If opposites attract—and in this case, they do—then Casey and Nate fit like puzzle pieces. Though married for a year and still rocking the honeymoon lifestyle, Casey’s starting to feel like it’s time for the next big challenge.
Casey’s never been interested in having kids, but knows Nate would love a family of their own and would be a fantastic father. He thinks he’s ready to put aside past prejudices, but he knows it’s not the kind of decision you make on a whim. Nate only wants to have a family with Casey if Casey wants it just as much. Neither would accept anything less.
The annual Rule family reunion is the perfect time and place for Casey to take his hopes for a test drive and inform his choice. He’ll have plenty of chances to practice—with Nate’s ménage-a-parents and seven sisters, there’s a smorgasbord of family to observe and a half-dozen babies to test his limits.
(And a few games to play. This is Nate, after all!)
Is Casey ready to grant Nate his wish to become a dad and wind up the pitch for a proper “home” run?
Mohawks might not make for great blowjob handles, but Casey flattered himself that he could compensate just fine. He kneaded Nate’s thighs and pushed them farther still apart to give himself more room to go as hard and fast and messy as he wanted. Saliva and slick dripped down his chin.
“Oh—” Nate choked, fingers going taut in Casey’s hair. “Casey, Casey, God.” He gave a low, deep moan that made his chest vibrate as he came, salty-sweet pulses on Casey’s tongue. Stray rivulets trickled free of Casey’s lips, to be caught in the cup of his palm and lapped up. “God almighty, Casey,” Nate said. He sounded winded, and when Casey looked up he had to grin at the delighted, fucked-out awe on Nate’s face. “Come here.”
Casey tucked Nate away with a gentle pat and did as he’d been told, slithering up to share cum-flavored kisses with Nate until they caught their breath—and a few more for good measure. He licked Nate’s lips for a grace note and brushed the tips of their noses together. “Feeling better now?”
“Mmm,” Nate hummed on an exhale. “Feeling better for now.”
Careful not to bump anything too sensitive, Casey eased one leg over to straddle Nate’s lap fully this time. The steering wheel and column dug into his back, but he could live with that for the short term. As long as he didn’t accidentally kick the emergency brake. Which had happened before. More than once.
Nate never minded. Still, best not to start their holiday by colliding with an elm.
Nate watched Casey, amusement written in his easy smile, until he’d settled himself. “This is a serious conversation sort of pose. What’s up?”
“Serious conversation, really?” Casey wiggled slightly. “I liked to think of it as more contentedly postcoital.”
“More like precoital, if you keep shimmying.” Nate popped a light slap on Casey’s left ass cheek. “Not that I have any complaints…”
“Ah-ah-ah. No more distractions.” Casey rolled his hips once—he was only human—and settled in the saddle of Nate’s lap. Really, the man was more comfortable than anyone not Santa Claus had a right to be. “Just making sure everything’s copacetic. I know you love your family, so why the dragging feet about the reunion? Even Kenneth noticed.”
Nate looked first sheepish, then abashed. He linked his arms around Casey’s waist. “You’re going to think it’s silly.”
Casey propped his elbows on Nate’s shoulders. “And yet here I am, listening.”
“It’s nothing terrible. I’m used to the teasing, and I have a new plan for that Swayze poster.” Nate stroked Casey’s waist in a thoughtful sort of way. “There’ll be at least two new babies there this year.”
“As there are every year. Is that a problem?”
“No, no, I just…” Nate shook his head. He crinkled his nose at Casey. “It’s all good. I’d rather have you than any number of littles running around and getting underfoot.”
Casey stroked the side of Nate’s face, keeping his thoughts carefully tucked inside.
Soothed, Nate drew light caresses down Casey’s bare arm. “Sometimes I wonder when I’ll begin to feel my age.”
Ridiculous man. He had to be kissed, and Casey more than happily obeyed the dictates of his whim. “The answer to that is ‘never.’ Which makes me a very fortunate man. Besides, the day you get old is the day I have to call myself old, and that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Read me?”
Nate laughed. “Loud and clear. Though I’ll tell you, there’s one thing I don’t wonder.” He brushed the backs of his fingertips against Casey’s left hand and the ring on his third finger. “How long it’ll be this good. Because I know the answer to that one is ‘always.’ And I have you in my corner to help defend me against my sisters. That’s not nothin’.”
Casey considered, for a moment, holding off on a bit of news he’d meant to keep as a surprise, but…why not? “Would it help if I told you your mother called me last weekend to inform me the Seven-Year Moratorium on homestead athletics had been lifted?”
Nate’s eyes went wide as dinner plates. He dropped his hands. “Are you serious? It’s only been two years—”
“Since the incident with her china cupboard and proof that even when they’re made of foam, footballs hurled at high velocity indoors can have significant impact?” Casey winced. He could still hear the almighty smash-and-crash if he closed his eyes. Alas, poor Wedgwood! Long might the pieces it rested in live in his memory. “I was there. I remember. Zadie said it was in celebration of finally having all her children married off. Mind you, everything besides board games have to be played outside—”
“Outside, schmoutside. Sports, Casey, sports!” Nate cut Casey off with a kiss that deprived him, happily so, of oxygen enough to make his vision sparkle and dance with spangles when Nate let him go. Even through the starburst haze, Nate looked like Christmas morning had come all over again. “What are we waiting for, again?”
“That’s my man. And see? You, feeling old, never happen. You’re going to have a good time, Nate. I promise you that.”
“Won’t I, though? Touch football. Shooting hoops. Baseball.” Nate had both stars and hearts in his eyes. “Honey, I could lasso the moon right now if you asked. Want me to try?” He pretended to crank down the truck window.
Casey stopped him, laughing. “Slow down, Roy Rogers.”
“More like Miss Dale,” Nate said, thoughtful and playful at the same time. He wiggled his hips. “The silk’s much more comfortable than I’d thought it would be. Speaking of, you know how we usually do our reunion-holiday gifts early? I can’t get my hands on what I’d meant to give you until tomorrow. It might be as late as Sunday, I’m not sure yet.” He tucked his lower lip between his teeth. “Is that okay?”
Sometimes inspiration required planning. Sometimes, it came in a brilliant flash.
Casey had concealed his intended reunion gift for Nate in the bottom of his suitcase. A set of three 1952-edition Topps baseball cards. A good gift for any collector. The Holy Grail for Nate.
And yet…and yet…
If he could stall Nate until Saturday night, or even Sunday, it might just give him enough time to wrap his head around what he was almost sure he wanted to give Nate instead. The decision to start their own family.
Decision made, Casey held up one hand. “Not a problem. Your gift takes time too. And a proper sense of ceremony. And since fair’s fair, you’ll get yours when I get mine. But I feel safe in saying you’re going to love it.” Either way, Casey thought he could bet on that. “Maybe even more than love it. Who knows?”
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