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JULIAN

L ooking down at the baby girl in my arms, I slowly but reluctantly begin to lower her into her crib. Swaddled tightly, she is the epitome of peace, an absolute contrast to the tired, screaming baby she was only minutes ago.

Soft lips press against the back of my neck, and goosebumps erupt all over my skin as strong arms wrap around my waist. My body relaxes into his as Deacon rests his chin on my shoulder, both of us staring at the little girl who has changed our very existence. From the inside out, every part of us is different now. It’s like you lay eyes on your child for the first time and, on autopilot, your mind and heart shift and change to accommodate and you’re no longer the man who loves another man unconditionally. You’re now the man who loves another man unconditionally and will lay your life at the feet of his family to love and adore and protect and to serve.

I remember our first conversation about having our own children, both of us naked, wrapped up in one another on our wedding night, two years ago, the amount of love between us incomparable. My chest felt like it was going to explode, and every touch from Deacon made me feel weightless and invincible.

“Do you want to have kids?” he’d whispered into the night air.

His question conjured up image after image of a life I never even thought to dream of. A life filled with a myriad of love and care and happiness neither of us had grown up with.

I could see it, clear as day—love founded in the depths of despair, made way for a life both of us so desperately wanted.

“We’re going to spend the whole night watching her, aren’t we?” Deacon says quietly.

I answer with a nod. “I’m afraid so.”

Standing there, in silence, I feel the love between us and for her grow, inch by inch with every second that passes. I take in her round face and cherubic cheeks, all red and flustered from her crying. Her lips press together in an adorable pout, and it takes all my strength not to pick her up and cradle her to my chest.

“Come on, baby,” Deacon says, walking me backward. “You need to sleep.”

After I fuss over the baby monitor and make sure to leave the bedroom door ajar, I find Deacon sitting on the edge of our bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

Walking over, I stand in front of him and nudge his legs apart so I can stand between them. Dropping his hands, he tips his head up to look at me, eyes meeting mine as he places his hands on my hips.

I thread my fingers through the strands of his short hair. “Are you okay?”

He exhales, heavy and loud, but I don’t miss the way his eyes begin to well with unshed tears. “I don’t think it ever really hit home, how much they went through till we had her.”

My chest feels tight, guilt and sadness sitting heavy on my shoulders. Two years ago, our friends, Jesse and Leo, lost their daughter, and today we were given the privilege of joining them as they commemorate her memory. While having empathy is one thing, imagining it to be your own child is almost paralyzing.

“I don’t ever want to know what that feels like,” I add.

“I thought with Rhett, we kind of knew what grief looked like, but losing your child…” His voice trails off, and I don’t have to be a mind reader to know where his thoughts are headed.

Or how often he’s had these thoughts since having Reese.

“Maybe I was?—”

I tighten my hold on his hair, pulling his head back, ensuring he’s looking at nothing else but me.

“Don’t,” I say firmly, holding his gaze. “Don’t make excuses for her.”

He shakes his head, trying to loosen my grip on him, but I don’t budge.

“It’s not the same thing,” I remind him.

“She lost her son,” he argues. “I can’t imagine?—”

I place my hand over his mouth, silencing him. “It’s not about Rhett dying, and you know it.”

His silence was expected, but still bothers me. It’s always where the conversation ends up lately, but the way the text message on my phone felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket, I know we’re going to have to talk about her very soon.

For years, it was understood that she was no longer part of our lives; everyone knew that. Our decision wasn’t easy, but there was no denying it needed to happen. Elaine Sutton was not someone who brought anything positive to our lives. It was surreal to connect this version of her to the version of the woman who practically raised me, but it wasn’t enough for me to falter when it came to putting Deacon first.

Having Reese has softened us both. Becoming parents is everything you ever imagined, while simultaneously being unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before.

I have loved blood relatives, I have found family in strangers, but nothing ever compares to something that is only yours. I thought my heart was full with Deacon in my life, but nobody prepared me for my own capacity to love beyond him.

It also made it even harder for me to comprehend how Elaine treated Deacon poorly for so long. Especially when he was finding his feet as a person.

I drop my hand from his mouth. “It’s been a long day,” I say on a sigh. “And Reese will be up soon.”

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.

Instead, Deacon grabs my sticky hand and brings my fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. “I want you in my mouth,” I say on a whim. “It’s the only part of me that can move right now, and I want to suck on your cock the same way you’re sucking on my fingers.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Deacon says with a chuckle. “Let me get right on that.”

As he maneuvers himself over me, I shift my body up to meet him at the right angle. His legs straddle my upper body as he leans forward to place his hands on the headboard.

“This sight will never get old.”

I reach for him, but he swats my hand away. “I thought you were too tired to move. Hands by your side, baby. Lie still and let me fuck your mouth.”