Brian's POV

"Are you sure that goes there?"

"Yes." Munchkin nodded emphatically. "Well, I think so."

"Think again," I suggested.

"But it fits!" He slapped his little hand to the carpet, frowning at the pieces of puzzle in front of us.

I rolled my eyes. "Look at the picture again. Is it logical for that flower to be in the sky?"

He chewed on his lip with the same intensity as Justin did when he was deep in thought. "But then why does it fit?"

"Because sometimes, they fit…but it's not logical for them to go in that place. Now, let's look after a piece of that cloud."

"I don't like this anymore. It's stupid." With a jerk of his foot, he messed up what we'd worked on for hours.

I talked myself out of shouting at him.

Thankfully, Justin chose that moment to check on us. He plopped next to Munchkin, pulling him in his arms, smooching him and earning himself a bout of giggles.

His eyes fell on the ruined puzzle. "What happened to the meadow?"

"Ask that little devil in your arms." I slouched lower against the wall, stretching my limbs. After spending hours on the floor in Munchkin's room, I was sore as hell and my back ached.

"You okay?" Justin reached to rub my foot. "How's Peanut?"

"How should I know? Sleeping, probably."

"And growing," he teased lightly.

"Shut up." I focused on my bump, glowering at it. "Is dinner ready?"

"Almost. Now, what ever did the puzzle do to you, kiddo?" He pinched Munchkin's nose.

"It's stupid."

"Of course. This task is all yours. I'd rather stick to the school stuff. Which reminds me, we still have some math exercises left."

Justin rolled on his back, bringing Munchkin to straddle his stomach. "Let's show daddy you know math. Three plus five."

Promptly, Munchkin thrust his hands in front of him, staring intently at his fingers, raising and curling them, as he chewed on his lip. He got it right, staring at eight fingers for a few moments, before raising another one, then curling two, three…and he beamed at us, showing us proudly six fingers.

Who'd have thought teaching a kid math could be so tiring?

Justin patiently raised two more fingers. "Eight."

Patrick stared at his fingers as if he was seeing them for the first time. "Why?"

"You have ten fingers. If you curl two, you end up with…" Justin trailed off, eyeing him hopefully.

"Eight?"

"Exactly! How many fingers to do you have up on your left hand?"

"Three."

"And that leaves your right hand with…"

"Two?"

I groaned, losing my patience. Shifting closer, I showed him my hand. "How many fingers are on one hand?"

"Five."

"Great. Then why did you say two?"

He shrugged. "Five, I guess."

Justin laughed heartily. "Good. So it's settled. Five raised on your right hand and three on your left. How many do you have raised?"

He started mouthing to himself, closing his fist and opening it.

"Come on, Munchkin. You have a total of ten fingers, okay? Five up from one hand, three from the other. How many do you have up," I snapped.

He flinched at my tone, tears pooling in his eyes, as he frowned at his fingers.

Jesus Christ. What is so complicated?

"Two."

"I give up," I declared.

"Eight, baby," Justin said gently, showing him again. "We'll continue this tomorrow. Now, dinner time."

The words barely left Justin's mouth and Munchkin was running out of the room.

"I guess he's your kid in the food department. He eats tons and not an ounce shows." I scowled, getting up.

"His math skills are questionable, though. I never liked math or any other science subject, but…"

"Yeah, I get you. Actually, I liked math. It was the easiest for me."

"It was useful when you got older—you could count your tricks, keep track of them, it helped you measure wood."

I chuckled, helping him up. "Math is practical. Though, I have an inkling he's fucking with us. Seriously. I can even prove my theory."

"Really?"

I nodded, guiding him out the room and to the kitchen. We found Munchkin playing with Sloth.

That was when an idea struck me. I had to make it fun for him.

"Quick, Munchkin." I scooped him off the floor, not listening to Justin's protests. "How many legs does Sloth have?"

"Four."

"And how many legs do you have?"

"Two."

"If you add them. How many legs do you have together?"

"Six."

I caught Justin's eye, smirking.

He gaped at Munchkin. "Were you joking earlier when you gave us the wrong answer? In your room."

He giggled, burrowing his face in my neck.

"You little shit!"

"Justin," I gasped. "Since when do we talk like that to Munchkin?"

"Since you teach him about trannies and he even said the f-word the other day. In the right context too."

"I'm so proud," I said mockingly. "What did we talk about not repeating everything you hear me say?" I whispered in Munchkin's ear.

"Dada got shampoo in my eye! It hurt!"

"Really, Justin." I huffed.

"For that comment, you give him a bath tonight."

I shuddered at the thought. Bath time meant a huge mess of bubbles and water everywhere. We had to do it in the locked bathroom, or Munchkin would escape and run around, butt naked, leaving a trail of foam after him.

"I don't need a bath. Dada washed me last night."

"We shower every day. You take baths since you like splashing around in your bubbly bath."

"Then I want a shower. Ow, Daddy!"

"What?" I frowned. I hadn't done a thing. "You won't like the shower."

"You kicked me."

"I didn't." I exchanged a confused look with Justin, who was busy plating our dinner. "Oh. That was Peanut—your sister," I explained, realizing he'd felt the kick too since I was holding him on my hip.

"I still don't get it why you had to eat her."

Justin burst out laughing, not helping one bit.

"For the last time, I didn't eat your sister."

"Munchkin, we discussed this." Justin took him from my arms. "Daddy is special. Not a lot of men can do this. Only women have babies."

"I get it!" Patrick beamed, his eyes shining. "Daddy is a tranny!"

My mouth dropped in horror. If he wasn't so damn adorable and my child, I'd have punched him.

Though, his words proved what a freak I was.

Justin was afraid for my health, while the thing I was most afraid was Munchkin's reaction to me pregnant. And I got the answer I feared.

He extended his little arms to me, wanting back in my arms. "Don't cry, Daddy."

Shit. Fucking hormones.

Dinner ended up being as drama-less as possible, in between Munchkin's meltdown over the greens and Justin shouting about their importance, and my sudden dislike of fried chicken (thank God for the sink right behind me). Next came bath time—the much dreaded moment for everyone in the family, for various reasons for each member.

In no time, we had a mess in Munchkin's bathroom.

"I don't get your aversion to washing. We both like our showers," Justin muttered, keeping Patrick still so I could shampoo his hair.

"His bath time is far less entertaining than ours, Sunshine."

"Do you play with rubber duckies too?"

I cleared my throat, while Justin bit on his lip to keep from laughing. "Not quite. Close your eyes and tilt your head back."

He scrunched his eyes shut, arching his back, head bent.

I made quick work of rinsing his hair, before soaping him all over, rinsing him, and we were halfway done.

Justin brought Munchkin's favorite, fluffy towel, wrapping it around him, helping him out of the tub, while I drained the water. Now came the drying part. With Justin holding him, I toweled his hair a little, before switching the devil device on (at least, in Munchkin's concept). I had no clue what he didn't like about the blow drier—the noise, the hot air? But he always froze, his eyes watching me wildly when I used it on him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when I was done, allowing Justin to help him in his pajamas. After, we got in Munchkin's bed to read him a story. He snuggled into my side, listening intently to every word I said. Most times, it was Justin who fell asleep before him.

Luckily, tonight wasn't one of these nights.

Being a Saturday, I had let Justin work on his paintings, while I spent the whole day with our little guy. The puzzle and running outside had tired him out so much, he was fast asleep after the second page I read.

We slid out of bed slowly as not to jostle Munchkin, before heading to our room.

"You tired?" Justin wrapped his arms around me, kissing up and down my neck.

"Mhmmm… It depends on what you have in mind."

"You, me, and our inviting bed."

I grinned. "Sounds like a great plan. Just let me piss first. I didn't miss this."

"Dr. Hunt promised to take it out. Seriously, how was I supposed to know I have super sperm? The condom broke once…you got pregnant. I fucked you raw once…you got pregnant."

"I still can't believe you stuck your bare dick inside me. No wonder it felt so good."

"You can try it too. Please." He pouted, pushing my shirt up.

"Wait. Piss." I pushed his hands away.

When I returned to the bedroom, Justin was naked on the bed. I undressed on my way, grabbing lube and condoms from the nightstand before straddling his glorious ass.

I ran a hand down his back, ending my journey with a smack on his bubble butt.

"Ah!" Justin pushed back into my hand. "More. Feels so good."

"You've been a naughty boy." I smacked him again.

"God, Brian," he gasped, when I pushed my bare dick against his cheeks. "Do it," he urged me.

"No." I pulled away, pouring lube on my fingers, slowly stretching him.

"But you liked it when I did it."

He'd remind me of that all my life. Maybe I should give in just once. But I was afraid to like it too much. Fucking bareback has been one of my hard limits since the first time I learned how to use my dick.

Could I change that for Justin?

He was right that after so many years of fucking only each other, it was safe to believe we were clean.

"Are you going to fuck me today, or finger me the whole night?"

Too lost in my thoughts, I'd been lubing him up for minutes.

"I have an idea," I said quietly.

"What?" He glanced over his shoulder.

"My birthday is coming…"

"Yeah, so?"

"I was thinking…maybe, if you want…we could try then."

"Really?" His eyes sparkled. "I'll arrange with Leo a playdate for Patrick."

"It's settled." I turned him around, so he was facing me, before I leaned for a kiss.

He lost himself in the kiss, but I pulled away long enough to roll the condom on my dick and align it with his hole.

Justin threw his head back, moaning loudly. I caught his lips in another kiss.

We shouldn't risk it when Munchkin was so close. He'd already put a damper on our sex life. We didn't want to become one of those couples who fucked around a schedule when the child wasn't at home.

Justin dug his fingers in my back. "Harder! Yes. Fuck me harder."

I bent his legs at the knee, pressing them to his chest, pushing into him harder and faster.

It had been a few days, and whoever said abstinence made it better, didn't lie. But we preferred to do it every day, several times a day if possible, not whenever we found a quiet moment.

Justin hooked his legs around my waist, bringing me even deeper inside him.

As it got better, Peanut decided to wake up and kick my kidney.

"Holy fuck," I hissed, grabbing my back.

"You okay?" Justin eyed me concerned, yet his eyes wild with arousal. "Is it Peanut?"

"I'm fine. Give me a sec."

When I resumed moving, I kept a slow pace, which drove both of us crazy, but it dragged the delicious moment for longer than my previous hard rhythm.

I exploded deep inside him when he arched his back, calling my name.