Chapter 4
NOAH
When my alarm blared in my ear, I swatted at my phone to turn it off.
I was in the middle of a great dream about the annoying neighbor next door, but nature called.
For most people, that meant they had to take a piss, but for me, it was a little different.
My chest was already feeling heavy with milk, and the extra pumping yesterday didn’t seem to do any good at all.
That just meant an extra mouth would be fed.
I didn't mind the routine. Hell, I'd created it myself. Sometimes the loneliness of it all got to me, but I had my students and the old guys playing chess that I passed by every morning. I didn’t usually crave human companionship, but something in me had changed recently.
Or maybe someone was beginning to change me.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and scratched at my scruff, mentally mapping out my morning. Pump, shower, pack the cooler, walk to the milk bank. Same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow.
My morning routine was sacred because it had to be.
Fresh milk wouldn't wait for me to feel like getting my ass out the door.
Even though my body produced it almost on demand, I still respected that it was like gold to the people who needed it, so I was careful to get it to them as quickly as possible.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, I went straight to the pump and got set up.
I'd been lactating for years now, and it was just a biological thing. Never sexual or to be monetized. I didn’t fault the guys who went those routes, but it wasn’t my thing.
Since I had so much milk, I joined the Lactin Brotherhood and began donating to their local milk bank.
Once I’d attached the pumps, I cringed for the initial pull before settling into the familiar rhythm.
The bottles slowly filled with the creamy white liquid.
For whatever reason, my body produced milk with an unusually high fat content, so it was perfect for premature babies and those with absorption issues.
Twenty minutes later, I had nearly sixteen ounces ready to add to the cooler with the rest of yesterday’s milk. I carefully sealed and arranged them in the cooler then headed to the shower.
The hot water cascaded over my body in rivers as steam filled the small bathroom. At 6'2" and 220 pounds, I took up most of the shower stall, but there was still room if a cute little neighbor ever wanted to join me.
My students at the university never saw me like this because I was just a voice lecturing about the Civil War or the Industrial Revolution through their computer screens.
And I liked it that way. No need to put on pants if I didn't want to, and certainly no need to explain why I occasionally winced when my shirt pressed too firmly against my chest at the end of a long day.
Clean, dressed, and with my cooler in hand, I grabbed my keys and opened my front door.
Before I took a single step forward, I saw a red stocking hanging from my doorknob.
"What the hell?" I reached for it then looked up and down the hallway. Nobody was there, but I knew exactly who had left it.
The new guy. Corey. The eager puppy of a man who'd just moved in and had been trying to befriend me ever since. Bringing over cookies to be nice… Who did that? And now, a Christmas stocking?
What was he playing at?
I snatched the stocking off my door handle, intending to toss it back at his apartment door, but then something made me pause. It was actually well-made, and the image of his disappointment when I didn’t want his cookies made me reconsider.
“Dammit.” The thought of Corey filling up a stocking for me and sneaking over to deliver it made something in my chest tighten—and it wasn't the milk.
I stepped back into my apartment and dug into the stocking.
There was a nest of tissue paper, so I pulled it out, figuring I'd at least see what the hell he gave me before I rejected it. Two pairs of novelty socks fell into my hand. One said World’s Okayest Professor on the bottom of the feet and the other pair said Ask me about my syllabus.
Despite myself, I snorted. He'd been listening to me during our brief interaction. That was a first.
I shoved the socks into my jacket pocket and headed out again. They weren’t something I'd usually wear, but they were...kinda cute. And thoughtful. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all.
The morning was chilly as I walked the eight blocks to the milk bank. My cooler swung at my side, heavy with my morning's donation. The donation center was tucked between a coffee shop and a bookstore in an unassuming building that most people walked past without a second glance.
But for the people who needed it, it was a lifeline.
The Lactin Brotherhood had partnered with the bank a few years ago as a way of providing an outlet to the membership.
Not everyone donated, but for me, it worked out.
Some guys did it for partners or their families, some sexualized it, and some monetized it.
For me, I could imagine nursing a Little partner someday, if I had one.
Otherwise, it was just a nice thing to do.
I didn't need the money they offered donors because my university position paid well enough, and I lived modestly.
And I didn't need the milk either, since I didn't have anyone to give it to.
But there were babies out there who did need it, mothers who couldn't produce enough, and fathers raising children alone.
So every morning, I felt good about making my delivery.
The bell above the door jingled as I walked in. Elena, the morning intake specialist, looked up from her computer and smiled. "Morning, Professor Grumps. Good haul today?"
“Actually, yeah.” I handed over the cooler for her to empty into the storage fridge. "Had to pump a few extra times, so it’s a bit more than usual."
She whistled and shook her head. "Don’t know how you do it, Noah, but we’re so glad that you do. You’re literally saving lives with those man boobs of yours."
"Could you be any more crass?" I chuckled and waited for her to complete her portion of the paperwork I needed to sign.
"I could try, but I don’t want to get fired." She smirked as she logged my donation into the system. "You know Mrs. Jimenez's twins? They're thriving now, and the doctors say your milk was the turning point. They could finally absorb the nutrients they needed."
Something warm that had nothing to do with milk production spread through my chest. I grunted in acknowledgment, uncomfortable with praise but not wanting to come off as rude.
"You know…" Elena slid the empty cooler back to me. "You could meet them sometime. The families that you help. Some of the donors like to see the difference they’re making for people."
"No." I said it a bit too quickly, but that was the last thing I wanted. "I'm not...that's not why I do this."
Elena's eyes softened, and I hated that it looked like pity. I didn’t want or need anyone’s pity.
"Your choice, but it’s a standing offer if you change your mind." She grabbed a chocolate from the bowl on her desk and then folded her hands in front of her. "See you tomorrow, Professor?"
"Where else would I be?" I grabbed my cooler and headed back out into the cold.
The walk home always felt longer than the walk out. Between the empty cooler and empty apartment waiting for me, my life just felt…you know. I'd grade some papers, prepare for my afternoon lecture, maybe order takeout because cooking for one was depressing.
It was just another day in the thrilling life of Noah Richmond. Except, today was different. Today, I got a gift that still left me speechless. What was that boy up to?
As I approached my building, I found myself scanning the area for a glimpse of Corey.
The baking "influencer," whatever the hell that meant.
He always wore those stupid flannels over t-shirts that made him look all sweet and young and innocent.
And he always had a smile that made me stare a little too long.
But there was no sign of him, so I headed into my lonely apartment.
And I wasn't disappointed. Not in the least.
The next morning, when I opened my front door, there was another stocking waiting for me.
This one was green with little snowflakes.
Inside was a small jar of homemade hot chocolate mix, a package of marshmallows shaped like snowmen, and a reusable handwarmer that would come in handy on my delivery walks.
I stared at it as a boulder formed in my throat. How could someone who didn’t even know me be so damn thoughtful? I tucked the jar and marshmallows into my kitchen cabinet, so they’d be handy in case I had any unexpected guests. Or one unexpected guest in particular.
The third morning, a blue stocking appeared.
This time, it contained a set of funny postcards.
They were vintage-style with historical jokes on them.
"What did the Greek philosopher say to the mathematician?
You're such a Pythagoras!" and "Why did the Vikings go into therapy?
Too many axes to grind." They were terrible, groan-worthy puns that played on my profession, and I laughed out loud in the empty hallway.
It was the first actual, genuine laugh I’d experienced in…years, maybe.
I shoved my hand all the way in to make sure I wasn’t missing a card, and my fingers touched something plastic at the very bottom, tucked into the toe of the stocking. I pulled it out and froze.
A pacifier. A fucking pacifier. Adult-sized and with a clear shield that had "COREY" printed across the back in small block letters.
As I stared at it, my mind started racing. Had he meant to include this? It seemed too intimate to be an intentional gift with some silly postcards. But if it was an accident, did that mean Corey was a Little?
Something stirred in me, a tightness in my chest that was unfamiliar but completely calming.
I carefully tucked the pacifier back into the stocking and brought everything inside, placing it on my kitchen counter where I couldn't ignore it. Couldn't pretend I hadn't seen it. If it was an accident, Corey would probably come looking for it.
If it wasn't... Well, I wasn't sure what that meant.
As I prepared for my morning routine, I found myself genuinely curious about someone else for the first time in forever.
I was interested in getting to know him and in finding out his story.
It was an uncomfortable feeling, like muscles that had atrophied suddenly being asked to work again. But I was done ignoring it.
I didn't want to be interested in the boy next door and definitely didn't want to open myself up to the possibility of caring about someone who might leave. But as I prepared for another walk to the milk bank, I realized it might be too late.
My guarded heart was already starting to thaw for the cute little elf next door, one Christmas stocking at a time.