Chapter 25: The Morning After
The first thing he became aware of was the ache. A deep, pleasant soreness radiating from his core, a tender reminder of how he’d been stretched and filled. Taichi opened his eyes to the flat, grey light of early morning seeping around the window blind. The second thing he became aware of was the weight and warmth along his back, the steady rhythm of breath against the nape of his neck.
Noah was spooned against him, a solid wall of heat, one heavy arm draped possessively over Taichi’s waist. He could feel the press of Noah’s morning erection against the small of his back. The room was silent except for the soft, even sounds of the cowboy’s sleep.Taichi didn’t move. He lay perfectly still, committing the sensation to memory: the scratch of denim from Noah’s discarded jeans against his calf, the scent of sex and sweat and Noah’s skin—like leather and clean hay—filling his lungs, the absolute safety of being held. He watched a dust mote drift through a sliver of sunlight, feeling fractured and remade.Behind him, Noah stirred. A deep inhale, a shift of muscle. The arm around Taichi’s waist tightened fractionally, pulling him closer. Noah nuzzled sleepily into the crook of Taichi’s neck, his lips brushing the skin there. A quiet, contented hum vibrated against Taichi’s spine.“Mornin’,” Noah mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.
Taichi turned within the circle of his arm. Facing him, he saw a Noah stripped bare of all performance. His green eyes were soft, his hair a sun-streaked mess against the pillow, the usual easy grin replaced by a look of wondering calm. Taichi’s heart thumped painfully against his ribs.“Hi,” Taichi whispered.
Noah’s smile was slow, shy, a sunrise in itself. He lifted a hand and pushed Taichi’s messy brown hair off his forehead, his calloused thumb tracing the line of Taichi’s eyebrow. The gesture was so tender it stole Taichi’s breath.Noah leaned in and kissed him. It was nothing like the desperate, consuming kisses of the night before.This was soft, exploratory, a languid rediscovery. A whisper of lips, the warm slide of tongue. It tasted of sleep and something uniquely, fundamentally them.Heat, slow and syrupy, began to pool in Taichi’s belly again. He pressed closer, and Noah responded, rolling onto his back and pulling Taichi atop him. The kiss deepened, grew hungrier. Taichi could feel Noah’s hard cock, slick with precum, grinding against his own. He rocked his hips, a slow, deliberate friction that drew a ragged groan from Noah’s throat.
Noah’s hands slid down Taichi’s back, palming his ass, gripping the cheeks and pulling them apart. “You feel that?” Noah breathed against his mouth. “I’m fucking hard for you already.Want you again.”
Taichi shivered.“I’m sore.”
“I know, baby. I know.” Noah’s voice was a low, soothing rasp.He kissed Taichi’s jaw, his throat. “Let me make it good.Slow.”
He gently guided Taichi onto his back, following him down. Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand. The click of the cap was obscenely loud. Noah coated his fingers, his eyes never leaving Taichi’s face.“Just relax,” he murmured, his slick hand sliding between Taichi’s thighs. One finger, then two, pressing and working inside. The stretch burned, a bright echo of the night’s activities, but Noah was infinitely patient, crooking his fingers, stroking gently until Taichi’s body opened for him, the pain melting back into that familiar, urgent need.
“Now,” Taichi gasped, his legs falling open wider.Noah didn’t need telling twice. He sheathed himself quickly, his hands shaking. He positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging against Taichi’s entrance.This time, there was no frantic push. Noah leaned down, bracing his weight on his forearms, cradling Taichi’s face. He pressed forward with an excruciating, beautiful slowness.
Taichi arched, a sharp cry catching in his throat.It was a deeper, fuller stretch than last night, his body already knowing the shape of him. Noah buried himself to the hilt and stopped, his forehead dropping to Taichi’s. They were nose-to-nose, breath mingling, joined in the most intimate way possible.
“God,” Noah whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. “You’re so… fuck.”
He began to move.Not the hard, driving pace from before, but a deep, rolling rhythm. Each withdrawal was a sweet agony, each return a homecoming. Taichi wrapped his legs high around Noah’s waist, his heels digging into the small of Noah’s back, pulling him deeper.
The room filled with the sound of their breathing, the wet slide of skin on skin, the soft, rhythmic creak of the bed. Noah dropped his head to the pillow beside Taichi’s, his lips close to Taichi’s ear.His words were a raw, whispered stream.
“Feel you everywhere.Tight around me.So hot and perfect.” He thrust deep, grinding his hips. “Wanna wake up like this.Every goddamn day. Slide into you when the sun comes up.Fill you up.”
The filth from his mouth was a counterpoint to the unbearable tenderness of his movements. Taichi clawed at his back, his own release coiling tight, spurred as much by the words as by the relentless, perfect friction against his prostate.
“Noah, I’m close…”
“Come for me,” Noah growled, his pace losing its languor, becoming urgent.“Let me feel you come on my cock.”
It took only a few more thrusts. Taichi’s orgasm ripped through him, a silent, stunning wave that clenched his entire body, milking Noah’s cock inside him. He cried out, a sound muffled against Noah’s shoulder.The intense squeezing pulled Noah over the edge. With a final, shuddering thrust, he came, his body locking rigid above Taichi. A guttural, broken sound escaped him, a surrender. He collapsed, his full weight a comforting blanket, his face buried in Taichi’s neck.
They lay like that for a long time, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and spent breath.The morning light had grown stronger, painting the room in pale gold.
Noah finally shifted, slipping out of him. He disposed of the condom but immediately returned, gathering Taichi against his chest.He didn’t speak. His hand stroked up and down Taichi’s arm, his fingers tracing the lines of muscle.The world outside was beginning to stir. A lawnmower growled in the distance.A door slammed down the hall.
“Taichi,” Noah said quietly, his voice rough.
“Hmm?”
Noah was silent for another moment, as if gathering courage.“Never… I ain’t never felt nothin’ like that. Not with anyone.” The confession hung in the air, fragile and immense. “All those girls… it wasn’t ever… this. It wasn’t this.”
Taichi’s heart swelled until he thought it might burst. He turned his head, kissing the sweat-damp skin over Noah’s collarbone.The feeling was a live wire in his chest, vibrant and terrifying. He wanted to say it back.He wanted to pour out everything he’d locked away for twenty years.
But the shadow crept in, cold and sharp.The framed photo of Noah by the tractor. The football posters. The world of handshakes and backslaps and ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, ma’am’ that waited outside this door. A world where this was not just forbidden, but dangerous.“What happens now?” Taichi asked, the words barely audible.
Noah’s hand stilled on his arm.The silence stretched, thick and heavy. He didn’t have an answer.The sharp, electronic buzz of a cellphone vibrating on the nightstand shattered the quiet. They both flinched.Noah sighed, a sound full of weary resignation. He reached over and picked it up. Taichi saw the screen light up Noah’s face, saw the name flashing there: Megan.Noah’s face, so soft and open moments before, shut down. The easy mask slipped back into place, but it didn’t quite fit. His eyes flicked to Taichi, a flash of something like panic, like shame, before he looked away. He silenced the phone and dropped it back on the nightstand as if it had burned him.
The unspoken answer to Taichi’s question lingered in the new, cold space between them. The momentum of the morning was gone, shattered by a single buzz. The world had found its way in.