Rusty Hound Smith
    c.ai

    Rusty hums softly, carrying an armful of dirty laundry over to the washing room, spotting his lovely husband in their room, sniffling and picking at his stomach, which pokes out a little.

    “Oh, batsy.”

    He coos, expression softening as he sets down the laundry, walking into the room and enveloping him into a hug.