Chairs, benches, anything rigid was simply not to his liking. And that’s when he realized—Es, with all her strength and poise, was the perfect solution.
Es wasn’t overly muscular, not in the way so would imagine. She was slender, graceful, and undeniably beautiful, but beneath that exterior lay a body hardened by countless hours at the gym. Her legs, strong from intense workouts, her core, tight from dedication, but it was all hidden beneath her thin fra. It was that perfect balance of soft and strong, and the first ti Ray had sat on her lap, it felt like he had found the perfect seat. Softer than any cushion but firm enough to hold him comfortably.
From then on, Es beca his personal cushion. No matter where they were, as long as Es was nearby, her lap was the one place he would seek to rest, a comfort that no chair or object could match.
Es couldn’t help but speak to him with a slight tone of helplessness, her voice gentle but tinged with a hint of frustration. "What are you doing outside?" she asked, shaking her head in a mock reproach. "I told you, you only had to wait one more hour."
Ray raised an eyebrow at her, his pout turning into sothing almost exaggerated as he looked up at her with an expression that bordered on stern. "Oh, really?" he responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, pointing at his bulging belly, he continued, "Do you think I wanted to co out? Maybe you should ask this thing," he added, nudging his stomach with a finger, his eyes never leaving hers. His words, a mix of playfulness and mock indignation, hung in the air, leaving Es with no choice but to smile despite herself.
Es looked at Ray, her fingers brushing over his protruding belly as she smiled teasingly. "You rascal, just stop. Don’t irritate your dada, or he might really kill . Can’t you be a little calr and quieter?" she said, trying to sound stern but failing as a small laugh escaped her lips. Despite her playful tone, there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.
Ray paused, his gaze locking with hers for a mont before a mischievous grin spread across his face. That smile— the one that made Es’s stomach flutter— sent a wave of unease rushing through her. It was flattering, sure, but there was sothing about it that felt like she was about to step into a trap. And just as she thought that, the storm hit.
Ray’s smile twisted into sothing more wicked, and his voice dropped to a low, teasing tone. "What did you call my child?" he asked, his eyes narrowing with mock seriousness. "Huh? What did you say?" He leaned in, inching closer with a mock sternness that had Es stifling a laugh.
Es raised her hands, imdiately on the defensive. "You called it thing before!" she countered, hoping to shift the bla.
Ray wasn’t having it. He crossed his arms and leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an exaggerated scowl. "I’m the one carrying it. I’m the one walking it around in my body like a personal incubator," he said, voice thick with mock indignation. "Who are you to call it a rascal, huh? Very nice, Es. Very nice." He shook his head in feigned disappointnt, tapping his temple. "When it wasn’t here, you were calling it an angel. An angel, Es! And now, when the day’s finally near, you’re calling it a rascal? Humans, I tell you. Never to be trusted."
Es blinked, genuinely trying to process what was happening. "Wait, what? You’re mad because I called our baby a rascal?" she asked, still in disbelief.
Ray put a hand over his heart and dramatically sighed. "Our baby? Oh, now you’re on my side?" He shook his head. "You can’t trust people who change their tune so fast!"
Es rolled her eyes but smiled. "You’re ridiculous, you know that? It’s a joke, Ray. A joke!"
Ray huffed dramatically, pacing around. "I knew it! I’ve been carrying this child for nine months, and now you’re calling it a rascal! I’m the one who’s been nurturing it. You were over here calling it an angel when it wasn’t even real, and now it’s here—" He paused and pointed accusingly at her, "—and now it’s a rascal? Really?"
Es laughed, reaching out to grab his arm before he got too carried away. "Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll start calling it angel again. Does that make you happy, dad?" she teased, flashing a grin.
Ray stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow. "You think calling it ’angel’ will fix everything?" he asked, hands on his hips. "Nope. I need more than that, Es. I need respect."
Es let out a mock gasp, dramatically clutching her chest. "Respect? You want respect? After everything I’ve done, carrying our child around on my lap every day with you, and you’re out here demanding respect?" She was laughing so hard, she almost forgot they were in the middle of an argunt.
Ray shot her a playful glare. "Yes. That’s right. I deserve respect!" He raised his hand and pointed dramatically. "And from now on, I expect to be called a saint for all I do around here."
Es playfully rolled her eyes. "A saint, huh? If you’re a saint, then I must be the Devil. Fine, Saint Ray, I apologize. Please forgive my mortal sins of calling your precious baby a ’rascal.’" She gave a mock bow, hands clasped together as though in prayer.
Ray stood tall, trying to hold his "serious" expression but failing miserably when a smile broke out. "Good. I’m glad we understand each other now." He pulled her into a quick hug. "But for the record, I’m still expecting saintly treatnt for the next few months."
Es laughed, resting her head against his chest. "Deal, Saint Ray. You’re lucky you’re cute."
Ray grinned. "I know. I’m the total package."
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