tell Marcus was trying hard to stay relaxed, joking about the weather, and asking Mary about her week, but his fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh, betraying his anticipation.
The bedroom smelled faintly of the lavender-scented candle Mary had insisted on lighting, something about ambiance, but beneath it lingered the musk of their last encounter, a ghost of sweat and sex that made Marcus's fingers twitch as he undid his belt buckle. Liam perched on the same chair as before, arms crossed loosely over his chest, and watched as Mary slid out of her dress with practiced ease. This time, she didn't bother with a tease. Her hands went straight to Marcus's waistband, tugging him forward by the hips until his cock brushed her bare stomach. Marcus inhaled sharply, eyes darting to Liam like he needed permission, even now.
Liam nodded, throat tight, feeling almost as eager just to watch them again.
Mary's hands were sure this time, no hesitation as she guided Marcus onto the bed, her thighs sandwiching his hips with a confidence that made Liam's breath hitch. They didn't waste time with any foreplay this time, either, they knew exactly why they were there. Marcus's fingers flexed against Mary's waist as she sank down onto him, her head tipping back with a soft, languid moan, like she'd been waiting for this all week, Marcus looked just as hungry, just as impatient, his usual teasing restraint nowhere to be found. Liam licked his lips, watching Marcus's face twist as Mary clenched around him, her hips rolling in slow, filthy circles designed to milk him deeper.
The room smelled like lavender and sex, the candle flickering shadows against Mary's back as she braced herself against Marcus's chest, riding him with a rhythm that was almost clinical in its precision. Liam knew why, this wasn't just about fucking, it was about timing, biology, the mechanical efficiency of conception. Mary's breath came in measured bursts, her lips parted slightly as she concentrated, adjusting the angle of her hips until Marcus groaned, his hands tightening on her waist. "There," she murmured, satisfaction bleeding into her voice as Marcus's hips jerked beneath her. Liam swallowed hard, his own cock twitching at the sight of Marcus struggling to remain composed, his usual dominance surrendered to the raw, animal urgency of breeding.
Mary's nails dug into Marcus's chest as she quickened her pace, her thighs trembling with effort. Liam could see the exact moment Marcus snapped, his eyes going dark, his grip on Mary turning bruising as he thrust up into her with a guttural sound Liam had never quite heard before. Mary gasped, her back arching, and Liam watched, transfixed, as Marcus's hips stuttered, his release hitting him like a freight train. Mary didn't stop, didn't pull away, she kept moving, flexing her hips and milking him through all of it, her own breath coming in shallow bursts as she chased her own climax, her body clenching around Marcus with a shudder that made his hips jerk weakly beneath her.
Afterward, Mary collapsed onto Marcus's chest, her breath hot against his skin as they both panted, sweat-slick and spent. Liam stayed quiet in his chair, his own arousal throbbing under his jeans, but he didn't dare interrupt. This wasn't his moment. Marcus's fingers traced idle patterns on Mary's back, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.
As the weekend visits became routine, Liam noticed the gradual shifts. They were subtle at first, then undeniable. Like the way Marcus’s fingers lingered for a while, on Mary’s waist after sex, tracing the soft curve of her hip in a way that wasn’t just post-coital laziness. Or how Marcus’s laughter sounded different when Mary teased him, lighter, almost boyish.
Mary was acting differently too, she’d started staying a while longer after their sessions, lingering over coffee, her bare feet tucked under Marcus’s thigh as they scrolled through baby forums together, on the couch. Liam told himself it was fine. Natural, even. This was supposed to be the fulfillment of their shared fantasy, exactly what they'd all wanted and enthusiastically agreed to.
And in some ways, it was. Watching Marcus with Mary sent a jolt of intense arousal through Liam. He saw his boyfriend wield that masculine power, that primal drive to breed—a biological imperative Liam's body could never fulfill, Yet he had given Marcus permission to explore this, and the painful thrill of it was his own. But the fantasy was fracturing along lines Liam hadn't anticipated.
Between their passionate encounters, a quiet intimacy was growing between Marcus and Mary, built on shared jokes and knowing glances. Whenever Marcus's eyes lingered on hers during a quiet moment, a cold knot formed in Liam's stomach. This emotional connection was far more unsettling than the physical act. It was supposed to be just about the kink, just about Marcus breeding her, but the genuine bond forming between them left Liam with a growing unease, worried about where it might all be heading.
Liam told himself he was probably imagining it, the way Marcus's touches seemed to grow absent-minded in the quiet intimacy of their weekday evenings. his fingers tracing Liam’s ribs without the usual hunger, kisses landing just shy of desperate. He told himself he was probably paranoid, that Marcus made all those same noises with him, the same punched-out groans when Mary clenched around him, the same ragged gasp as he spilled inside her, that he'd had just been too lost in pleasure, when it was just Marcus and him, to notice those details.
Then one day, Mary showed up with a positive pregnancy test clutched in her hand, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Liam watched as Marcus's face transformed, first in disbelief, then in elation as he pulled Mary into a hug so tight her feet left the ground. Their laughter tangled together, muffled against each other's shoulders, then Marcus reached for Liam and pulled him into the embrace. But Liam could feel it, the way Marcus's grip lingered on Mary's waist, the way their foreheads touched briefly when they pulled apart, like they now shared something special that didn't really include him.