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It’s a fight not to smirk and to keep my thrusting firm and sedate. I drag my hand all the way down his side and wedge it under his ass, inside his underwear, to tilt his hips up. The next drag of our cocks together makes me moan out in pleasure.

“I want to feel you," he begs.

Together we work his briefs down enough to bare his ass and free his cock from its confines. We didn’t shower between this round and the last. Just an exhausted run down with the wipes, so he’s still baby seal slick and loose.

It takes barely any work at all to press my dick past the line of resistance and sink balls deep inside him.

“You take my cock so good, baby. Like a fucking prince. Look at you, half-asleep and still gagging for it.”

“Tell me more.”

I’ve spent all day wondering whether or not to tell him. Looks like I made the right choice.

“It’s tradition, isn’t it?”

“Fuck, Justin. Don’t stop.”

“To take your husband’s name.”

Smooth, fierce thrusts with an extra snap of my hips at the end have Remi grunting into my mouth.

“But I’m a feminist, so I thought I’d hyphenate instead.”

“Great—” he pants. “Great idea. Right—” he curves his back and lifts his knees until I’m as deep as I’ve ever been. I scoop my arm under the bend in his leg and move my hands right back to where they were beside his head. He’s almost bent in half. On his next inhale, he keens. “Right there.”

“I’m gonna put you in a good boy collar. Claim you with my ring, and send your father a picture of your updated social security card that reads Mr. Remington Lancaster-Williams, first of his name.”

He spills between us—muscles clenching, back bowing, breath gasping hotly against my face. His hole flutters around my cock. His body spasms, and he grunts long and low in my ear, and for the second time tonight, I’m coming in his ass.

Somehow my attempt to double-check that he was okay with the whole name thing kinda got away from me. However, since his cum is a wet sticky mess between our stomachs, I’m going to assume that he was okay with the idea.

Speaking of which—I hate this part. It would be so much easier to have sex if I were Harry Potter. A flick of my wand and wham! All the cum is gone. Instead, I reach into the top drawer and yank out another handful of wet wipes, cleaning our skin and tossing them into the trash.

“Four to six weeks,” he whispers once our breathing has quieted down and our arms are securely twisted together.

“Four to six weeks,” I confirm. Probably even faster.

“Think that’s long enough to plan a wedding?”

Eyes closed, I grin up toward the ceiling. Fuck I love this man.

“Time enough and then some.”

I’m almost asleep when his lips touch my forehead.

“That was a fucking awesome secret.”

***ThreeDads and a Baby: Adventures in Modern Parenting by Ian Jenkins.

18

REMINGTON

"You okay?"

I pull my gaze from the window at the sound of Justin’s voice, expecting to see him fussing over Julia. After all, this is her night. She's being given an award from the Children's Hospital, and even Mrs. Jones is tagging along tonight, decked out in her finest. Jules looks resplendent in a soft pink, short-sleeved dress that hugs her breasts and falls softly to the floor to hide her feet.

I should know better by now.