Chapter Text
One’s firstborn is always the hardest. And when Shane had held their daughter in their arms, boneless against the pillows, Ilya was struck by how fragile she looked. How small their daughter was, swaddled in a blanket embroidered with Hollaith’s emblem, her tiny face peeking out, scrunched up.
Ilya had looked down at his hands in hesitation, tracing the calloused, rough lines of them and wondered if his hands were gentle enough to hold such a precious bundle. He still felt that hesitation even when touching Shane - the feeling of inadequacy still lingered even after so much time. But when Shane had looked up at him under his lashes, smiling softly albeit tiredly, Ilya’s heart skipped a beat. That also never went away.
And when he had sat on the edge of the bed, kissing the side of Shane’s sweat slicked temple softly, he pressed the side of his head against Shane’s to stare down at the little person swaddled in blankets, wailing quieting down finally. Ilya felt a flutter of panic start to beat its wings against the edges of his heart and crawl up his throat but then Shane spoke softly.
“She’s so small.”
The panic abated as Ilya smiled fondly, dropping another kiss to Shane’s head as he dropped a finger to trace the edge of their daughter’s tiny forehead.
He hums thoughtfully. Their daughter was not particularly small, she was actually quite a big baby according to the physician. And also to Shane in the final months of the pregnancy, when he had taken to complaining constantly about his back and making Ilya massage his feet as he peeked over his belly at him with delightfully rosy cheeks and a pouty mouth.
But here, in Shane’s arms as they both stare down at the sleeping face, yes, she was the tiniest, most fragile thing in the world. And Ilya had half the mind to worry about whether he would do something terrible like drop their first-born or break her in some way. For a long time that’s all he thought he was capable of doing. Until Shane. And until now.
“She is very cute and very small. Gets it from you.” Ilya says after a moment and he smiles wider when Shane huffs, shaking his head lightly.
Then after a pause, Shane looks up, leaning back against Ilya’s shoulder. “You want to hold her?”
Ilya almost hesitates, swallowing harshly as his eyes flit down to their baby. He nods silently, willing away the trembling in his fingers as Shane transfers their daughter into his arms. Ilya holds his breath as it happens, and shakily exhales as the heavy weight in his hands registers. Shane curls a hand around Ilya’s bicep, resting his head against his shoulder.
Ilya can’t tear his wide eyed gaze away from his daughter, blinking back unshed tears as he tries to grapple with the fact that this was real. That his life previously marked by nothing worthy to note until he had stepped across Hollaith’s border, had led to this. In the months after their marriage and leading up to their daughter's birth, Ilya had often laid awake at night trying to figure out if his life was truly luck or something written in the stars that men often studied. Would he have this in every life he is to live? Or was it just this one? Or was it perhaps a previous life that had led to this, to mean he had earned this? That the universe had decided for all his faults, and for all his shortcomings, they would give him this - love in abundance and arms to hold him so warmly.
It was a life he had prayed for as a boy after his mother died, knees pressed into the cold floor of his bedroom as his ribs and jaw ached from his father’s fists. Ilya did not believe in God. Hadn’t since he found his mother sprawled on the bed, lily white with death. How could he? He could not follow a God who tossed a coin so carelessly when it came to whether you’ll live or die. The God Ilya had known was cruel and uncaring, uninterested in the folly of frailer human emotions, and obsessed with the brute strength of a man’s dagger and whether it meets its mark.
What he did believe in, were the spirits of the forest, of the mountains, the nymphs that lurked by the waters edge and danced in circles under the waxing moon and fleeting stars. He believed in the Great Mother that had molded nature with careful hands, that blew on the pinprick tips of trees to dust them in frost, who caused landslides with the flick of her finger. They were stories from the well worn pages of the book of legends his mother would read to him. It was also the book Ilya still kept with him now - nestled between the shelves in their chambers. He had shown it to Shane once they were married, shyly presenting it with averted eyes, thumbing the fragile pages as he explained it was his mother’s. Asking whether Shane had space for it in the library, if Ilya could put it somewhere - that it didn’t have to be anywhere special. Just somewhere that Ilya could find it again, it could even be under the bed if it was going to be in the way.
And Shane had taken it from him with careful hands, looking up at him with wide eyes alight with excitement and had asked if Ilya would read a story to him. Ilya had simply stared back, tongue fumbling to find words as Shane had clutched his hand and had started rambling on with a serious gaze about how he wanted to create their own private book collection in their chambers.
“That way I won’t have to walk to the library for my favourite books, and we can keep them here because I found ink stains in one of them the other day which is unacceptable. And then we can keep it here, with yours. That way it won’t get damaged.”
Ilya had simply stared at him wide eyed as his precious husband had demonstrated where he was thinking of creating this ‘reading nook’ as Shane had called it.
”And yours can go here, with mine.” Shane had asked, turning around questioningly as he held Ilya’s book in his hands carefully, with so much delicacy you’d think it was made of glass - not a book whose spine was falling apart and pages tucked in from where they had torn away from time.
He had paused upon seeing Ilya standing with his hands limp by his side, eyes glossy.
“Ilya?” Shane had asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he edged closer.
And Ilya had only managed to choke out that he thought it was a great idea, sniffling pathetically and then Shane had been there right in front of him, placing the book down carefully on the bed to take him in his hands and pepper his face with kisses soothingly. It had taken Ilya a long time to speak after that.
Ilya also believed in love.
Love was something neither his father or brother managed to beat out of him, nor any God could make him not believe in. Even after living so long without it. So he prayed for love like sinners pray for absolution. Because to Ilya, love was where all paths led to, every winding trail in the forest and every meandering bend in the river. It defined every word, it filled every panting breath, it filled every curled fist before it striked, it was the wine of which he wished his cup was always full of.
Instead he was eternally thirsty, tracing its last droplet round the rim of his cup like a starving dog, hoping someone would be so kind to offer him more. And as he lay awake all those nights, his husband pressed against him and the moonlight washing their skin alabaster, Ilya wondered what entity had decided to listen to him and send forth their answer in the name of Shane.
He didn’t know who to thank so instead he simply mouthed it to the sky through the open window, hoping something, someone out there would hear him and understand. Ilya hoped his luck would follow him into the next life, and the one after that. He doesn’t ever want to be without it.
A snuffle drags him from his thoughts, and he blinks to see their daughter beginning to wiggle slightly in his hold, his body tensing up automatically. Ilya is sure he is moments from turning to stone at how little he’s moving and how long he’s been holding his breath.
He feels Shane smile against his arm, his husband reaching out a hand to cradle the soft head with sparse, light brownish blonde hair.
“Isn’t she wonderful?” Shane murmurs and Ilya lets the breath rush out of him, letting himself sink into his husband’s side as he holds their daughter closer to his chest.
“Yes. She is.”
Ilya was sitting up in bed when Shane appeared in the doorway, yawning as he adjusted his loose sleep shirt.
“She is asleep?” Ilya had asked softly, patting the empty space beside him. Shane had just finished breastfeeding their daughter before bed, something his husband had insisted on doing instead of a wet nurse. Shane had been appalled at the idea of someone else feeding their child. Ilya agreed, not to mention that it meant that Shane’s tits remained round and soft like in his pregnancy.
Although Ilya was no longer allowed to be in the same room when Shane fed their daughter, being banished by his loving husband because apparently his staring was off putting and highly inappropriate. Ilya had simply pouted until Shane had shut the door in his face to make a point.
Their daughter was a big baby, to no one’s surprise, and was eternally hungry.
Shane blinks, rubbing his drooping eyes with a fist as he nods. “Yes.” He answers around another yawn, his arms coming above his head in a long stretch that has his spine arching and sleep shirt rising from his middle thigh tauntingly to reveal inches of soft skin, glimmering with stretchmarks on his lower hips. The extra fat from the pregnancy still lingering in places Ilya can’t resist from sinking his teeth and fingers into like a rabid dog slobbering over a bone.
Ilya feels heat pool in his belly at the sight, fingers twitching against the bedsheets as he resists the urge to leap across the bed. Shane moves closer to the edge and Ilya instinctively shuffles closer, a hand tugging at Shane’s waist to get him on the bed faster. Shane falls onto the bed with a confused sound, but Ilya soon arranges him so he’s propped up by the pillows.
Ilya digs his fingers into the plumpness of Shane’s thigh before moving down the bed to leave wet kisses against the skin, moving the hem of his sleep shirt out the way to drag his lips higher, mouth dragging against the silvery stretchmarks that wrap around his hips and upper thighs. Shane huffs out a laugh that stutters into a sigh, fingers tangling into Ilya’s hair.
“Are you trying to eat me again?” Shane mumbles with another laugh, breath hitching as Ilya sinks his teeth into his thigh and sucks a bruise into the supple skin.
Ilya moves further up, fingers pushing up the thin shirt up to Shane’s belly, revealing the softness of his lower stomach, his cock lying against his thickly muscled thigh and Ilya’s mouth waters.
“You are just so delicious moya lyubov.” Ilya murmurs with a smirk as he glances up at Shane who looks down at him with half lidded eyes and a tired smile. Ilya holds eye contact as he nips at the soft skin of Shane’s lower belly which is now smattered with stretch marks. Shane’s fingers tighten in Ilya’s curls.
Shane’s skin is no stranger to Ilya’s worshipping mouth but pregnancy has meant Ilya’s lips have never strayed far from the plushness of his belly, his tits, hips or thighs. Especially when Shane was usually all corded muscle. His transformation lit a fire under Ilya’s belly, and every nip, lick and kiss did nothing to quell it. Shane has been a torment, a wonderful one. Yet a torment nonetheless. Ilya has found it nearly impossible to concentrate whenever he’s near, which is not a new experience but it’s certainly become harder to hide.
Shane rolls his eyes playfully at the comment, relaxing back into the pillows as Ilya’s lips leave kisses across the sensitive skin of his belly, a rough palm smoothing over it obsessively. Ilya tracks the stretchmarks with hungry eyes, gaze sharp as his tongue traces them, feeling the quiver of Shane’s breath beneath him, ignoring the hardening cock beginning to make itself known beneath his chin.
Shane had complained about the marks when they first appeared, belly round as he had rubbed oil on them before bed. It had taken a while for Shane to adjust to the changes, especially as this wasn’t the body of a Crown Prince who enjoyed dueling with his husband. And as Shane had grumbled to himself in the mirror, Ilya had taken the time to devote himself to proving to Shane that were in fact, a wonderful addition.
Ilya let each kiss linger, a hand softly petting at his thighs, memorising each inch into the pads of his fingers.
“So beautiful.” Ilya mumbles, swiping his nose against the skin reverently. He feels Shane shift beneath him.
“That’s what you always say.” Shane says quietly and Ilya twists his head to rest his cheek against Shane’s belly. Ilya catches the hand lying by Shane’s side and kisses it fleetingly before looking up at him.
“Yes. Because it’s true.” Ilya replies simply, dropping a kiss to Shane’s belly button as Shane casts his gaze up to the ceiling, shoulders shifting slightly. Ilya frowns, expression tightening knowingly.
“Shane.” He says and his husband hums weakly, still not looking at him. Ilya reaches a hand up to cradle his cheek and Shane blinks rapidly as if abating tears. Ilya shoots up, nudging his way to straddle him, eyebrows furrowing in concern as he angles Shane to look at him. And the look on his husband’s face has his heart hurtling through his chest. Shane’s eyes are glassy, his front teeth sunk into his bottom lip as his throat bobs with a harsh swallow.
“Shane, solynshko, what is wrong?” Ilya asks quietly, thumb stroking a freckled cheek, the other hand still clutching Shane’s in his, Ilya bringing it to his chest to rest above his heart.
Shane shrugs half heartedly, still refusing to meet Ilya’s gaze. Ilya hooks a hand under Shane’s chin, making their eyes meet. Ilya looks at him seriously and Shane huffs in retaliation.
“It’s just—,” Shane closes his mouth and his lips twist in frustration as his gaze skitters away. He takes a deep breath before starting again. “I don’t feel it.”
Ilya tries not to blanch so explicitly as he registers Shane’s words. Ilya quickly recovers, expression morphing into one of determination.
“Shane.” Ilya tilts his head back so their eyes can meet once again. Shane’s eyes glimmer, wide brown eyes blinking at him with a twist of a frown.
“I just look so different now. I’m all—,” Shane uses his free hand to gesture aimlessly down at himself, frowning.
“Pudgy.” Shane finishes and Ilya stills, thinking carefully as to how best to articulate what Shane wants and needs to hear. To provide a balm to his insecurities.
Ilya takes a measured breath before speaking. He decides to begin with the facts.
“Shane, you gave birth to our child three months ago. You have to look different for that to happen, yes? This is a good thing. Our daughter needed room to grow.”
“An awful lot of room.” Shane grouches under his breath and Ilya pinches his chin between his thumb and forefinger to shake him slightly. Shane huffs and his fingers play with Ilya’s necklace, glancing down at it.
“I know that.” Shane agrees after a moment, and Ilya snaps up the victory to carry on.
“Good. Even when soft, you are beautiful. You are beautiful in every shape. I cannot stop staring at you. I want to keep you like this forever but I know this is unreasonable.”
Shane laughs finally, properly and Ilya allows himself to smile, feeling more encouraged to let his feelings spill out.
“It’s true, sometimes I want to lock you up and keep you to myself because I see the way people look at you. Like they want you the way I want you.”
Ilya thinks of the times he’s caught members of the court or high council staring at Shane as he strides into the room. They’ve always done it, and Ilya has always noticed. Usually he simply glares and waits for them to catch his eye before whoever it is turns away embarrassed. But it’s been happening even more now since Shane fell pregnant and then when their daughter came. Shane’s glow rivals the sun. And Ilya can’t believe his husband is blind to it, instead seeing it as an incumbrance than a blessing.
Shane’s frown has lessened, simply blinking up at Ilya in surprise as the intensity of his declarations have seemingly sunk in.
But now Ilya has begun, he can’t seem to stop. He kisses Shane gently before pulling back.
“But they can’t have you, because you are mine. Like our daughter is ours. And we made her, you made her.” Ilya traces the curves of Shane’s body with gentle hands and squeezes his hips appreciatively.
“With this body you are mean about. And I will not accept it. You are only allowed to say nice things about yourself, I demand it as your husband that you are kinder to the person I love the most.”
Ilya traces kisses across the apples of Shane’s cheek as he murmurs, hearing the sharp intake of Shane’s breath. Ilya nudges their forehead together and Shane blinks back tears.
“I love you. I would love you in every life, in every shape. If you were a pebble, I would love you. I’d carry you around in my pocket and take you everywhere.” Ilya declares seriously and Shane bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as fingers sink into the muscle of Ilya’s shoulders.
“Hmm? So no more slander, or I will have you done for treason.” Ilya whispers, smiling around his threat as Shane laughs again, and pulls Ilya down for a kiss.
They swap kisses that soon edge into something filthier as Ilya’s tongue licks into his husband’s mouth, capturing each sweet sigh and soft moan that falls from Shane’s lips. Ilya moves down, pulling Shane’s shirt off and flinging it behind him as he begins to worship Shane as he deserves, lips a brand on the soft tanned skin, sucking marks and nipping to taste it. Ilya sucks a puffy nipple into his mouth to have Shane arching into his touch, he sucks at each one lovingly, letting off with an obscene pop before licking a line down Shane’s stomach.
Shane’s thighs close around Ilya’s head instinctively on a strangled gasp as Ilya takes his cock into his mouth, humming around it as he slides down to the base, Shane’s fingers curling into his hair and clenching tight.
“Fuck,” Shane breathes above him, hips twitching upwards to chase Ilya’s mouth as his tongue swirls around the tip teasingly. Shane’s breathing deepens as Ilya hollows his cheeks, bobbing his head along Shane’s length. Shane moans brokenly, tugging on Ilya’s hair harshly as he pants.
“Oh shit, fuck—Ilya,” Shane moans out as his strong thighs clutch Ilya between his legs as his orgasm hurtles towards him dangerously quickly. Ilya flits his gaze upwards and admires the blush to Shane’s freckled cheeks and chest, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open on a gasp. It’s when Ilya sinks a finger into his ass that Shane comes on a drawn out whine.
And when Ilya fingers him open and sinks into Shane with a groan, his husband’s ankles hooked over Ilya’s broad shoulders and folding him in half, Ilya thinks he could stay there forever, locked in Shane’s tight heat until the end of time. It almost makes him delirious.
Shane gasps at the intrusion, clenching down as his eyelashes flutter and Ilya grips his jaw possessively as he begins to thrust slowly.
“Should keep you pregnant forever, hmm? Keep the sweet Prince of Hollaith on my cock.” Ilya muses drunkenly as he grits his teeth, picking up the pace so his hips smack against Shane’s ass loudly. Shane moans, eyes threatening to roll back, fingers sinking into Ilya’s thick biceps.
Ilya smirks. “Yeah? kotenok likes that idea? Make you ride my cock as I sit on your pretty throne. Wouldn’t that be sweet.” Ilya purrs, the hand at Shane’s jaw sliding down to land heavy on his throat, squeezing lightly. Shane’s leaking cock twitches against his belly and Shane’s mouth opens, a breathy moan spilling from the swollen lips.
“Please,” he lisps and Ilya croons, sucking Shane’s bottom lip into his mouth and letting it snap back with a pop.
“Please what?” Ilya asks, hips fucking forward in a rougher pace than before, jostling Shane up the bed.
And Ilya isn’t sure what to expect but what Shane says next has his hips stuttering and him having to take a deep breath so he doesn’t come on the spot.
“Get me pregnant,” Shane slurs, tongue thick and eyes glassy as they threaten to slip shut from pleasure, “Please.”
And Ilya’s brain short circuits to the image of Shane round with his child, again, and he almost combusts. It was already hard enough not jumping Shane now with his soft body and stretchmarks and leaking tits, but the idea of getting him pregnant again? Maybe there was a God after all.
“Fuck,” Ilya groans before he begins to jackhammer into Shane, pinning Shane’s knees to the bed by his ears as he snarls. “I will, make you round with our child again, so perfect, so sweet moya lyubov.” Ilya rants to himself as the image of Shane waddling around the palace overwhelms him, their daughter on his hip. His sweet Prince, heir to the throne and all Ilya’s.
Shane moans loudly as the change in angle has Ilya nailing his prostate with every thrust. He comes suddenly, and untouched, cum hitting his chest as his eyes roll back on a silent cry. The orgasm has Shane sinking boneless into the bed but it does nothing to slow Ilya’s hips as he chases his own orgasm.
“Hngh—Ilya,” Shane sobs weakly, tears collecting in his lashes at the overstimulation. Ilya shushes him soothingly, capturing his lips in a deep kiss as he fucks his cock deep and hard, squeezing at the fat of Shane’s tits with a large hand.
“Just a little more malysh,” Ilya croons, “so good for me.”
Shane’s eyelashes flutter and he hiccups softly. “M’good.”
Ilya can’t help but smile, kissing Shane again and murmuring against his lips, slightly out of breathe. “Yes so good for me baby. Going to make sure it takes aren’t I?”
And Shane nods drunkenly, breath stuttering as Ilya continues to fuck into him like an animal. Ilya’s grip on Shane tightens as he grits his teeth, orgasm looming and when he comes stars burst from behind his eyelids, crystallising into the image of Shane pregnant and it’s enough to have his cock twitching inside of Shane as he slumps forward.
Ilya rolls them onto their sides, hips kicking forward slightly as he continues to fill Shane with his cum, hiking a strong tan leg to rest on his hip as Ilya tucks Shane into his chest. Shane shudders at the feeling of cum leaking out around Ilya’s cock stuffing him full and Ilya hums as he traces shapes up Shane’s spine. It is silent for a time before Shane speaks, a soft muffled sound against Ilya’s chest.
“Did you mean it?”
Ilya stops his drawing of a horse on Shane’s back with his fingertips to drop a kiss against Shane’s hair. “Hmm?”
Ilya senses his hesitation and draws back slightly as Shane traces a finger along Ilya’s collarbone. Shane flits his gaze up, shy.
“About having another child?”
The arm Ilya has slung around Shane’s waist tightens and tugs Shane in deeper. “Always.” He answers.
“I will have thousands of children with you if you would let me. We can have an army of children. Billions of little Shanya’s. We will take over the world.” Ilya says seriously and Shane’s smile is so sweet and bright, a chuckle shaking his shoulders that it has Ilya’s breath hitching at the image before him.
“You’re silly.” Shane says softly, kissing Ilya’s jaw as he plays with one of Ilya’s golden curls. Ilya smiles, shrugging and kissing the inside of Shane’s wrist.
“Not silly, I’m in love.” He corrects and Shane blushes so prettily that it has him wanting to lean across the tiny space between them and nibble on a cheek.
“Look at you, you are blushing. Are you so surprised that your husband of four years, and admirer of many more is obsessed with you?” Ilya teases and Shane rolls his eyes, yanking on the curl caught between his fingers in reprimand.
“Shut up you ass.” Shane grouches around a smile and Ilya grins with his teeth and grabs at Shane’s hand to playfully nip at his fingers. Shane bats his hand away to grab at Ilya’s cheeks and squeezes, squishing his cheeks together as the darker haired man raises a quizzical brow with a smirk.
“You love it.” Ilya mumbles around his lips squished into a shape of duck’s. And Shane huffs, clenching down on Ilya’s now soft cock that still remains nestled inside of him. Ilya hisses, hands sinking into his hips but notably doesn’t pull back.
Shane smirks and Ilya’s eyes flash darkly. “Naughty.” He mumbles around Shane’s grip on his cheeks.
Shane drops his hands to pull him in for a kiss and Ilya hums into it, a hand sinking into the fat of Shane’s ass and squeezing to have more of his cum leaking out. Shane gasps into his mouth and Ilya smirks against his lips.
“Shall we continue making our army of children?” Ilya asks cheekily and Shane rolls his eyes but his hands grab at his shoulders nonetheless to pull him in for another kiss, biting at Ilya’s lip teasingly.
“Yes, let’s.” Shane replies breathily and Ilya needs no further encouragement.
“Ilya, can you hold her, I need to change my shirt.”
Ilya strides over immediately, making kissy faces at his daughter who pouts as she is transferred into his arms, trying to cling on to Shane with an unhappy whine. Ilya pretends to not be outrageously offended.
Shane’s tunic is currently sporting two spots where his nipples are, his previous breastfeeding making its mark against the fabric.
“Keep it on, I like it.” Ilya says and Shane rolls his eyes before kissing Mila’s chubby cheek.
“Shut up you animal, you want me to go to the high council with my tits leaking?”
And that has Ilya’s teasing retort dying on his tongue. Yes, perhaps not. Shane seems to know it too, and smirks as he goes in search of a new one.
Ilya turns to appraise his daughter who looks up at with wide eyes, curls by her ears now.
“Your daddy is a tease.” Ilya says and Mila blinks.
“Good thing he is so cute,” Ilya continues on, kissing Mila’s nose to see her scrunch it, a pudgy hand coming to smack lightly against Ilya’s lips, patting his face.
“As are you mishka, the cutest little baby in the whole world.” Ilya finishes it by nipping a doughy cheek lightly and Mila gurgles, a hand tugging at one of Ilya’s curls lightly.
“You like my hair? It’s like yours.” Ilya teases, biting the other cheek softly and growling playfully to hear Mila giggle.
“Stop trying to eat our baby.” Shane says as he emerges in a new tunic, dark blue and deliciously form fitting, stretching against the softness of his chest and the bulge of his biceps. Ilya’s mouth waters and is momentarily stunned, simply resorting to staring for a moment. He breaks out of it when Shane raises an eyebrow.
Ilya smirks back before nipping one of Mila’s cheeks again to hear her laugh. He levels Shane with a cheeky grin. He opens his mouth to speak but jerks back when something bites down on his cheek. He stares open mouthed as his daughter who stares up at him with eyes full of mischief, fist stuffed into her mouth.
“Wha—,” and then Mila leans forward, a small but mighty hand yanking on Ilya’s hair hard as she chomps down on Ilya’s cheek again. It doesn’t hurt particularly, but Mila has begun teething and her two bottom teeth are particularly sharp and insistent as they sink into Ilya’s cheek to pull.
“Ow! Shane! Help she is biting me!” Ilya says as he tries to lean back. Shane cackles and Ilya dislodges his face from his daughter's jaw to stare at his husband in betrayal.
Shane doesn’t bother trying to look guilty, simply crossing his arms against his chest, eyes twinkling with glee. “She’s returning the favour.” He replies smartly.
Ilya splutters, cheek slick with Mila’s saliva. Ilya looks down at his daughter who stares up at him with wide eyes, smiling innocently. Ilya doesn’t have it in him to be mad but he does lean back when Mila goes for him again, a hand pushing gently at her forehead as she tries to gnaw on him. She makes a babbling sound, hands tugging on Ilya’s hair harder.
“Mila I know I’m tasty but this is very rude.” Ilya argues as he tries to untangle Mila’s hand from his hair.
Shane laughs. “Military commander my arse. Seems our daughter befits the title of the winter hath teeth better than you.”
“Hey!” Ilya cries, outraged and stops to look at his husband in disbelief. How traitorous.
“Our enemies do not bite my cheeks, nor are they as cute as our baby.” Ilya argues with narrowed eyes and Shane smirks playfully.
“That’s fighting talk coming from a man getting chewed on by a 5 month old child.” Shane sasses, walking closer so he’s now within arms length.
“I think you mean our—,” Ilya is interrupted by Mila biting his cheek lower down, near his jaw. Ilya jerks back with narrowed eyes and a hiss. Now that one hurt.
Shane coos, twirling one of their daughter’s blonde curls around his finger. “That’s it Mila, good girl.” He finishes his praise with a kiss against both of her cheeks. Mila gurgles and finally releases her iron grip in Ilya’s hair to grab at Shane’s shirt.
Ilya splutters once again, hiking Mila further up on his hip. “Moya lyubov this is betrayal, treason.”
Shane levels him with a disparaging look. “Take it to the council or the crown. Oh wait,” Shane pauses dramatically before continuing, “that would be me.” He smirks as Ilya glares at him openly.
Shane brushes a knuckle against Mila’s cheek and Mila chases it with an open mouth and Shane lets her bite onto his finger. Shane smiles, letting their daughter gnaw on his finger to self soothe against the teething making her gums sore.
“Maybe you should consider including the tactic of biting people in your defense training.” Shane muses and Ilya huffs out a laugh, kissing Mila’s pudgy cheek.
“Hmm, maybe. But they wouldn’t last a day against our little mishka.” Ilya replies. He meets Ilya’s gaze and smiles.
“No they would not.”
They were by the lake, a half eaten picnic on the blanket but that was momentarily forgotten.
Earlier, Ilya had carried Mila in his arms and dipped her feet in the water, splashing her lightly as she babbled away aimlessly, slapping the surface of the lake with an excited gurgle. Ilya had sat with her in the shallows, letting her play in the water as Shane had set up the picnic.
Shane had called them back eventually, and Ilya had blown a raspberry against Mila’s cheek as they walked back up the slight incline to under the willow, just to hear her giggle. Her blonde curls had shimmered in the sunlight and Ilya thinks she looked like a baby faerie as he carried her on his hip. She was nine months and achingly curious about everything. She especially loved the weeping willow leaves, had babbled happily when they had brushed against her outstretched fingers.
Shane had placed her between his outstretched legs as he fed her a raspberry. They took turns feeding Mila different soft foods, and Ilya made sure to press a strawberry to Shane’s lips from time to time, or a bite of sweet bread as he had his hands full. Mila had sat happily against Shane’s chest, wiggling delightfully as Ilya fed her another piece of bread he’d torn off from his own.
But now they were just in front of the willow, Ilya in a crouch with outstretched arms and Shane a few metres from with similarly outstretched hands, holding Mila’s chubby hands as she wobbles on her feet. Mila was already well into crawling and during their picnic had clutched onto Shane as she stood up, both men pausing in their efforts of feeding her. So here they were, Ilya waving his hands encouragingly as their daughter began to take her first steps.
“Come on mishka, walk to Papa.” Ilya says softly with bright eyes and Shane guides her forward from behind, clutching her tiny hands in his before he slowly begins to withdraw them, leaving them to hover just near her in case she falls. Mila grins at Ilya, eyes wide and babbling loudly as she stumbles across the grass.
Ilya sucks in a breath the same time Shane does and Ilya doesn’t let it go as Mila walks across the grass, albeit not very steadily on her chubby legs, to Ilya and into his open arms. Shane and Ilya both begin to cheer her on as she makes her way across the short gap, shouting encouragement and Mila laps it up, grinning and screaming in delight as she reaches her arms out, eyes never leaving Ilya’s.
Ilya can feel himself tear up at the sight of the sun shining beyond his daughter and illuminating her in a soft, transcendent glow, chubby cheeks bunched up by her infectious grin and laughter spilling from her lips like gold that fills Ilya’s ears with its soft sound. The world narrows in and this memory will be pinned to the backs of his eyelids for an eternity to come, as Shane grins down at their daughter just behind her, hair ruffled by the gentle breeze, and face tanned from the summer sun, ushering her on her two feet over to Ilya. He looks beautiful and Ilya’s heart skips over a beat like a bunny hopping into the sunset.
And as Mila reaches him, collapsing into his arms, Ilya swings her into the air with a cheer as Shane claps. Tears thicken in his throat as he nuzzles his nose against his toddler’s as she clutches at him, squealing endlessly as he jiggles her up and down.
Shane comes up behind her, reaching round to drop a kiss against her cheek, grinning.
“Look at you go.” He murmurs and he catches Ilya’s gaze when he looks up, Ilya leans across their daughter to kiss him softly before pulling back to gaze down at their child. Something inside of him bursts open on its hinges, and a dizzying happiness threads through every vein and wraps around every bone that Ilya is sure if he opened his mouth, sunshine would tumble out.
So when the tears gather, Ilya simply lets them fall as he swings his daughter around to hear her laugh, tugging Shane to him with a hand on his waist as they both coo over Mila who is delighted by their attention, feet kicking out in excitement.
The rolling hills of Hollaith linger in the background of his vision, the wildflower fields and the lake that seems to shimmer in the afternoon sun, lining the moment to seem like a dream.
Ilya nudges the door to Mila’s room open quietly, peeking round the corner and stopping at the scene that meets him. Discussions about military reserves with his second in command, Marleau, had taken longer than he thought and he knew he was cutting it close to Mila’s bedtime.
Mila has been particularly bratty lately about going to sleep, demanding at least two stories before she decides she would settle down under the covers. Her other stipulation is that both Ilya and Shane have to be there for the stories. One of them will not suffice.
For a two and a half year old, she sure was bossy. She was a lot like Shane in that way. Ilya wouldn’t want it any other way. And Mila knew that she could get whatever she wanted if she simply blinked her long lashes and pouted up at him. Shane was less than impressed with Ilya’s ability to fold like wet cotton at their daughter's whims and demands. But Ilya has always been a weak man.
He had expected to walk into the rooms and find Mila with her arms crossed and sitting unhappily on her bed. Instead what he finds is Shane leaning against the headboard and pillows, Ilya’s childhood book of legends by his thigh, neck crooked at an awkward angle, fast asleep. His chest rises and falls steadily, a hand cradling his large pregnant belly. He’s wearing one of Ilya’s tunics, untucked and loose breeches, but the shirt is rucked up to expose the smooth, stretched expanse of his stomach.
And then his gaze falls to his daughter who is slumped by Shane’s side, head of golden curls a mess as she lies with her freckled cheek squished against the top of Shane’s belly, lips parted and drooling, also fast asleep. She has a pudgy arm flung out and she’s cradling Shane’s stomach protectively like a pillow.
Ilya can feel his blood practically thrumming at the sight, heart threatening to burst out of his chest and he feels a little lightheaded the longer he stands there staring at his family. It was a phrase Ilya repeated to himself in his mind when it was quiet, sometimes mouthing the words when no one was looking and Shane was busy fussing over their daughter.
His family.
It was an idea that seemed foreign at first. Him belonging somewhere, and having others belonging to him.
Mila twitches in her sleep, nose scrunching up as she nuzzles into Shane’s belly. And Ilya moves, slowly inching towards the bed and sitting beside his sleeping husband and daughter. He picks up the book and closes it, straightening out the pages.
It seems Mila had Shane reading the story of the forest fairies who guided a lost knight home. It was one of her favourites. It was also one of Ilya’s favourites as a child, he had made his mother read it at least once a week. He always hoped if he ever strayed too far from home, the fairies would help him too. Turns out the fairy in question had dark hair and freckled cheeks with a silver tongue and a withering glare.
Ilya places the book silently on the bedside table and runs a hand through his daughter's sleep messed curls.
Ilya remembers her as a baby, the beginnings of her first golden curls and how Shane had exclaimed, “She has hair like you,” as he twisted a finger gently round one of them. And Ilya nodded silently, fingers delicately stroking a chubby cheek as their baby daughter blinked up at him with hazel brown eyes.
Ilya twists a curl around his finger now. He wonders if their second child will have Shane’s dark hair. Falling pregnant so soon after Mila wasn’t planned, but then Ilya would argue none of this was planned — falling in love that is. Ilya had been ecstatic of course when the physician had told them and Shane had smiled shyly as Ilya picked him up and spun him around whilst peppering his face with kisses.
Mila had been dubious when they had tried to explain she was gaining a sibling. But then what two year old wasn’t at the idea of sharing attention?
“Baby?” She had repeated, frowning slightly from where she sat on Ilya’s thigh as she glanced down at Shane’s belly in suspicion. She crawled into Shane’s lap and pulled the hem of Shane’s shirt up to poke at his then relatively flat belly, a small bump below his navel that was barely noticeable to the unseeing eye.
“Yes, mishka, a baby in there.” Ilya had replied and Shane smiled down at their daughter who now had her nose squished against Shane’s stomach as if she would suddenly be able to see into Shane, a hand petting her curls. Shane glances up at Ilya nervously.
They weren’t sure how to make Mila understand what was happening but she was a sharp two year old, and already had a penchant for sass. Which is why Shane had been worried about how she’d take the idea of her not being the only one at the subject of he and Ilya’s love and attention. She had both them and the entire palace wrapped around her finger. Ilya once found her in the palace kitchens, sitting on the countertop and eating a sweet bun as the head cook petted her hair affectionately.
Mila pulled back and stared at Shane’s belly for a moment. And then she seemed to make a decision, nodded to herself, a hand petting at Shane’s stomach softly.
“Okay.” She said and both men exhaled in relief. She twisted so her back was against Shane’s chest and continued playing with her doll, humming to herself as Shane glanced at Ilya with wide eyes before he breaked out into an easy smile. Shane dropped a kiss against her unruly curls, inhaling softly against them with closed eyes. And Ilya couldn’t help but smile gently too at how Mila sank into Shane’s chest, fingers steadily detangling her doll's hair.
“Okay.” Ilya had murmured though neither husband or daughter heard him.
Ilya thinks back to that time as he drops a kiss against Mila’s sleep warm cheek and then one against Shane’s own freckled one. Shane shifts, humming sleepily as Ilya smooths a hand across his belly, dropping a kiss against it.
Shane blinks his eyes open blearily and Ilya kisses his nose, causing it to scrunch as Shane rubs at an eye with a fist, pouty lips swollen from sleep.
“Ilya?” Shane mutters, blinking slowly and Ilya feels a tender warmth sink in his belly at the adorable sight.
“Hello moya lyubov, sleep well?” Ilya murmurs, hand rubbing circles on Shane’s pregnant belly, minding Mila being half sprawled across it.
Shane winces, a hand coming to massage the back of his neck.
“I was reading.” He mutters, and Ilya quickly replaces his hand with his own, massaging at the crick in his neck as Shane groans in relief, sighing. “And then must have fallen asleep. Where’s—?” And then he looks down and laughs softly, running a hand through Mila’s curls.
“Mishka is protecting the baby.” Ilya jokes, still whispering as they both admire their daughter in Shane’s lap. Shane laughs softly.
“She’s growing so fast.” Shane murmurs and Ilya hums, thinking back to her as a baby, how small she felt in his arms. She still does, even when she isn’t trying to climb him like a tree and tugging at his hair. Mila was a menace.
“Hm, yes. I remember her being tiny.” Ilya agrees quietly.
Ilya remembers Mila babbling in his lap at dinner, Yuna cooing over her granddaughter as Ilya waved a tiny fist in the air. He remembers when she learnt to crawl and when she learnt to walk, how Ilya had cried when she had wobbled over to him on chubby legs by the lake, Shane holding out careful hands as he followed behind her just in case she fell. Ilya remembers talking to her quietly as she wiggled on her back on their bed, big hazel eyes blinking back at him as Ilya had murmured silly little stories to her with soft eyes and a heart so full of love it ached.
He can see it in his mind like it was yesterday.
He also remembers how much she cried, wailing seemingly constantly at times to the point Ilya affectionately started calling her mishka, little bear. And soon they are going to have two little bears.
“She still is.” Shane argues with a smile and Ilya links their fingers together as they gaze down at their sleeping toddler. Ilya leans down to nuzzle at her cheek and Mila shifts, waking up.
“Papa?” A little voice questions sleepily as Ilya leaves kisses over her rosy cheeks.
“Mm? Yes mishka?” Ilya asks and he pulls back to watch as his daughter blinks up at him before sitting up, curls a bird's nest and face scrunched up as she squints up at him.
“You’re here.” She says, a hand still resting on Shane’s pregnant belly as she reaches her other hand to clutch at the front of Ilya’s shirt. Ilya kisses her hair, leaning heavier into Shane’s side.
“Yes. Papa was doing something but he’s here now.”
Mila yawns and Ilya cheeks hurt from smiling at how cute his daughter is.
“It’s story time.” She mumbles to herself, eyes drooping as she almost begins to nod off again. She slumps against Ilya’s chest and Ilya raises a hand to cradle the back of her head, kicking off his boots to lie side by side with Shane and their daughter snuggled between them.
“Yes, but I think we should sleep now, yes?” Ilya says and Shane leans over to card fingers through her hair soothingly as she makes an unhappy sound.
“No.” She grouches, pouting even with her eyes closed, shaking her head against Ilya’s chest. “Story.”
“But you’re tired my love.” Shane argues fondly. Mila whines, fingers curling into Ilya’s shirt.
“No.” She mumbles sleepily and Shane laughs softly.
“Okay we’ll read you a story, which one do you want?”
“Want…” and then Mila is asleep, cheek smushed against Ilya’s chest, curled into a little ball, tucked between them.
Ilya kisses her hair around a smile and leans against the pillows. And then Shane yawns. Ilya turns to him with a teasing smile.
“Does my other baby need a story to fall asleep too?”
Shane huffs, smacking Ilya’s shoulder. “Fuck off. You try carrying around a giant all day whilst being in council meetings.”
Shane shifts, a hand on the bump as he tries to get comfortable. Mila snuffles in her sleep and Ilya subconsciously rubs circles on her back.
“You mean our giant.” Ilya corrects and Shane rolls his eyes with a smile. Shane tilts his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes.
“I am tired though. Should go to bed.” He murmurs and Ilya kisses the spot beneath his ear.
“Let’s just stay here for a while, then I can carry you to bed.” Ilya suggests, mainly because he doesn’t want to let go of cuddling his sleeping daughter just yet. There will come a time when she grows too old for things like this and Ilya will mourn the day when it comes, so he’d rather linger in every moment he can get.
He expects Shane to argue, sensible as ever but instead he sighs, shuffling down the bed and turning his head so his nose skims Ilya’s shoulder, a hand petting Mila’s curls.
“Hmm, okay.”
And soon enough Shane is snoring softly and Ilya gazes at his sleeping husband openly, admiring the flush of his cheeks, the drool escaping the corner of his mouth as he sleeps. He can’t help but smile as he holds his daughter close nestled between them, allowing himself to eventually drift off, a ghost of a smile on his lips.