Only Consenting Adults

[Author's note: Henry, Jen and Anya (

M01

,

DS01

) have finally found a nice place in the suburbs, and have carved a life out for their unconventional marriage. Then Anya's father, Moran (

M06

), makes a mistake.]

---

A WAR AGAINST LOVE

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Jen asked.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Anya nodded, her attention focused on the small face pressed against her breast.

"Henry?"

Henry put his phone down and launched into motion. "I'll sort it out," he said as he began to fish around in the cupboard for teabags.

"You're such a good provider," Jen cooed. She fluttered her eyelashes playfully.

"I just know that when you ask, you actually mean you want. It's not rocket science."

As Henry set the water to boil, Jen joined Anya at the table, watching with a soft, faraway look on her face as her wife fed Millie.

"She's taken well to the breast," Jen murmured.

"She has," Anya replied, "Follows her father in that."

Jen laughed. "Her mother too."

Henry poured the boiling water into three cups and dropped in the teabags. Jen stroked the tiny girl's cheek tenderly.

"I just wish I could help," Jen confessed.

"You are," Anya replied, "All the time."

"No, I mean, I'd like to be able to feed her too."

Anya reached out and rubbed Jen's belly playfully. "Fear of missing out? That's so very unlike you, babe," Anya laughed, "So out of character. You will, soon. When you pop, we're going to be awash with it."

"Talking of which," Henry interrupted, "Do you want milk?"

"Please, and sugar too today. I need the boost," Anya replied, "It's gonna be a long day."

She turned back to Jen. "Just you wait, after finally getting back on an even keel with Millie we're going to be right back to feeding and changing and not sleeping and...," she shrugged. "They say two under two is a nightmare to deal with, but what about two under one?"

Henry brought the mugs over to the table and sat down. "When you say it like that, it doesn't sound such a smart move after all."

"Says the alpha male," Anya continued.

"Yeah, sure."

"You're the one busily breeding the females in your harem. You're the one who's gonna keep us barefoot and pregnant while we provide offspring for you."

Henry could see the amusement in Anya's eyes and played along. "Do you really want to be bred again?"

"I'm not sure I'm able to choose," Anya countered. "It's the decision of the silverback as to when his females breed. All you have to do is protect us from other males entering the group."

"So is that my place? Am I just a beast?"

It was Jen's turn to reply. "Your place is to make sure your females are covered by your attentions. Then when we need to breed, of course we'll choose you, Silverback."

Jen was smiling at him now, goading him with that last word, but Henry refused to rise to the bait. He took a sip of tea.

"His females," Henry echoed, "Since when were you my female, Anya?"

"Four times seemed to be enough in the end," she laughed, "It was weird, with your man thing, but I pushed through."

"Which is what every guy wants to hear," said Henry as he sat down next to her.

"The tragedy for you," Jen interjected, "Is that she's actually the romantic one out of all of us, aren't you babe?"

At this, Jen leaned across and gave Anya a soft kiss. Anya responded but then broke off and returned to the subject.

"I didn't mind," she said, "I'm just saying you didn't suddenly make me rethink my position on men, but I gotta say I love the result."

Anya flashed Henry a smile. "So, yes, you do have your uses, after all," she said.

As she spoke, she cradled her feeding daughter. Jen's hand rested lovingly on the little girl's arm, and they lapsed into an amicable silence.

After a while, Henry sat up. "Here's a question for you, do you think it's advantageous, our relationship?"

"Very. For you," Jen smirked.

"No, I mean, in biological terms?" Henry countered, "I mean, surely having a larger family group is beneficial to the children raised in it? Millie has three parents, so there's always going to be someone able to help, and in a few months when, uh...."

"Baba?" Jen offered.

"Yeah, I guess, whatever, Baba. When Baba pops out too, they'll have two mothers to feed them, get up in the night, all that."

"And a father to get up in the night," Anya reminded him. "I'm happy to let the silverback take charge at three in the morning."

"Yeah, okay. But here's the thing, if it's biologically advantageous, then why isn't it the norm?"

"In some countries it is. Historically, too," Jen replied, "Maybe if we were able to go back in time we would find it was quite natural."

"I know, right. Look at primates, the way their organise themselves socially."

"Back to gorillas again? We aren't going on a Henry tangent are we?" Jen gibed, "We're not going to end up talking about maths again?"

Anya joined in, grinning. "Yeah, mansplain multiplication to me."

"Hold on," Henry interjected, "All I'm asking is, if it was common back in the day, then why did it change?"

"That's actually a good point," Jen replied, her attention shifting back to the suckling child and away from Henry's questioning. Henry found himself watching too, the attention of the adults gravitating to the feeding infant. After a while, Anya spoke.

"I think men changed it," she said, looking up from her breast to Henry.

"Why? Why go against that? Surely it's good for a man to disseminate his genes among many females."

"That's such a nice way of putting it," Jen interjected, eyes sparkling with amusement, but Anya seemed to be serious.

"I think a man without access to the love of a woman is the problem. I mean, sure, you don't have to need women, you can choose your own sex, like me. But for the majority, if there was a scarcity of women because they were bonded together in groups, what do you think would happen? It would be war."

Anya shifted Millie across to the other breast, taking a few moments to let her settle, before continuing.

"I think the world is like it is because it's the fine line between love and disaster."

Jen snorted. "That's a bit dramatic. I can't see people living like we do being the reason that society breaks down."

"You can't," Anya said, her attention turning to her wife. She paused, and Henry knew what was coming next. "But people like your father can."

Henry waited for an acid retort from Jen, but instead she sipped her tea in silence. The mood of the room had shifted away from playful banter to something more serious. Anya eventually lifted Millie off her breast and tucked herself back into her bra. Henry put down his tea and stood up.

"Here," he said, "I'll take her."

Henry gathered up his daughter in his arms, cradling her on his shoulder and patting her back gently to bring up the wind.

"She's sleepy," he observed, "I reckon it's time for a nap after that feed."

"That's nice," Jen said.

"What is?"

"Watching the silverback with his offspring. It lets his females know that they made the right choice of mate."

Henry turned to look at her, still tapping his child gently on her back. Jen wasn't teasing now. She was looking up at him wistfully, a hand on her own ripening belly.

Henry smiled back at her.

"I'll put her in her cot," he said and shuffled quietly away towards the bedrooms, leaving the two women at the table. Jen slipped her hand into Anya's.

Henry tucked his daughter into bed, cooing and smiling down at the little face until her eyes drifted closed. What had felt strange and bewildering at first had given way to a sense of relief and accomplishment. They had made a new life and that life was thriving. There was another life on the way. Even two years ago, he wouldn't have believed he would be here now, standing over his daughter in a house in the suburbs. Silverback, he thought, and smiled to himself. More like the token male. If Jen also produced a daughter, he would be hopelessly outnumbered in a female-dominated environment.

He reached down and stroked his daughter's tiny cheek.

"Such is life," he mused.

---

Anya unfolded the stroller with a practiced ease in the hallway. Henry slipped their daughter into the seat and clicked the straps into place.

"Nappy bag," Anya said.

Henry strode over to the alcove by the door and reached down by the side of the pedestal to pull out the floppy red bag with all of Millie's changing gear in it.

"Two in here, do you need more? I can get them."

Anya wheeled Millie over to the pedestal to take the bag from him.

"Two should be enough. We're not going to be out all day."

"Sure? Your mother likes to shop. Like her daughter."

"Dad will keep us in check. He's gonna get bored after an hour."

Anya tucked the bag into the little shelf beneath the seat and grasped the handles of the stroller.

"Got everything?" Henry asked.

"Got everything," Anya confirmed, then she grinned.

"What?"

"Do you remember how hard this was at the start? How flustered Jen got, even just trying to take a walk?"

Henry looked across at the pedestal. "She's more relaxed about it now."

Anya looked across too and her expression became more thoughtful.

"How long can we keep this up, do you think?"

"Maybe an hour. I need to do some work."

"No, I mean in general. With two kids, it's going to get harder for us all. Millie's going to start noticing things soon. She can't be seeing her mother in a shiny black suit."

Anya's attention was still on the pedestal. Henry followed her gaze, watching Jen's kneeling form on the cushion, her head completely enclosed in a black leather hood, her collar around her neck.

"I guess we have fun while we can," Henry answered, then turned to give Anya a peck on the cheek. "Have a nice time with your parents."

Anya smiled and began to roll the stroller to the door. "Have a nice time with Jen," she called over her shoulder.

Millie began to grizzle. Henry opened the door to let them out and Anya wheeled their daughter down the path. On the street, he could see Moran and Carina in their car, waiting. He gave a wave and Carina waved back, then he closed the door.

In the ensuing silence, he walked back over to the pedestal. Reaching out, he cupped Jen's breast in his hand, taking her nipple between thumb and finger. He squeezed, watching the way her body reacted to his touch, the way her hands nearly left their position on top of her spread thighs. He traced down her front, over the burgeoning curve of her stomach, feeling the tightness of her skin, and then down between her legs. The white gold ring gleamed beneath her clitoral hood and he teased it with his forefinger, watching Jen's body squirm in anticipation.

"Are you ready for some one-on-one time?" Henry asked.

Jen didn't answer. She couldn't. Henry had ordered the hood specifically, with its insert that fitted into her mouth and the plugs that blocked her ears. The blindfold could be removed but it was fitted tightly in place. Cut off from sight and sound and taste, Jen was isolated in a dark, quiet world of her own, her sense of touch heightened as Henry's finger began to trace slow patterns over her labia. Still, she didn't move; she knew she wasn't allowed.

"I think," Henry mused, "If we're going to keep this in our lives, I might have to turn the alcove into a cupboard. What do you think, Jen?"

He watched the hood carefully. The only sound his obedient subject made was the faint susurration of her breathing through the two nostril holes in the leather.

"That way I could still have you on the pedestal like this, kneeling like a good girl on your cushion, but we could close the doors to hide you away from wondering eyes."

Henry dipped a finger inside Jen's pussy, feeling how wet she was. His thumb pressed gently on her clit.

"Anya and I could take the kids to the park, or to sports, and we could leave you safely shut up in the alcove until we got back. Would you like that? The chaos as we all get ready to go out, then silence as you wait for your owners to return."

Jen squirmed, though Henry was almost certain she couldn't hear his words. Her breathing quickened. With an expert touch, Henry continued to stroke and tease her, building her up to the edge.

"I think we can find ways to keep going, don't you? We can all give each other private time. I'm sure Anya can work out a roster."

Jen began to push back against Henry's fingers with tiny thrusting motions of her hips. Henry watched her breasts rise and fall, the nipples hard and dark. He felt her quiver inside.

"So close," he whispered.

Henry withdrew his hand and for the first time, his helpless subject moved on her own, her head shaking from side to side violently, suddenly desperate in denial. Jen's hands never left her thighs though. Henry smiled as he watched her distress, taking her arms one at a time by the wrist and gently rearranging her fingers, pressing her thumbs together and then her forefingers, creating a ring around her puffy, glistening labia. The silvery gleam of the clit ring nestled just below her thumb tips.

"That must be agony."

Henry leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I really do have some work to do. You don't mind, do you?"

Jen's body was immobile, her breath still quickened from the teasing. Satisfied that she would remain as he left her, Henry turned and walked away.

---

Moran was already bored, but he was putting on a brave face as his wife and their eldest daughter compared dress lengths in the store. He'd taken the position of transport co-ordinator, wheeling his granddaughter behind the two women, listening to them gossip. He watched Anya put the dress back on the rack, his heart sinking.

Carina turned to him, smiling kindly. "I think you've done your bit here. Do you want to leave us to it?"

"You think," Moran responded, "That I was born yesterday. I know your plan. All this is to convince me to leave you to it so you can shop properly."

Carina's hands went to her voluptuous hips and she gave him that little secret look. "Is it working?" she asked.

"Yes," Moran grumbled.

"We can see you again in an hour, if you like. Meet at the café on the corner?"

Moran's attention shifted from his wife to his daughter. It was clearly already planned out.

"Okay, I'll go," he conceded. "Let's see what there is to see, Millie. Grandpa will take you away from all this boring shopping."

His wife gave him a little soft kiss on his cheek as he turned the stroller away.

"Behave, Dad," Anya scolded, "No trouble."

"No trouble," Moran echoed, "No trouble, no trouble."

He pushed the stroller to the entrance, listening as the gossip resumed behind him. Out on the street in the sun, it was still cool for the time of year. He checked that his granddaughter was comfortable and turned left on a whim. There was a park two blocks away where he could sit her out on the grass in the sunshine.

On the corner, he heard shouting. Crossing the road, he could see that he was approaching the back of a group of people in the middle of the street, walking together and chanting slogans. It still gave him a chill to hear it, even after all these years, but that was a different country and a different time. There was nothing to fear here, everything was good.

Moran found himself following on behind at a short distance, trying to make out what the protest was about. There were perhaps a hundred people, some young and some old, men and women. A few of them were dressed strangely, in long leather coats or big black boots with metal studs. A woman turned and he could see the flash of silver piercings in her nose and ears. There was a flag with rainbow colours on it, carried by two women who looked very young.

He followed until the park, but to his surprise the protest stopped there too, gathering in the little paved square around the statue of some elder statesman from a previous war. Banding together, they began to shout and chant. He could see the signs they were holding now, drawing close enough to be able to read them.

There was a commotion and Moran could make out a woman with long blonde hair in a bright red overcoat approaching them. Her make-up was immaculate and in her hand was a microphone. Behind her, scrambling to keep up, Moran could see a man with a camera.

"Looks like a show," Moran said, "Can you see the pretty lady, Millie?"

He folded his arms on the stroller's handle, watching as the woman in red directed her cameraman with hand signals and began selecting people to talk to. The effect on the protesters was instantaneous, and they wheeled around the statue to approach the woman. Moran found himself standing side-by-side with a tall man in a dark shirt and jeans holding a leash. Moran followed the strip of leather to the collar of a redhead on the other side of him. The man noticed Moran's attention and smiled.

"So," Moran asked, unfazed, "Do you know what's going on? Why's everyone protesting?"

The man nodded. "They're trying to pass a law," he said, "The Seven Pillars. Have you heard of it?"

Moran leaned closer. "Of course. I take a close interest in all the news," he replied conspiratorially.

A woman in a tight leather skirt and long purple hair was speaking to the journalist. Moran shrugged.

"They always interview the prettiest ones," he observed, "Makes good television."

"Whatever gets us airtime," the man replied, "It's hard to get anyone to care otherwise."

Moran was listening to what the woman with purple hair was saying. He could tell how angry she was.

"It's going to change your lives when it goes through, isn't it?" Moran observed.

"If," the man countered, but Moran looked at him and he eventually offered, "I hope it's if, and not when."

"Are you hopeful? Really?"

The man paused, and Moran was aware that his partner was also looking at him now. Neither answered his question, but the looks on their faces told him everything. Moran shrugged and turned his attention back to the interview in front of them.

"Well, nice to meet you," he said, nodding to the tall man and his partner, before pushing the stroller forward.

Moran excused himself, threading through the people in front of him, but his path was blocked by the journalist. She turned from the purple-haired woman to look at him. He took in her blue eyes, bright red lipstick, perfect cheekbones and her dazzling smile. Moran was out of place, a man with his granddaughter caught in the crowd. He watched as she signalled her cameraman to begin filming.

"And you, sir, what's your view on the new legislation?"

Moran paused, gripping the handles of the stroller tightly. He was aware of dozens of faces suddenly turned towards him, people who were not like him, people who were here to protest the loss of the freedoms they loved, not push strollers. He took a deep breath.

"I think people should be allowed to live in peace," he answered.

"But you're obviously a family man, don't you think that it's important to enshrine greater protections for the family? The new legislation is talking about writing family values into law, values that some argue are being eroded in today's society."

"I think that whatever people do between themselves, if it's not bothering anyone else, then leave them to do it."

Moran could hear Millie squirming in her straps, and without thinking, he reached down to tend to her. She was unhappy, surrounded by the crowd, so he unfastened her and picked her up into his arms to comfort her. Too late, he turned to find himself looking down the lens of the camera.

The journalist smiled at Millie then her attention shifted back to Moran. "The argument is that this legislation is meant to protect children such as your granddaughter, making their world safer. Would you agree?"