The Hell Lord's Prize

23

Alastor's POV:

My poor boy is in so much pain. It's not his fault that demon babies grow quickly and like to press right up against his organs. He feels sick all the time and has to pee a lot, and he always feels upset and guilty when he falls asleep before we have sex.

It's not his fault, and I feel horrible that he seems to blame himself for every issue that's arisen in the past few days.

Currently we're laying in bed, my Gabriel asleep while I hold him and rub my hands all over his stomach, hoping to ease some of his pain.

My poor Gabriel.

It is my fault, as I'm the one who knocked him up, but he won't hear it. He always cries when I tell him I'm sorry, saying that he feels horrible when I blame myself for him being weak.

Which results in me saying he isn't weak and both of us end up being miserable and cuddling each other, me hoping his tears will stop. It breaks me to see my Gabriel crying.

"Alastor," he whispers, turning on his back and looking at me, exhaustion in his eyes. "I'm so thirsty."

I smile and kiss his lips, our tongues playfully touching each other before I pull away. "Juice? Milk? What would you like, my darling?" I ask as he awkwardly gets up and walks to the bathroom.

"Juice, please," he calls from the bathroom, so I get up and go to the kitchen to fill a large glass with grapefruit juice and ice.

He is a strange one, my Gabriel. I don't know why anyone would like grapefruit juice, but he loves it. Not only that, but he also only will drink juice if it's ice cold and the cup is filled to the top with ice.

When I return to the room, he is still in the bathroom, and I'm about to wait on the bed when I hear sniffling coming from the bathroom.

"Gabriel?" I ask, knocking on the door to the bathroom once I've put his juice on the nightstand. "Darling, open the door."

He sniffles again and the door clicks open.

"Why are you crying?" I ask, sitting down on the floor beside Gabriel.

He is only wearing a pair of underwear and is shivering, so he must be kind of cold, but I don't think that's the reason behind his tears.

"I... my stomach," he whimpers, wiping his eyes.

"What about it?" I ask, lifting him up and carrying him to the bed and sitting him down. "Is something wrong with baby?"

Gabriel shakes his head. "No. Look at my sides, though."

I look at his sides, but there's nothing there but his skin. Yes, some of it is a bit stretched because baby is growing, but that's just how it is when someone is carrying.

"It's ugly!" he cries, covering his waist with our comforter so he doesn't has to see the marks. "I'm ugly and my skin is all stretched and gross!"

My heart breaks for him, and I try to get him to sit on my lap, but he doesn't let me.

"No! I'm fat, I don't want to flatten you!" he says, and I ignore his sobs, dragging him into my lap. "Alastor!"

"Gabriel, my love," I whisper, pressing his face into my shoulder so he can cry. "You are not ugly or fat. Why would I kidnap an ugly person?"

I feel him laugh against my shoulder, but he's still crying.

"You are not fat, my star. You are carrying our baby, and our baby is growing. Yes, it makes your belly bigger, but you are far from fat. It is just our baby growing, and that's good," I tell him, kissing the side of his head while I rub his back. "And as for the marks on the sides of your stomach, I find them beautiful. They are proof that you have carried our child and kept them safe."