Page 29 of Rock the Cradle of Love
A frisson of fear zings through Noah and he stills. “You okay?”
Taylor snorts. “Very okay, babe. That was my prostate you just hit.”
“Oh. Right. That’s good?”
“Yeah.” Taylor chuckles. “That’s good. Ready when you are.”
Noah dons the condom and slicks himself up. The push into Taylor’s body is slow and kinda overwhelming. Taylor presses backwards, murmuring nonsense as Noah’s erection slides inexorably into his body. Noah’s gasping by the time he’s fully seated. The tight heat of Taylor’s body around his finger doesn’t compare to its clutch on Noah’s erection. “Shit, Taylor…”
“Youokay?”
“I’m…yeah.” He stills for a moment, lets his body adjust, and then begins to move. Slowly at first—he’s never done this before, after all. Taylor’s grunts, groans, and “encouraging” words prompt Noah to pick up the pace.
The tight drag feels good, better than he imagined, and he speeds up to increase the sensation. It’s intense and amazing, and he goes faster still until his hips are snapping against Taylor’s butt cheeks.
Taylor’s moaning with each thrust, and that spurs Noah on even more. Every so often, Taylor’s hips jerk and there’s an accompanying expletive.
The sensations of arousal inside Noah are like the incoming tide—small little waves rolling in over and over, until, finally, a larger swell comes and sweeps over top of them, surging farther, melting any sandcastles within its reach. The intensity of his orgasm steals his breath and his strength, and he falls over Taylor’s back in sated bliss, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Taylor reaches for himself, and he comes with a deep growl after a handful of hard strokes. They collapse onto the mattress, and Noah shifts so he’s only partially lying on top of Taylor. Noah feels as if he’s floating on a cloud in the sunshine, all pillowed warmth. Joy and contentment fill him. He never thought he could feel like this from sex. His last experience was pleasant. Copacetic. Nothing like the breathtaking rush of emotions he’s feeling right now. “Taylor, that was amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asks, breathless himself.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but you really don’t have to thank me for sex.”
“It’s not really for the sex. It’s just…you’ve given me such a gift. Wanting me and accepting me—you don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Fuck, Noah, you’re gonna make me cry.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Noah does.
Chapter Ten
Noah brushes his teeth and kills time while Taylor puts Emma back to sleep. Nerves bubble in his stomach like hydrogen peroxide and taste just as bad, but he can’t take the standoff anymore. The first week after S’more’s party and their first time together had been everything Noah’d expected. They’d taken care of and played with Emma; played Xbox smashed up against one another, on the sofa or on the floor, legs entwined; watched Netflix and cuddled; kisseda lot; and had some sort of sex almost every night. Life was good, idyllic.
Of course, it couldn’t last, but Noah hadn’t expected things to change the way they had. Something’s been up with Taylor for a couple of weeks now. It hadn’t quite registered at first because, of course, sex every night just isn’t realistic.
He’s not sure what’s wrong or what changed, but Noah’s tired of the weirdness and he doesn’t want to avoid the issue any longer.
Taylor closes the bedroom door and undresses down to his underwear. After adjusting the volume of the baby monitor, he slides into bed. Snuggling up to Noah, he trails kisses along Noah’s collarbone.
Taylor’s acting like nothing’s wrong, but Noah’s been carrying around this weight for a couple of days. Whatever this is, it’s not healthy, and his asexuality presents enough challenges as it is.
“Can we talk about something?” Noah’s heart’s thumping hard, but it’s not from Taylor’s overt display of affection.
“Sure, what’s up?” Taylor pulls back a bit, settles onto what’s become his pillow.
Noah’s never been this reticent to bring up a topic, and this is the absolute most important thing they’ve ever had to discuss. “Do you want to have sex with me?”
Taylor’s eyebrows shoot up. “Right now?”
“Right now. Or ever again.”
