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Phainon doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Anaxa not pregnant.
Anaxa’s constantly complaining that he looks fat, but Phainon thinks Anaxa looks beautiful like this; laid out naked, his round belly heavy with child, breasts engorged and milk leaking from puffy nipples.
“At least let me birth this baby first before you put the next one in me,” Anaxa says. His brow is furrowed, forehead beaded with sweat as he quietly grimaces through another contraction of his womb.
“What if I don’t want to wait?” Phainon says, playfully. He puts his hands on Anaxa’s knees to spread his thighs.
It's already been half a day, but Anaxa’s cunt is still a thin, delicate slit. For now, Phainon thinks, as he rubs a thumb over Anaxa’s clit in slow circles. Slowly, as Anaxa’s labor progresses, his hole will start to slowly open up like a pretty pink flower in bloom.
Phainon already has a few names picked out, although he knows Anaxa will end up vetoing everything. Because apparently Phainon has horrible taste in baby names, Anaxa’s always said.
“Phainon,” Anaxa says, exasperated. “Hands off.”
“No,” Phainon says with a pout. He moves closer, careful as he spreads Anaxa’s legs wider, until the glistening folds of Anaxa’s cunt part invitingly.
“Phainon,” Anaxa says again, more firmly now. “Stop that.”
Phainon can feel Anaxa struggling to sit up, but Anaxa’s so heavily pregnant that his arms can't quite reach down around his belly to push Phainon away. Phainon gently kisses the heated flesh of Anaxa’s cunt, enjoying how it makes Anaxa squirm; Anaxa’s always so much more sensitive the further he gets in his pregnancies.
“Do you think it's a girl, this time?” Phainon says hopefully.
Anaxa rolls his eyes, then quietly says, “I think we're having twins.”
Phainon goes still. “Are you sure?”
“Two boys, I’m sure,” Anaxa says, pained. “Haven't you noticed how much more I look like a cow this time?”
“You don't look like a cow,” Phainon says. “You look gorgeous,” and he bends over to press another kiss to Anaxa’s cunt.
He hears Anaxa whine in protest, but it’s easy to hold Anaxa still when he can barely move on his own, weighed down by his massive belly. Phainon languidly licks and sucks at the reddening flesh of Anaxa’s cunt, and is delighted when he feels Anaxa suddenly clenching around him as he’s hit with another wave of contractions.
They already have five boys, all tall, blue-eyed and thick platinum blond hair, spitting images of Phainon. The eldest just turned six and is already tall enough to boop Anaxa on the nose, much to Anaxa’s consternation. And all five were huge babies at birth, each labor taking hours before Anaxa’s poor cervix could dilate wide enough for the babies to pass through.
That, along with the tocolytics Phainon discreetly mixes into Anaxa’s dinner every night for a week up to his due date, to drag out his labor.
The last baby needed nearly two days of labor, and Anaxa was so delirious with pain and exhaustion by the end that he barely noticed the baby being born. This time Phainon’s determined to stretch his labor out even longer, painstakingly calculating the highest possible dose of drugs he could feed Anaxa before Anaxa caught on.
Phainon can’t wait to see if Anaxa’s prediction is right - twin boys! - but an illogical part of him is already mourning the fact that soon Anaxa won’t be pregnant anymore. He’ll have to fuck Anaxa again as soon as the babies are born, to make sure Anaxa stays pregnant. It feels like an insatiable, desperate, need. To breed Anaxa over and over again until he will never know what life is like without the weight of Phainon’s child in his belly.
“We’re almost there,” Phainon says, encouragingly. He kisses the crook of Anaxa’s knee. “How are you feeling?”
Anaxa snorts. “We’re not almost there. You can stop trying to lie to me, clearly all our children have inherited your stubbornness and love for driving me up the wall.”
Phainon blinks unapologetically. “Let me check if you’ve started opening up,” he says.
Anaxa is so wet that he's dripping, his fluids soaking into the sheets under him. But still he’s remarkably tight around Phainon’s fingers, and it takes a few minutes and a lot more kisses down the sides of Anaxa's inner thighs before he can loosen up enough for Phainon’s hand.
“You don’t have to put your entire hand in,” Anaxa says, complaining. He's shifting about again, and Phainon has to grab him with his other hand to hold him steady as he feels around for the entrance to Anaxa’s womb.
Thanks to the drugs, he's nowhere near dilated enough; this will be another long labor for Anaxa, Phainon thinks, delighted.
For a moment Phainon wonders if he can plug up Anaxa’s cervix, to see if that would keep Anaxa pregnant for a few more days. He curiously pushes the tip of his finger in, forcing his way through the unripened opening, and immediately Anaxa lets out a sharp, shocked cry.
“Phainon. Stop- That's… That’s enough,” Anaxa says, his voice strained.
Phainon can feel Anaxa’s cervix twitching weakly around his finger. Anaxa’s cervix has always been extremely sensitive, so much that the only time Phainon is ever allowed to touch him up there is when Anaxa is in labor.
He starts sliding his finger in and out of the tiny opening, carefully fucking Anaxa’s cervix in short, sharp thrusts. It makes Anaxa writhe and wail, face scrunching up, and Phainon watches, enthralled.
It’s only when Phainon belatedly realizes that he's probably speeding up Anaxa’s labor that he regretfully withdraws his hand. And true enough Anaxa’s cunt is gaping a little more now, forcibly dilated into an almond-shaped hole that bares the pink of his insides.
Phainon silently curses his own recklessness. Anaxa slumps down, bare breasts rising and falling as he shudders. Milk beads out from a flushed nipple, and Phainon bends over to lick it off.
Anaxa has been repeatedly pregnant for so long that his breasts have swelled to thrice their original size now, near-permanently red hot and rock hard with milk. And Phainon secretly loves listening to Anaxa complain about it, the way none of his shirts manage to last a full day without getting ruined by the leaking milk, dutifully helping him empty his breasts whenever it gets too painful.
It makes him even more sensitive, too; Anaxa can rarely stand Phainon touching his breasts lately. But still it doesn't stop Phainon from playing with Anaxa’s nipples whenever he can, pinching and biting at the tender buds until he earns himself a scolding.
“Don’t do that,” Anaxa hisses, his words ending in a yelp as Phainon gently nibbles and suckles at a nipple. “Phainon!”
Anaxa’s milk tastes like cream. Phainon ignores Anaxa’s hand in his hair trying to pull him off, gripping so tightly that his scalp hurts; Anaxa could be ridiculously stubborn sometimes, refusing to let Phainon help relieve the pressure of his milk-engorged breasts.
Anaxa’s nipples are bitten-red and raw by the time Phainon is finished. Anaxa glares half-heartedly at him, but he’s no longer leaking milk and his breasts feel softer now in Phainon’s hands.
“Does that feel better now?” Phainon murmurs. He bends down to kiss Anaxa on the lips, letting Anaxa taste the sweetness of his own milk.
“Yes,” Anaxa says, still glowering. “Are you satisfied now?”
“Not really,” Phainon admits; he’s so hard in his pants that it aches.
“Put your dick anywhere near me,” Anaxa says, “and I swear I’ll bite it off the moment I can get up.”
“You don’t really mean that,” Phainon says, grinning. He’s already tugging Anaxa into position, pulling him to the edge of the bed so that his legs are hanging off the sides.
Phainon is so desperate that he almost forgets to be gentle. He knows he's too big for Anaxa sometimes, but Anaxa is so wet that his cunt easily splits open around the thick girth of Phainon's cock.
Anaxa lets out a strangled sound. Phainon folds one of his legs up, grateful that Anaxa is somehow still flexible after all his pregnancies, and grinds deeper in. Anaxa’s cunt is a pulsating liquid heat around him at this new angle, and it makes Phainon thrust faster, deeper, mindless in his need, all illusions of gentleness gone now as he rocks Anaxa’s pregnant body against the mattress.
He feels it when Anaxa goes through another contraction, his womb weakly fighting against the drugs in his system in its attempt to birth the babies. Anaxa rarely vocalizes his pain through all his previous pregnancies, preferring to labor in silence, but this time he cries out loud as his cunt spasms violently around the unyielding intrusion of Phainon's cock.
Somehow it reminds Phainon of the way Anaxa used to scold him, years ago back when he was still a student in Anaxa’s class. He'd used to get up to all sorts of mischief, constantly interrupting Anaxa in class just to catch Anaxa’s attention.
Anaxa is howling his name now, but Phainon’s so far gone that he doesn’t stop, can’t stop, pinning Anaxa down and pounding into him so brutally that all Anaxa can do is helplessly take it.
“Please,” Phainon says, not even sure what he’s asking for as Anaxa cries and twists about beneath him. “I can’t… Need you, Anaxa, please.”
Phainon bends over to adjust his grip on Anaxa’s hips, to drive his throbbing cock deeper into him, and it takes him a long moment to realize Anaxa’s trying to speak to him.
“Not… not inside,” Anaxa is gasping, eyes wide in desperation. “The babies, Phainon, they’ll get hurt.”
Phainon groans. “Okay,” he promises, sincerely. The walls of Anaxa’s cunt flutter around him, sending ripples of pleasure that course through his body. He thrusts in deep one last time, then pulls out with a grunt, gripping hard as he jerks himself off to finish over the outside of Anaxa’s cunt, painting the quivering hole with spurts of searing hot cum.
Anaxa barely reacts as Phainon lets go of his thighs, rearranging him back in the middle of the bed. Phainon strokes his hair, kisses him on the forehead.
“Get some rest,” he says. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
Anaxa’s labor lasts three and a half days this time.
Phainon brings him sweetened congee and juice to keep his energy up, and fucks him a few more times as Anaxa lies there quietly enduring his contractions, only occasionally fussing about the sticky mess of his own wetness and Phainon’s cum pooling between his legs.
After a while Anaxa starts complaining that his cunt is too sore for Phainon’s cock, so Phainon coaxes Anaxa onto his hands and knees, and takes him in the ass unprepared until Anaxa’s grumbling tapers off into broken cries and moans.
By the final day Anaxa is clearly over-exhausted; Phainon braces himself for another scolding as he buries himself deep into Anaxa’s cunt again, but Anaxa just whimpers with each thrust and stares up at him with glassy eyes.
“I think you're ready to push,” Phainon says later, softly.
Anaxa is so loose that Phainon barely meets any resistance when he slides his entire hand into Anaxa’s laboring cunt. His cervix has opened up nicely too, and Phainon can feel one of the babies’ head through the now softened ring of flesh.
Anaxa’s voice is hoarse. “I’m not sure how I’m expected to push your brats out if you keep trying to fist me.”
“I’m not… I’m not fisting you,” Phainon sputters, stumbling over his words in his panicked indignation, then pauses. “Should I?”
“Don’t you dare,” Anaxa says with a weak glare, and Phainon grins sheepishly, momentarily chastened.
Anaxa’s contractions are coming along every other minute now. Phainon holds his legs apart as Anaxa winces through the waves of pain.
“You need to push,” Phainon says.
Anaxa somehow still has the energy to roll his eyes at him. “I know, I’ve already birthed five of your babies, remember?”
Anaxa’s entire cunt is bulging out now from the sheer size of the baby emerging from his womb. Phainon sucks in a gulp of air as Anaxa’s labia finally parts, edges drawn tight and straining white around the crowning head.
This, Phainon knows, will be the most agonizing part of the birth for Anaxa, even worse than the contractions - all of their babies so far have been simply too big for Anaxa’s slim form to birth without excruciating pain.
Another contraction and Anaxa lets out an anguished noise at last, his poor, tormented cunt stretching horrendously wider around the baby’s head. Another few minutes and his hole opens incrementally, impossibly bigger, but still it’s not quite enough.
Phainon moves closer, reaching down to cup the crowning head between Anaxa’s thighs, holding the baby in place before he can push any further.
“Slow down or you’ll tear,” Phainon says gently.
It takes so long for Anaxa to open wide enough that he’s shaking by the end of it, eyes wet and face streaked with tears. Phainon has no doubt that Anaxa’s cunt must be burning by now, and he finally lets go.
“Push,” he says, and Anaxa does with a harsh cry.
The baby’s head finally pops out with a gush of fluid, then the rest of its body, into Phainon’s waiting hands. Anaxa was right - it’s a boy, healthy and crying loudly, already with a full head of hair the exact same color as Phainon’s.
Phainon swiftly wraps the newborn up, carefully setting him to one side. Then he turns back to Anaxa, who’s still trembling through another round of contractions as his womb prepares to birth their seventh child.
“Come on,” he says. “Just a few more hours and it’ll be all over.”
The twins are only a day old, but Anaxa is already expertly maneuvering them about like he's been doing it all his life.
Like Anaxa was born just for this, Phainon thinks with pride, as he watches Anaxa nurse the twins.
Anaxa is sitting propped up against a stack of pillows, a baby at each breast. He’s gazing down at them with a distant look on his face, and it takes a while before he notices Phainon watching him.
“I’ve just finished putting the boys to bed,” Phainon says softly. “They're all very excited to meet their new brothers, I had to bribe them to get them to sleep.”
Anaxa frowns. “I hope you're not bribing them with sweets again.”
Phainon laughs. “No, I promised to bring them to the park tomorrow.” He stands up. “Here, I’ll put the twins to bed too so you can get some rest.”
Phainon catches a glimpse of Anaxa’s bare breasts when the babies unlatch; his nipples have been sucked raw, the inflamed nubs flushed an angry scarlet.
With the twins here, Anaxa now has a total of four suckling from his breasts. Phainon thinks of Anaxa having to go about with his milk-laden breasts constantly sore from feeding their children, and the thought gives Phainon an odd sense of possessive triumph.
He easily puts the twins to sleep in their cots, then returns to find Anaxa standing at the dressing table, freshly showered and still bundled up in his bathrobe. He goes up to stand behind Anaxa, wraps his hands around Anaxa’s waist to feel his flattened stomach.
“I want another one,” Phainon says quietly. “Let's have another baby.”
Anaxa turns to glare at him. “Don't be ridiculous, Phainon, I’m still bleeding-”
Phainon ignores the rest of Anaxa’s protests, effortlessly picking him up and carrying him over to their bed. He tosses Anaxa down onto the mattress, swiftly climbing up over him to strip him down, then bodily cages him in.
“Stop being childish,” Anaxa says. “I just delivered the twins yesterday, it's impossible for me to be fertile again so soon.”
Phainon scowls obstinately. “I don't care. Come on, let's try anyway. I want another set of twins.”
He uses his knees to nudge Anaxa’s thighs apart, traps Anaxa’s legs down with his own to keep them spread. Anaxa tries to push him off but Phainon bears his weight down, refusing to budge.
Anaxa’s cervix shouldn't have tightened back up just yet, Phainon thinks. If he can fuck Anaxa deep enough, he should be able to cum right into his womb. Then it would just be a matter of time before Anaxa is pregnant again-
Anaxa’s cunt is still swollen and soft, easily giving way to Phainon's cock. He presses in deep, in one smooth thrust, and Anaxa howls.