Sweet Dreams - Book 3

Eight

It wasn't until Gulf was standing outside the office waiting for Mew to collect him - stomach finally settled sufficiently to venture back into the world - that P'Best's earlier words flashed to him from a hidden corner of his subconscious, where they must have been crouching all the while.

'...After the week of 'heat leave' you took at the beginning of the month...now spending half the morning hugging a toilet...'

"Shia...", the omega swore loudly, his obscenity piercing crudely through the velveteen stillness of heavy, early evening air.

Suddenly his heart rate was accelerating, like a rocket firing up for lift off - to soar to the heavens or crash back to terra firma.

Could it be...? Could it be...?

//

'I can feel you Gulf. What is it? You're swirling like a whirlpool', murmured Mew's inner voice uneasily, eyes firmly fixed on the busy road ahead of the steering wheel, as the two men made the journey home in apparent silence.

Startling out of his thoughts, Gulf turned to the other man to brush off his comment...

"I'm just sick alpha. I'm going straight to bed when we get home"

"Wait, what do you mean, sick?"

"Just sick baby. I don't know, just throwing up all day. Food poisoning or a stomach bug or something"

"Tua-aeng, you've really been vomiting today?", Mew's eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, voice that was speaking - all calm, all steady. Yet inside, instant chaos and turmoil.

The omega was impatient at the questioning, fidgeting anxiously with his fingernails:

"Ugh, yes, ok? That's what I said, throwing up all day"

With a sudden screech of tyres and trailing smoke of burning brake pads, Mew swerved sharply into the narrow lay by at the side of the road. A cacophony of vehicle horns bleated out in rush hour irritability at the manoeuvre - fists being shaken, curses being thrown out of passing windows.

"Phi! What the hell was that? Are you trying to kill us both?", Gulf shouted above the horns, eyes livid, their usual deep brown seeming to singe fleetingly with ruby red glow.

"GULF!", Mew was shouting right back at him, hand shaking his shoulder as they twisted to face one another more fully in the front seats of the car... "KANA...Are you...?"

"I don't know"

"...Are you pregnant?"

"I DONT FUCKING KNOW"

"I...."

Mew - eloquent orator Mew - couldn't find the words. But just then, the reply of the younger man came suddenly more quietly, in a small voice, a private voice.

"Its ok, I can feel you alpha"

And all at once they were kissing passionately, desperately, faces smashed together and arms knotted around one another's necks as the blur of traffic, the noisy hubbub of the highway, the whole outside world really, faded away to nothing.

Nothing but that lingering question.

//

An hour later, set the scene:

The bathroom of a spacious, modern condo in the heart of Bangkok city. Two men, sitting side by side in tense hush, on the edge of an empty bath tub. Two hands, holding on to each other - the elder's thumb rubbing in soothing circles over the knuckles of the younger. Two sets of eyes, watching, waiting, willing...

...What? A small white stick, lying on the tiles of the floor below.

Watching, waiting, willing, until:

"It's time" - the elder

"You do it" - the younger

So the elder man - the alpha, Mew Suppasit - reaches forward to retrieve the said white stick, and turn it over.

And he reads the words that have appeared in time. Then he turns the stick, hands trembling, to face the younger. And there the omega, Gulf Kanawut, sees:

'Pregnant, 3-4 weeks'.