Breathe (His Command Book 5) Page 19

  The dark tale Marshall was twisting tugged at Oli’s stomach and spun in his heart, excitement coiled tight in his chest like a spring ready to pop free.

  “So I want you to understand that I’m doing this because I love you, Oliver.” Marshall said it softly, like they were words Oli should cherish. His throat squeezed down around Marshall’s cock, and between spasms, he breathed in greedily through his nose. He was almost there.

  “I love you so much,” Marshall said. Then, without any more warning than that, he pinched Oli’s nostrils shut.

  Oli’s eyes flew open. He pushed back against Marshall not because he was starving for breath, but because of surprise. With his nose suddenly non-functional, panic took control. He couldn’t breathe. The burning squeeze in his lungs ached, and his body demanded he jerk away from the source of its discomfort, but Marshall’s knot held him in place. He was helpless.

  Oli wanted more.

  With a cry, he jerked his head to the side as best he could. It did nothing. Marshall continued to pinch his nose, and Oli’s body rebelled. His insides grew tight, and his throat began to convulse around Marshall’s cock again. Each ripple was more urgent than the last, a useless attempt to dislodge Marshall’s cock from his throat so he could breathe again. Oli tried to reel himself in, but he couldn’t. His body had gone rogue, and he was being dragged along for the ride.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aroused.

  Even in his fear, red-hot lust pooled in his groin. His hips jerked forward, and he buried himself into his tightening palm time and time again. With a single pinch of his fingers, Marshall had taken everything away from him. Everything. No matter how Oli pleaded, struggled, or cried, Marshall was in control.

  “Every breath you take is a gift from me,” Marshall told him, voice smooth and dark, polished until it shone, the silver in his soul now closer to gunmetal. Marshall released his nose just long enough that Oli could take a desperate breath, but as soon as he’d filled his lungs, Marshall pinched his nostrils shut again. Oli struggled against Marshall’s hand even though he knew doing so would only deplete him of oxygen. The tightness in his chest increased as his lungs begged for air. Oli’s balls, treacherous, tightened. He was so close. So close. “I want you to remember it, Oliver. When you see me at work, when we’re in public, when we’re out with our friends... you belong to me. But I won’t always be merciful, will I? How long will it be before I drag you into the nearest bathroom stall so I can remind you what you’ve promised me? How long until you scrape your knees on the pavement of a dark alley, your face against my crotch while your lips beg for my cock?”

  Oli’s back went rigid, and he choked out a cry around Marshall’s length as his stomach clenched. Orgasm crashed into him, hitting so hard that he had no choice but to close his eyes and let himself tumble into the darkness. Pleasure dragged Oli’s conscious mind down into its depths, and he surrendered his body to it freely. He came into his hand in spurts, crying out in muffled ecstasy as everything came to an end at once. He opened his eyes and did away with the darkness. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Oli didn’t have the presence of mind to know that Marshall had let go of his nose—his body took over for him, sucking in lungfuls of air that put an end to the tightness inside of him.

  “Good boy, Oliver,” Marshall praised. Both of his hands returned to the back of Oli’s head, but they no longer held him in place. Instead, Marshall stroked his hair lovingly.

  Oli wanted to cry.

  It wasn’t because he ached—although he did—and it wasn’t because Marshall had pushed him too far. It was because, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace had settled in his soul. It spread through his chest and into his stomach, then down through his thighs and into his limbs. Oli slumped against Marshall, totally spent. In his blissful state, the only things that mattered were how great he felt, the steady breaths he took, and the way Marshall caressed his scalp. What they’d just done was sexually charged and dark as fuck, but Oli had loved every second of it—and he loved it even better knowing that after the game was over, Marshall would be there to coax him back down into reality.

  “I’m so proud of you,” Marshall told him. His fingers kept moving, a silent promise that even after their bodies parted, he wouldn’t take Oli for granted. Their affection would continue even though sex was over. “You did so well.”

  All Oli could do was hum. Marshall’s knot had started to go down, but it would be a while before it regressed enough that Oli could part from him without doing either of them damage. Besides, he didn’t mind staying close. Cuddled up against Marshall he was warm, safe, and loved. Everything Oli wanted but had never been lucky enough to have was his, now that he was at Marshall’s side. It didn’t matter how sore his knees got, or how cold the water became—he’d found someone who completed him. Someone he loved fully and unconditionally.

  Someone he trusted with his life, just like Marshall had trusted Oli with his.

  “I love you, Oliver,” Marshall whispered. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it struck Oli differently, and affection distilled inside him like Marshall had never said it before. “You mean the world to me. I love you so goddamn much.”

  The peace spread and seeped into his bones. What they’d found in each other was right, and Oli wouldn’t let anyone convince him otherwise. He closed his eyes and let go of everything else. Everything he needed was already right here.

  31

  Marshall

  “How do you know when contractions aren’t fake contractions anymore?” Oliver asked casually while he sat on the stool by the breakfast bar, watching Marshall cook.

  “Is that supposed to be the lead-up for a joke, or are you serious?” Marshall glanced over his shoulder at his heavily pregnant husband. Oliver was officially on maternity leave, not that he’d spent much time at work since he’d started. All of it was very poor timing, and Marshall was glad that he was there to talk to Oliver’s project head about the extenuating circumstances. The last thing he wanted was for Oliver to lose his job because of Marshall’s health.

  “No, I’m pretty serious.” Oliver frowned. “… which is weird in and of itself, so maybe that’s a sign that these contractions aren’t fake. It’s not the same kind of false labor pains I’ve been having for the last few days, or like the ones that started coming on more regularly this morning. These are... well, I don’t want to say real, because the other ones were real, too, but—”

  Oliver stopped talking so he could wince. Marshall flicked off the burner and left the semi-cooked pan of greens where it was. “Oliver?”

  “Ow. Okay. That hurt.” Oliver wobbled down from the stool and held his stomach, which was hanging a little lower than Marshall remembered. “That really hurt. Is this the point where I have to go grab my bag and rush to the hospital, or should we call Dr. Volach first?”

  “We should call the doctor.”

  “Then you need to call the doctor,” Oliver said. “I think if I talk to anyone who’s not you right now, I’m going to punch their face.”

  “Dr. Volach will be over the phone, far away from your fist.”

  “But he won’t be forever,” Oliver said wisely, “and that’s going to be a problem.”

  Marshall suppressed a laugh. He already had his phone in his hand. “You should go sit on the couch. I’ll give him a call.”

  “No. I should keep walking, because that’s what my body’s telling me to do. I’m pretty sure Dr. Volach said it would help induce labor, and before you start, no, I’m not having any more sex. At all. Seriously. If you try to pin me down and take me one more time today, I will strangle you… and you know I like it rough.”

  Marshall didn’t think it was wise to laugh, even though he wanted to. The last eight months had been a flurry of activity, but Marshall embraced the chaos. He’d never felt so alive.

  “Then keep walking,” Marshall said. “I’ll call Dr. Volach and ask him what we should do, and we’ll take
it from there.”

  “We should get to the hospital,” Oliver mumbled. He paced from the kitchen into the living room, then circled the floor and headed to the hall. “I mean, we’re going to have to go there sometime, anyway. Might as well go now.”

  As Oliver muttered to himself, equal parts grumpy and adorable, Marshall called Dr. Volach and held the phone to his ear. He looked back at his pan of greens and wondered if he could get away with storing them half-cooked, or if they were done for.

  “Dr. Volach speaking,” the doctor said when the call connected.

  “Hello, doctor. This is Marshall Alcrest on the phone—Oliver McKellar’s husband.” Marshall paused. “Oliver believes he’s in labor. When should we make our way to the hospital?”

  “When did his contractions start, and how far apart are they?”

  “He’s been having them for the last day or so. I’d say...” Marshall glanced at his watch, and like clockwork, Oliver groaned from near the bathroom, “a little less than five minutes apart at this point.”

  “What would you say the pain level is like?”

  “He stopped talking mid-sentence when the last one hit,” Marshall said. “I’d say it’s pretty bad.”

  “How long have they been that bad?”

  “Not for long,” Marshall admitted. “He asked me to call as soon as they started.”

  “Wait about two hours, then head in and we’ll admit him. Congratulations in advance, Mr. Alcrest.”

  “Thank you.” Marshall smiled. He didn’t think he’d get tired of hearing it. They’d decided to keep their relationship closeted at work, but rumors had started to circulate. It was one of Synecta’s worst-kept secrets, but even Samantha, who seemed to have her finger on every pulse in the building, hadn’t stepped forward to wish him well for his new family. No one wanted to admit they knew, and it suited Marshall just fine—it meant that when Oliver got back to work, they could put the sixth floor to good use. Now that Marshall was feeling better than ever, he’d decided to hold off on stepping down. There was still a lot he had to give, and he wasn’t ready to abandon his empire just yet.

  “We’ll see you soon.”

  Two hours and an eternity’s worth of griping later, Marshall pulled into the parking lot of Westview General Hospital and helped Oliver into the building. Oliver, true to form, grumbled the whole way and said things that shouldn’t have been funny, but that Marshall found hilarious.

  “I have to do this twice. Twice. Two babies. There are two babies I’m going to have to push out of me, Marshall. Two.”

  “Yes,” Marshall said. Dr. Volach had called ahead for them, and provisions were already set up. “That’s the idea behind twins.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “That’s life.” Marshall kissed the top of Oliver’s head as he settled in his wheelchair. “You’re going to do a fantastic job of it.” He leaned a little closer to whisper in Oliver’s ear. “You like it rough, don’t you?”

  “Oh, don’t even start.” Oliver slapped half-heartedly at Marshall’s arm. “Did you call Cedric? Please tell me you called Cedric. Does he know? He invited me to be there when Everett was born. I want him to be there for the twins.”

  “I’ll call Cedric as soon as you’re set up in the delivery ward,” Marshall said.

  “Tell him that we’re naming one of the babies Reginald, even if they’re both girls.”

  Marshall snorted. “You can tell him yourself when he’s meeting the twins for the first time. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  Marshall wheeled Oliver down the hall. Dr. Volach had taken them on a brief tour of the birthing facility a week ago, and he was familiar enough with the hallways now that he could navigate them without getting lost.

  “We already filled out all the paperwork, right?” Oliver asked. “And you brought my overnight bag with my things? My robe?”

  “I brought your robe,” Marshall assured him.

  “Thank you.” Oliver’s voice became small. “I’m sorry I can’t stop talking. I’m... well, I’m scared, if I’m being honest. It’s really hard for me to think that the pain is going to get worse and last for hours, or days, or however long it happens to take. Gabriel’s delivery went so smoothly, but I think that was because he suffered all the way through the pregnancy, and the universe decided he’d paid his dues.”

  “You’re going to be fine,” Marshall reassured him. “Just remember to keep breathing. That’s all. One moment at a time. You can do this.”

  Oliver settled back in the chair, tilting his head back as he did so in order to look up at Marshall. Marshall glanced down at him.

  “When this is over, let’s not ever go back to a hospital again.” Oliver reached up and laid his hand gently on Marshall’s arm. “Okay?”

  Marshall quirked the corner of his lips. “That’s a tall order.”

  “I mean, let’s try. No more getting sick. No more having babies for... for at least a little.”

  “At least a little while?”

  “Well... you never know,” Oli murmured, although there was hope in his voice Marshall hadn’t expected to hear. “You might accidentally knock me up again one day. Maybe.”

  “Maybe,” Marshall agreed. They turned the corner and approached the maternity ward doors. The security guard on duty nodded at them and held open the door as they passed. Marshall made his way to the nurses’ station. “Totally accidentally.”

  “But not any time in the immediate future,” Oliver said sharply. Marshall watched his shoulders pinch together. His body went rigid. “I want to forget that these twins are currently attempting patricide before we even think about it.”

  “Definitely.” Marshall kissed the top of Oliver’s forehead, far more pleased than he’d thought he’d ever be. “Like I said... breath by breath, one moment at a time.”

  32

  Oli

  Crippling, agonizing pain had a way of making the world melt away. Oli couldn’t remember how long he’d been in the hospital, how little pain he’d experienced up until that point, or how it felt not to have to push a bowling ball sized object from his fragile body. All he knew was there was something solid inside of him, and he needed it out in the worst way.

  Marshall’s hand—little more than a pulverized piece of meat at this point—held his firmly as he bore down. Oli wanted to blame him for this mess, but his words came out as incoherent, warbled screeches that he wasn’t sure his vocal cords should have been able to make. Dr. Volach was at the foot of the bed now, along with Oli’s labor nurse, Rosie, and some other nurses he’d never been introduced to. They buzzed about the room and made the moment a thousand times more chaotic than it already was. Oli wanted to yell at them all to go away, but he was pretty sure he’d lost the ability to speak three pushes ago.

  “Push!” Dr. Volach urged him, as if Oli would rather pull the baby back in. Oli thought about kicking the glasses off his face to express his irritation, but searing pain distracted him, and he howled as he bore down.

  The low-hanging mass inside of him moved, and Oli felt a sudden rush followed by nothing. He floundered for air and lifted his torso up so he could look down his body. In Dr. Volach’s arms kicked a tiny purple person.

  A baby.

  Dr. Volach did something—what it was, Oli couldn’t tell—and a wail echoed through the room. The purple color faded to pink. A little tuft of dark wet hair was stuck to the baby’s head.

  No. Not just a baby—his baby. That was his baby in Dr. Volach’s arms, wailing at the top of his lungs. His little tiny mini-me. Oli Two-Point-Oh.

  “Congratulations,” Dr. Volach said. “It’s a boy.”

  Oli started to cry. The tears fell hot down his cheeks, washing away the sweat. He knew he wasn’t done—that there was still hell to go through—but the baby in Dr. Volach’s arms was his, and he was beautiful.

  “We’re not done yet, dear,” Rosie reminded him. She stepped forward to dab at Oli’s face with a damp towel. “There’s stil
l one more to go. Can you be strong for us?”

  “Yes,” Oli managed to say between sobs.

  Marshall squeezed his hand, and Oli focused through the tears to look at his face. While he stood at Oli’s side and squeezed his hand to let him know that he was there for support, his eyes were on their little boy. Exhausted, terrified excitement painted Marshall’s features with delicate vulnerability, stripping away his control. Oli had never seen Marshall like that before. He was stunning for his faults—made human through his weaknesses. Oli fell in love with him just a little bit more.

  Another rolling contraction put an end to all thought. The tender moment he’d lost himself in was stripped from him. He cried out again and pushed.

  “You’re doing great,” Rosie told him. “The second one will be easier. I promise. You’re almost done.”

  Oli’s body wasn’t sure it agreed with her. The pain let up momentarily so he could suck in a greedy breath, then returned worse than ever. Oli gritted his teeth and choked back a cry. Time became a nebulous concept again, strung together by one spike of pain after another. The waves were never-ending, and the urge to push came on stronger than ever. While Dr. Volach coaxed him on and nurses hurried to and fro, Oli pushed and pushed. Then, suddenly, the feeling passed. The urge to push stopped. He lifted his head wearily to find another baby in Dr. Volach’s arms, pink and screaming.

  Healthy.

  Oli laughed. His voice was hoarse and his throat was dry. He was sure he sounded insane, but he didn’t care. He’d done it. He’d given Marshall twins.

  He’d made them a family.

  “Congratulations,” Dr. Volach said fondly. “Another boy.”

  Oli laughed again and sank back onto the bed. The sheets were wet from his sweat, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered apart from the tiny humans Rosie and Dr. Volach now laid in his arms. They were small—almost too small to be real—and squishy and warm, and Oli loved them more than he’d ever loved anything in his whole life.