Page 16 of With You

At three months old, she still wakes up in the middle of the night to feed, and unfortunately all the love in the world can’t stamp out the exhaustion from broken sleep.

I hold my hand out to him and patiently wait for him to take it. With a resigned sigh, his palm connects with mine and I pull him up and off the bed and to me.

“I love you,” I remind him.

“I love you too.” He kisses me softly. “Let’s get into bed before I fall asleep standing up.”

We try to take turns with night feeding, but we both end up awake, sitting in the dark, staring at one another in awe of this little family we’ve created.

Despite the endless wave of tiredness, you don’t want to miss a single thing.

When deciding on which route to take in order to grow our family, both Deacon and I decided to keep our options open and whatever would be, would be. Between foster courses to make it easier for us to adopt, and researching egg donors, surrogates, and the costs, we covered every angle of every possibility.

It seemed like the stars aligned with our egg donor and our surrogate, and that became the route that would lead us to Reese. A perfect match at every turn, it became an unusually smooth process, all of it feeling very kismet-like. And with Reese in our lives now, I can’t imagine a life where she isn’t in it.

Both of us dressed in lounge pants and a t-shirt, we brush our teeth and prepare to climb into bed. It’s so very domestic, and my favorite thing about us. I love the mundane and the repetitive routine, because somehow, being just ours, it still feels so very fresh and brand new.

“Baby monitor?” Deacon asks as he puts his cell on the charger and slips into his side of the bed.

Like every night, I check it’s charging, at the right angle, and the app on my phone can notify either of us of when she wakes up, despite our “do not disturb” status.

“All done,” I answer before lying down. “Hopefully tonight is the night she decides she’s over the middle of the night feed.”

An arm circles my waist and Deacon brings my whole body to his, curling himself around me. He places his lips to the nape of my neck and just breathes me in.

My eyes fall closed as we bask in the silence; the day that was, the day that will be.

“Julian,” he whispers.

Wordlessly, I answer him, turning myself in his arms, giving him my full attention. Surprising me, he slams his mouth on mine, and my whole body melts. The kiss feels like an exchange of life and air and a union of want and weariness.

Keeping his lips fixed to mine, I hook my leg over his hip, till we’re intertwined in one another. Becoming new parents means we’re in a season of our life where the bond is more emotional than physical. Time is of the essence, our energy levels are past depleted, and yet we’re both desperate for the connection.

Words are nowhere to be found as his cock thickens against my own. We move like a well-oiled machine, our bodies and minds in sync, kissing, licking, grinding, over and over again.

Our heavy breathing fills the quiet room as desperation fuels us. We’re in our own little vortex, this silent understanding of just how much we need one another.

I don’t know if it’s all the emotion from today, the wild ride of the last three months, or just the constant insatiable ache that exists within me, knowing that every moment we have together in this life would never be enough.

“Pull me out,” Deacon says in a hurried breath. “Fuck, baby, I need to feel your hands on me.”

My fingers fumble between us, trying to push down the waistband of his pants, and then my own. It’s awkward and uncoordinated, and so full of frenzy as we discard the one piece of clothing we both have on and begin rubbing against one another, relishing in the friction.

With my leg back around his hip, I wrap my hand around us both, squeezing and stroking, as our hips rock in tandem, desperately fucking my fist. The glide of his cock against mine is slick and sticky as I smeared pre-cum up all over us.

If there was any finesse in this moment, it’s well and truly gone now, our kisses nothing but teeth and tongues, sloppy and messy.

Pulling me closer, Deacon’s hand lands on my ass, squeezing and caressing my flesh. When he ghosts a finger over my crease, my body shudders, and there’s no way to stop the needy whine that leaves my mouth.

Heat licks at my spine as my balls tighten, my nerve endings on edge, with every inch of contact between us.

“Deac,” I manage to breathe out. “I can’t. I’m gonna?—”

It’s a struggle to speak, the tone of my voice a new and yet familiar combination of tiredness and arousal.

Catching me off guard, I feel Deacon press the tips of two fingers against my taint. I cry out when he adds enough external pressure on my prostate, and without any warning, my head snaps back on a groan and I come, spilling between us, all over my hands.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” Deacon says hoarsely, his mouth below my ear. One hand slips between us as I come down from my orgasm, stroking his own cock. I try to join in but every part of me feels like Jell-O.

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