Disclaimer: I don't own the characters you read before you. All rights belong to Wolf Films, and all that.

Author's Note: A request theme lemon for Black Panther's Knight. If any of you mothers out there care to correct my drawn-from-memory pregnancy mechanics, that's fine.

Timeline: Post Season 12.

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"Jack? Jack?" A low feminine voice awakened the unconscious E.A.D.A. McCoy. Sunken eyes fluttering open, his sight focused on his office's drab ceiling.

"Alright, Serena, how long was I out?" his notched voice burbled.

She was sitting across from the lanky man. "About an hour or so. You must have had a rough night, if you're dozing in the middle of the workday."

Groggily, he sat upright on his drawn out, russet sofa. "In a matter of speaking."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Sorry, I'm not up on talking about my present sleeping habits right now."

Serena knitted her brow. "I'm actually a little disappointed."

He crisscrossed his thickset arms close to his chest. "Serena, not today."

The blonde 20-something haughtily eyed him. "Considering how I covered for you last week, I think I'm owed, at least, a crumb of information."

"After re-enduring a pregnant wife's sleeping habits, I don't really fear blackmail at this point."

She rapidly blinked. "Oh, I forgot, how far along is she?"

"Five and a half months. Between the hormones and everything else, things have been, uh, hectic."

Teasingly, her nails rested on her elliptical cheeks. "Why, Jack, I had no idea."

"I'm certainly not going to talk about my sex life, Serena, and that's that."

"Well, this should be old hat to you, I would think."

"Maybe I should tell that to the peddlers who've popularized it, have them to rethink the concept."

"I think there is a fine world of difference between the two," she deadpanned.

He slouched in the cushions. "Wait 'til it happens to you."

The A.D.A. grimaced. "Well, any comeback I could say is meaningless right now, so go home at 5:00."

"What about Branch? I don't think he'd be too enthused if his top man took off early, courtesy of the pregnant wife at home."

"He has grandchildren, so I don't think you have cause to be concerned."

"You're too good to me sometimes."

"Yes, I am."

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By sunset, Jack had entered the NY Southern District complex. Approaching the final paneled hallway to his destination, an intense female reverb reeled him backward.

"Oh, please, you call that a plea bargain?! Call back when you're actually serious!"

His navy blue dress jacket slung over the right shoulder, he swaggered toward a cowering male secretary. "Jack McCoy to see D.A. Carmichael."

"Yes, sir." The aide activated the intercom.

"What?!" Carmichael bellowed.

"Uh, Jack McCoy is here to see you, ma'am."

"Send him in, then," she replied in an instant honeyed tone.

The visitor cleared his throat. "Once you get to know Ms. Carmichael, she's actually a pussycat."

"I–I've known her for nine months, sir."

"Give it a while."

He stepped inside the modestly posh inner sanctum. "Tearing a new one on your secretary, Abbie? The man's practically cringing."

The bespectacled, slender young woman immediately trotted over to her company. They shifted sideways in the initial kiss, circumventing her compacted pregnant stomach.

"Which would you rather have: me taking it out on my staff or on you? And aren't you out early, not that I'm complaining," she stated in her standard husky lilt.

He set his coat and fraying briefcase onto a wooden chair. "Well, I could take it, but don't you do enough to me?"

"After marrying and impregnating me, please, don't tell me you want to stop."

He clasped Abbie's angular face, stout thumbs on the flawless cheekbones. "What do they say: 'in for a dime, in for a dollar?'"

"That's so romantic, and you didn't answer my question."

"Serena let me off early. No doubt, she's singing to Branch about who-knows-what regarding me and you."

"Well, I don't care why you're here — just as long as you're here. The workaholic in me really should call back that bastard of a defense attorney, and work out a plea. But the woman in me has other things in mind."

Jack shielded his nether region. "Don't let justice get in the way of horniness."

"Cute. However, what I was really referring to was having a special helper around when these overload." She hoisted her engorging breasts.

Jokingly, he touched his pointed chin in a steeple gesture. "Yes, the instruction manuals never quite prepare you on that. Thankfully, you wear so much black, it's not that noticeable."

She prodded the blacken chemise's material. "I don't mind, but I do like to wear light colors on occasion. Of course, I'm doing a man's job, so I can't appear to be that feminine."

"And I'll be waiting for the women's libbers to change all that."

She tightened her fuller lips. "So, until then, it will just be the two of us grunts, arguing how war is bad. And that still won't help me against these two water balloons."

"I can imagine what Branch would say, if I had to abruptly take off every day to nurse my wife."

"Imagine if Adam was around if you told him that."

He merrily flicked his graying, short-back-and-sides locks. "Why, I think he'd get even balder."

"Let me get this call out of the way, and then, I'm all yours," she sniggered.

"It's nice to know that some things haven't changed."

The prosecutor stretched to her phone, dialing. "You know me, Jack; I'm all about the work."

"And yet, we're supposed to relax every now and then, Counselor."

"That's how we got the baby in the first place."

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"Talk about weird cravings: Chinese food and ribs? Your stomach must have a death wish," Jack gibed as the couple arrived to their elaborate deluxe apartment.

Abbie facetiously waved a hand. "Shouldn't you be happy my cravings compromised themselves for you?"

He locked the main door, upper lip retracted. "Tell that to my sense of disgust."

She plunked onto an adjacent green lounger. "I'm the pregnant one, and yet, I haven't complained nearly as much as you."

"I'm doing it now, so I can stock up for when the baby comes."

"Whine, whine."

He sagged beside her on the armrest. "Besides, isn't that the male's prerogative?"

She lightly jabbed his left love handle. "No, the male's prerogative is to grant the mother-to be's every whim."

"You know, for your first child, you're handling this better than I expected."

She arched her slim eyebrow ridge and midnight blue bifocals. "What do you mean by that?"

He angled away. "Never mind."

"Oh, come on, now, Jack, tell me."

"That's a trap I'm not willing to face."

"Do I have to play the game of coaxing you? If I have to, I will."

He mimicked her previous facial gesture. "Did I mention that you're great with your feminine wiles?"

"Only around you. Now, say it, before my hormones take over."

He sharply exhaled. "Well, I thought your, um, temper would override you more."

Beaming dimly, she gaited toward the kitchen. "I'll be right back."

Following the sounds of a distant scream and broken glass, she promptly returned. "Did I mention how much I love my insane hormones?"

The Irishman lost all of his color. "What did you do?"

"Broke that cheap snifter I didn't like. So, do you want to snuggle or what?"

Jack did a headshake. "And I used to like that glass, too. I know my mother said not to get an Irish woman pregnant, and she never said a thing on any other ethnicity. Or, is this a 'you' thing?"

"I think it applies to all pregnant women everywhere."

"Good enough for me."

"While you think on that, I'm going to change my blouse again, before it gets completely stained." Abbie slogged to the restroom.

Half-hour past, he pursued after her. "Love?"

The lady was eyeballing at her topless reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. "Lost another blouse."

"Unfortunately, that's the by-product of lactation," he wryly chuckled.

"Yeah. You know, I've spent a lot of years ignoring my femininity, and now, here it is: all front and center."

"I'm sorry?"

Her wiry neckline tensed up. "Nothing, I'm not sure what it is I'm feeling right now."

"Any ideas?"

"None."

"Should I hazard a guess?"

"If you don't, I'll never respect you again."

He profoundly inhaled. "I think it's your dropping the past baggage. You now have a good life, Abbie: an excellent job, a good man-slash-husband — relatively speaking, of course — and a child on the way. You're no longer the sarcastic, barnstorming Texan of yesteryear; you're now a maturing woman."

She glared at her mirror image. "And no longer the rape victim of yesteryear, either."

His gaze was downward. "No, you're not, and now, that's being replaced. We all have that base image we cling to, even if it's negative."

"Between the switching jobs and the pregnancy, I never had the chance to slow down and take count."

Jack aligned himself with her towering, statuesque frame, hands on her torso. "Yeah, I went through the same thing after Claire's death."

They swayed in unison. "Yeah, with all the misery and the longing."

"And the feeling of release."

Abbie leered decadently at him. "And the feeling of desire."

"I have the feeling we're not talking about the circle of life anymore."

The Southerner affectionately kissed him. "Guess again, Simba."

He wormed a tad. "To be honest, I think I'm good for a while."

"Yes, but I have the hormones and the baby, what cards do you have?"

"None."

She grinned like a Cheshire cat. "See, you're learning."

His fingernails raked across her bare belly. "It seems I've taught you too much, Counselor — the student has surpassed the master."

She wagged her left index finger at him. "Jack, don't make me remind you who wears the pants — even if I can't fit into them at the moment. Now, get out of yours."

"Whoever said horny pregnant women were a myth obviously needs to meet you."

She gently tugged his red tie, escorting him to their Spartan bedroom. "I would rather have my privacy."

"And I'd rather not be sore in the morning."

"Are you asking for trouble?"

His stance was akimbo. "So, what if I am?"

"Then, I'm going to make you so sore, even your pinky fingers won't get up."

He then slumped. "What is this hold that you have over me?"

"Uh, the fact that I'm your exact equal or that I'm hormonal?"

"Can't argue with that."

"And you're still overdressed."

Jack had done away with both their apparel and footwear: her indigo slacks and pumps and his navy three-piece suit and jet-black dress shoes. They lolled side-by-side on the beige-sheeted double bed, caressing the other's nude form.

"I can't tell you how much I wanted you in my office today," Abbie whimpered.

"You just wanted me as your personal milking machine."

"Do you care? Didn't you say you went through this with your first wife?"

His Adam's apple soared. "I did."

"Why are you so hesitant?"

"I'm not."

"Then, please, stop stalling and suckle me, damn you." Guiding his cranium to her breasts, he cautiously sited his lean lips on the left nipple.

"Jack, you know I'm not forcing, right?"

Arms all-around his wife, he embedded his nails between her shoulder blades. His teeth delicately latched onto the flesh, he proceeded to suckle in earnest. She cradled his skull while the rest of her writhed underneath.

"Oh, Jack…! You sure do know how to make a woman feel good, don't you?"

He impulsively wiped his Roman nose on the light areola, the colorless liquid drenching him.

"That's one way to mark you as mine," she tittered.

The solution dribbled from his crow's feet to his jowls. "Good thing I have my years of practice. Eventually, you'll need to stay in place — can't feed the kid with you flipping around like a Mexican jumping bean."

She extended her other mound. "After I override my years of wanting you first. And you know you're enjoying yourself, so say it."

The gentleman clenched his jaw. "Yes, I am enjoying this, now, please, stop toying with me."

"But toying with you makes the experience worth it, but then, why torture when you have to?" She finally broadened herself and clutched at his hair.

"Oh, Jack, I don't think I have ever been this close to you before."

He carried on with his adept nursing with murmured contentment. The milk directly flowed into his covetous mouth, ingesting whatever he could.

Abbie vigorously rubbed her thighs together, her vagina moistened. "Baby, I'm getting wet down there."

"If you didn't have the kid on board, I could do both," he panted amidst breaths.

She deposited her eyeglasses on the nightstand. "No, I got a better idea, and you don't have to drink anymore."

Jack's wooly eyebrows elevated as he downed another mouthful of nectar. "I never thought I'd hear that in this context."

In a puckish simper, she clambered to his solidifying, pastel penis. Hunching on top, she delicately sprayed the rod.

"It's either going to be my twisted idea of a milkshake, or a creamy coating of a nice lollipop."

He automatically shivered at the cool contact. "It's all the same to me, Abbie."

She snorted. "Here I am, being nice to you, and you're acting like a typical male."

He genuflected, his chin jutted out. "Am I being a typical male, here, or you're just convincing yourself that I am?"

"Damn hormones; I'm sorry."

Positioning his mate horizontally, he waved the now hardened shaft upon her. "It's alright, here, to make things easier for you."

Her hazel pupils flashed. "My gut isn't that big, but still, you're so accommodating, and to think you're all mine."

"You're talking to me or…?"

Her tongue probed the thicket of salt-and-pepper pubic hair. "I'm talking to my lollipop."

"Oh, Abbie..."

One hand cupping his testicles, the other patting her inner labia, she consumed him whole. Her frontal teeth rasped the firm tissue as it was crammed in further. Tipping rearward, he instinctively propelled his pelvis in tempo, creating a seesaw effect.

"At the rate you're going, it's going to fly around the room."

She puffed on his slit. "At the rate of my wetness, the kid will pop out."

He roved through her long, sculpted-straight black strands. "And if you keep that up, I'm going to cum soon."

Abbie hastily withdrew, producing a popping sound. "I don't want your milk that way — I want it my way."

A journey into the lavatory brought forth a sealed, translucent condom in her hand. "Being my first baby, I want to be cautious."

"Oh, that can be twisted in so many ways."

"Shut up." She properly enwrapped her husband and parked on his loins, frontage opposite him.

"Surprised I don't have a bigger belly."

"I'll have to correct that next time." Jack steered himself to her clitoris, grating her with his corona.

She jolted in delight. "You just had to payback me, huh?"

"Just getting in the mood, Love."

"Again, shut up."

He leisurely impaled her, vaginal folds tamping on the latex layer. "Oh, yes, ma'am."

"Jack, there is only one thing that could complete this, but I can't bend down."

"I can bend up to suckle you."

She tentatively rocked. "No, save it for the wake-up call tomorrow."

His hands trekked from her lithe, pale tan derrière to the undersides of her breasts. "I swear you'll be the death of me yet."

She fidgeted in the male's grasp, eyelids fused shut. "Jack, don't you tease me."

His nostrils curled. "You're the one who said we were equals."

She clamped her palms to his pectorals and slammed onto him. "I said that to be in charge — don't you know me at all?"

He repeatedly drove upward, his view on her budging tummy. "I can still be surprised by you."

A strident throaty groan and a quickened counterpace were the spitfire's retorts. He curved frontward to embrace her.

"Full circle of life; just a few more," he huffed.

Abbie entrenched her digits into his hair once again. "Oh, yes, Baby, yes."

They maintained their harried rhythm, gazes in sync. "Abbie, I'm about ready, what about you?"

"Just about there, but you can cum first."

Despite Jack's continual thrusts, nothing surged. "I can't seem to—"

"It's alright, I got a better idea, anyway — pull out and cum on my stomach."

"Your creativity always impresses, Abbie."

"Blame the hormones. Now, come on, give me your milk, Baby."

Sans-condom, he eagerly stroked in front of her as instructed. While he pumped himself along, he locked his brown eyes onto hers.

"Come on, Jack, give me your milk," she said tenderly.

"I'm almost there."

She bayed in glee as the semen finally spurted on her compressed dome half a minute later. "That was wonderful, Baby, but I haven't—"

"That's why we have turnabout, Love."

Lips on the original nursed nipple and thumb on her clit, Jack simultaneously massaged both nubs. After her subsequent discharges and moans, he nestled on her abdomen. A sudden outbreak of Abbie sobbing shattered the quietude.

"Is it the hormones again?"

"Not this time."

They huddled together, her weeping on his chest. "I love you, too, Abbie."

The crying eventually diffused, the twosome lounged about, holding hands. "Jack, you never did answer why you were so hesitant on breastfeeding before."

His spine stiffened. "I was caught in the moment, that's all."

"You were?"

He fiddled with his golden wedding ring. "I was caught up in the bonding that comes from adult breastfeeding. Rebecca's mother was late in lactating, so I never had the chance to experiment like this. So, I, more or less, lied to you before, and I'm sorry."

Abbie clung to him. "I'm sorry, too. But then, I'm not that sorry."

"You shouldn't, for that part of my life is over, now."

"And the new part is just beginning," she warmly riposted.

"What is it about a pregnant woman that brings out a spiritual side in a man? I can't help but feel something."

She tapped her impending bundle of joy. "Yeah, I have to wonder if she felt it in there, too."

Jack's expression instantaneously curdled. "Well, that just killed the moment for me."

She lightheartedly swatted his right arm. "You're a big boy, so don't sound so revolted."

"You know, you're too good to me sometimes."

"Yes, I am, and you should stop stating the obvious, Jack."

"To think, I've created a monster."

She pointed southward. "Don't you mean, 'two?'"

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