Page 28 of Rock the Cradle of Love
Something wakens Noah. He’s not sure what though. There’s no sound through the baby monitor. It’s still dark out and the condo is quiet. His phone reads a little after five. Definitely too early to get up since Emma generally sleeps until six thirty. Taylor snorts in his sleep and rolls into Noah, cuddling up behind him.
“S’too early,” Taylor murmurs, kissing Noah’s neck and shoulder.
God, this is nice. He relaxes into Taylor’s chest, sighs into the warmth and comfort of Taylor’s body behind him. This is what he’s been missing without a special someone in his life. The lull of sleep pulls at him again, and then Taylor shifts and rolls his hips. The bulge of his erection nestles into the cleft of Noah’s behind, sending a rush of heat up his spine and the tug of sleep dissipates. The notion of anal intercourse returns full force, and Noah’s heart rate picks up a bit at the thought. What would it be like to give it? What would it be like to be on the receiving end? He’s thought about that kind of sex a couple of times since that first morning he woke up with Taylor, and he’s not opposed to being on either side of the equation. His stomach flutters with want. Not sexual want, he doesn’t think. It’s not centered in his groin; it’s in his chest. But he wants.
He and Taylor still haven’t talked, and they need to. They should have their conversations before things go any farther. But Noah’s feeling needy and adventurous and he wants to be close to Taylor. And what better way to be close than to be connected physically?
He spins in Taylor’s embrace, knocking their knees and jiggling the bed. Taylor just rolls to his back with a mild snore. Noah scootches closer, getting up on one elbow, and stipples kisses over Taylor’s face.
Taylor stirs with a soft snort. “Noe, what is it?” he murmurs, nuzzling at Noah’s chin with his nose, finding Noah’s mouth and kissing him properly.
“I want to have sex.”
“Ummm,” Taylor says, long and drawn out and sleep-addled. Then, “What?” He’s definitely awake now. “Now?”
“Is that a problem?” Noah smirks into the not-quite-black room. Considering the number of hard-ons the man’s gotten from their groping and making out, Noah’s certain it won’t be.
“No, but shit. Okay. Yeah. God, Noah.” Taylor’s voice has gone an octave deeper. He clears his throat.
Noah smiles.
“Top or bottom?” Taylor asks, dark shadows where his eyes should be blinking up at Noah. His large hand cups the back of Noah’s head, scratches at his scalp, eliciting the good kind of chills.
“Do you have a preference?”
“My preference doesn’t matter right now, okay? What do you want to try?”
“I want to top, I think.” Noah’s sure Taylor’s preference is to top, so Noah will try it this time just so he knows what it feels like. The future pleasure of topping he’ll leave to Taylor. For Noah, it’s not about the mechanics. It’s about the emotional connection more than anything. He doesn’t feel a physical drive to couple, but he doesn’t have an aversion to the act. Taylor likes sex, though. A lot. Noah is happy to participate for that reason alone. Any resulting endorphin highs and feelings of satisfaction are bonuses.
“You sure about this, Noe? I mean, yeah, I want this really fucking bad, but I can wait. I’m not gonna, like, explode or anything.”
He appreciates Taylor making sure. “I’m sure. I want to.”
“Okay.” Taylor fishes in the bedside table drawer for supplies and drops the lube and a condom on the bed between them. “The easiest way is probably for me to be on my hands and knees this time, I think.”
“I can’t see your face.”
“Next time, Noe, next time, okay?”
“Okay.”
Taylor squeezes out some lube and works himself open. Noah runs a hand along Taylor’s back, along the shifting muscles, the smooth skin.
The room has lightened a bit as the night slips away and the dawn creeps closer. Over his shoulder, Taylor’s gaze meets Noah’s, and Noah thinks this should be more awkward than it is, but it’s not, and he’s glad.
Noah glances at Taylor’s hand. “Can I help?”
“If you want.” He looks surprised.
“What? I’m fixin’ to stick my dick in there. I’m willing to stick a finger or two up there first.”
A grin creases Taylor’s face. “Yeah, okay.”
Noah slicks a finger and traces a line down Taylor’s butt cheek, strokes a finger next to Taylor’s, presses in. Taylor’s breath hitches and he pulls his hand away, dropping to all fours. Noah slides a second finger in—he’s supposed to be prepping Taylor’s body to accept the invasion of his own. Taylor pants and hums at the slide and press of Noah’s fingers. Taylor’s response, his clear pleasure morphs Noah’s own enjoyment into something more visceral and less removed from the action.
“Just like that, yeah,” Taylor says, arching into it. “Little faster…”
Noah does as instructed and then Taylor jolts.“Fuck.”
