Work Text:
*
1: Bonding
Of all the times to remember that Greta had a pregnancy kink, Carson did not expect it to be when she was shaking Jo’s hand.
It wasn’t even Jo that had propelled that memory to the forefront of Carson's mind like a tightly scrunched ball of paper thrown at her forehead.
It was Flo. Flo, the sweet and sparkly-eyed mother of the insanely adorable boy Greta had scooped up into her arms with a kiss to his chubby little face.
Carson was nervous enough already to be meeting Greta’s best friend for the first time, had only mentally prepared herself to give the best impression when the invitation to dinner had been extended to her as well. Pleasingly, Jo only lived a few blocks away and Carson added that tidbit to ‘reasons Greta should move in’ list.
That said, they’d only had sex for the first time a week ago, and they’d been dating for less than a month, so it was still very much early days. Although timelines didn’t really apply to her and Greta.
“God, I miss being pregnant. But you— I guess Greta didn’t lie when she said you and your little bump were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.” Flo grinned kindly before wrapping Carson in a tight, welcoming hug. “You’re radiant.”
‘Yeah because she’s hot for me being knocked up.’ Her mind supplied and it made Carson’s eyes pop in renewed surprise. She hoped she adequately masked the look on her face behind bashfulness, a nervous chuckle and a thank you.
She had almost forgotten it was even a thing for Greta, that it was something Carson accepted but didn’t completely understand, but then a random jigsaw piece of the puzzle landed in her lap and Carson’s curiosity piqued again.
What even was it? How did it work for Greta?
The questions sporadically returned and faded during the hours they spent with Jo’s family. But it was an off-handed comment Greta made when they later wandered home, as she scrolled through the photos they’d taken that evening, with an arm flung across Carson’s shoulders. There were plenty taken of her and Teddy, but Flo had sent through some she took of all of them together. One, both Carson and Greta loved in particular.
It was just a simple shot of Greta standing behind Carson, their fingers all laced together at the top of Carson's middle. When Carson had grinned, turned to look up as Greta laid a kiss to her cheek.
They looked happy.
They were— are happy, and the feeling radiated from the screen, back into Carson’s body. Greta's wistful comment as she went through her settings to make it her new wallpaper, broke Carson’s daydreaming.
"Sometimes I can't believe how real this all is. That we’re doing this." Greta mused, before pressing her thumb to the side and locking the screen, sliding it into the back pocket of her jeans.
"What do you mean?"
Greta’s nervous chuckle was telling. “Uh... Oh. Um, it’s a lot. It’s a solid conversation. But I guess it’s worth sharing.”
“That’s alright. Tell me? “
Greta sighed and looked away, up at the buildings darkened by the city grime they slowly passed. "You remember me telling you about the girl I liked in school and when she moved away?"
"Yeah?"
"I think it hurt more because I didn't have a good relationship with my mother; my parents got divorced when I was a kid and I wish I went with dad, but I ended up with mum and she just... she was kind of detached. It happened again with Dana— the crush in school... maybe her leaving wasn't that bad, but I dived in so quickly. Then it happened again. With another woman. In hindsight, we both wanted different things, and I didn't communicate my own expectations too well... and when I say ‘well’, I mean at all. I still get quickly attached and I know that, so I've learned to be clear about my expectations and more resilient when people decide to leave."
Carson covered the hand on her shoulder and was glad when Greta gripped her fingers. "I know. You were honest with me from the start. About what you wanted."
“Guess it worked out alright.”
“So far!”
“I feel like I need to apologise.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to think I’m with you for the wrong reasons.”
And another jigsaw piece fell into Carson’s lap. One with fascinating colours that didn't make sense when she held them up in poor lighting. Not yet.
Fortunately Carson’s block was in sight, and this felt like a conversation best had in a comfortable space. So she pulled Greta’s arm from her shoulder, laced their fingers together and kissed the back of Greta’s hand.
“Almost home.”
And Carson chose not to say anything else.
But she regretted her silence when they arrived and caught Greta nibbling on her bottom lip. Shit, what was Greta thinking? Probably asking the same question. She meant to give Greta time to think, not ignore her because she was uncomfortable.
Carson had to let go to unlock the door of her apartment, but her fingers curled around Greta’s thumb to pull her in. It was dim, but not dark enough to put the lights on. Carson guided her around the dining table to the couch; Greta hesitated, her feet slowing and their joined hands lifting under tension. But Carson didn’t let go. Greta’s sharp intake drew Carson’s eyes up.
“Come on. It’s okay.”
Still, Greta tightened her lips, pulled them between her teeth in unease. But she joined her when Carson hooked a leg and fell onto the sofa, albeit stiffly. Carson waited patiently until Greta finally spoke slowly, and very nervously. "Being with you, knowing we could maybe have a little family, like Jo and Flo have, it makes me less afraid of people—of you, leaving."
Ah, now Carson was sure this could also be related to Greta’s preference for women in her condition. Her attraction to Carson’s pre— to Carson and her pregnancy.
"So what if I wasn't-" Carson waved a hand at herself. "Like this?"
"If I remember correctly, I was quite set on my plan for the elevator before you let me in on your secret. But I think I would have mustered the courage to ask you on a date, especially once I knew you and Charlie had broken up. Very smoothly slid into your DM’s. Probably right after... that. And I would have been upfront about what I wanted. Although I think I would have been pretty sad if it wasn't what you wanted too. But... I don’t know. I guess it would depend if you were up for it.”
Considering it was Greta who made the first move that night and handily directed their encounter, Carson found her theory quite believable. Greta did want her for a long time before she knew about Carson's pregnancy, and Greta was remarkably confident once she knew Carson was willing.
"I mean.. I don't think it’s unreasonable to want to be on the same page as your partner about whether or not you want kids. Makes sense to me."
"What would you have said?"
"If I wasn't already knocked up when we got together?"
"Yeah."
Well, that was a tricky question.
"Honestly, I don't know, Greta. I know I didn't want to raise my kid with Charlie. I was okay to be a single mum. But if I wasn't and you said you wanted kids... Well. I know I really liked you, and I remember feeling amazed that you felt the same. So... I think... I think if you put those cards on the table, I’d stay and I think we would have talked... But I really don’t know, Greta. It’s not our reality."
Greta just nodded down at her lap, and Carson ached for Greta’s uncertainty. But this fear of abandonment wasn't unfamiliar to her either.
She squeezed Greta's hand.
"Hey... I get it. Really." Greta looked up. "My mum left when I was little, and for a long time I hated dad just leaving for work. Even though it was my own fault and it was the right thing to do, there is a part of me that didn't enjoy divorcing Charlie. I was breaking us up. I left him. So I understand, Greta. You and I can always leave this relationship, but knowing neither of us want to, makes it feel safe. It’s okay to want to feel safe."
"Pretty much. Knowing we might be together for the long haul, that you chose me and becoming a parent—it makes it less scary. You know? It feels more real. I have to show up for two people."
“So me being...” Carson waved a hand at herself. “Like this? It helps?”
“Yeah. It's not the be-all, but it does make me feel more tied to y— not tied like a bad way! Like we have a bond. That’s harder to break. Like I’m committing.”
“So when we... you know...” Greta lifted her eyebrows playfully, until Carson felt compelled to articulate it. “... are together. In the bedroom—”
Greta shrugged a shoulder and whispered as she played with the corner of a cushion with her other hand. “I feel really close to you. I know I love you, but it makes this honeymoon period everyone goes through in a new relationship feel less temporary. There’s a good weight to it. It’s much deeper. It’s... it feels safer.”
A relationship was one thing, but agreeing to raise a kid felt like a tie that would bind; one they wrapped around each other willingly. And if it eased both of their fears of abandonment, and they were happy... why not?
Knowing Greta had shared the very private thought with no lack of hesitation, Carson decided she could offer a bit more affirmation, validation, than she normally would express. That she understood Greta's fear was real, that her baby eased those fears and it was okay.
That Carson knew it wasn't everything that kept them together.
So she wordlessly nudged Greta further onto the couch, and crawled into her lap. Carson made a point of taking both Greta's hands and laying them over her stomach. Only then did Carson see the smear of moisture beneath Greta's eyes as they looked up at her.
Exposed and afraid and adoring and grateful. So many things.
"You're wonderful, Greta. You know that? You keep me honest and make me a better person. You're so damn beautiful I'm constantly pinching myself and you think my dimples are adorable."
"They are though." Greta laughed weakly around a watery smile.
"You're good for me, Greta. Really. You're an amazing partner. That's why I chose you." She leaned in to kiss Greta, gave into the sliding hands that moved from where Carson left them on her belly to her hips and pulled her closer. "I'm not going anywhere."
She immediately felt the difference. When desire seeped into their tender moment. It didn't take anything away, but it softened Greta's intentions. Turned her wandering fingers into caresses, worshipping touches.
Well, it was nice to know how her pregnancy affected Greta’s feelings for her, but did that translate directly into arousal? Perhaps it might be time to test that idea.
“Told you it was gonna be okay, Greta. Can’t get rid of me that easily. I like being close to you.” She cupped Greta's cheek, dug her face into Greta's hair so she could nip at Greta's earlobe.
“It means a lot, you know. I was worried that you’d find it uncomfortable."
"Of you committing to me and this baby? No. You’re not the only one that likes the security.”
“So if I said it more bluntly, that you being pregnant just makes me want to spend my life with you... That doesn’t scare you?”
Carson’s first—and only—thought was that it didn’t.
“Believe me, Greta, I like it. It's real for me too."
Carson couldn't remember crying like that during sex, nor seeing Greta do the same. But she'd never felt so wholly loved and cherished by someone. Never felt so connected to someone. It was her own spiritual experience.
Every time she affirmed to Greta that they were real, Carson wanted her, that they were making their own family, that she had no intentions to leave... Greta returned every offering with unguarded love, with humble gratitude.
And passion—Goddamn, the passion.
Carson lost count of the number of times and ways Greta assured her that she loved her, even afterwards, as they laid together in a mass of sweaty limbs that cooled in the evening air. When she couldn't tell where her body ended and Greta's began, the only thing that made sense was the parts of each other.
Them. Their baby. Their family. Their future. Their love and happiness.
But that was the point, and Carson believed in that.
*
2: Power
There were days in which pretty much every conceivable thing went wrong. Today was definitely one.
Carson’s body clock had saved her, for the most part, when she woke up nearly thirty minutes later than usual, thanks to her iPhone’s decision to do an update overnight and – for whatever fucking reason – turned off her alarm. She was only a little late for work, but Henry’s foul mood that greeted her was particularly unforgiving.
The day dragged along at an unreasonably slow pace from then. She couldn’t even find a reason to go onto any of the construction sites to escape the office, compounded by an unusual amount of tedious back-to-back meetings that graced her with subtle or ignorant comments.
Yes, of course Carson had to run to the bathroom more, she had a tiny human living atop her bladder.
Her lower back ached, so it was her business to lie on the floor under her desk at lunch time to stretch it out and find some relief.
She argued through grinding teeth to defend a new policy she’d been working on for months, and did her best to stay calm when a HR Manager suggested that the changes were unreasonable and likely exaggerated due to Carson’s ‘baby brain’.
Never mind she already had executive approval.
Carson nearly demanded an apprentice’s head when the barely-pubescent boy had a brain-fart and compared her to a woman on his block who, as he described it, ‘got around’. He did follow it up with the caveat that she was the only other pregnant person he knew, but Carson seethed nonetheless.
She couldn’t even have coffee. Her normal jar of decaf in her desk drawer was empty, the nearest café was closed after an errant car rammed the front door and the office only had caffeinated.
Fucking hell.
Work wasn’t normally like this; nowhere near this shit. It just seemed to be a day for it.
The cherry on top was finally being able to take her tired body home, away from the thinly-veiled remarks about being pregnant, to be met by her neighbour who let her know their block was without water for at least the next few hours.
Great!
Her ‘baby brain’ did manage to get Carson though. She automatically went through her evening routine of unpacking her bag, checking on Kit, undressing and heading for the shower- to only then remember the water.
Which was how Carson ended up spread like a starfish across the top of their bed, completely naked and absolutely done with the world for today.
Except Greta. She was always welcome.
Carson drifted into the dozy in-between of consciousness and sleep; she didn’t register the front door open or Greta’s usual greeting.
“Well hello to me…”
Carson lifted her heavy head off the pillow to stare down the length of her nude body, to where Greta leaned against the doorframe with an eyebrow raised and her tongue playing with the corner of her upper lip.
Must have been a heck of a sight.
But after today, Carson actually felt shy, even unreasonably ashamed of her condition. So much so, she pulled Greta’s pillow from beside her head and dropped it over the junction of her thighs.
Greta was oddly slow to grasp that Carson's coyness wasn’t a tease.
“Aw… I was enjoying the view.” Greta grinned as she approached, pausing to reach down and unzip her safety boots before she crawled up on her knees between Carson’s legs, her fingers popping the buttons on her shirt.
“Sorry to burst your bubble.” Carson grumbled, her head falling back on the pillow with an audible puff.
That gave Greta a pause. “Long day?”
“It sucked.”
Greta’s smile fell to tender concern. “Wanna talk about it?”
“It’s gonna be a rant.”
“I’m all ears.” Before Carson began to rattle off her grievances, she hummed at the fingers that wrapped around her calves and squeezed the stiff muscles.
“Well, for one, there’s no water until later tonight.” Greta just sighed and nodded in acceptance. “I don’t know babe, it was just a long, frustrating day. I might be taking things personally, but I swear some of the comments today were more pointed than usual.”
Greta’s grip froze and Carson felt the snapping change in Greta’s mood through the fingers on her legs. Greta frowned, her voice fell just that bit lower, “Like what? What do they say?”
“They don’t explicitly say it—well except for one woman in my office who is a firm believer in no sex before marriage and is shaken by the idea of me raising a child with someone who isn’t my husband... But just dumb comments that make me feel easy or dirty for letting this happen. You know?”
Greta scoffed and shook her head, her hands moving up and down the outside of Carson’s calves, the nails lightly scratching. It was... distracting. And if Greta kept it up, she was in the perfect position to see the effect. “That’s ridiculous—not you, Carse, but the whole idea.”
“Isn’t it?” Carson waved a hand at her body, laid brazenly open and bare for anyone who came into the room. “Aren’t I in this situation because of this?”
“Carson, I’m not going to pass any judgement on you for having a drunken one night stand with someone you used to be—still are, married to. So don’t put me in that corner.”
“No… no, I know. Sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
Greta’s hands moved to the top of her thighs and disappeared under the pillow. “You’re allowed to enjoy sex, Carson, and the fact that you do... it’s really hot. At least to me. It’s a big ‘fuck you’ to idea of women staying chaste and pure.”
“I swear some people question my judgement for being this way.”
Greta’s head snapped up. “Then they can go fuck themselves. Every single person on this planet is here because a woman, or most often a woman, carried us.” She laid her hands over Carson’s stomach, almost reverently. “This deserves respect. Your body is powerful like this because you are literally creating a life. It’s not something everyone can… not something…”
Oh, shit, of course.
Carson had ranted enough.
Suddenly she felt terribly inconsiderate for complaining about people whose opinions weren’t worth shit, to someone who would swap with her in a heartbeat. To someone who desperately wanted kids, but effectively couldn't do it for herself.
“Help me up.” Carson held out her hands and let Greta pull her into a sitting position, her modesty forgotten when the pillow flipped from her lap onto Greta’s knees. Greta went to shuffle back, but Carson wasn’t going to let her girlfriend escape from between her legs. “Hey…I’m sorry. ”
“No I'm sorry, I’m not a very good listener. You don’t have to tip-toe around my stuff.” Greta dipped her chin to her chest and shook her head, but Carson suspected Greta was hiding her tears.
“You’re a great listener, Greta.”
“I just… You can. I hate when people look down on pregnancy or take it for granted because not all of us can do it. I’m not... not jealous, I promise. But I still get down about it sometimes. Sorry, I—”
“You don’t have to apologise, Greta. But babe, you told me yourself that your body probably can. It was just much harder and better for you to not go through it.” Greta sniffed, nodded in sad agreement until Carson wiggled with joined hands. “And look, you don’t have to. Here’s one I prepared earlier.”
At least that got a tiny smile.
“I know. It just means if I get to have kids, it’s going to come from you. Carse, there is so much I love about you unrelated to this, but what your body can do more easily than mine, makes you really important to me. I love you for you, but it brings a different kind of high regard.”
Admittedly, Carson did take it for granted. Heck, there were plenty of times she simply felt inconvenienced. She needed to look through Greta’s eyes more often.
“I mean... You give me shit sometimes and tease the hell out of me, but you’re really respectful too. I hope I do alright treating you the same.”
“You do.”
Still, Carson had to do better in the future. She did enjoy the clarity as to what regard Greta held her condition. That Greta’s respect for her as a person and as a mother were separated.
Greta wiped her eyes with her thumb and Carson could see her easing out of her momentary slump. She was still having trouble looking Carson in the eye. “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”
“I dunno. I feel a bit better now.” Carson poked her nose into Greta’s warm cheek, and continued to nudge, nudge, nudge at her until Greta finally giggled and gave Carson the kiss she wanted. Despite the wet eyes, Greta did respond with encouraging enthusiasm. “You’re right, you know. I do enjoy sex… a lot. Especially with you.”
“Ooh... Are you telling me it’ll help you feel better?”
Despite the question, Greta’s hands returned to the top of Carson’s thighs with a very clear answer.
“I think this powerful body can make you feel better too.” Carson grinned as she fell back onto the bed, pulling at the open sides of her girlfriend’s work shirt until Greta leaned forwards. “And you’re my favourite part of waking up every day. I wanna show some appreciation.”
She did.
Oh man, Carson really did.
Greta’s worship of her body felt like she was admiring the task it was undertaking, rather than the subject of the task. The day had worn Carson down, but lying open and willing as Greta filthily ate her out and into a leg-shaking orgasm—Carson felt extraordinary.
It made her hungry, even a little desperate to reciprocate. Dirty even, but not in the way that carried the shame she’d felt earlier.
She may have been smaller in stature, and Greta may have resisted laying across her middle, but Carson all but heaved Greta up the bed until she had her girlfriend sitting above her mouth. Carson enjoyed sex with her amazing girlfriend, and that absolutely fucking fine, thank you very much.
*
3: Possession
When Carson first began to show, and had to actually address it with work, it was fine.
Everyone in the office congratulated her and enough of her co-workers were parents; they were mostly understanding and helpful. The conversation about the inevitable leave she would have to take needed to happen sooner rather than later. Fortunately, Henry was quite good about it and advised their boss he was comfortable covering for Carson for a while. Carson was glad for the company’s leave program and that Greta was—while not entirely within arms reach—still readily accessible.
Out on the various construction sites work managed, however, things were different.
Carson got it: she was the dreaded safety advisor.
She conducted audits, pulled workers up on their safety breaches, installed inconvenient and sometimes annoying processes. Amongst the senior trades and management, who were well entrenched in their careers and prioritised getting home to their families, they were much more accepting and supportive of Carson’s role. Carson wanted them to go home in one piece, and they recognised that.
But to the younger ones, Carson was an evil to be tolerated. Not by all, but enough.
And the interactions reflected that.
So it was on her first visit to a new site, which began as a pleasant outing with Greta and Henry, that Carson was confronted with not just pushback on her job, but the opinion of at least one dead-brained idiot.
It was sometimes necessary for Greta to go on site; occasionally what she envisioned didn’t line up with what was possible to construct, or changes would come once she saw the physical structure. Those conversations always had to happen with safety and compliance in mind, so Carson always took the opportunity to join Greta on these little trips. It was nice to spend the time together even if it was completely in the context of work, but sometimes if the site was far away, they were able to drive over together. Today, they were lucky to also catch the Project Manager, Lucas, too.
“Standards won’t allow a catwalk that narrow, nor that much overhang.” Carson shook her head, the three of them all craning their heads back to the scaffolding above.
“What about instead of cutting across, we wrap around up to the window so it doesn’t impede the east facing light coming through?” Greta waved her ever-present drafting pencil in a line between two loft spaces.
Carson nodded. Yes, that would work. She and Henry looked down at the scribbles on Greta’s notebook, which Carson was now much more practised at deciphering.
“I think that’ll be alright. Wanna get me a revised draft?”
Greta nodded with a hum of agreement, and continued to quickly sketch out her new idea, the notes, the dimensions. Carson particularly enjoyed the little stacks of quick maths she did on the side of the page. She patiently waited, until a pair of electricians passed by. Frustratingly, they had their helmets clipped to their tool bags, rather than on.
“Helmets need to be on your heads while onsite, guys.” Carson called out to them in, what sounded to her, a mostly friendly reminder. Doctor’s had a bedside manner; Carson had developed a toolbox manner for moments like this.
“We just came out of ducting. Can’t wear a helmet there.” The older one countered, although Carson could tell by his tone that even he knew his argument was terribly flimsy.
“That’s fine, but you’re not in there now. Head protection is mandatory. Same as eyes, ears and foot protection.”
The older sparkie looked graciously chastised and unclipped his white safety helmet to return it to his head. The other rolled his eyes, dawdled and grumbled. The exact type that found safety requirements a hindrance.
Stupidly, he also decided to laugh, “Sometimes we forget to wear protection, you know.”
Did he just—
Beside her, Greta’s pencil froze on the paper, and Lucas' entire being practically radiated anger. Henry just stood with his mouth hanging in blatent shock. Carson, however, simply lifted an eyebrow because it wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last... but she had enough fucking mental health issues around her pregnancy without being called careless.
“Pardon?”
“I mean, that kid got a daddy? Is it you, Luc’?”
Carson wasn’t sure if he was trying to fob off his comment with a joke, but before she could give an angry retort that Carson hadn’t even formulated properly in her head, Greta practically growled from beside her, “It’s mine.”
Carson barely observed the idiot electrician’s surprise, or Lucas leaving their side to ‘have a word’ with said idiot. Her head snapped to Greta, who had adjusted her feet, leaned closer to Carson with a half step that put herself slightly between Carson and the electrician. She continued to shoot daggers at the dumbass who was currently being sent to the site office by his superior.
Carson had never seen such barely restrained menace, certainly not from Greta. Greta didn’t say anything else about the situation. She switched back to her sketches, answered the questions that Henry asked to divert attention from the situation and Carson decided it might be best to leave it until they got home.
Carson expressed her grievance with Lucas and the electrician’s direct supervisor when they found them a few moments later, without any further input from her girlfriend. By the end of the day, her heckler returned with an apology and Carson wondered how thin the ice upon which he was skating was.
She didn't care. It was fucking rude and he'd been appropriately reprimanded to her satisfaction. Barely.
But Carson committed far too much time to overthinking Greta’s reaction during the rest of the afternoon, and a very unexpected meeting request from her girlfriend only drew her concern more. Still, Carson left the office to head the few blocks down to the small building out of which Greta’s design company worked and asked for directions to the tiny, noticeably windowless and lockable meeting room.
Greta didn’t keep her waiting long.
Carson barely had time to glance up at Greta, absorb the change in her demeanour and look back at her own phone to turn it off, before Carson heard the door lock and her back hit the wall. Carefully, but the surprise made the greater impact.
“Greta, what-”
Oh fuck.
The thrill that went through her body could have been easily confused for fear as stormy eyes stared down at her, the push of her shoulders into the wall. A shot of adrenaline burned through her veins and the air stole from her lungs.
It was the singular moment when one made eye contact with a predator, for Carson to realise she was a second away from capture. That Greta was going to have her and guard her prize.
But despite all this, it wasn’t fear that made Carson’s heart pound so fast, so loudly in her ears.
It was desire. Anticipation.
Because she knew Greta. Trusted and had that trust validated time and time again.
Greta, who was devouring her body with her eyes alone and fuck!—Carson truly believed she could come without being touched. But she much rather Greta did touch her.
And yet, Greta’s fingertips on her cheeks were reverent, adoring, protective. Her glare was hard but her softly whispered words were beautifully tender.
“Are you okay, love?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
Greta just nodded slowly, “You handled that situation really well today, Carse.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Did I overstep? With what I said.”
“No.” Carson pulled her in by the belt loops of her pants, but Greta braced her hands on the wall either side of her head. Trapping her. Shielding her from the bullshit of out there. A safe cage that Carson wanted to crawl into permanently. “It’s no different from any queer couple that has a donor. I told you: this kid is yours too, Greta, and I don’t mind you saying so.”
She intended for her words to give Greta some assurance, or comfort. That was what Greta wanted, right? But Greta hadn’t relaxed yet. Like she was still brewing. It was such an unexpected divergence from the usually patient and calm woman Carson knew.
Not bad, definitely not bad. It was... it was arousing. Carson wanted to give into it, to let Greta take her.
The cool tip of Greta’s nose brushed along her cheek, her temple. Could she smell the arousal permeate Carson’s underwear and pants, the pheromones seeping from her flushed skin?
Carson heard the sigh in her ear and warm air on her neck and- good Lord, pray for her, because she was about to take Greta by the wrist and thrust her girlfriends hand down her pants. It wouldn’t take much at all.
“I have to get back to work...” Greta husked in her ear, and Carson was sure she could hear the strain in her voice. She couldn’t even formulate a response when Greta pressed a hard kiss to her jaw and shoved herself off the wall. “I’ll see you at home.”
And then she was gone.
Fuck.
She didn’t hear from Greta for the rest of the day. Which was almost fine, because Carson’s mind hadn’t really left that meeting room. It left her on a teasing edge all day.
It was in the short gap once Carson got home that the ever-present question niggled again.
There was almost a... possessiveness? Maybe? That today had tapped into?
The very few things Greta had said—to ask if it was alright she said that. To be sure Carson was okay. That felt like the right things to say. It felt respectful.
But her body language—Greta was hot and primal.
Greta was never like that normally; she was a calm and rational support while she was dealing with Charlie - their donor, effectively - and there was a pleasing lack of red flags in their relationship. People had asked about their relationship at work, of course, and if Greta was there, she looked at Carson with gooey eyes and smiled.
But to have someone challenge Greta, to feel the need to declare her position in Carson and their child’s life... it clearly awoke something in her this time. Was it because it came off the back of an insult? Maybe. Still, aside from the snarl, Greta didn’t do anything wrong at the time, or after.
So the line between what drove her kink, versus their relationship, slowly gained more definition for Carson.
Obviously defending Carson and their child, staking her claim, aroused Greta.
Carson was so lost in thought when she got home and heard her girlfriend in the shower, she’d barely made it to their bedroom and slipped her undone shirt off her shoulders when she felt Greta's eyes on her from the doorway.
Her fingers froze as Carson looked over her shoulder.
“Greta?”
The sight of her girlfriend in a towel would have been sufficiently alluring, but the mood that Greta brought with her trumped it.
Greta stalked closer, and again, Carson felt that nudge closer to the edge she’d been riding all day. Greta gripped her shoulders, laid a kiss to the back of her head. Strong handed, loving touch.
The iron fist in a silk glove.
“Carson...”
“What do you need?” Carson’s breath shook- hell her whole body did. Hands pulled her back into Greta’s chest before they began to roam from her hips, her ribs, across her chest, to cup her sensitive breasts. Hungry lips found their way to the crook of her now exposed shoulder.
“You. Carse, I... I need—”
Carson suspected she knew what Greta needed. The words that could push this further. And Carson was very inclined to give them to Greta.
She turned as best she could, barely halfway but enough to guide Greta’s lips to hers. She wasn’t prepared for the fervent hunger, the depth of the kiss.
She had to pull back to breathe. But first, despite whatever was going on, instinct told her to check in.
“Are you okay?”
Greta’s pause and the tenderness in her eyes gave Carson the confidence that Greta was indeed in control of her emotions.
“I am now.”
“Then show me. Show me how I belong to you.”
That was all it took. The key in the ignition before Greta roared to life around her.
She was suddenly spun in Greta’s arms, a hand curled around the back of her head- completely helpless—euphorically helpless—against lips that kissed her and teeth that scraped her jaw, her throat. The other hand moved down, fingers pausing only to claw into her stomach before they continued down to the zip of her already unbuttoned pants.
All while Greta shuffled her backwards to the edge of the bed.
Holy FUCK!
“Yes...” Carson moaned, her head fell back and Greta mouth latched onto her exposed throat, the hint of teeth dizzying.
Jesus, she was feral for Greta like this. If Greta wanted her, Carson would let Greta do whatever she fucking wanted.
“You’re mine. I want my marks on your skin.” Carson's knees nearly buckled; she didn’t know Greta could growl like that.
“God, Greta, yes...”
The sharp suction on her neck made Carson gasp, blood pulled to the surface and tiny dents pressed into her flesh. She thrust her hips against the hand that fisted the opening of her canvas pants.
If she wasn’t already breathless, the shove that had her laid on her back at the edge of the bed would have done it. Carson barely had time to focus her eyes before Greta was yanking her pants and underwear down her legs.
The sharp scratch of one of Greta’s nails hurt enough to draw a sharp hiss, to pause Greta’s frantic movements.
Everything paused.
“Shit- Carson, I’m sorry!” The pad of Greta’s shaking thumb lightly brushed over the two-inch graze on the sensitive skin of Carson’s hip.
Her hand around Greta’s wrist brought her back.
The pause gave Carson the certainty that she would be safe.
“It’s okay.” Greta seemed stuck in the silence, waiting for guidance—permission to continue, or to stop. “It’s just a scratch... and it’s just a mark. I want all your marks on me.”
“Yeah?”
There was that heat, the darkness in Greta’s eyes again. Carson pulled on her wrist until Greta braced herself over her body, a knee pressed against the junction of Carson’s thighs. Until their noses touched. Greta may have stumbled to a stop, but Carson was well entrenched in whatever Greta was doing to her.
“Make sure everyone can see I’m taken. That I- we...” Her hands ran up her own thighs, over her centre and splayed her hands over her middle. “...We’re yours.”
That was it.
She was well acquainted with Greta's sweet, careful attention... but holy shit if it wasn't the most exhilarating, intense sex they'd had together so far. Greta wasn't exactly rough, was still very respectful in her approach but only. once she had Carson's consent. Consent given in pleas to be claimed, moans of affirmation when Greta devoured her pussy until Carson’s eyes rolled as she cried out... and Greta didn’t let up until Carson came again.
She allowed Greta's tighter grip on her body, all the marks and hickey's, and growled 'mine' under scraping teeth. The hands that guarded her hips and belly.
She begged Greta to fuck her with two, three fingers until another deep, rolling orgasm—more powerful than she ever remembered having, had her gasping for air. Only then did Greta let Carson’s tongue taste the sticky arousal between Greta’s long legs.
Even that felt different. Carson wanted to get on her knees—atop a pillow, Greta insisted—at the side of the bed and submit to her lover, because she was Greta’s. And Greta was hers.
Carson felt claimed and shit, it was hot. She felt like she was taken, in every sense of the word.
After, as Carson lay completely exhausted and sated with Greta wrapped around her like a protective shell, Carson felt the slow transition out of whatever the hell happened in the last two hours into the sweet care she knew so well.
She knew that they hadn’t talked about it properly, but this was definitely play. A scene. One fuelled by a real event, but temporary nonetheless.
Carson could see the difference quite clearly.
When Greta's 'you're my girlfriend' became 'I'm so lucky to have you', sharp teeth became loving kisses to her skin. The 'this baby is mine, ours' became 'thank you for letting go on this journey with you'. Even sweet apologies for things Carson had willingly allowed. Even asked for. Every hickey and bite mark was kissed and touched, a stream of assurance that Greta only had whatever Carson chose to give her.
Carson knew she didn’t want this to be their everyday, but there were benefits to granting Greta the safety to give into her normally-regulated desires. In these moments, when Greta carefully but so thoroughly fucked her until Carson saw stars, claimed her with words and consensual marks on her body, Carson relished the absolute certainty that Greta would protect her and their little family. Like Greta understood it came with responsibility.
Carson already had these assurances, of course, but it felt so much more tangible, so obvious in these moments.
And Carson liked that.
*
4: Femininity/Body Changes
The barely-warm air of the tiny heater under Carson’s desk had little effect on her icy toes, even as she kicked off her shoes and wiggled them closer until the burn penetrated her socks. Normally the cleaners would kindly turn the AC on in the mornings and the office would be comfortable enough by the time Carson came in. But she was in on a Saturday, alone, and the frosty office humbled Carson enough to open the scrappy log book in the cleaner’s supply room and leave a note of thanks.
She knew there certain people one should always be thankful for and never piss off: maintenance, secretaries, driver and cleaners. Everyone seemed to forget them, but they kept businesses running. And could make life hell very easily.
At least while she ground away at backburner paperwork, Carson was able to dress a little more comfortably; she wasn’t going on site and had nobody around to judge her choice of clothing, so stretchy leggings, Converse and an oversized sweater was the order of the day.
Classic mother-to-be attire.
After the significant fight she and Greta survived the prior Sunday, they’d had plenty of serious conversations about what they wanted going forward.
It was good, really. Very good.
Now, every plan was made with the other in mind. Carson booked her doctor’s appointments in consultation with Greta to ensure she could attend; Greta no longer hesitantly danced around the assumption that she would be a part of Carson’s future. She was.
Which also meant they sat down and discussed when Greta could move in, and how best to join their finances. Greta had given notice on her apartment and slowly begun moving her few possessions over, which - along with assembling the new crib - she intended to do today. A development that excited Carson, both to have her love in her bed every night and sharing her home, but also the financial reprieve the situation offered both of them.
That conversation was less delightful, but necessary.
The reality was that while Carson was lucky to have some leave booked up, preparing for a baby was a huge financial undertaking. One they agreed to share, but still.
So while she was able, Carson worked as much overtime as possible before she would inevitably need to go on leave.
Greta had done her part and started to take on some freelancing design work in the evenings and weekends, much like she had done before landing her current job. It all went into a newly-created savings account. Buying things for the baby was a must, but they bought second-hand where possible, except the crib, stroller and car seat.
The Safety Adviser in Carson wouldn’t skimp on those.
It was stressful, but thankfully, tackling those challenges together only brought them closer. They had to be on the same page.
A twist to her wrist brought the unfortunate realisation that it was still only 11AM, and her stomach growled loudly in its empty discontent.
Carson wasn’t... she wasn’t not eating... but as her body changed, it had begun to fill out. Her hips widened, her breasts had gone up two cup sizes and it upset her when her pants were far too tight to wear. She accepted it, but sombrely.
So she was trying to be better about her diet, to eat well for her baby but less for the figure she didn't like to see in the mirror.
As if by telepathic ability or coincidence, the vibration of her phone across her desk provided a distraction Carson needed.
Even better, her flashing screen offered the contact picture of the love of her life.
She swiped to answer immediately.
Greta’s entire top half came into view on the video call, apparently in their kitchen cutting something on the chopping board.
“Hey...” Carson hummed with a soppy grin, resting her chin in her hands. As her mood tended to do lately, it turned on a dime from sadness about her body, to bliss at the sight of her girlfriend.
“Hey, pretty Momma. Did you take lunch today?”
Busted.
“No, but I was gonna duck out for something in an hour.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Greta tossed a watermelon rind into a bowl and reached for a bunch of grapes that was likely the makings of a fruit salad. She must have gone shopping. “Well... I’m between trips to my place, would you like me to drop something off?”
That would certainly make the day more pleasant.
“You wanna stay and eat with me?”
Greta pondered as she blindly plucked the green grapes, her eyes flicking to the ceiling before she nodded, ditched the stem and reached for a mango. “I can. But I think I’ve got another two trips and I still have the crib so I won’t stay long. I need to get some tools from Joey’s and boxes...”
Admittedly Carson was absorbed in Greta’s hands when she began carefully slicing the cheeks off the pit, then cut little squares in the yellow flesh.
Oh man, Greta had amazing hands.
Hands with long fingers that trailed down Carson’s body as smoothly as the knife she now held, hands that grasped and curled around her own flesh as surely and dexterously as the rounded cheek cradled in Greta’s grip.
Fuck.
Was she warm, or had the heating finally kicked in?
“...Carson? Carson.”
“Huh?”
Greta grinned and shook her head as she laid down the knife and inverted the pieces, until neat squares of mango stuck out, ready to be chopped. “I said... Did you want fruit too?”
“Um...” Cheeks. Flesh. Sticky. Right. Fruit good. “Uh, yeah please. Good for, um... minerals. Vitamins.”
Her figure.
It didn’t help Carson’s concentration when Greta leaned on her elbows, coming much closer to her phone which was obviously propped against something on the counter.
It granted Carson a clear view of Greta’s cleavage—God, her boobs—and the mango half in her incredible hands.
Normally her girlfriend was well attuned to Carson’s mood, but the way Greta continued to calmly, casually list Carson’s options for lunch... It made her wonder if Greta was doing it deliberately, or if Carson was actually getting unexpectedly flustered.
Still Greta rattled on about soup, or risotto or a sandwich and whatever the doctor recommended Carson eat. As if she wasn’t putting on a whole show for Carson right now.
It felt like a show. The kind that involved few clothes and in which a pole or chair might not be out of place.
There were words coming out of her mouth...
Words which wrapped around the absolutely obscene—or so it seemed to Carson—way Greta ran her tongue between the rows of mango squares, licked each of her wet fingers, wrapped her glistening lips around a chunk and fucking sucked it off the peel with a low, wet ‘pop’, that Carson felt as a physical shock to a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves between her own legs.
Um-
“Uh, sandwich please.” Carson mumbled, her eyes fixated on the still-whole chunk Greta held between her teeth. Greta even frowned slightly, as if she didn’t really know that she was ruining one of Carson’s favourite tropical fruits.
“You okay, babe?”
“Mm hm. Just thinking about... food.”
“Alright, don’t worry, your personal UberEats is on its way. I’ll be there in an hour?”
“...Sure.”
“Alright,” Greta grinned with a little wink. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
And then Greta was gone from Carson’s screen, but visions of her talented tongue dancing stayed before her mind’s eye.
A fucking mango.
Carson didn’t have to wait long. Not really.
It was fifty minutes but it felt like a whole day had passed. A day spent staring at her laptop screen until it timed out, twice, because Carson was entirely consumed by the memory of Greta’s mouth.
And, such was her hormones at this stage of her pregnancy, Carson found herself feeling frustratingly aroused to the point of unshakable distraction. She was libidinous. Frisky. Wanting.
Fuck, she was just mind-numbingly horny for her girlfriend now. More than usual. Delivered lunch be damned. She was hungry for something much, much better.
Carson didn’t have many thoughts while she waited, beyond the decision to lock the door and jump Greta as soon as she got there.
She did sneak off the bathroom to clean herself up a bit though. Although the temptation to get herself off while Carson was there was a whole challenge. One she nearly failed.
Because if her loving, fiery, gorgeous woman didn’t get there soon, Carson began to seriously consider shutting the blinds—okay, that she did do—and laying on the floor with her leggings around her ankles to sort out her frustrations.
She didn’t, but fuck!
Her heart rate was beginning to pick up and as soon as Carson saw the familiar shadow pass the window by the door, she was on her feet and rounding her desk.
“Knock knock, room serv- whoa!”
Carson wasn’t sure what Greta was doing with her hands, but she had her girlfriend through the door and backed against it before Greta could finish her greeting. Carson nearly fell over as she raised herself up onto her toes and cupped Greta’s cheeks, pulled her down into a kiss.
“Jesus... Carse, what... hello...” Greta managed to get out against Carson’s moving lips. Greta was definitely kissing her back, but where were her arms? She pulled back, panting against Greta’s smeared lipstick to look up. “Carson, this lid isn’t on properly.”
Held high above their heads, was a glass container of juicy, fruity something and a small insulated lunch bag.
“Thank you for lunch, but I need something else right now. You. So fucking badly.”
Greta’s eyebrows flew to her hairline.
“Now?! God, you’re insatiable, Carse.”
“It’s the hormones, I swear! I always want you but I can’t even think straight and I knew you were coming in—”
Shit. Wait. Greta wasn’t her personal sex slave. Although right now she was the only thing that appealed to Carson’s rabidly screeching libido.
“Will you at least eat lunch first? I know you skipped breakfast.”
And just like that, Carson’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to think about her body. Not now. Suddenly she felt gross. Out of control. Unreasonable and undesirable.
Carson stepped back too quickly, backed herself up against her desk, hunched and slightly curled into herself. “I—I’m sorry. I’m sorry. My...my body just is going crazy and... when I see you I just...sorry.”
“Hang on,” Greta shut the door with her hip and dropped the kindly made and delivered lunch beside Carson. “Sit on the desk and come here.”
Once Greta helped her up and wrapped her arms around Carson, the dam broke. Carson hid against her chest and sobbed. She wasn’t even sure why. But she was mad at her mood swings and her appetite and the changes to her body.
It all sucked.
Greta just held her with twisting rocks, gentle shushes against her temple. Eventually Carson’s cries became whimpers and hiccups. Sad sighs until the wave had completely passed.
Now she felt silly. And still slightly aroused at having her face against Greta’s supple breasts. Goddamnit.
“Sorry I jumped you like that.”
“Carse, come on. Who in her right mind wouldn’t want to be mauled against a door, by a beautiful woman? Do you know how desirable I feel when you can’t control yourself around me? When I am the only one you want to service this need?”
“I mean...”
“I’m pretty sure you were almost late for work the other day because I wouldn’t let you walk out the door in that giant hi-vis rain coat. Cause fuck you looked good.”
“You do like me in my work clothes.”
“I’m a weak woman, Carson. I don’t think I could have gone about my day if I didn’t get my mouth on you.”
Oh yes.
On her. In her.
Carson very clearly remembered fisting Greta’s hair on their living room floor, her pants barely past her knees as Greta palmed her breasts and strained her tongue deep into her entrance. Whoo, yep, that was not helping abate her arousal.
“It’s a great jacket.”
“With a sexy woman inside too.”
Carson frowned at Greta’s chest. The hands that slid up her thighs, around her hips and began to stroke up and down her back—a comforting gesture... she knew Greta could hear her mind grinding away.
“What’s the matter, Carse?” She asked softly, no impatience or intolerance in her tone.
“My body is doing stupid things.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything is bigger. My boobs, my hips, my ankles. And then I really want sex but I don’t like what I’m offering—”
“Whoa, whoa, hang on! Carse, babe... as the person on the receiving end of your offerings, do I get an opinion?”
Carson knew what Greta was going to say, and although she knew she was going to have trouble believing it, she nodded anyway. “Yeah.”
“Sweetheart, you have an amazing ass. I love your boobs. I loved them when I first saw them and I really love them now. It’s fantastically womanly and feminine, everything that drives me insane.”
“They’re way bigger now.”
“I’m a lesbian.” Greta tilted her head and dipped until her smile came into Carson’s downcast gaze. “You think I don’t like big boobs? Do you think it’s such a hardship that I have to use my hands and my mouth now? Have we met?”
“I guess so.”
“Besides, let me enjoy them because I’m gonna lose access for quite awhile when Chickpea arrives.”
“She’s gonna need them more than you.”
“Exactly, and that’s beautiful for absolutely different reasons. But for now: they’re mine to have as your adoring and lustful lover. And I do love them.”
“My nipples look like baloney.”
At that, Greta rolled her eyes, “They changed colour, but they do not look like baloney. And even if they did, baloney is great.”
“Oh, fuck you...”
“I hope so. If you’re going to be a MILF Carson, my MILF, that’s part of the job.”
Now it was Carson’s turn to roll her eyes. “Well, I get acne.”
“So do I. Every month. Hormones do that. That’s life. But they also make you wildly horny for me over the smallest things or even for just being near you and that strokes the hell out of my ego.”
Okay, Carson couldn’t argue with that.
“Keep talkin’...” Carson muttered, her fingers finding the collar of Greta’s shirt. Greta sighed a low chuckle and kissed her forehead.
“Like I said the first night in the elevator: I’ll bring you your weird little cravings and will find pregnant you very attractive... Although I still don’t think I can get onboard with the boiled eggs and peanut butter.”
“I asked you to make them for me, you didn’t have to eat them.”
“So glad I didn’t and I will still refuse to kiss you after you eat them. But listen, I know you find it hard to believe me, but I promise, I love the way your body is changing. It's really beautiful and I swear... I’m already wet because of what you just did to me.”
That little add-on did a pretty good job of shutting down Carson’s negative thoughts.
“Well, that’s your fault. You teased me this morning.”
“How?” Greta frowned, her head shot back. Like she was innocent. She knew what she did! She had to!
“With the mango! You made me jealous of a fruit, Greta!”
There was a brief moment of genuine confusion before Greta’s mouth formed an O—which Carson had the silly urge to poke with her finger. She didn’t, but she thought about it. Until Greta pointed her own at her. “Oh, right.”
“You did that—that thing, with the little squares, and sucked one, and-” Carson tried to be mad at Greta. She really tried. But the words tripped on her bottom lip and died entirely as she watched Greta lean aside, pop the lid of the glass bowl—the lid really wasn’t on properly—and plucked a wet cube from the colourful pile.
Carson probably looked like a fool, or a simp. Something that amused Greta as she slowly wrapped her lips around that fucking little mango cube and sucked it in with a loud pop.
Normally Carson hated open mouth chewing, but Greta wasn’t chewing.
Glimpses of the fruit rolled and spun around her tongue in flitted and twists just like when Greta—oh sweet fucknuckles.
“That?”
“Uh...”
Finally Greta chewed—with a closed mouth, bless her—and swallowed the fruit and drew closer. Until Carson could smell the sweet scent on the smirking lips that brushed against her own.
“Will your jealousy go away if I run my tongue through you next?”
Carson didn’t answer. She crashed her lips to Greta’s and demanded entrance, to taste whatever was left on Greta’s tongue. Her eyes rolled in her head and she had never, ever moaned so loudly before. She groaned when Greta pulled back a good five minutes later.
“I’ll lock the door. Lose the leggings.”
Carson had her Converses off and on opposite sides of the small space, her leggings snapped off and covering the screen of her laptop before Greta returned.
“Move back.” Greta tapped her knees and Carson hopped backwards with a heavy thump. She didn’t resist when Greta pushed her back onto her own desk, lifted her shirt and tugged at the cups of her bra. “I wanna see those boobs Carson. She me the balon—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”
“Fine, I won’t. But I do want to see them because they’re amazing.” Greta was clever enough to recognise the sincere warning and knew not to push. She apologised with a kiss to Carson’s belly. “Safe to assume you don’t need to be teased?”
“Greta, please, I just want your mouth.”
“At your service,” Greta grinned wickedly and disappeared to run her tongue up the length of Carson’s centre.
“Fuck...!” Her head banged on the table as Greta wrapped those red lips around her clit and sucked, swirled her tongue in tight circles. God, her mouth. Carson could see it behind closed eyes but—oh for fuck’s sake! Her stomach was in the way!
“Greta...” She whined. Loudly. “...I can’t see past... you know.”
Carson could feel Greta laugh against her before she moved down, fucked her tongue inside Carson once—another keening whine—and began a trail of kisses up her body.
“Lemme show you.”
And with that, Greta pulled the cup of Carson's bra down, curled her fingers around the breast she loved so much, and pressed a wet thumb to Carson’s clit.
Carson’s brain completely checked out, surely for the next two business days at least. Greta had a talented mouth, and hands of the goddesses, but watching Greta look right at her, as her tongue danced across her tight nipple.
Holy shit.
And the thumb mirrored her tongue’s movement.
When her tongue flicked left to right, swirled in circles, rubbed up and down, so did her thumb. In perfect synchronicity.
And when Greta—oh fuck—when she sucked, her thumb pressed and she slid two fingers inside. When she nipped at the sensitive bud, her fingers pressed inside her, her thumb pushed harder.
And she never stopped watching Carson.
Even when Carson let out a breathless cry to the universe, when she ascended to another fucking plane of existence. She felt desirable. She felt like an offering Greta desperately wanted.
Wow.
*
5: Caretaking
There was still a few hours before Carson had to pull herself together, do some house chores and go collect Greta from the airport.
It was a rare instance when Greta got to travel for work, and she wasn’t far. It was only Boston but it was three days and Carson missed her terribly. But she had been productive this afternoon. All that was left was the washing that still had forty minutes left on its cycle.
She could fit a nap in. It hadn’t helped that Carson had been unwell this week; she was tempted to assume it was a physical manifestation of her longing for Greta. It could have been some light food poisoning: not enough to take the time off work, but it made her days miserable. Thankfully, the worst had passed.
She was still five weeks from her due date. Her body was a flurry of ever changing emotions, usually being thrown around between tired, grumpy, horny as hell or hungry. But not long to go.
So she set an alarm on her phone, awkwardly rolled onto the sofa to lay down with a cushion between her legs and drifted off before she knew it. By the time she came to, she felt particularly well rested and her alarm— wait. It wasn’t her alarm that had woken her up.
The sound of heavy footsteps going through the apartment confused, then scared her. But... she knew those steps.
“Babe?” Carson grumbled, trying to right herself and caught the sight of her girlfriend slowly passing their room with their laundry basket. What was she doing back?
Carson reached for her phone. The timer had been switched off, but it was still another hour before Greta’s flight was supposed to land. What on Earth...
“Greta?” She called roughly, her throat dry and the words catching on her tongue as she effectively rolled off the sofa and thumping—okay, waddling—to the bathroom. The idea of surprising Greta, showing her how much she missed her popped into her mind. Phone sex just didn’t cut it.
Carson stopped in the doorway and took in the welcome surprise of Greta folding clothes. She padded up to her, and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, just as Greta looked over her shoulder.
“What are you doing back so soon?!” She mumbled into the kiss she laid on Greta’s spine.
“I did some extra work after hours and we finished up early. So I caught a lunchtime flight. Then I got an Uber.” Greta hummed, rubbing the arms around her. Carson felt much more animated in her excitement, but Greta still sounded happy enough.
“I missed you.”
“Me too. I thought I’d surprise you a little.”
“It’s a really great surprise,” Carson squeezed her tightly, then let her hands begin to rub Greta’s middle. The approving hum was encouraging, and her hands drifted down to Greta's hips, then past the basket still braced against Greta’s pelvis and up to cup her breasts.
“I was gonna do the laundry, you know.”
“I know. It was on your to-do list- oh...” Greta’s head fell back with a sigh. “Um... I don’t mind though. You’ve had a tough week and needed sleep. I thought I’d look after it and then wake you up.”
“I’m awake now.” Carson bit into her shoulder and Greta finally put the basket down.
“I think I got that.” Cool hands covered her own as they kneaded and pinched. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I just want you. I missed you. It would have made this week much better.”
“Good thing I’m back early.”
“Mm hmm... A lot of time tonight.”
Carson’s heavy-lidded eyes were pleased to see the face she loved so much, until she really took Greta in.
The sleepy smile did little to distract Carson from the bags under Greta’s eyes, the heaviness of her limbs that curled around her shoulders. Her eyes were even a little bloodshot.
“Greta, are you okay?”
“Mm... Yeah. I did stay up fairly late to get everything done. Comes with a headache but I know a great cure for that.” Carson caught the connotation, but was having none of it.
“You should be resting!”
“My hotel bed sucked. It’s fine, I promise.”
Carson wasn’t convinced.
“Let me finish this and you get to bed.” Carson tried to step back, to pull Greta away from the chore she really shouldn’t be doing, even when Greta protested with a whine.
“I missed you though. I’m fine, Carson. I’ll look after you.”
That old niggle poked at Carson again. “We can later. After you've gotten some sleep.”
Greta, in her vulnerable state, let her fall back in unusual petulance and Carson caught the huffed whisper of ‘you won’t need me then’.
So she deflected the hands trying to pull her own back around Greta’s neck. Wrapped her strong fingers awkwardly around Greta’s.
“Greta... No.”
Carson wasn’t saying it because she didn’t consent. She said no because Greta didn’t seem willing to rest. And she was met by the slightly hurt, but mostly blank stare.
“I’m fine Carson. Just let me take care of you fir—”
It was time to have the conversation that Carson mostly had the answers to, but had yet to bring up with Greta.
“Greta, babe, you need to have a rest. Chores can wait. Now come on.”
She unceremoniously reached around Greta and scooped up the folded and unfolded dry clothes, tossing all of them back into the basket. Greta seemed awkward at best, and uncomfortable at worst as she stood completely still at the end of their bed while Carson moved around her. But soon Carson was back, tugging on the bottom of Greta’s shirt in an entirely non-suggestive manner.
“Sit down.” Greta stared through tired eyes, but finally fell onto the edge in defeat. “Arms up.”
Greta complied, but once the shirt rose and her head popped through, she looked almost sad.
“You don’t have to do this—”
“Look after my girlfriend, Greta? Are you kidding?”
“No... I mean... I’m supposed to look after you.”
Carson leaned forwards and braced her arms on Greta’s knees to look her right in the eye.
She was almost angry at her own selfishness. It was too easy to simply let Greta be the one to look after her every time. But it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t encouraging Carson to be a good partner for someone she loved so much.
“Greta... Say no. To me.”
But she held firm, until Greta finally deflated before her and let her exhaustion show.
“I’m so damn tired, Carse.”
Carson rewarded the honesty with a kiss to her forehead. She awkwardly tried to take a knee and allowed Greta to help her down, until she was able to reach the laces of Greta’s sneakers.
“I wanna ask you something.”
“What?”
“Is taking care of me— like when I need help or when I don’t feel well... is that like.. A turn on?”
Greta couldn’t run, but she did look away, leaned back to try and create some space. But Carson reached for her hips, looked up at her love from Greta’s lap with her thumbs dug into the tense muscles beneath. “Hey... It’s okay. I just wanna know.”
“It’s not- not exactly like that.”
“Okay, help me understand.”
“It’s... Look, Carson, I’m scared it’s a deal-breaker.”
“It’s not. But I need to know. If I’m going to be comfortable with it, I need to know what it’s like for you.”
“It’s like, when you’re this way, you’re more vulnerable.” Greta paused, watching her with arched eyebrows, almost expecting some form of backlash. Carson simply nodded, waiting for her to continue as she pulled Greta’s socks off. “I know you’re not, Carse. I know— I know you’re completely capable...but I like the idea of you... of you needing me. To care for you.”
“It’s hot?”
“I- yeah. Sometimes. It’s not when you’re actually unwell.” Carson didn’t let her quiet relief show on her face. “But it feels good when you need cuddles or a massage. Or... that. It feels good to put you first. I can do that for you. Knowing you are okay to ask for anything. It- yeah, it’s a turn on.”
This was the opening Carson had been patiently waiting for. But first,
“Okay, bed. Now. Up you go.” She patted Greta’s hip and waved a hand towards the pillow. “And then I want to talk about it. Properly.”
As Carson did a lap of the apartment, flicked off the lights and collected their phones to put on charge, she knew Greta was likely to be spinning into anxiety. She remembered to fill a glass with water. But it was time they had this talk, clean cut. She’d gathered enough thoughts over the months they had been together, all confident and comfortable in Greta’s loving subtlety, but it was time to be more direct.
Greta had crawled into bed, disposed of her bra along the way and wrapped herself around a pillow. Carson’s pillow. She sat up when Carson held the glass across the bed from her side. Enough time for her to roll onto the mattress while Greta drank all of it and dropped the glass onto the bedside table.
Greta didn’t argue when Carson wiggled into her place at Greta’s side, her head on Greta’s shoulder. “You remember our first date?”
“Yeah.”
It was nice when Greta rolled towards her, like a big and little spoon facing each other, and began playing with her hair.
“And I asked you if this...” Carson shuffled closer, until her round belly pressed into Greta’s middle. “...was a preference.”
There was an immediate sadness, even resignation in Greta. Her touch was less like she wanted to pull Carson in, more like memorising. Like she didn’t know if Carson was going to deny her touch at a moment’s notice.
“Is it getting too much?”
“No.”
“But?”
“But I can’t keep blindly navigating it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Greta—”
“Nobody has stuck around long enough, Carson. You noticed it so quickly. And I thought I did it right, and you were okay with it—”
“Greta...I’m not judging you. You’re safe, here, with me. But talk to me. So I don’t make assumptions. I just have a important question first.” Greta’s deep sigh made Carson’s chest ache, and she reached up to cup her love’s cheek. Greta eventually looked her in the eye and gave her a nod. “Do you trust me?”
Finally Greta reached for her, pressed her lips to her forehead with a hint of desperation. “Yeah. I do. So much, Carse.”
“Good. Now tell me: why won’t you say no to me?”
“Because I feel like I have to take my opportunities when I can get them. Because this is when you’ll let me... indulge.”
“If you’re worried I think it’s about the baby: I don’t. Not like that.”
“It’s not. When I look at you, and you want me to, it’s like permission. I’m allowed to shift the balance. You let me look after you and protect you. I can be a big hot mess of desire for you. I can be what you need, no matter what. And it gives me so much more that has nothing to do with sex.”
Carson had actually already drawn that conclusion. It's the picture the random puzzle pieces showed when Carson fit them together.
“That’s not going to change when she gets here, is it?”
“No! God, no. You’re the mother of my daughter and your body will be incredible; I will absolutely want to worship it in the bedroom. You’re gonna need me, and she’s gonna need me and that feels good because I want to be there for you. It’s like my place and it’s been carved out just for me. And I love you. That’s not the kink. I just love you, plain and simple.”
“So there will be other nights. You don’t need to give in to me because you think you might not get another chance. It’s not my kink, but I get a lot out of it too, you know.”
“You do?”
“Mm... I love how committed you are to me; I’ve never felt this connected to anyone before. I don’t doubt you, or that you’re all in. I can’t quite love my body or my stupid hormones anywhere as much as you do. I think I know the answer already, but I want you to tell me anyway.”
“What?”
“It’s just play, right? It’s just for in here, with us?”
“It is. I know for a fact I was hot for you before our Chickpea came into the picture, and it doesn't have to leave the bedroom."
“So it’s not everything?”
“No, I think it just brings out some deep feelings in me and they are arousing, but that’s not to say I don’t want you without it. I have so many other reasons to love you.”
Well, Carson had finally run out of questions. She had her clarity, her assurance. Not just now, but over the course of their relationship. She felt like she could give now Greta what she wanted and had no questions around Greta’s motives.
“Okay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I just want us to be on the same page. Be clear about boundaries.” Greta looked more awake than she had since she came home, and her touch felt less hesitant. Like it belonged. “We do it already, but I know I don’t want it to be about this everytime.”
“No, of course not. Just, just tell me when it’s okay for me to be that way.”
“Oh, I will. More often than you might think. I’m probably a bit of a pillow princess, but I like it when you prioritise me in here. Being on the receiving end has resulted in the most wild, overwhelming, beautiful sex I’ve ever had. But that means you gotta let me look after you. Let me be good to you too.”
“I can do that.”
“One last thing... just to be clear.”
“What’s that?”
“I need to trust you’ll say no to me, if you really aren’t in the mood. Even when I’m out of my mind horny, or whiny. Be honest and say no. I’ll jump you another time and know it’s your turn to be the priority.”
“Alright. I- I can learn.”
“Then we’re fine.”
For the first time ever, Greta rolled towards her, almost on top of her and hugged her tightly. And Carson was very happy for that. To be able to hold her girl off the side of her chest and the feel of Greta seeking sanctuary in her neck.
“You’re incredible, Carse. For this. For not judging me.”
“Oh? Wanna show your gratitude?”
Greta lifted her head and shook it, which pleased Carson completely. “Only with cuddles. Cause I’m so fucking tired.”
“Good girl.”
Greta held up a finger. “Now that is a whole different conversation.”
Beg her the fuck pardon?!
“Another night.” Unfortunately. Carson mentally scrambled to note that comment.
“Another night. But maybe I can show my gratitude in the morning.”
“I’ll be willing and wanting.”