Rock the Cradle of Love

by Jen FitzGerald

  Emma’s now being passed around the wives and girlfriends, so Noah takes a seat. He feels odd not having her in his arms. As long as she’s not upset by being the hot potato, he’ll leave her be. She’ll end up in his or Taylor’s lap sooner or later.

  Taylor returns with two bottles of beer and plops into the two-seater patio glider next to Noah.

  Talk inevitably turns to hockey and the end of their season. A couple of the wives stay to take part, but several of the girlfriends migrate inside. Noah scans the crowd for Emma, but doesn’t see her. His gut clenches, but he takes a breath, lets his knee bounce a little to give his fretting an outlet. She’s fine, he knows that. No one here would run off with her. He doesn’t hear crying, but he’s feeling a bit of separation anxiety all of a sudden. Which is more than crazy since they’re not even biologically related and he’s only had her for three weeks.

  Taylor plants a hand on his knee, instantly halting the movement. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine.” Noah shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. “It’s silly.”

  “You’re not fine.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  Taylor tugs Noah so they’re forehead to forehead again and gives Noah a quick kiss. “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering—” Taylor’s gaze slants to the left and he sits up looking like the proverbial deer. Noah gazes around. It was just a matter of time before they did something to give themselves away; they’ve gotten so comfortable with one another at home, with small displays of affection, that they come easily now.

  The adults closest to them have gone silent and are all looking at the two of them. Expressions range from surprised to sly to unreadable. Noah knows this moment matters to Taylor. Low key might be best; matter of fact, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Have y’all never seen a couple have a personal conversation?” asks Noah.

  Deegs snorts. “When the fuck did you two become a couple?” The question’s abrupt, but not derogatory.

  Taylor and Noah share a glance. “A week ago?” says Noah.

  “You’re cute together,” says a woman Noah thinks is Huck’s girlfriend.

  “We are, aren’t we,” says Taylor, grinning. And just like that, they’re out to the team. Well, half the team.

  “Well, shit,” says Prez, also grinning. “I wouldn’t have guessed it of either of you, but, hey, whatever floats your boat.” He holds out his beer and Taylor and Noah both clank their own bottles against it, and Noah feels Taylor relax at the responses. Hummel’s still looking out of sorts, but nods at Noah. Noah nods back. Chatter resumes and Noah remembers what had precipitated the detour and why. He looks around, but doesn’t see Emma anywhere outside. He doesn’t hear any crying and several of his teammates have kids, so there are mothers in the house who can handle her. Someone will find him if she needs him. He takes a swig of his beer, quits worrying about Emma, and joins the conversation.

  They talk some more about last season, the playoff games fixin’ to start, and everyone’s summer plans by the time he finally hears a cry, and he startles at the sound.

  A hand lands on his knee. “I’ll go find her, Puck Daddy,” says Taylor with a wink and heads inside. He returns a few minutes later with Emma, a receiving blanket, and a bottle.

  Emma’s grin when she sees Noah is huge and lights him up from the inside out.

  “Hey, baby girl,” Noah says softly, accepting her slide into his arms. She pats at his face and burbles. “Were you having fun?” he asks. Emma clenches her fingers around his nose and he winces. Her little fingernails are sharp. He kisses her nose, and hears a faint clicking sound.

  Noah looks up to see several cell phones pointed his way, including Taylor’s. Taylor’s got soft eyes and a soft smile, and something inside Noah shifts. He can’t look away. This feeling of physical longing is new. It’s not sexual. His dick isn’t showing any signs of arousal. Noah doesn’t want to drag Taylor off to bed or anything, but he does want to be closer all of a sudden; he wants to touch Taylor.

  Taylor’s eyebrows go up as if he senses a rift in the space/time continuum. He settles into the seat beside Noah again, right arm resting along the back. Noah debates for half a second before scooting into the slot, his left shoulder resting against the right side of Taylor’s chest. Taylor’s murmured “Noah” makes him warm inside, and he’s never been more content in his life. They sit there together as Emma drinks her bottle and falls asleep in his arms.

  “Wanna go home?” Taylor murmurs in his ear.

  He drops his head to Taylor’s shoulder as his stomach swoops. That’s new, and he likes it. It’s progress, this reaction to Taylor. “I wouldn’t mind that actually, but we can’t…we haven’t eaten yet. It’d be rude.” Noah sniffs the air. Burgers, beans, baked potatoes. “By the smells, I’m guessing it’s almost time to eat. Why do you ask?”

  “Because you look fuckin’ hot with a sleeping baby in your arms, and I want to ravish you.”

  Noah laughs, and Emma startles in his arms but settles back into slumber immediately. He moves his mouth toward Taylor’s ear and lowers his voice. “How about we put Emma in her carrier and stash her someplace quiet and steal a kiss or two or three somewhere equally quiet? Will that hold you over until we can go home?”

  “It’ll do, I guess.” Taylor harrumphs, but he’s smiling, so Noah knows he’s fine. “I’ll get the carrier.”

  Noah follows Taylor. “Linda, is there someplace quiet we can put Emma so she can sleep?”

  Linda grabs a kitchen towel and dries her hands. “Sure, hon; let me show you Paul’s office. No one will bother her in there.” She leads them out of the kitchen and around the corner into a back corner of the house.

  S’more’s office is all dark wood. A desk with a laptop and bookshelves full of books. Framed photos of his kids cover one wall. Kid-drawn images litter another. Dark blinds cover the window that looks into the backyard.

  Noah places Emma into her carrier and tucks the blanket around her. He hates to leave her, but she’s asleep and she’ll be fine.

  Linda pulls the door shut and pats his shoulder. “She’s precious, Noah. Congrats. Paul and I bought her a little something.”

  “Oh, wow. You didn’t have to do that. But thank you.”

  Back in the kitchen, Linda hands him a purple gift bag with sparkly cupcakes on it. Darker purple tissue paper sticks out of the top. He pulls the whole thing from the bag and unwraps a white sun hat with a frilly edging and the Rotors logo on one of the panels. He laughs. “I love it. Thanks. Let me just go put this in her bag.”

  Taylor follows him back to S’more’s office and waits in the hall. The air whooshes from Noah’s lungs when Taylor pins him to the wall and kisses the breath out of him. He floats on a cloud of contentment and happiness. How is this his life now?

  Taylor’s hard in his shorts, but doesn’t do anything but kiss Noah. “Are you sure we can’t sneak out of here?” he asks.

  “I’m sure,” Noah whispers, instigating another deep kiss. He relishes the warmth and closeness.

  “You two get lost?” asks Huck, smirking as if he knows something, when they emerge from the hallway. Someone must have spread the word.

  He’s pulling a sheet of twice-baked potatoes from the oven and the scent makes Noah’s mouth water.

  Linda smiles at them, a knowing twinkle in her green eyes. “Go tell everyone ten minutes till dinner, all right?”

  Twining his fingers through Noah’s, Taylor nods and they return to the crowd out back.

  * * *

  It takes another hour to get through dinner and make their excuses. More sly looks and amused smiles follow them into the house than Taylor wants to think about, but Noah’s oblivious. Everyone probably thinks they’re rushing home to fuck. And, well, they aren’t wrong. The thought of that pleases Taylor so much, he feels dizzy with it.

  They get home and get Emma to bed, and the buzz of arousal is still simmering beneath Taylor’s skin. Taylor
drags Noah into his room and shuts the door.

  Taylor kisses him like he’s wanted to all night. Pleasure and heat rush through his body and mind, crowding out any thoughts of stopping. Noah tastes like beer and cheesecake, but Taylor can’t bring himself to care. He tilts Noah’s head and kisses him with aching slowness, nipping Noah’s bottom lip with his teeth before lapping his tongue back into Noah’s mouth. Now that he’s got him home, there’s no rush.

  Heavy breathing rustles between them and just as Taylor’s reaching for Noah’s dick, he stops. Despite whatever’s going on with Noah’s eagerness, Taylor should ask just to make sure. Consent seems to be a thing for Noah.

  “What’s wrong?” Noah breathes heavily, lids at half-mast, eyes more pupil than iris.

  Taylor drops his head to Noah’s shoulder, heart thundering in his chest. “Is this okay? I want to touch you, and make you hard. I want to make you come.”

  “Yes, Taylor, yes. Do it.”

  His head snaps up to look at Noah. “Really? Oh, God. C’mon. Get naked. Right now.” With a quick smack of a kiss, Taylor pulls away and tears out of his own clothes. He sprawls backwards on the bed and watches the show that is Noah also getting naked. He’s been waiting for this for so long—and he finally gets to have it.

  Noah crawls up alongside him and lies facing him. “Now what?”

  “Just enjoy.” Taylor pushes him to his back and sets to work, kissing his collarbone, licking a nipple, nipping the firm flesh at the top of his stomach. Taking Noah’s dick in hand, he strokes it slowly, firmly, and it begins to harden and lengthen in his grip. Oh, yeah. God, he’s got a gorgeous cock. Thick and long, now, just like Noah himself is.

  “Taylor?” Noah says, slightly breathless, and Taylor’s glad to hear it.

  “Yeah, babe?” Taylor keeps stroking. A faint flush dusts Noah’s shoulders and chest.

  “Um…short of sticking anything in my ass, you have a green light.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm hmm… If I don’t like something, I’ll let you know.”

  Taylor licks a stripe up Noah’s dick, earning himself a gasp, and then takes the head in his mouth. It’s plump and leaking, and, God, Taylor is so horny. Okay, so, he’s not gonna get to fuck Noah tonight, but he can make Noah feel good, he hopes, and get himself off later. This is the first time Noah’s shown any kind of desire for sexual intimacy, and Taylor’s thrilled.

  Taylor works slowly. Takes the base of Noah’s cock in one hand, bobs up and down in an easy rhythm. With his other hand, Taylor touches Noah wherever he can reach. Tweaking his nipples, scratching lightly in the trail of reddish-brown hair between Noah’s navel and his crotch. Noah’s flesh quivers under Taylor’s fingers.

  Taylor pulls off to ask if—

  “Don’t stop,” Noah gasps.

  That’s music to Taylor’s ears, and he gets back to the task at hand. He hollows his cheeks and sucks and laves Noah’s dick with his tongue. Noah’s writhing beneath him now, and, God, Taylor’s so turned on. He humps the bed for some sort of friction. Noah’s balls pull up tighter and the sound of harsh breathing sends shivers down Taylor’s spine. He’s doing this to Noah.

  “Taylor,” Noah pants, “I’m gonna come.”

  “Mmph,” Taylor says and continues. A moment later, Noah’s groaning and Taylor’s got a mouthful of warm, gooey liquid. Pulling off, he swallows and wipes his mouth along Noah’s thigh and rests his cheek against it, enjoying the scent of musky sex before slithering up into the space next to Noah. “You okay, babe?”

  Noah smiles at that and nods. “I… Yeah, it was good.” Curling an arm around Taylor’s neck, he pulls him close for a kiss.

  Taylor turns his face away. “I swallowed, Noe.”

  “And?” Noah presses their mouths together. “I’m not squicked out by bodily fluids.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then.” Taylor straddles Noah’s thighs and grinds his hard-on into the cut of Noah’s hip. “Anyone. Ever. Tell you. How. Gorgeous. You are?” Taylor asks, each word a breathless pant. More than his physical beauty, though, is Noah’s inner beauty. His gentle soul. His tender heart. His kind nature despite the harshness of the sport they both live and breathe.

  Bright blue eyes lock onto his, and Taylor’s mesmerized while his need coils tighter and tighter. He’s drawn into the depths of Noah’s eyes, and he thinks for a minute, he might drown.

  The sweat gathering between them makes it easy to thrust against Noah, and all his arousal and his feelings coalesce into everything he’s ever wanted, and it’s right here in this beautiful man. He shudders, coming hard, a long groan replacing the heavy breathing. Noah’s upper body is solid beneath him when he collapses, and strong arms circle him, caressing and embracing, holding him close. He falls asleep to the sound of Noah’s heart thumping steadily beneath his ear.

  * * *

  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.”

  A frisson of fear zings through Noah and he stills. “You okay?”