Jericho & Atticus & the Omegaverse-As requested (Patreon)

This is probably a sloppy as fuck mess but I wanted to get it to you before Thanksgiving tomorrow as my day will be crazy. We don't celebrate Thanksgiving per se but we do have a family dinner that will likely be about as crazy as any Mulvaney gathering.

So here it is, Jericho finds Atticus reading about the omegaverse and they f#ck about it. Also, yes, the lines in the fics Jericho reads out loud are, in fact, from The Night Movers, because I'm lazy. I hope you enjoy even if its a bit of a mess. It started as a 2000 word drabble and ended up 5000 words of omegaverse smut starring Jericho's dirty AF mouth.

He wasn’t going to read it. He wasn’t. Whatever this omegaverse stuff was, it was wrapped up in a romance novel and while Atticus didn’t have any harsh opinions about romance novels, he usually saved his precious free time for books that would enhance his life in some way. Usually autobiographies, almost always non-fiction, but a romance novel—a gay romance novel about alphas and omegas—no. Definitely not.

What he knew about the terms alpha, beta, and omega always came with a derogatory connotation. Alpha was a term saved for red pill podcasts where insecure men told other insecure men how they’re superior to women. He’d heard the term beta only when it related to what red pillers called ‘weak men’. He’d never heard omega outside of the actual Greek meaning.

He wasn’t exactly the target demographic for paranormal hormone-based dynamics. Or so he thought.

He had the whole house to himself. There was nothing else to do. Normally, he’d go work out, but he really didn’t want to. Unlike Jericho, he wasn’t really a television person. He might as well read a page or two. Right? After all, Adam did think that he might like something about it. Noah was obviously reading them. They must have some appeal.

At least that’s how he justified it anyway.

He stretched out on their bed, the mattress dipping familiarly beneath him, afternoon light slanting across the comforter in warm gold stripes. The house was so quiet it almost hummed. Perfect for reading. Perfect for getting into trouble.

Five minutes in, he had a vague grasp of the world-building. There were genders like male, female, intersex, but then there were secondary genders like alpha, beta, omega, and something called an enigma. There was a secondary plot, but the romance and ‘pack building’ seemed to be the end goal of the book. The writing was good, engaging, easy to understand…that was the last editorial thought he had before he was sucked into the story.

He kept turning pages without meaning to, his thumb dragging over the paper, the soft rasp of it grounding him as his pulse picked up.

He managed to maintain his composure for most of it. Omegas could get pregnant, regardless of primary gender. Alphas could impregnate omegas regardless of their primary gender. Betas were pretty much regular humans. And enigmas were rare, but they could impregnate anyone, even alphas.

That’s why Adam said that he might like this. His crack about Jericho impregnating him. It wasn’t that far-fetched. His husband had a breeding kink that wouldn’t be denied. If he could get pregnant, he would probably have let Jericho knock him up—probably more than once. He’d let Jericho do anything to him if he asked in that low, seductive voice he used just for him. That voice alone could unravel him; just the thought of it stroked down his spine like a warm hand.

Things were fine…totally normal…interesting even…until the sex. This was where the title came in…pun intended. A knot. Alphas had a knot, like dogs or wolves. They could ‘lock’ inside their partner to ensure the breeding took. That’s when he started to squirm. Heat flushed low in his belly, spreading out until he had to shift against the sheets, the fabric suddenly too soft, too suggestive.

By the time the main character had their first heat, Atticus was fully hard. The dirty talk was next level. He’d never been so turned on. He was hot all over. His breath had gone shallow before he noticed, his thighs pressing together as if that could calm him, as if he wasn’t already in too deep with fictional alphas whispering filth on the page.

He was so invested, he didn’t even hear the bedroom door open—didn’t notice he wasn’t alone—until the mattress dipped at the bottom. He froze. If he tried to hide the book, it would look suspicious, but if he didn’t, he was going to have to explain all of this to Jericho. His pulse spiked, thudding in his throat, the book suddenly feeling radioactive in his hands.

He sucked in a breath as Jericho slid a hand over the bulge in Atticus’s black shorts. He wished he’d kept his shirt on. No doubt he was bright pink, his nipples were rock hard. There was no hiding that he was turned on.

“What do we have here, Freckles? Why do I feel like this wasn’t for me?” Jericho asked, tone teasing.

“Who else would it be for?” Atticus asked, tone borderline sullen, knowing the conversation was about to take a weird and scandalous turn.

His ears burned; he could practically feel the blush climbing his neck.

“Don’t take that tone with me, baby,” Jericho crooned, plucking the book from his fingers and looking at the cover. “What’s this?”

“A book,” Atticus muttered.

Atticus jumped as Jericho’s open palm landed with a crack on his inner thigh, then squeezed. The hand print burned as he said, “Oh, someone has their sassy pants on today. Need an attitude adjustment, Freckles?”

Atticus shrugged but stayed quiet, his whole body setting fire from embarrassment as Jericho scanned the page.

The air felt thick, charged, as Jericho’s eyes flicked back and forth.

“‘So eager to be knotted, aren’t you? You begged for this,’” he said out loud, voice too seductive for Atticus to remain rational.

“Don’t…read it out loud,” Atticus cried, wishing the mattress would swallow him whole.

He rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow, which in hindsight, may not have been the best defensive posture while reading omegaverse. The position only made him feel more exposed, more aware of Jericho’s gaze skating over him. 

Jericho’s voice dropped an octave. “Already presenting for your alpha, Freckles? You were born to be an omega, huh?” 

Atticus’s cock throbbed where it was trapped. He couldn’t even speak. There was no doubt between them that in that fictional world, he would be an omega and he would have been a really good one. 

“Does that make you my alpha?” Atticus asked, trying–and failing–to sound sarcastic. 

“You know I am,” Jericho said. “And I one hundred percent approve of you on your hands and knees for me, begging and whining for me to breed you but…what’s this about? ‘‘You wanna be good for your alphas? Open up. Take us.’” Jericho looked at him, tone sharpening. “Us? You got ideas about someone other than me inside you, Freckles?”

Even with his face buried, he hoped Jericho heard the derision in his tone when he said, “It’s just a stupid book…Adam gave it to me.”

Jericho chuckled. “Your brother gave you porn?”

“It’s a gay romance,” Atticus corrected.

“I feel like I may have missed a big chapter of my own here. When did you go see Adam? Why are you playing hooky? Why did I have to hear you were at home from Adam, and why did he tell me I should definitely come home early and that I wouldn’t regret it?”

That little traitor. He should have known he would ruin their bonding moment. How did he know he’d go home and read the book immediately? Was he that transparent? 

Atticus groaned into the mattress, fury and mortification swirling in his stomach. But he couldn’t deny he’d never been more turned on in his life, so how bad could it really be?

“Can I have my book back?” Atticus asked, marinating in his humiliation and fighting the urge to grind against the mattress.

He didn’t think there was anything left between them that could embarrass him. But this…this was so much more embarrassing than anything he could have even imagined. Did he have a degradation kink? Probably. He’d add it to all the other kinks Jericho had helped him discover.

No, this one was all Adam’s fault.

 Jericho’s weight settled along his back—warm, solid, unmistakably claiming—while his breath brushed the shell of Atticus’s ear. It made him shiver.

“What’s happening here, Freckles? Explain it…in detail,” he crooned into his ear. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m reading a book. There you go. All explained,” he said weakly. 

“No, explain it to me. The plot. What’s happening here in these pages that has you so worked up without me? I’m a jealous guy.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” Atticus asked, defeated.

Jericho nipped at his earlobe. “Do you actually want me to?”

He hated how he hesitated before mumbling, “Yes?”

“Is that a question?” Jericho asked with a soft laugh. 

Atticus said nothing, just buried his face deeper into the bed.

“Answer me or I’ll just start reading it out loud,” Jericho threatened, mouth trailing down Atticus’s throat to the back of his neck, lips skimming over his overheated skin. The warmth of his breath feathered along Atticus’s spine, making every nerve twitch awake. His eyelids fluttered, biting his lip as he noted Jericho was half-hard. He canted his hips, moaning at the slow grind of his ass against Jericho’s cock, somewhat placated by his husband’s grunt of surprise.

The friction was barely anything but somehow too much, a tease he felt all the way down to his toes.

“Come on, Freckles. I’m waiting…” he taunted against his ear.

“It’s about an omega and his six alphas, and the omega just went into heat,” Atticus muttered, fighting to get the words past his lips.

He was starting to believe he might just spontaneously combust. His cheeks felt molten, his pulse a frantic flutter beneath his skin.

“And…” Jericho prompted.

“And nothing…that’s what it's about.” 

“Okay, have it your way.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “‘Don’t cry, strawberry. We just want to make you feel good before we hurt you.’” he said, his voice a low croon that sent a shock of pure heat through his core. 

When Atticus didn’t say anything, Jericho continued, “‘He’s so sensitive,’ Jensen murmured…’ Sounds like you, Freckles. Always so sensitive. So desperate. Saying no even as you grind on me.”

Atticus swallowed hard, his hips rocking down against the mattress, biting back a desperate sound. “Stop.”

Jericho slowly rutted against him, ignoring his pleas, clearly not done tormenting him yet. “‘You want me to fuck you, strawberry?’ Oh, Strawberry, I like that. He’s a redhead like you? Do you like that, Freckles? Is this a self-insert? Hmm? Were you picturing yourself as the main character? Getting fucked and bred by six feral alphas…hmm?” 

“The only one trying to insert anything is you,” Atticus sulked. 

Jericho ignored him. “What do we have here?” His lips brushed behind his ear again. He held the book in one hand, shifting to fit his arm between them, hand sliding smoothly under Atticus’s shorts to drag a finger across his dry hole. ‘Want me to breed you? Fill you up right here? Put my pups in you?’”

A strangled sound left Atticus, which had Jericho all but growling in his ear. Atticus sucked in a breath, as embarrassed as he was turned on. The heat crawled up his throat, settling under his skin like something alive.

Jericho pressed the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle, just enough to get his attention. “You reading mpreg, Freckles? Huh?”

There was no missing the near feral heat in his tone. He could hear Jericho’s breaths coming faster, like he was no longer teasing him, but…testing him. 

“What’s that?” Atticus asked, eyes still closed, no longer as interested in the book as he was what was taking place in his real life. 

“Men getting pregnant. Mpreg. It’s a whole sub-genre of romance.” He bit Atticus's neck, then nipped his shoulder blade. “Lots of breeding, lactation, heats, ruts…losing control, scenting, mating marks, claiming bites, scent glands. It’s all very…sensory rich.”

“How do you know that?” Atticus managed, tilting his head hoping Jericho would take the hint and return his lips back to his ear.

Which he did. 

“I raised seven horny gay teens. I know far more about omegaverse than I ever thought I wanted to know. Never gave it much thought before, but now…” He ran his tongue along the shell of his ear. “now it’s much more intriguing. I knew you had a breeding kink, baby. But I didn’t know you wanted me to get you pregnant.”

“I didn’t say that,” Atticus said.

“Mm, but you’re not denying it either. Does it turn you on? The idea of me knotting you, breeding you, putting a baby in you?”

Atticus couldn’t stop the high whine he tried to bite back. The sound made Jericho groan. The noise punched straight through Jericho’s composure, his grip tightening on Atticus’s hip as if the reaction had unlocked something feral in him.

“Roll over,” Jericho said, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

His hand slipped free from Atticus’s shorts. He did as Jericho instructed, trying to steel himself to more teasing. Instead, Jericho caught his chin between thumb and forefinger, tugging his mouth open. “Give me that tongue, Freckles. You know what I want.” 

The moment Atticus presented his tongue, Jericho closed his lips around it, knocking another desperate sound from his chest. Sometimes their kisses were slow, deep, but this one was desperate, dirty, a little frantic, like Jericho was just as turned on, just as affected by the imagery he painted.   

“So obedient tonight, Freckles,” Jericho teased against his lips. “You wanna get fucked? Bred? You want me to knock you up?” 

Atticus closed his eyes, hoping Jericho wouldn’t see how much he wanted that. What was wrong with him?  Why was he so into this? He really did like when Jericho finished inside, when he could feel it leaking out of him. He liked how sometimes Jericho would watch, how sometimes he’d finger it back inside him like he didn’t want to waste it, sometimes he’d even lick him clean with his own tongue.

“Answer me,” Jericho demanded, nipping his bottom lip, pulling him from his haze of filthy thoughts. “You want me to put a baby right here?” His hand skimmed across Atticus’s flat belly, the muscles jumping beneath his rough hands. 

“What if I do?” Atticus said defensively. 

The sound that left his husband was as feral as any animal, slanting their mouths together once more, to fuck his tongue past his lips.   “Say it again,” he snarled. 

Jericho would have been the world’s sexiest alpha. Atticus had no doubt. He didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved it wasn’t a real thing. While he relished the idea of a little piece of him and Jericho running around, he knew in a world like that, he’d lose himself in Jericho, in their lives, he’d let Jericho turn him into a brood mare…happily. 

“I want you to knock me up,” he managed, voice one step above a whisper. 

Jericho pulled back, but he didn’t go far, mouth and teeth trailing his jaw, scraping and biting his way down his throat, before dipping his head to lick over one hardened nipple before pulling back to watch himself fondle his chest. 

“Do you know how hot you would look pregnant, Freckles?” He squeezed his pecs, thumbing over both nipples, the rough pads of his fingers, dragging another half-bitten whine from him. “Fuck, that would be insane. You’re already the hottest man alive, but, fuck,” 

He sank his teeth into the flesh around his reddened nipple, then sucked it into his mouth. Atticus's body bowed upwards, his cock throbbing in time with every pull. Jericho was taking his time, dragging it out, biting and teasing until it was borderline painful. 

“But…what?” Atticus finally asked, hands fisting in Jericho’s hair.

“But the idea of you with your tits all swollen, your belly full.” He slid lower, pressing a kiss to his flat tummy. “You think I’m crazy now. I wouldn’t let you leave the house. I’d tie you to the bed and worship you in every possible way. Fuck you for hours, pamper you, give you anything you wanted. Fuck, if I could knot you, Freckles, I’d ruin you. Keep you pregnant and on my knot 24/7.”

It was both hot and comforting to hear Jericho echo Atticus’s earlier thoughts. His husband wasn’t lying. For some reason, he was obsessed with Atticus. As obsessed as Atticus was with him. His scent already drove him to distraction, they could barely keep their hands to themselves around company or the kids. If they brought in biological ties, scents, fated mates…they’d be useless. Atticus didn’t believe in fated mates, but if there was such a thing, Jericho was his. That he knew.

“Fuck me,” Atticus begged, wishing he could produce slick like an omega. It would speed up this whole process and he needed Jericho in him, like, yesterday. He felt empty, hollowed out, like something was missing inside. “But keep talking.” 

He’d probably never live this down, but that was tomorrow Atticus’s problem. He was so turned on right now, he’d probably come the second Jericho buried himself inside him. He needed him. Now. 

“Hurry up,” he said, desperation edging his words.

Jericho sat back on his heels, kneeling between Atticus’s open legs.  He reached over, snagging the lube from the side table, dropping it beside them on the bed. He hooked his fingers into Atticus’s waistband, yanking his pants down and off in one motion. Atticus lifted his hips to help but Jericho was so hyperfocused, staring at his lower body like he’d never seen him naked before. When he licked his lower lip, Atticus’s cock jerked, leaking all over his belly. 

Jericho spread Atticus’s legs, lying between them, dragging his tongue over the red handprint he’d left on his thigh, before pushing his knees up, biting at his ass cheek before stopping to just look his fill. 

Atticus whined, shifting so his legs were hooked over his husband’s shoulders. That whine became a sharp gasp as Jericho spread him open and speared his tongue against his hole. 

“Fuck, Freckles. You taste so good. I could do this all fucking day.” 

Atticus’s eyes rolled back behind his lids as Jericho settled in like he planned to savor his meal. He licked and teased over Atticus’s rim, devouring him with the same animalistic energy he did everything else. He couldn’t stop the high sounds escaping his throat or the way he squirmed restlessly beneath him, his hips rolling upwards until Jericho pinned him down. 

He knotted his fingers in Jericho’s hair, pulling him even closer, biting his bottom lip when he felt Jericho’s groan vibrating against the delicate skin there. 

“If you keep this up, I’m gonna come,” Atticus warned. Jericho lifted his head, revealing messy hair, wet lips and fully blown pupils. “Do what you gotta do, Freckles. But I’m fucking you regardless. Even if you whine and complain about being oversensitive. I’m not stopping until your so stuffed full you look fucking pregnant.” 

The shock of heat that lanced through him stole the air from his lungs. “You’re crazy.” 

His cock throbbed, bright red and flushed, leaking so much it pooled on his belly. Jericho surged up just enough to swallow Atticus’s cock fully, taking it to the back of his throat before hollowing his cheeks as he came back up. Atticus couldn’t stop the way his hips tried to thrust upwards, but Jericho pulled off, licking the precum from his skin before grabbing the lube. 

He slicked his fingers, pressing three inside without warning, the sting and burn only adding to his desperation. He let out a broken sound as Jericho fucked his fingers in and out, licking around them. 

“Fuck,” Atticus cried, back bowing once more as Jericho crooked his fingers within him, abusing his prostate to the point he truly worried he’d come before he even got inside. 

He lost track of time, pleasure whiting out his vision every time Jericho teased that bundle of nerves, his tongue working over him until he was so sensitive he wanted to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time the two of them were this worked up this quickly. Most of the time, they took their time, but this time Atticus didn’t have the patience.

“I can’t take much more,” he finally said, tears gathering in his eyes. “I need you inside me, now.” 

When Jericho kept going, Atticus dug his heels into his shoulder blades until he hissed, finally sitting up once more. He kept eye contact as he took his t-shirt in hand and hooked it behind his head, tugging his track pants down only low enough to free his cock. He took the lube, stroking himself twice before he grabbed Atticus’s hips, yanking him closer until he had him where he wanted him. He grabbed one of his legs, hooking it over his shoulder as he lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing insistently against Atticus’s entrance. 

He buried himself in one thrust, hovering over Atticus as he stared down at him with an intensity that made him lightheaded. “Your fucking lucky you can’t produce slick, Freckles,” he panted, sweat already forming on his skin like just being inside him took effort.

The first thrust had them both groaning. That seemed to be all it took to snap Jericho’s patience. He set a crazy pace, snapping his hips in a way that knocked reedy sounds from Atticus. The pace scrambled his brain until he couldn’t seem to form a complete thought. The only things going through his head were please, yes, don’t stop and more. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, do anything. He could only lay there and let Jericho use him. 

Jericho dipped his head, capturing Atticus’s mouth in a sloppy off-center kiss, sweeping his tongue inside anyway. The sudden change in angle so Jericho’s cock drilling his prostate until reality fell away and his thoughts were so hazy, it all felt like a fever dream. He could feel drool escaping the corner of his mouth but Jericho licked it away, staring down at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. It made his throat feel dry, words clotting in his throat. 

He dug blunt nails into Jericho’s biceps until he growled, biting at his lips. “Behave.” 

He didn’t even have the brain power to find a snappy retort, just continued to stare at his beautiful husband, caught up in the blissed out, possessive look on his face. 

“If you gave me the ability to fuck you anytime, anywhere, there would be no safe place for you.” It was like his words were hard-wired directly into the pleasure center of Atticus’s brain, each one causing its own jolt of heat until he felt like a live wire. “You know that right? I can barely control myself as it is. Just the thought of knocking you up is making me fucking crazy. You have no idea the things I’d do to you if I was biologically driven to mark you as mine, to know people could smell my come inside you, to know they’d know that you’ve been branded in every conceivable way a person could be.” 

Jericho’s voice was ragged, his hips slinging into him hard and fast, their bodies meeting with a slick friction that had Atticus spouting nonsense. “Yes. Fuck. I’d let you. I’d let you do anything to me. You know that. I can never say no when it comes to you.” 

“I know, baby,” Jericho panted against his ear. “I love how you submit to me like this. I love that you trust me that much. I wish I could knot you, force you to stay on my cock forever. I don’t care if it makes me sound like an asshole. I’d keep you pregnant, wouldn’t be able to stop myself from breeding you again and again. You see what you do to me?” 

“Jer…” Atticus managed, but just barely. His orgasm was barreling towards him like a moving train, his cock jerking where it was trapped between their sweat soaked bodies. Jericho pistoned into him, so deep Atticus swore he could feel him in his throat. The friction on his cock had him hanging on by a thread. “I’m gonna come,” he finally managed.

“Do it, come. I’m gonna fill you up, fuck you so full it’ll have no choice but to take,” he promised.

He cried out as pleasure washed over him, his cock pulsing between them, painting their skin with his release. Jericho didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He continued to fuck him through it, dragging out his orgasm out Atticus was sure he saw the face of fucking God. 

 Jericho’s words, the way he pounded into him, it was making him crazy. 

“Yeah, you like that huh, Freckles. My pillow princess. My breedable little omega,” he taunted, breathless, too far gone to probably even know what he was saying. 

Two more frantic thrusts and Jericho came hard, burying his face in Atticus’s neck, the moist heat of his breath panting against his neck a moment before his teeth sank into the skin there. Atticus moaned as Jericho continued to grind into him, hips jerking as he filled him up. 

After a few minutes, Jericho gently set Atticus’s leg down on the bed, but made no attempt to pull out, just dropped his forehead back to Atticus’s shoulder. 

“You okay, Freckles,” he asked after a minute or two, kissing his forehead. “Your heart is still racing.” 

He was too winded to speak, a little dumbfounded by what had just happened between them. He settled for a thumbs up that had his husband laughing. 

They didn’t speak again until they both came down. Eventually, Jericho carefully sat up, not dislodging himself from Atticus’s body. He watched Jericho from beneath heavy lids as he tugged his shirt off, then reached for something in their drawer. He showed Atticus the black silicone plug. It was plain in comparison to some of their others. But it wasn’t show and tell, just a silent question. Atticus nodded. Jericho carefully pulled free. Atticus grimaced as he pressed the plug inside, but once seated, it was fairly comfortable. 

Jericho finished removing his own shorts, then fell onto the bed beside him, gathering him into his arms until Atticus’s head was tucked beneath Jericho’s chin, their legs tangled together. “Don’t get too comfy, Freckles. I’m not done with you yet.” 

“You’re taking this rut thing pretty seriously,” he teased, smiling against his chest. 

“Are you going to tell me how you ended up at Adam’s and what conversation led to him giving you a gay romance omegaverse novel?” 

“It’s a long story,” Atticus said around a jaw-cracking yawn. 

He could feel Jericho’s chin brushing the top of his head with each word as he said, “You got somewhere else to be?” 

Atticus shook his head. “No, but I’m tired. I promise I’ll tell you everything after a nap.” 

They laid there quietly for a bit, Atticus drifting as Jericho traced the freckles on his shoulders like they were constellations. 

After a while, he said, “You know I won’t tease you for liking those books, right?” 

“I know,” Atticus said, nodding against his chest. 

“You’re allowed to read stuff just for fun. Not everything has to be enriching or educational. Some things can just be because you enjoy them.” 

Atticus nodded again. “I know. It’s just…new to me.” 

They fell into comfortable silence once more, his thoughts growing more tumultuous with each passing second as a question bubbled up inside him. 

“Does it bother you?” he blurted.  

Jericho kissed his forehead. “I said it didn’t, baby.” 

“That we can’t have our own kids, I mean.” 

Jericho pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “We do have our own kids. Two, in fact. Was the sex so good I erased your memory?” Jericho teased. 

“You know what I mean. Like, the old fashioned way.” 

Jericho’s fingers began to rub the back of his neck. “You think too much in that big brain of yours. It’s just talk. Those boys are ours. They were always meant to be ours. There’s not a person in the world who wouldn’t believe they belonged to us just looking at them. We have exactly the children we’re supposed to have and if we adopt more those will also be the kids we were meant to have. Fantasy is fantasy. I prefer our reality.” 

Atticus’s chest went tight, choking on the emotions welling within him. “Me, too.” 

“That said, if you want to explore this breeding kink a little more, I know for a fact there’s…toys that can give you a more…realistic experience.” 

Atticus hid his smirk. “Are you saying it's something you might want to explore further?” 

Jericho chuckled. “I will never say no to anything that ends with me inside you unless it's you getting railed by five other men at the same time. Cause that’s never happening, Freckles. Never ever. Not even in your dreams.” 

“How would you even know?” Atticus taunted. 

Jericho swatted his butt, making him hiss and clench around the plug inside him. “Don’t poke the bear, baby.” 

Atticus sighed, glancing up at him, kissing his chin. “My dreams have never involved other men. Or women, just so we’re clear. Since we met there’s only ever been you and I’m barely keeping up with you. Five other men and I’d be dead in a week.” 

“Aww, am I wearing you out, princess?” Jericho asked, kissing the top of his head once more. 

“Did I say that?” he asked around another yawn, ruining his own argument. 

“Wanna take a nap before we have to go pick up the kids?” 

Atticus nodded. “You’re gonna make me keep the plug in, aren’t you.” 

Jericho kissed the spot behind his ear. “I can’t believe you’d even ask. You know I’m not done with you yet.” 

Atticus slid his leg between Jericho’s, snuggling closer. “I know,” he said, burrowing closer, already half-asleep as he said, “Tonight, after the boys go to bed, show me those toys. Okay?” 

“You got it, princess.” 

Atticus shook his head at the nickname. He tried to pretend he hated it, but he just…didn’t. 

“Good, pull up the covers. I’m cold.” 

“Yes, dear.”