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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: R
Pairing: John/Mary, Mary/Demon (semi non-consensual).
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: These characters are not my original creations.
Notes: In Jamaican lore, a ‘duppy’ or evil spirit can wrong a pregnancy either by impregnating a sleeping woman with a monster or by attacking her when she’s already pregnant and injuring the fetus.
Summary: It moves like her husband.
***
She knew he was there by the way he touched her. His hand dragged along her side, slow and warm and steady, a little too firm to escape her notice. She’d only been dozing anyway, slipping from deep sleep up to that odd hazy near-wakefulness state where she wasn’t entirely herself. “John…”
He didn’t say anything. Just laughed, deep in his throat, the sound licking out like it was going over gravel. His fingers rubbed down over her belly, a little habit he’d picked up since she’d first begun to show with Dean. They rolled up her nightgown, which had already been rumpled around her hips, and pressed callused fingertips around her bellybutton. Mary frowned and twisted slightly, not quite liking the pressure on her already stretched flesh, but then he moved his hand down. He bent over so his breath tickled her ear and she smiled again, still keeping her eyes closed. “John, come on. It’s late and Dean just finally…”
He kissed her on the neck. His stubble rasped hard, rougher than she’d expected, against her cheek and she pressed her lips together as she shook him off. She reached down her hand, telling herself to be firm. It was nice that he was feeling tender, nice that they still weren’t falling into that sexless rut so many married people seemed to after their first child came along, but it was so late and now that she was more awake, she was feeling how tired she was. Dean had been fussy all night and talking about shadows crawling on the walls, and it’d just been one of those days where she’d been feeling leaden and strained, and she just…she wriggled her arm out from beneath her pillow as she turned over on her side, facing away from him.
“John,” Mary said. Her voice sounded low, reluctant, and she made herself speak up. “John, come on. Maybe tomorrow night—”
His hand suddenly pushed down beneath her panties, stretching the fabric tight so the elastic band dug into her flesh, and his fingers arrowed in on that spot, that one place that made her knees go weak and her mouth dry faster than a lightning strike. He kissed her neck again, hard and demanding, and his fingers moved and oh, she wasn’t sleeping now but she wasn’t awake either, gone from lazy dream to hot gasping daze. He knew it, he could feel the sea-change in her and he chuckled so she felt the sound make the bones in her neck tremble. His one finger pressed down till she was digging her nails into the sheets, breathing through the small gap between her teeth, and his other fingers swept so, so slowly and steadily around it. She groaned, rocking her hips till her panties were worked down to where she could bend and slip out of them without needing to use her hands.
“God, John…all right, you’re in that mood…”
She tried to reach for his wrist again, but he changed on her, sliding his fingers down hard in a vee-shape and then back up, over and over so she grabbed onto the blankets again and clutched them to her mouth to stifle her moans. She was wet and could feel her slickness being burned away beneath the rough fast ride of his fingers. Her head was spiraling and she was scissoring her legs, suddenly wanting it as bad as him, and he must have wanted it bad because when he finally pushed inside of her with his cock she thought she’d just about die from the heat and the pressure and oh, God, she loved him. “John, John, John--”
“Mary?”
* * *
“Mary?”
She frowned, rolled in place a little and then turned over to squint at the hazy form of her husband. John came into better focus as he leaned down over her, his hand ghosting along the side of her face.
“Something wrong?” he asked. He was standing beside the bed, his clothes still on, and he seemed…
After a moment, Mary felt a dull flush start in her cheeks, but she shrugged it off and just hooked one arm over his neck, tugging him down for a kiss. “Was dreaming about you. I missed you more than I thought.”
He had to take a long breath when he drew back. His eyes sparked and a little bit of devil came into his grin. “Missed me. Aw, honey…God, I want to, but the doctor said be careful with this one.”
“Mmm, I know,” Mary sighed. She moved her hand down to lay over her rounded belly, but John beat her to it, his fingers molding over—strange moment of déjà vu; wasn’t it still tingling from his touch?—her bellybutton. Then she gasped, a flash of fear going through her as a slight pain from within surface. Her hand tightened on John’s and she looked up, but she calmed before panic did more than make an appearance in John’s eyes. “Oh, did you feel that? I think that was the baby kicking.”
John blinked, needing a moment to settle down. Then he grinned. “He’s as eager to get out of there as we are to have him out, huh. Four more months, kid.”
* * *
A line of moisture slowly squiggled down the windowpane. It stopped, and then an upside-down ‘v’ traced itself next to it. Two more lines, one short and straight and one long and zig-zagging, wrote themselves on the glass. Then a sudden burst of warm air misted the pane, except for the lines, which stayed clear.
‘Sam,’ said the window looking into the newly freshened crib room.
The wind rose, whipping the gentle pattering rain against the glass till it was uniformly wet, and no writing could be seen.
***