I woke to the gentle warmth of sunlight seeping through the bedroom curtains, casting a soft, golden haze across the rumpled sheets and illuminating the faint outlines of the furniture in the room. The air was still and quiet, carrying the subtle scent of Miko's lavender shampoo lingering on the pillows, a comforting reminder of her presence. But as I blinked away the haze of sleep, stretching my arms with a low groan, I realized the bed felt unusually empty—the space beside me cool to the touch, no warm body curled against mine, no tail draped lazily over my hip or soft purrs syncing with my breaths. Miko wasn't there. I sat up slowly, the mattress shifting with a faint creak under my weight, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I glanced around the room. The clock on the nightstand glowed 8:30—early for her to be up, but with the pregnancy cravings hitting at odd hours, I assumed she was downstairs in the kitchen, perhaps whipping up one of her bizarre concoctions or simply enjoying a quiet moment with a cup of tea.
Yawning, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the wooden floorboards cool and smooth beneath my bare feet as I pulled on a pair of sweats hanging over the chair nearby, the fabric whispering against my skin. Padding out into the hallway, the house felt peacefully still, the distant hum of the Struma River outside adding a soothing backdrop. As I walked past the guest room—Akira's domain now, the door slightly ajar—I could hear her inside: faint, breathy moans filtering through the crack like a forbidden melody, rhythmic and unashamed, her voice whispering my name in ecstasy amid the wet, slick sounds of her pleasuring herself. Heat flushed my cheeks briefly, a mix of awkwardness and lingering arousal stirring unbidden from our recent encounters, but I ignored it—she'd been doing this a few times a week since arriving, her desires vocal and persistent, especially after our "tests" and the bath incident yesterday. It was becoming a strange routine in our complicated household dynamic, so I kept walking, focusing on the stairs ahead, each step creaking softly under my weight like a gentle reminder of the home we'd built.
Down in the kitchen, the air was alive with the comforting scents of fresh coffee brewing—rich, earthy, and invigorating—and toast warming in the oven, butter melting into golden pools on the slices. There was Miko, sitting at the worn wooden table with a mug steaming in her hands, her bump pronounced under her loose nightshirt, her tail swishing contentedly behind her chair as she chatted animatedly with Elena, who sat across from her, laughing softly with a plate of half-eaten fruit between them. The vibrant reds of strawberries and yellows of bananas added pops of color to the scene, the morning sun streaming through the window highlighting the steam rising from their mugs and casting a warm halo around them, making the room feel cozy and alive.
"Morning," I said, leaning down to kiss Miko's forehead, inhaling her familiar lavender scent mixed with the coffee's bitterness. Elena looked up with a warm smile.
"Didn't expect company this early," I added, pulling out a chair to join them. "Hey, Elena—good to see you. What brings you over?"
Elena chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Miko invited me—said she had twin news to share and needed some girl talk. Congrats again, by the way. Double trouble incoming— you're in for it."
Miko beamed, her hand resting on her bump as she leaned into me. "We were just catching up. Elena's got stories from the market—crazy customers demanding discounts on everything."
As we all talked over breakfast—me pouring myself a mug of coffee, black and steaming, the bitter warmth chasing away the last remnants of sleep, and piling toast with jam that spread smoothly like silk—the conversation flowed easily: Elena updating on her market job, dealing with haggling vendors and the latest town gossip; Miko gushing about the twins' kicks feeling stronger each day, like little dancers inside her. I chimed in during a lull, butter knife pausing mid-spread on my toast. "With the babies coming soon, it might be time to buy a crib and what not—all the baby needs. Diapers, onesies, that mobile thing for above the bed to keep them entertained. We can't wait much longer—month or so left."
Miko nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up as she sipped her decaf tea. "Absolutely. Neutral colors for now, since we don't know the genders yet—grays, whites, maybe some soft greens. Let's plan a shopping trip soon, to the bigger city. They have better selection there."
We were finishing up—the plates scraped clean of crumbs, mugs emptied with satisfied sighs—when Akira came in, her black hair tousled from sleep, dressed in a simple tank top and shorts that hugged her curves, accentuating her figure in the morning light. She paused in the doorway, ears perking at the company, a faint flush on her cheeks as if she'd just woken from a vivid dream.
I stood to introduce, gesturing between them. "Akira, this is Elena—a good friend, basically family. She's been with us through a lot. Elena, my... sister-in-law, Akira. She's staying with us for a bit." I teased Akira lightly, smirking as I added, "Don't scare her off with your morning grumpiness—or your market hauls that take over the fridge."
Akira rolled her eyes but smiled, grabbing a plate from the cabinet with a casual grace. "Nice to meet you, Elena. Heard about you—the escape artist. Sounds like you've got stories that top mine." She made herself a quick breakfast sandwich, layering ham and cheese between toast, the knife slicing through with crisp sounds.
Elena laughed, shaking her hand warmly. "Likewise. Miko's filled me in a bit—family reunions are always dramatic, huh?"
Breakfast wrapped up with more light banter, and as we cleared the table, Elena turned to us. "If you're heading to the bigger city for baby shopping, mind if I tag along? Could use a day out, and I love picking cute stuff."
Miko grinned. "Of course! The more, the merrier."
We piled into the car soon after—the engine rumbling to life, the familiar scent of leather and faint air freshener filling the cabin. As I drove, the roads winding through the countryside with fields of blooming wildflowers blurring by, Miko reminded me from the passenger seat, her hand on her bump. "Don't forget—we need to buy a new car soon. After the shootout in Romania and Akira finding us so easily... this one's too risky now. Time for something legal, with space for the twins' seats."
I nodded, glancing at her in the rearview. "Agreed. Been putting it off, but yeah—fresh start. I'll look into dealers this week."
Miko also brought up wedding planning, her voice excited. "And the wedding—we need to nail down details. Venue by the river? Invites for you, Elena, Sylvia... small, but perfect."
Elena leaned forward from the back seat, chiming in. "Sounds romantic. And hey, about Akira—she seems... intense. Family drama? Miko mentioned a reunion out of nowhere."
Miko exchanged a glance with me. "Long story—lost touch years ago, fire separated us. She tracked me down. Good to have her back, mostly."
Elena nodded, then asked about Romania, her tone curious but concerned. "And what about that shootout I saw on TV? Chaos in Bucharest—few dead, police involved. You hear anything? Sounded messy."
My grip tightened on the wheel. "Yeah, saw the reports. Thankfully, no names released—just a few dead, some gang thing probably. Crazy world."
We reached the bigger city—Plovdiv, with its bustling streets, historic Roman ruins peeking between modern shops, the air alive with traffic hum and vendor calls. The baby store was a bright, welcoming space—aisles filled with pastel colors, the scent of new fabric and plastic, soft lullabies playing overhead. Miko picked out a neutral crib—sturdy wood in soft gray, with adjustable sides for twins—and a few clothes: tiny onesies in whites and beiges, hats with ear holes for hybrids, all folded neatly into bags.
After, we drove home, dropping Elena off at her place—greeting Sylvia with hugs at the door, her fox-tail wagging as she congratulated us on the twins. Back at our house, the sun setting in a blaze of crimson, Miko was tired from the walking—her feet swollen, energy drained. "No sex tonight," she murmured, collapsing on the couch. Akira was surprisingly tired too, already asleep there, curled up like a cat, her breathing even.
I draped a blanket over Akira gently, the fabric soft and warm, tucking it around her shoulders. Then unloaded the car—bringing in the crib in its large box, the cardboard heavy and awkward up the stairs, and a few boxes of baby clothes, stacking them in the nursery-to-be.
Miko headed straight to bed, tugging my hand. "Come with," she said, bringing me down beside her. We fell asleep tangled, her head on my chest, the day's preparations a step closer to our future.