There had been a moment, when she’d tugged on that handle (Christ it felt like years ago) and nothing had happened, that Carolyn Fry had known she was going to die. It shouldn’t have come at a surprise. There had always been something about the way she lived her life, listless and without much interest in anything besides the stars, which had never spoken to long years and lots of grandchildren. Hell, she was terrible with children. She didn’t know what the fuck to do with children. She’d been the only one in her family, with no cousins, not even any neighbors.

Maybe that was why she liked the stars. She was used to the emptiness.

And now what she’d felt in that moment, although it was coming a little later than she’d expected, when her fingers had gripped that handle (fuck, only a day and a half…), was coming true. Very true. Painfully true, in the most literal sense.

Her vision was full of Riddick’s eyes. They glimmered, and she thought she saw pain. Not pain, like from the gash in his leg, but grief. Real grief. The “no, please don’t leave me” kind. Carolyn wasn’t used to seeing that in anyone’s expression, much less Richard fucking Riddick’s. But it was there and it was all she could think about, despite the fact that a hammerhead had speared her straight through. It’s happening, she thought as she searched his silver, silver eyes, it’s happening and I’m not scared like I thought I would be.

Riddick is still holding her tight, and she’s trying to remember if her mother used brown sugar or white sugar when she made piecrust, and the fact that she hadn’t been home in five years (why hadn't she written more), and the fact that (oh god) her mother would never know how she’d died. She would never know that she’d died at all (she should have gone home). She would never know that when her daughter was pulled into the black, out of the grasping hands of the serial killer she’d been saving, trying to remember if it had been white sugar, or brown.

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It earned her a grunt and Jax, reached between them, undoing the fly of those jeans, sliding the zipper down. There. Have at. Resting his weight on his elbows, he cupped both breasts, nuzzling his face between them.

That almost earned him a laugh. "Everyone just loves those things these days," she panted as her hand worked into his jeans, loosening them before she lifted her palm to mouth. Carolyn licked lasciviously before wrapping fingers around the base of his cock.

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Jack swallowed, and pulled his shirt over his head. Then he began on his jeans...but his eyes never left Carolyn, especially now that she had her shirt off. His arousal, was obvious even before he got his pants down.

Carolyn was undoing her jeans, which she could still wear low on her hips. Her frame was small, so five months showed on her quite a bit, but she hadn't reached the unwieldy stage yet, for which she was glad. She stepped out of her pants and went to him, hands on his shoulders.

Carolyn had to slide off his lap to get her jeans off the whole way. She slipped them off her legs, one by one, and then her panties. Her blue eyes settled back on him as she returned to him, stroking her hands up his thighs before taking him in hand. Carolyn's lips found his in a softer kiss, a little less urgent, just the quiet meeting of lips and tongue.

January 2nd - Conception?
Feb 2nd - officially finds out
Feb 22nd - First Ultrasound and find out it's a girl
March - started to show


October 14th - Estimated Due Date

Carolyn pushed up to her hands and knees, legs spread slightly. She dropped her head to kiss River again, pressing as close as best she could, her hand dragging up under the woman's shirt, fingers finding her breast.

"Hurry," she breathed, eyes on River, even if she was speaking to Jack. "Do you want my mouth?" she asked the woman quietly before flicking her tongue out to lick her lip.

Carolyn moaned in return and shifted so she was straddling his thigh. She pressed against his hip, rubbing against him wantonly as she lifted her arms above her head, allowing her shirt to come off completely.

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Carolyn lifted her arms so he could get the shirt off. She leaned back, bracing herself on the bed and looking up at him. Her leg slid up his, kicking off her boot to let her bare foot trace the hard curve of his calf. "You can move me around like I'm this little thing," she said thoughtfully, voice low and husky, "it makes me think of all the things you could do to me."