hard R?Kinks/Themes Chosen:
couvade syndrome Other Warnings:
Teddy has issues, but luckily Victoire finds them (and him) irresistibly endearing.Author's Notes:
Something light-hearted this time. I was hoping to get inspired by some harder kinks and write some hot-filthy-wrong sex, but alas, earwax. And sweet sympathetic pregnancy fic, but without any mention of earwax.
“Non, Teddy. You must come out. You will be late if you do not.”
Victoire leaned her head briefly against the wall next to the door into the bath. This was the third time in two days he’d been ill. Still, she asked, “Mon amour, are you ill again?”
She sighed. “I will call the Ministry and tell them you are ill, then we both will go to St Mungo’s…. And, do not argue.”
Luckily, Teddy was well-liked enough in the Ministry that her fire-call was only met with concern and understanding. Now if only getting him to the hospital could be so easy.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t.
She eventually had to spell the door open and threaten to tell his grandmother what really happened to his namesake’s treasured electric train before he managed to drag on his robes and let himself be flooed to St. Mungo’s. To the benefit of her shoes, Victoire was prepared for the resulting retching and had a basin handy.
The healer on duty was quick and efficient, though she found nothing actually wrong with him beyond the obvious nausea. She handed them a box of ginger biscuits and a tin of peppermint tea, which Teddy clutched to his chest like his first wand.
“Should have just gone to Professor McGonagall, eh, Vic?”
His smile was weak but she kissed his cheek and nodded. “Oui, and I’ll have Maman brew something for you too, yes?”
Teddy groaned but nodded, then groaned again as the movement clearly was more than he could handle.
Luckily, getting him home and back into bed was largely uneventful, save Teddy tripping up the stairs to their flat, but that was so commonplace neither they nor the stairs really noticed.
Whatever caused the nausea passed eventually, though she took to sticking a ginger biscuit in his mouth even before he was fully awake, which in all fairness, was most of the morning with Teddy.
A couple of weeks passed and as Victoire was sorting through the latest box of clothes sent to her by her mother, she heard the unmistakable sound of Teddy cursing from the bedroom.
“Teddy? What is it?”
But he didn’t respond. So she called louder, “Teddy?”
“Fine. I- I’m fine. Just… ahh…kicked the bed.” His voice was strained, but he appeared a few moments later, blue robes sweeping over the wood floor. “You okay? Need anything before I go?”
Victoire looked over him. “Robes? Did you not see I laid out your trousers and jumper?”
His hair, blue today, took on a distinctly yellow tint at the scalp. “Er- Yeah. Sorry. Just. Well. They’re just a bit snug. Must have been the ginger biscuits. I’m off.”
Luckily, he made it out of the flat without tripping and therefore giving Victoire time enough to wonder why he didn’t just enlarge the trousers and be done with it.
Teddy’s interest in sex, never low, increased though that month, though he kept his attention entirely on Victoire, denying even her repeated offers of taking him into her mouth.
“No, Vic, I want to focus on you. Make you feel good. You’re so beautiful like this- I mean, you always were, but, you know, now it’s, I mean- you’re-“
“Right. Shutting it. Only, you know. Not.”
He pressed his mouth once more onto her damp sex, tongue sliding expertly along the soft folds of lips and back to the hard curve of her cilt. Their moans rolled together, rising in soft curls through the quiet room. Her body arched in echo of the sounds, straining from the bed as he readily brought her to climax.
Victoire reached for him, but he caught her hand and neatly rolled her to her side, pushing one pale leg toward her chest.
Luckily, she bent lithely under his touch, her thigh brushing the round swell of her belly and never feeling the hard swell of his own.
He hid it from her precisely two more days, until she pushed the blankets back from him whilst he was not yet awake (an hour after she woke him) and drew the oddly bulky fabric of unfamiliar pajamas down.
Teddy mumbled into the back of his arm then yelped when her small hand caressed the curve of his belly. A moment later he was on the floor, the side table was toppled , and the lamp shade was crushed under his elbow.
“I…. I don’t even know. It’s just… there
. And it won’t go away. Why are you giggling?”
She hid her face in the mattress to muffle the sound of her laughter.
“Vic. That’s not even fair. Or nice. And- what would your maman say?”
Luckily, his scolding could never convey any more fierceness than his pink hair could convey straightness.
His nipples grew sensitive to everything, the brush of her fingers, the sweep of her tongue, the slide of his shirt, the air not moving anywhere near him.
But she worked patiently on them, warm oil sliding over his chest, cupped hands resting , pressing, circling. When that no longer made him twitch, she switched to her fingers, rubbing and pinching, until the only twitching was from much lower down.
There was something intoxicating to her in the way his body mirrored hers in that early stage. A small swell, so readily hidden that it was private, secret, beautiful. Theirs. Their child growing in her, making her body adapt to different needs, making Teddy’s follow suit.
She stroked over it, and Teddy’s hair went from sleepy brown to cautious orange to embarrassed buttercup. “Non, it is fine, mon amour. Let me touch you. You are beautiful.”
This did little to ease his embarrassment, but now it was from praise rather than shame.
Luckily, both were soon forgotten as, hand upon his belly, Victoire’s lips slid around his cock, sucking it slowly to hardness then deeper to release.
Once he could feel the smallest flutters of stretches and kicks, Teddy would sleep, hand warm and protective over his growing child. And in the dark silences of night, his body submitted to itself and relinquished the sympathetic transformations, giving the power and trouble of change entirely to Victoire.
Luckily, Victoire waited until after Meribelle was born and sleeping in her father’s arms before mentioning (in front of her family) that no, she had never once suffered from morning sickness.