Chapter 2
NOAH
I didn't expect a stairwell collision on my way back from my delivery, but these things happened when one had a stalker. And, apparently, I did.
One minute, I was running up the stairs to log into the class I was teaching, and the next, I was chest to face with the kid who just moved in. He stumbled backward with wide eyes as if he had forgotten other people lived in the building.
I'd seen the moving truck and heard the scraping of furniture being dragged up the stairs, but I hadn't bothered to introduce myself. I wasn't that kind of guy. If he was looking for a welcome wagon, he could go play canasta with the little old ladies on the first floor.
I kept to myself, and I appreciated when others kept to themselves too.
The kid was probably in his mid twenties but looked way younger than my thirty-seven years.
As soon as he flashed a smile and started babbling, I kinda tuned him out.
Something about going to work. I was a little distracted by his big eyes that seemed so damned eager to please.
Who was he trying to please? Certainly not me.
I grunted and stepped around him, but when I got to my door, I couldn’t help glancing back in his direction. And of course, he caught me looking. Dammit. Now who was the stalker?
And why did he smell like a fucking bakery? Vanilla and sugar and something else that made my stomach growl. It wasn't just his cologne or soap or whatever. It was coming from his messy hair that had flour or sugar dusted through the light brown strands.
He stared at me for a moment and then bounded down the stairs, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere.
At least he didn’t want to stand around and chat.
I didn’t have time for that. And speaking of time, I glanced at my watch and sighed.
Seven minutes until my first lecture of the day.
Just enough time to take a piss and prepare a pourover. The only real way to drink coffee.
For the next six hours, I was in and out of virtual classes and office hours, doing my part to make sure the students in my charge got at least a semi-accurate version of what had happened in the world prior to ChatGPT hallucinating stories that were more horror fiction than historical reality.
As soon as my last class of the day was over, I unbuttoned my shirt and started pumping. Thursday was my long day of teaching, and I was always late to pump, making for an uncomfortable afternoon.
Most of the time, I needed a good twelve to fifteen minutes to fully empty with a double pump, but because I was already leaking before even getting the machine started, I had both bottles filled in nine minutes flat.
When the machine was off, I realized there was knocking at my door. Not loud but insistent. And highly annoying.
I didn’t bother buttoning my shirt when I pulled open my door. If someone wanted to show up unannounced, they could deal with whatever state of undress they found me in. An hour later and I’d likely be in nothing but a pair of boxers while making my dinner.
The kid next door was standing in front of me with a plate of cookies. Admittedly, they looked good. And since I only had a salad for lunch, I was on the verge of being hangry. “What?”
He gasped and shoved the plate toward me. “These are for you. I figured you might like them with your coffee.”
“My coffee?” What the hell was up with this kid and his assumptions. “I’m not following.”
He took a step forward as if he planned to enter my apartment, but I didn’t move or open the door wider. After it was clear he wasn’t being invited inside, he stepped back again. “I thought I heard your coffee maker going.” He cocked his head, waiting for me to respond.
“I don’t have a coffee maker.” Did he have some kind of head trauma I should be aware of? I’d ask the landlord if an emergency number was in his file in case he had some kind of episode. “And I didn’t ask for cookies.”
"Oh, then maybe it was your Roomba? Or garbage disposal?” He bounced on his toes a little, somehow managing to look both curious and delighted.
"Anyway, I’m Corey from next door. I just wanted to introduce myself properly.
I thought you’d like some cookies. I baked them this morning.
" He ducked his chin and suddenly seemed shy. “That’s when I saw you leaving.”
“You’re giving me cookies?” I wasn’t sure what his angle was, but I didn’t have time to play games. If he wanted something, he needed to come out and ask. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
His smile dropped and his lower lip popped out. “You don’t want them?” He looked absolutely devastated.
Fuck. Was he gonna cry? I couldn’t tell, but when I rolled my eyes and reached for the plate, his giddy smile was back. “Fine. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” There was something about him that reminded me of a puppy.
Too eager, too happy, too bouncy. Not literally bouncy, but he had this energy that seemed to vibrate off him.
It was exhausting just standing next to him.
“So, did I catch you in the middle of something? Brushing your teeth maybe?”
“What?” My teeth? What was wrong with this guy? “Are you okay?”
He looked confused. “Yeah, of course.” Then his eyes roamed down to my chest and I realized there was a drop of white milk hanging from the tip of my exposed nipple. “Just, um, wanted to meet you, uh…”
“Noah.” I brushed my palm over my pec, wiping away the evidence of my condition. I wasn’t ashamed of the fact that I lactated, but I didn’t usually lead with it when meeting a neighbor for the first time. “Well, I better get back to it.”
"Wait." Corey held up his hand and dropped a business card on the plastic wrap around the cookies.
“I just started a cookie baking business. Maybe you know someone who is having a party? I do corporate events and would love to talk to the HR department for your company to see if I can deliver cookies to your office sometime as a little sample tasting.”
He was a baker. That explained the vanilla scent and flour. “I work at home for the university, so I can’t help you there.”
"Oh, you're a teacher? That's so cool. What do you teach?" Those eager eyes were looking at me like I was about to reveal the secrets of the universe instead of my boring job.
"History." I took a step to the side and closed the door a few inches, a not-so-subtle hint that I needed to go. "Thanks again for the—"
"That is SO interesting!" Corey didn’t let me finish before he somehow moved with me so we were still facing each other. "I bet you're really good at it. You have this, I dunno, authoritative presence about you. Students probably hang on your every word."
I raised an eyebrow. Was he...flirting with me? This kid who looked barely old enough to drink? The thought was both ridiculous and oddly flattering. "Mostly they hang on long enough to get their credits," I replied dryly. "Look, I've really gotta—"
"Yes, of course." Corey finally stepped back, but not before I caught a whiff of that bakery scent again.
"It was super nice meeting you, Noah. You know where to find me if you ever want to, you know, borrow a cup of sugar or something.
" He laughed at his own joke and then stood awkwardly in the hallway.
“Noted.” I nodded once and slowly closed the door, making sure he didn’t have anything else to say before he was out of sight.
But not out of mind.
There was something about that kid—about Corey—that stayed with me.
Maybe it was the way he looked at me like no one else did.
Like I was fascinating instead of frightening.
Most people got the hint pretty quickly that I wasn't interested in small talk, and I knew he got that message loud and clear. But he didn’t let that stop him from forcing me to engage with him.
This one seemed immune to my gruffness. And that was a little hot.
But he was young. Just a baby. Why would he flirt with a guy like me?
I wasn't hideous, but I wasn’t pulling guys like Corey.
Even when I was in my twenties, Corey would have been out of my league.
In my thirties, it was absurd. He definitely wasn’t flirting unless he was trying to get something from me.
Like my parking spot. It was right by the stairs, but I had no intention of giving it up.
He could pry it from my cold, dead hands if he thought he could manipulate me into giving it up.
This wasn’t my first rodeo. My last boyfriend liked to call me his grizzly bear, but that was because he brought out the worst in me. We never should have tried to force a relationship that was never meant to be.
I’d learned my lesson and would probably never be serious about a man again.
It was just too risky. As a history professor, learning from the past to ensure a better future was my entire job.
And if I couldn’t do that in my personal life, I had no right to be instructing students to do that in theirs.
And what the hell was that talk about a coffee maker or toothbrush? I didn’t follow the entire conversation, but that was partly because I was distracted by how full his lips were when he smiled and how excited he was to give me cookies.
That reminded me. Cookies! I grabbed the plate Corey left for me and tore through the plastic wrap. There were six cookies and four brownie things. Everything looked great, but I took a bite of the cookie first and almost groaned out loud. Damn, that was good.
Now I needed more coffee.
I set up my pourover station and arranged the filter. The methodical process of doing it manually was soothing and predictable. Unlike people, coffee didn't surprise you if you knew what you were doing. It didn't bounce on its toes or leer at your chest, or admit to watching your schedule.
I poured the hot water in and inhaled the rich aroma that filled my kitchen.
This was my moment of peace before I had to start reading papers written by undergrads who were taking my "History of Revolutionary Movements" class to fulfill a requirement, not out of any passion or interest for the subject.
For dinner, I heated up some leftover pasta, then ate quickly before taking a shower.
I could usually get away with pumping two times a day, but if I were aroused or had an orgasm, that often stimulated a letdown and I needed to pump more often.
With the way my thoughts had been running wild and in the direction of the boy next door, I’d definitely need a few extra sessions tonight.
As soon as the hot water hit my shoulders, I moaned out loud. I needed this. This quiet time to put everything else aside and just follow my instincts to wherever they took me.
For better or worse, they took me right through the wall to the man who baked me cookies and noticed when I left the house. He hadn’t even lived in the building for more than a few days and he was already living rent-free in my head.
He was cute. Sexy. Shy and vulnerable but funny and flirty.
My dick started to thicken, and I knew I wasn’t getting out of that shower without leaving a load on the tile floor.
So I lathered up my hand with soap and began to clean my cock, stroking it from base to tip until I was fucking my fist hard enough to make milk spray from my nipples as I leaned against my forearm on the shower wall, and I came with a heavy moan.
That wasn’t a regular orgasm.
That was deep. Slow. Teasing.
How would it feel if that were Corey’s hand wrapped around my length? Tickling my balls and rolling his palm over my glans. Fuck, now I was hard again. I cupped my balls and pressed my finger on my taint and then fucked my fist again, this time coming with less splash but all the sensation.
Milk was still dripping from me in a steady stream when I stepped out of the shower, so I went straight to the kitchen and attached the pump.
When I was this full and stimulated, I emptied quickly, so I didn’t mind getting an extra serving out of it.
My milk was being used to feed a set of quadruplets in the neonatal unit, so the more I expressed, the better.
For me and the family who received it.
As long as I had the condition that allowed me to lactate, I wanted it to be used to help others. Truthfully, it wasn't a lifestyle I'd ever expected for myself. But when I first discovered my ability to lactate in college, I'd found an unexpected community in the Lactin Brotherhood.
Some men in the group swore by its sexual power when used to nurse their partners.
Others, like me, pumped for comfort and convenience and donated to milk banks or sold it to athletes on high-protein diets.
It was the one genuinely altruistic thing I did, though I rarely talked about it.
People had too many questions and too many judgments…
and I had too little patience for either.