|
Post by malia on Feb 22, 2024 23:15:23 GMT -5
As sick and frustrated and upset as she is, her brain doesn’t even think about just moving Ava to her other breast until Stiles says something. It’s the obvious answer. For Ava at least. There’s still the glaring fact that the attempt at nursing the baby had brought no relief for her. She’s beginning to weaken her resolve, wondering if she should just give in and let Stiles take her to the doctor, or at least to see Melissa or Nat. She feels miserable, and she’s not sure if she can go through another night like this.
Ava calms down as soon as she latches on and begins to nurse. And Malia hadn’t realized how badly she had needed her to. She cradles the baby close to her chest, lifting her free hand to smooth down the babies soft, dark hair. They sit in silence for a few moments, the three of them. She can feel the nervous energy radiating off of Stiles, the impatience over her not taking his advice maybe? But she doesn’t say anything as Ava sleep nurses, and then just sleeps there in her arms. Once she’s sure the baby is really asleep, she pulls her away from her breasts and lifts her up for a soft kiss before handing her to Stiles to burp. He easily takes her back into his arms and within a matter of minutes, she’s tucked in to her bassinet beside the bed and he has settled himself into the rocking chair across from her instead of on the bed beside her.
She watches him carefully. She can tell he wants to say something. That the words are on the tip of his tongue, but he’s fighting himself. She begins to feel herself getting chilled again and she reaches for the sweatshirt she’d already discarded, pulling it back over her head and pulling the covers up tightly around her body as she lays back down. He finally can’t hold it in anymore and she meets his gaze as he rests his head on his hands, elbows on his thighs, a hint of desperation in his voice. She sighs, not because she’s angry, or even annoyed that he suggested it again, but because her resolve seems to be breaking.
And then she gets frustrated at herself for feeling weak. “No,” she says with certainty, even her voice sounding a little weak now. “I don’t want to go to the doctor.” But maybe Scott could come and take some of my pain.., she’s almost tempted to say, but that doesn’t seem any less weak than just going to the doctor in the first place.
“I’m sure it’ll be better in the morning.”
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 23, 2024 11:15:23 GMT -5
Watching Malia curl back under the covers, lips chattering, becomes his final straw. His jaw becomes a hard like as she tells him No again, and his heart begins to race. This is what he had worried her pregnancy would be like. That her stubborn was and her fear is strangers would keep her from getting the treatment she needed. Luckily, Ava’s well-being had been enough for her, sometimes even being the one to say she needed to see a doctor. But now that it’s just her, she’s become the most resistant he’s ever seen her.
“Yeah, okay,” he scoffs as she says it’ll be better in the morning. “I’m sure it will.” There’s a bitter edge to his voice thanks to his anxiety, but he’s at the end of his patience. Now, it’s his fear that’s winning. “Mal, that’s not how infections work. They don’t just get better overnight. And you barely slept last night.”
He waits for her to argue, insisting it’s not that bad or her immune system will kick in, but instead she’s just silent, still shivering beneath the covers. Stiles sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, reminding himself that it’s her body. (How many times had he told her that while she was pregnant?) It’s her body to take care of the way she chooses.
But… it’s also a body that he loves.
He stands up from the rocking chair as he pulls out his phone. Immediately, Malia is more alert than she has been all night, demanding to know what he’s doing. “I’m texting Nat,” he sighs as he types furiously, not lifting his eyes from the screen. “To see if she’ll just write you a prescription because this is stupid.”
It does feel stupid, but when he finishes the text and pockets his phone, Malia just looks sad. And small. And she’s still shivering. So this final attempt leaves his lips before he’s even thought it all the way through. “Then let me try.” Her brow furrows as she stares back at him. What he’s suggesting starts to sink into his own brain, but not enough to make him stop. Instead, he steps closer, picking up the ice pack from where she left it on his side of the bed and testing it to make sure it’s still mostly frozen before handing it to her. “If Ava’s not strong enough to get rid of the clot, then let me try.”
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 24, 2024 11:32:40 GMT -5
She can feel his frustration as he sets his jaw. And she doesn’t blame him. To be honest, she’s even getting a little frustrated and worn down herself. Why was she so stubborn about this? Why was she so convinced that her body would always just take care of itself. Hadn’t the entire baby thing shown her that that wasn’t always the case? Why couldn’t she just cave and go to the damn doctor. But she can’t. And she doesn’t want to. And she’s still convinced that she’s got this. Even as she shivers under the covers and her breast feels like it’s on fire.
She doesn’t respond when he speaks, sarcasm heavy in his voice. She knows he’s right. She hadn’t really slept for almost 24 hours. She’s exhausted, probably dehydrated, and definitely sicker than she ever remembers being. But her attention is on high alert as soon as he stands up from the chair and pulls his phone out of his pocket. She wouldn’t put it past him to just call Melissa or the hospital. Not because he’s spiteful or quick to go against her wishes, but because he worries and she can smell the intensity of that worry now. “What are you doing?” She asks him quickly, thinking about sitting up but convincing herself that she doesn’t have the strength to. He assures her he’s just texting Nat to get her a prescription, and even that she fights. “It won’t work…” Her voice is almost a whine now, the sound of it weak and gravely.
But he ignores her, writing and sending his text.
And then it’s like something clicks in his brain. She watches as he perks up and focuses on her. Then let me try…. She stares at him, confusion gripping her brain. She can’t even comprehend what he’s talking about until he explains it more. He wants to try to do what Ava couldn’t…with his mouth…to her now. The only time he puts his mouth on her breast is when they’re having sex, or thinking about having sex, or have just had sex. And none of those things are true now and even though she’s a coyote, there’s part of her that’s very much just a woman…and that part of her is very much afraid that this could ruin that entire experience for him. Her stomach turns at the thought of it. But then, the fiery pain makes itself known again, and she shivers violently under the covers and she’s so desperate for relief, she doesn’t even have to think anymore before she replies.
“Okay.”
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 24, 2024 12:38:24 GMT -5
He shares all of her worries as the realization of what he just offered begins to sink in, leaving him slightly nauseous. Stiles loves her body in a desperate kind of way. It might just be his favorite thing. And worshiping her body might just be his favorite pastime. Especially her breasts. Her nursing has already impacted their sex life, but he’s already used to the taste of her milk on his tongue and the way it sometimes leaves his skin sticky if she leaks. But this is very different. Judging from everything else they’ve tried tonight, this is going to be painful for Malia. And there’s nothing sexy about trying to free a clog from her milk duct. And as much as he wants to believe that Ava’s birth should be all of the proof that he needs that he can witness her body being a mother and still want her just as desperately… he’s just not sure.
But for the first time all night, Malia agrees to something he suggests on the first try. And now, he has no choice.
“Okay,” he echoes. Stiles stands there, rooted to that spot as he stares at her. And Malia simply stares back, still huddled under the covers. Now, he has no idea what to do. He has no idea how he gets from standing by her bedside to… well, essentially, nursing from his fiancee. Foreplay feels equal parts necessary and incredibly inappropriate. How does one initiate latching onto their girlfriend?
He runs a nervous hand through his hand, swallows hard, and then reaches for the ice pack again. “You should ice it again,” he says. He’s about to add that this will hurt, but even just thinking the words is almost enough to make him back out. But Malia already knows anyways. She sits up, wincing as she moves and then moaning when she pulls the sweatshirt back off. He waits until she’s settled again, icepack on her red, angry breast before he presses a kiss to the top of her head. It’s one of the few touches they’ve shared that night when most of their interactions have been so clinical, but it feels necessary now, before whatever comes next. “I’ll be right back.”
Without offering an explanation, he heads back to the kitchen to grab a glass. As weird as this whole situation is, his brain needs to make it less weird wherever he can. Consuming as little milk as possible feels like a good start. Stiles lingers there for a second, sure he’s forgotten something until he realizes his brain just wants to keep him here, where he doesn’t have to think about what he’s about to do. But isn’t it better to rip off the proverbial band-aid?
When he reappears in their bedroom, she pulls the ice pack away, but he shakes his head. “Keep it there as long as you can.” Whatever numbness it can offer her, he wants her to take as much as she can. He settles into the rocking chair again while she watches them from the bed. They both sit there in a weird, wired silence until she finally pulls the ice pack away. He watches as she pokes gently at that angriest red spot before declaring that she feels it less. At least that’s something.
He sighs an anxious sigh as he gets to his feet, walking towards the bed. Malia stays there on her side, the way she does most nights for Ava’s last feeding, and Stiles’s stomach turns in response. “Sit up,” he tells her, not so much a command but also not a suggestion. “I’m not going to lay with you like Ava does.” Something flickers across her expression that lets him know she understands as she slowly moves to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. He kneels before her, setting the glass beside him on the floor. That same feeling from before fills him as he realizes he has no idea what to do with his hands or his mouth.
So his solution is to just do it.
Before he can think twice, he brings his arm around her to rest one of his hands against the middle of her back. With his other hand, he gently cups her breast, the way he sometimes did for her when Ava was first born and she was still figuring out this nursing thing. She sucks her breath in sharply as soon as his hand touches her breast, and his eyes immediately meet hers. “You okay?” Her eyes are closed, but she manages to nod, and he drops his gaze back to her breast. The clog is visible, swollen and red and sticking out above her nipple in a way that both fills him with sympathy and desperately makes him want to take back his request. But what other choice does he have? He lifts his gaze again to find her eyes open now, watching him as he watches her nipple. “You need to let me know if you want me to stop, okay?”
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 24, 2024 23:08:41 GMT -5
The kiss he presses to her head is the first real intimate contact that they’ve had since he got home from work outside of handing Ava back and forth. It’s comforting, even if it’s brief and he’s gone. She signs, wincing again as she holds the ice to her breast.
She doesn’t overthink things, not usually. She’s not like him. She much more easily sees things in black and white, where he sees the gray that sometimes exists in between. It’s a fault of hers, she knows. But she also doesn’t know how to change herself. Or if she even should. Maybe this is the way they’re supposed to be, balancing each other out just so. But even her mind is swimming with doubt as he goes to do whatever he’s doing in the kitchen (she can hear the clinking of dishes as he moves). What if this doesn’t work. What then? Or what if it does, and then he can never touch that part of her body again without having some kind of vision of having to do this. A memory that pops up every time they’re intimate, or every time he even sees her naked.
She doesn’t constantly need him telling her that he thinks she looks pretty, or that he likes her body, but it’s always been a pleasant reassurance to know that he did. And what if this changes that?
She doesn’t have time to think about it much longer, and her desire to feel better has her committed to the plan either way. He’s back in the room before she can change her mind. She’s ready to get it over with and pulls the ice away, but he insists she leaves it. And so she does, and they sit, and she doesn’t know what to say. And even if she did know what to say, she doesn’t feel good enough to have the energy to really say it. Her shoulders slump and the ice begins to burn her skin, the chills overtaking her as she shakes.
And then finally he moves and she does what he tells her, sitting up and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her eyes dart to the baby, sleeping soundly in the bassinet beside the bed. She watches as he kneels down in front of her. And the entire thing feels intimate and uncomfortable, only because she can tell that he doesn’t want to be doing this…and she doesn’t want him to have to, but she also really doesn’t want to go to the doctor. And as much as he hates that realization, he seems to understand. He stares at her breasts, his anxiety palpable as he tries to figure out what to do, settling with moving a hand to her back and the other to cup her breast. It hurts and she sucks in her breath, her own hands gripping the bed sheet on both sides of her, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.
She closes her eyes but he doesn’t do anything. She nods when he asks if she’s okay, but still nothing. Then he speaks again and she thinks she might be about to lose her mind. “Just do it,” she instructs him. She doesn’t mean to be short, but she just needs this to be over with. She just wants to feel better. And if this isn’t going to work, she just wants to cry herself to sleep. And then his mouth is on her, unexpectedly, causing her to whimper slightly. But his touch is soft, his mouth dry, as he wraps his lips around her nipple and begins to suck ever so lightly. It hurts, but it doesn’t even feel like he’s doing as much as Ava did.
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 25, 2024 13:01:00 GMT -5
Malia’s tone is short when he tells him to just do it. So… he just does it. He stops thinking about how much this will hurt her and how weird this might feel in the aftermath and how Scott would respond if he ever tells him this is how they cured Malia’s ailment. And he just does what he told her he would.
Stiles brings his mouth to her breast, fighting the urge to circle her nipple with his tongue. It still feels important to keep this a clinical act, free of any actions that would normally constitute foreplay. Unlike when he normally finds himself up close and personal with her breasts, though, nothing happens when he sucks gently. The first time they had had sex after Ava’s birth, he had been surprised by what little force it took for him to suddenly end up with a mouthful of milk. But now, there’s nothing. Not a drop. It’s no wonder the baby had gotten so angry.
He sucks just a little harder, and still, nothing. So maybe the key to this is persistence, he thinks to himself with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His hope for quick and easy are dashed as he settles in for a marathon, not a sprint. And he’s rewarded when after four more tries, a single drop of milk lands on his tongue. It’s almost enough to make him pull away, to look up at her excitedly over less milk than she had produced even before Ava’s birth. But above him, Malia lets out a groan, followed by an exasperated sigh, and it’s enough for him to know that his enthusiasm won’t be shared.
And as if that weren’t enough evidence, she sighs again, before she says with that same sharp tone, “Harder, Stiles.”
He wants to argue. He wants to point out that he needs his mouth on her nipple to still be good for her after tonight and not a source of trauma. But her body shivers beneath her hands from the chills that still wrack her body, and there’s a desperation in her voice he can’t ignore. So he presses his hand a little more firmly against her back, and he sucks harder. This time, she cries out, but he’s already trying a second time, and this time, he ends up with a mouthful of milk. It’s not a constant flow like it normal is when Ava feeds, but at least it’s a step in the right direction.
Stiles continues to suck with that same force, sometimes ending up with a mouthful of milk. Malia trembles beneath his hands in a way that lets him know that this is painful for her, but she doesn’t tell him to stop, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead, on a whim, he moves his hand from beneath her breast and brings it to the top. His fingers barely graze her skin as he searches blindly for the physical lump of the clot. When he finds it, he presses down, moving his finger towards her nipple like he did earlier that night. Above him, Malia cries out in response, and her hand immediately clamps down on his wrist. It’s a sign he should stop, he knows that, but when he does it again, there’s suddenly a bigger rush of milk into his mouth.
A soft clump of something hits his tongue, and before he can stop himself, he gags around her nipple. Quickly, he pulls his mouth away, spitting that mouthful into the glass beside him. He retches again at the sight of the hardened milk inside of the glass, but there’s also a sense of relief that at least part of that source of her pain is gone. When he looks back up, her expression is an overwhelming mixture of emotions he can’t separate out in that moment. So he just shakes his head as he rises back up on his knees. “I’m fine,” he tells her. “It’s working.” And then he brings his mouth back to her nipple, his finger moving back to that bump.
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 25, 2024 22:52:21 GMT -5
At first, as much as it hurts, she can tell that he’s hardly doing anything. He’s not sucking hard enough. And she hesitates to tell him to try harder because she knows the moment she does, she’ll feel more pain. She’s never been afraid of pain, or death, or anything like that really. They were just part of life, especially when you were fending for yourself in nature. Any day could be your last thanks to a hunter, or a predator, or hunger, or weather. And in her mind, it really hadn’t ever been much different as a human…especially one like her. One who was different. But all of the sudden, this pain seems much worse than any she’s felt before, maybe even childbirth and she doesn’t really want to think about him sucking any harder than he already is.
But she wants this to be over. She wants this to be over more desperately than she fears the pain.
So she sucks in her breath, her knuckles white as she grips the sheet beneath her body, and she just goes for it.
“Harder, Stiles,” She instructs. It’s not in a breathy, lustful voice like it normally is when she says those words to him. This is more of a short, desperate voice. One she barely recognizes as coming from her own body. He hesitates for a moment, she can feel it. Maybe it’s a fear of hurting her, or maybe it’s a fear of what will happen when and if this finally works. But eventually, he tightens his grip on her back and he sucks again…hard. She cries out slightly, the pain shooting through her body, but he doesn’t ease up. She shakes with a combination of the fever and the pain, but still she doesn’t shy away from his actions.
And finally, after what seems like an eternity, something happens. She can feel it in her own body first, but then he’s gagging, wrenching as he pulls away from her. There’s a horror in his eyes as he spits whatever came out into the cup he’d brought with him. It kind of makes her want to gag too to be honest, maybe because it had hurt so bad. And instead of there being instant relief, the pressure seems to build. She grimaces, but he pulls himself together and gets right back to it. And this time, after a few more minutes, there IS relief. He sucks hard, his thumb massaging the lump beside her nipple toward the peak. And it hurts like hell, and she wants to throw up, but then it comes loose. Stiles gags again, pulling away and spitting into the cup a second time and there is an almost instant relief. It’s like she can breathe again. The pain is still there, and the fire, and the fever, but the lump is gone and just like that, milk comes flowing everywhere. Milk that has been trapped by the clog for days, building up and making her swell.
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 25, 2024 23:40:59 GMT -5
Stiles brings his mouth back to her nipple with renewed purpose. This time, his mouth fills with more milk, and it feels like they’re finally getting somewhere. Like this last-ditch, half-thought of a plan might be the thing to keep her out of the ER. Malia’s body tenses against him in anticipation of each pull at her nipple, but her cries even out into softer moans as he sucks now. Another clump of hardened milk breaks free, and he gags again as he pulls away to spit it out. But it’s worth it to know that this will bring her relief and stop that infection from spreading.
His thumb runs a little harder over the knot that’s still tangible in her breast. In response, a small rush of milk fills his mouth, and he silently marvels at her body for the millionth time. In reality, her body can do a whole slew of things he never anticipated, some of them so weird and unexpected, he’s sometimes at a loss for words. After having watched his best friend turn into a supernatural creature, he had thought nothing could surprise him. But then her breasts had started leaking before there was even a baby to feed. And a dark purple line had appeared on her backside that Scott had said meant there’d be a baby soon when Stiles had mentioned it offhandedly. She still had contractions even after Ava was born, and her first cycle had left her almost incapacitated for the first two days. And all of it apparently still falls under someone’s definition of normal.
And now, there’s a lump in her breast that he can feel as he sucks again and presses a little harder. With each mouthful of milk he gets, Malia seems a little quieter. It’s hard to know if it’s because it hurts less or because she’s so drained, but either way, he just wants this to be over for her. So he digs his finger in a little deeper and sucks a little harder, and then there’s an audible pop. Malia makes a sound like she’s in pain again just as something hard and bigger than the previous clumps fills his mouth. He manages to gag just before his entire mouth floods with milk, enough to make him feel like he’s choking. He yanks his mouth away, and his hand shoots up to cover his face as milk sprays wildly. A sure sign that clog is finally gone.
Stiles spits out this last mouthful before gagging two more times. For a second, he thinks he might actually be sick, but he forces himself to pull his attention back to her, a welcome distraction. Milk still sprays from her nipple with a force that’s nothing like the normal trickle that happens when Ava cries or after they have sex. No, this is like the few times when Ava has gotten upset right after latching, letting go of Malia’s nipple just as her milk lets down. Stiles wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before picking up the glass and angling it beneath her breast to catch as much of the milk as possible. His eyes flicker back up to Malia as she sits with her eyes closed. Her cheeks are still flushed, and she still seems drained, but that tension seems to have left her body. “You okay?” he asks her gently.
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 26, 2024 22:47:43 GMT -5
This has never happened to her before, so she’s not exactly sure what to expect. Just like she’s not exactly sure if this is even going to work. She knows it’s weird, and uncomfortable, and she knows that Stiles isn’t enjoying it anymore than she is. She can see it in the way he furrows his brow, his eyes closed so he doesn’t have to actually watch what he’s doing. Almost like he’s disassociating himself with her body as he tries to help her with this. She’s never felt more close, or more distant to him at the same time. It’s intimate, and awful. It hurts, but he’s bringing her relief.
She can’t explain it. She’s not sure she’ll actually ever be able to explain it.
She cries out again as he pulls another portion of the clog from her breast. Every bit of milk that he releases takes a little bit of the pressure off, but the pain is still there and the lump is still there. But the third time he goes in is different. Every time he sucks, a she feels the pressure release. The pain starts to ease up, and even when she cries out as he presses hard against the lump in her breast, it’s almost like she can sense that there’s an end in sight. And all of the sudden, the marathon turns into a sprint for the finish line for both of them. She moans softly as she grips the sheets and he sucks harder than he has up to that point, and then with a pop, all of that pressure finally releases.
She doesn’t know what to do as he gags and milk begins to spray from her nipple in a way that she’s pretty sure she’s never seen before and can’t possibly be normal. And it feels so good. She sighs, the relief so intense that she doesn’t even realize how it’s affected him or what he’s pulled from her body. She closes her eyes, feeling like she can finally breath again as she hears him curse and quickly move the glass to try and catch some of the milk that is not only spraying him, but also spraying her and the floor and probably their sheets. She releases her death grip on the sheets and finally opens her eyes when she hears him speak.
She actually smiles when she looks at him. And instead of answering him right away, she reaches for his cheeks, pulling him in for a hard kiss. She knew how awful it must have been for him, she’d heard the sounds he was making. But he did it, for her. And now she doesn’t know how to say thank you…not really. So she lingers in that kiss as he continues to hold that glass right there against her breast and when she finally pulls away with a smack of her lips, she laughs a little at the absurdity of the entire thing. “I am so okay,” she tells him. She still feels feverish, and exhausted, and the soreness is still there…but it’s nothing compared to what it was. “Thanks to you.”
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 26, 2024 23:37:27 GMT -5
It catches him off-guard when Malia immediately grabs his face and kisses him hard. His lips are sticky with milk. He’s sure he tastes like milk, her milk, but it doesn’t seem to matter to her. And there is a strange kind of intimacy to the moment. Like so many other things about their journey as parents, Stiles already feels like the strangeness of this act has established yet a new level of intimacy to their relationship. There’s no one else he would even consider doing this for, and nothing that brings him more pride in that moment than the wide, relieved smile she wears when she pulls away.
He laughs at her words, a warmth spreading through his chest at her gratitude. “Well, good,” he says as he runs his free hand over her hair. “I’m really fucking glad that worked.” Her cheeks are still flushed and she still shivers from her chills, but she seems lighter now as she sits on the edge of the bed. Like she might not even be aware of her lingering fever now that the source is gone. She even manages to laugh when he swears, and it’s only then, when he knows she’s going to be fine, that he feels the weight of his worry settle squarely between his shoulders. And he feels tired.
The flow of her milk has lost some of that pressure so it’s not going to spray halfway across the room, but it’s still a steady stream into the glass growing warm in his hand. He winces in sympathy as he watches it, realizing just how much milk had built up behind that clog, causing her all of that pain. “We should do something about this,” he tells her as he hands her the glass before getting to his feet. The glass had been a good improvisation in the moment, but it doesn’t feel practical. Especially not when a steady trickle of milk has missed the glass and run down her front. He leaves her there on the bed as he moves into the nursery, searching for the manual pump Melissa had suggested when Malia had seemed offended by the concept of anything coming near her breast that wasn’t their daughter. But tonight, when she’s still so sore and he’s sure that milk needs to come out, being able to control the force of the pump with her hand feels like a good idea.
He returns to the bedroom and helps her to settle in the rocking chair before he takes on the task of cleaning up their room. Malia half-heartedly protests from the rocker, but he ignores her as he starts with the floor, wiping up the milk she had spilled along with the milk he had spit out from their bedroom floor. The sheets are next. He strips them so he doesn’t have to worry about waking up to the smell of spoiled milk or finding where she leaked that thick, yellow liquid while she lay in bed, feverish. When he’s done, he checks on Ava, running a gentle hand over her dark hair as she sleeps soundly beside their bed, completely unaware of the excitement the night had held.
He glances up from the bassinet to find Malia watching him, the pump still at her breast. Her eyelids are heavy, the circles around her eyes are dark. But he can see the sticky trails of milk on her skin from here. Can feel that stickiness on his own skin. “Wanna take a shower?” he asks. She’s quick to shake her head, her eyes closing. A bath would be easier for her weak body, but it’ll take longer, and judging from how tired he feels, he can’t imagine how exhausted she is. “What if I shower with you?” he offers.
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 28, 2024 23:17:01 GMT -5
There had been few times in her life when she felt a relief as immense as the one she feels as she sits there with Stiles kneeling before her. It’s not just the physical relief, though that’s huge. It’s the fact that it seems like, together, they can pretty much get through anything…and there’s a relief in that. And it sure doesn’t hurt that the pain and pressure is slowly leaving her body as the milk continues to trickle from her breasts. She normally hates pumping, and she’s never shy about that, but she gladly takes the manual pump when Stiles brings it back to her and helps her settle into the rocking chair. She presses it to her breast and each pump seems to make her feel a little better and a little lighter.
She wants to protest more as he cleans up the bedroom, knowing that most of the mess is a result of her, but she doesn’t have the energy to protest beyond that first attempt. He moves with a purpose, stripping their sheets, wiping up the milk that had made its way to the floor, putting fresh sheets on the bed. And by the time he’s mostly finished, there is almost no milk left to pump. She sighs, a deep and relieved breath, finally relaxing. So when he mentions a shower, she isn’t very keen on the idea. She’s still chilled and weak and more than anything else, exhausted. She doesn’t want to stand in the shower right now even though it would be nice to climb under the clean sheets with a clean body. But when he mentions them taking a shower together, her eyes open and her ears perk up. Not because she thinks they’re going to be doing anything, just because the thought of taking a shower with him makes her think that it actually sounds like a good idea.
So she smiles as she looks at him, pulling the pump away from her breasts and setting it down on the dresser. “I’d like that,” She tells him honestly. He comes to her side, helping her up, even though she doesn’t need it. And she’s already stripping off what remains of her clothing as they make their way into the bathroom. He turns the water on, letting it heat up and fill the room with steam. They leave the door open a crack so they can hear if Ava wakes up or begins to fuss. She reaches for the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor to join her shorts. She catches a glimpse of her body in the mirror and even she can tell how much less swollen her breast is now that that pressure has been relieved.
By the time she looks back at him, he’s naked and climbing in the shower. He reaches out a hand, helping her step into the tub with him. The hot water burns her sensitive skin, her breasts still red and angry, but it feels so much better. She closes her eyes, letting the water soak her hair as he wraps his arm around her waist.
“Thank you for doing that,” she mumbles, exhaustion really settling in. “I know it was gross.”
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Feb 28, 2024 23:56:08 GMT -5
It occurs to Stiles as he watches her indecision that if she says no to the shower, he’s going to have to tell her they’re not sharing a bed tonight. And after he just physically removed that clog with his mouth, wouldn’t that just make him an asshole? But her skin is shiny from here, sticky with all of the milk that spilled down her front after that pressure was finally released. He can feel it on his own chin and neck. And neither of them wants to be stuck to the sheets all night. They’ll just sleep better this way, on a night when her body needs a good night’s sleep. He’s sure of this.
So there’s a wave of relief when she agrees. He lets out a breath as she pulls the pump away from her breast. It may have felt a little dirty to bribe her by saying he’d join her, but in reality, he never planned to let her shower on her own. There’s a new lightness to her now. Her cheeks are less flushed, and her eyes are brighter. But he hasn’t forgotten the way she swayed on her feet or how weak she seemed, curled up in their bed. It’s the same reason he reaches for her now, guiding her to her feet. “Let’s do this before Ava decides she feels left out,” he says as he rests a hand on the small of her back. He catches sight of the bottle of milk on the dresser and almost pulls away to go put it in the fridge. But then he’s flooded with memories of the clumps of that clog that filled his mouth, and he knows that milk is destined for the drain.
Once in the bathroom, he turns on the shower while she starts to undress her bottom half. When he turns away from the shower, she’s right there, hands grabbing for the hem of his shirt, and he lets her undress him. Or at least, he lets her undress him until her eyes catch sight of her reflection in the mirror. Malia stills then, turning slowly to face her reflection. As he undresses, Stiles watches the way she leans in towards the mirror, bringing a hand up to her cup her breast again. It’s smaller now, red but less angry. More like the way it had yesterday morning than when he returned from work. He doesn’t try to interrupt her as he moves towards the shower, testing the water before he steps in. By the time he reaches back for her, she’s right there, almost like she’s drawn to his side.
He holds onto her hand tightly as she steps over the side of the tub, and he’s reminded again of the bathroom remodel that never happened because they conceived Ava instead. The short-lived second pregnancy scare had planted the seed of an idea of a bigger house down the road. And as much as it breaks his heart to think about leaving this house, it’s the bathroom that he spends his most time thinking about: A shower big enough for both of them, one where they don’t have to fight over the showerhead or stand in the tub where they bathed their daughter.
Malia gasps when the water touches her breast, and Stiles responds by wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against his front. Her voice is soft and tired when she speaks. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he tells her as he lowers his head to press a kiss to the side of her neck. “Anything for you,” he murmurs against her neck before he sucks gently at a spot just below her ear.
He’s not sure he’s ever been more certain that he’d do absolutely everything. Tonight is another reminder of how much their relationship has changed since they became parents together. There’s a level of intimacy there now that he can’t put into words, but one that he feels in the most mundane moments, like they truly have built a life together, one where he no longer knows where he ends and she begins. He rests his chin on her shoulder as he moves his hands up from her waist, moving them into her hair as he begins to massage her scalp. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
|
|
|
Post by malia on Feb 29, 2024 23:14:51 GMT -5
His lips are soft and warm against her fever-chilled skin. Even under the water she can feel the fever burning beneath the surface. But she closes her eyes and leans into his touch. They’d been in a strange place all night, tiptoeing around each other. Him busy taking care of the baby and her busy well….being sick. It had been so clinical. Like a working relationship. Not because that’s how either of them felt, just because neither of them had known what to do. And because maybe both of them were a little stubborn. Until the moment that he’d put everything else aside and helped take care of the problem for her. And now that she was already feeling a little better, she craved his touch as much as she always had…maybe more. Even when it wasn’t sexual, like this. It’s so intimate, and she loves him so much.
“You didn’t hurt me anymore than I was already hurting,” She tells him honestly, her voice weak and quiet, almost lost in the sound of the water hitting the tile and their bodies. She wishes she could just completely fall into his arms. She closes her eyes as he runs his hand through her hair, his chin resting there against her shoulder in a way that lets her feel the stubble of his full day of hair growth. She hates that he’s behind her and she can’t see him, but this feels so good. She reaches for the loofa sponge hanging on the wall, filling it with some of the body wash that they share and beginning to scrub away what remains of the ordeal as he gently washes her hair. After he smooths some conditioner through the long strands, she reaches for his own sponge, filling it with soap before she turns around and begins to rub it gently along his chest.
She leans in and presses a kiss to his lips as he rests his hand on top of hers, guiding her movements as they wash the rest of his torso and his back. They shower in silence, the touch saying much more than their voices ever really could anyways. When they’re done, they stand there under the hot water, steam filling the room as they rinse off and kiss softly. He reaches to turn the water off, climbing out and grabbing her towel so he can hand to her before wrapping his own around his waist. She picks up another towel to dry her hair and makes her way back into the bedroom so she can pull on one of his old t-shirts. It doesn’t hurt like it did to have the clothes rubbing against her breast and she just wants to climb under the covers again.
Before she does, she stops to check on Ava, still sleeping soundly. She leans down to press a kiss to the baby’s head. “Do you think I can try to feed her when she wakes up,” She asks him as if there would be some reason why she couldn’t. He shrugs and says he doesn’t know why not as he climbs into bed beside her. She curls up against him, nuzzling her face against his chest as she sinks into the pillow. “You should stay home tomorrow,” She mumbles as she struggles to keep her eyes open.
|
|
|
Post by stiles on Mar 1, 2024 22:03:39 GMT -5
Her voice is soft and tired when she speaks, letting him know that he didn’t cause any more pain than she was already feeling. But Stiles still pulls her a little closer, wanting to feel her solid form in his arms. With his frustration gone, it’s the memory of his worry that lingers in the pit of his stomach. He’s not used to seeing her sick, and tonight is a stark reminder that she’s always the one who bares the physical labor of parenthood. She had been the one to carry Ava and then give birth to Ava. She has been the one to feed Ava and now develop an infection because of it. It’s another moment when he wishes he could take this from her.
He nods against her shoulder in response, and then they’re both quiet. It’s peaceful there in the shower. Peaceful in a way that nothing else has been tonight. He can feel the tension leave his body as his hands move over here, washing away the sticky traces of milk. Every so often, her body brushes against his in a way that makes his cock twitch, but that’s as much as his exhausted body can handle. That stress lingers just a little too strongly still, even as his mind quiets enough to focus on washing her hair, then washing her skin, then just having her in his arms.
If any weirdness lingered from his solving her clogged milk duct, it’s gone by the time the water starts to cool off. He pulls Malia closer to him as he reaches around her to turn off the water, then he steps out first, wrapping a towel around his face before beginning to dry her off. It’s a quiet sort of intimacy that still reigns as they dry off and get ready for bed. He lingers in the doorway, watching her as he brushes her teeth. The way she pulls on one of his shirts that barely brushes the tops of her thighs. The way she stops by the bassinet, pressing a kiss to the baby’s head. The way she sighs contentedly and smiles when she slips into bed, seeming relaxed for the first time that night.
Stiles takes care of both of their towels before finally moving towards their bed. He shrugs at her question as he pulls back the sheets, glancing over at the baby before meeting Malia’s gaze. “If you feel fine, I don’t know why not.” As he says it, the memory of the clot in his mouth fills his mind, and his stomach turns. But he forces the thought away. Surely, after all of that pumping the clot is gone and couldn’t possibly choke Ava. And by the time she’s turning towards him, laying her head on his chest, he forgets to worry it could be a possibility. Instead, he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, wanting that feeling of her body pressed up against his own.
She seems much better, judging from the way she lets him pull her closer, her breast pressed against him. But he still smiles to himself as he presses a kiss to her head. “I already texted Gina,” he murmurs against her hair. He had been certain they’d be at the doctor’s in the morning when he had gone into the kitchen to feed the baby earlier, so he had already made the decision to not go in. She mumbles her agreement against his shirt, but it only sounds like gibberish. “You should go to sleep,” he says before pressing another kiss to her head and rubbing her back. In the morning, her fever would break. Her breast would be tender but no longer swollen or red. And the whole night would start to feel like a bad dream, one they would hopefully never live through again. But for now, he holds her as she drifts off to sleep, surprisingly grateful to even have nights like this with her.
|
|