132. Maybe it’s time?
132
MAYBE IT’S TIME?
Nate
I came home early, grocery bags in hand. I’d been thinking about this on and off ever since that day on the roof when my mate told everyone he wanted a baby. I’d been upset with him for telling them first, but I hadn’t been upset at the notion. And with each day, I wanted to start a family with him more and more.
We’d had some good talks about it, we discussed things we wanted to do as parents as well as the nitty gritty of how to make it work financially and emotionally. We’d done all of the ground work.
What we hadn’t done was make a decision to go ahead. And really, that was my fault. Now was the time to make a commitment to my mate and to our shared future.
Tonight was all about moving forward and showing him that he meant everything to me. I needed there to be no room for doubt in his mind that I wanted this for all the right reasons. Not out of a sense of this being the logical next step or guilt over making him feel bad when we’d been talking at cross purposes.
I set the bags down and started to unload everything. My grocery shopping had crossed over from cute to just a tad bit extra. And by a tad bit I meant over the top. There was no mistaking it, this dinner was extra to the extreme.
Baby carrots, baby corn, baby squash, baby potatoes-—adorable. But when I referred to Cornish hens as “baby chickens,” it was a bit much. That didn’t stop me, but I acknowledged it.
To go with the meal, there were mini-loaves of bread or “baby bread” as I officially named them along with single “baby” cheesecakes. And if he didn’t get the baby references, that was fine, too. I had a card, stickers, and a number one daddy onesie wrapped at the ready.
It didn't take long for me to have the hens and the potatoes in the oven. If the internet was right, the hens would be ready just in time for when Daire arrived home.
I set the table, hid the presents and popped in the shower. What I hadn’t counted on was Daire arriving home early, while I was still covered in soap.
“Knock, knock.” my mate’s voice drifted through the door I’d left open to keep the steam at bay. “Dinner smells good.”
Thanks.” I rinsed my face so I could look at him while we talked. “You’re home early.”
“Yeah, I was ready to not be at work.” He pulled off his shirt and threw it in the hamper. “Room for one more in there?”
He was already working on his jeans.
“Like I could turn down an offer like that.” I quickly rinsed my hair off, so I could focus on pampering my mate.
“You look so clean.” He stepped inside and ran his finger down my chest. “I hope you don’t mind me dirtying you up.”
Daire’s finger kept going lower and lower, until it grazed my cock. “What do you think? Do we have enough time for a little fun before dinner burns?”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Fuck,” I grumbled. “No.”
I kissed him hard and climbed out of the shower, mad that the damn probe decided the meat was already done. If I had gotten a stupid chicken, we’d have a solid half hour to get wet and slippery together.
“I’ll hurry back,” I promised, throwing a towel around my waist.
“Don’t. We can get back to this after we eat your amazing dinner.”
If only it was amazing.
We sat down to a hen that was far too crispy on the outside, potatoes that were still a bit hard, and the “you can eat them raw” directions on the squash was revealed as a lie.
“I’m so sorry about dinner,” I said for at least the third time. “Let’s order Thai?” So much for my romantic overtures of baby making.
“We can.” He set his fork down. “I really appreciate you trying to create such a fancy meal for me.” He reached over and took my hand.” “It means a lot. I know that things between us haven’t been the greatest sometimes, but I love you. And I see everything you try to do for me… for us.”
“Did you notice what I served?” I asked, not wanting to spoil the surprise.
“I know and I still love it even if it’s best uneaten.”
I slowly took my hand from his and got up to where I stashed the gift and card and brought it to him.
“This went with dinner.” I handed it to him and took my seat. “It doesn’t mean—I’m not being pushy if after everything you… just open it. ”
The entire romantic flair I’d planned for the evening might not be there, but I didn’t need to give up on trying to recapture it.
Daire opened the card and slid it out. It was the shape of a baby and said “On Baby’s First Birthday.” And I dated it for next year. No month or day, just the year.
“I’m confused.” He set it down.
“Open the box.” I instructed.
He pulled off the lid and his face bloomed into a smile that brightened the entire room. “You mean?” He held it up and then hugged it.
“I want to.”
“I… it’s not because… don’t feel like you have to.”
I shook my head.
“You really want this… for us to start our family?”
“More than anything.”
I got up from my seat and walked to him, holding my hand out for his. “We could start now, if you want?”
In response, his stomach growled.
“Or I could feed you a proper meal and then we could try?” I chuckled.
Daire stood and wrapped his arms around me, the onesie still in his hand. “Or we could order dinner, you could bend me over the bed and fill me with your knot, and we could play a game. I think it would be lots of fun.” He nipped my bottom lip.
“What game is that?”
“It’s called ‘beat the delivery guy’. Wouldn’t want to have to answer the door still connected by your knot, would you?” He rubbed his nose against mine.
I couldn’t think of anything more painful than navigating our way to the door like that, but I took his statement with the humor he intended. “Fine we order, but how about we don’t make it ASAP, instead saying we want delivery in an hour?”
It wasn’t enough time to worship his body the way I wanted to, but the need to provide and feed my omega was pushing me hard. It was a good compromise for both of us.
We quickly ordered enough Thai food to feed the entire building and ran to the bedroom, both of us stripping off our clothing along the way. It wasn’t a desperate need clawing at us, although that made for a good time, too. No this was all in fun—the two of us playfully “racing” to beat the delivery person. We laughed and rolled eyes as we fumbled with the remains of our clothing, me almost tripping on the leg of my jeans.
But when we settled on the bed, the playfulness left and in its place was the sweet loving that expressed how we felt about each other. There was no bending over the bed in raw passion. Instead we made love, kissing and caressing each other sweetly as our bodies were brought to climax, my knot filling him, spurting my soldiers inside him, ready to accomplish their mission .
We didn’t know if tonight would be “the night”. And really, that didn’t matter. Tonight was about clasping hands and deciding to go through this next chapter of our lives together—to intentionally take the steps needed to become more than just a couple—to become a family.
It was beautiful, so beautiful that neither of us cared that we lost “Beat the Delivery Person” so epically.
At least we had prepaid, so when we were wrung out and exhausted by our love making, we had a bag full of tepid Thai food waiting for us to devour.