Tag: gay relationships

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“Alright, Tom. You know the drill. Won’t be much different than your usual exam. We’re just making your prostate is healthy before you get locked into chastity. You will be stimulating it a lot in order to release your build-up, so it’s important it’s 100% healthy. Hold your posture. That’s it.”
Tom sighed. He didn’t like other people touching his ass other than James. “Yes Doctor.” Tom adjusted his hands and tried to get comfortable. He’d been coming to this office since he was a kid, but everything else had changed – the doctor, the purpose of the visit, and well…the wall was a lot closer. If Tom recalled correctly, he’d smacked his head into it last time two times he had his anal health checked. No Sir, not this time. Tom was prepared. Tom was a bottom’s bottom. Sticking things up his ass was his idea of a fun evening. Nothing was going to –

Something cold suddenly pushed inside his tight sphincter and – bang! “Ow!” Tom exclaimed before he could stop himself.
Dr. Choudry chuckled. “Did you hit your head on the wall?”
“…No.”
“Sorry, I should have given you a little warning. People tend to tense up if I do, so I’ve learned not to.”
“I can handle it. I can take dildos bigger than your finger,” Tom sniffed, his pride wounded.
“Ok ok,” Dr. Choudry said with a smile. “I’ll put a note in your chart to give you a little warning next time. Alright, let’s see…everything feels normal. Cough please.”
Tom did so and try to resist the urge to pee, cum, and get hard all at once. God that prostate was a magical button. He could not wait to see how sensitive it got once he was not allowed an erection anymore. Not like he had much of a choice….James made that decision weeks ago. Tom didn’t mind as much though. James always seemed to have his best interests in mind. He liked that James pushed him a little. It really opened up his world to the potential of his own sex drive. Tom’s thoughts drifted to that time they borrowed the e-stim machine from Rick…

Tom was just getting used to that nice sensation of something up his passage when it slid out. He instintinctively looked over his shoulder to see where it went and if it would continue. After a moment, Dr. Choudry cleared his throat. “We’re uh, done. You can get dressed now.”
Tom tried to hide his slight disappointment. “Oh ok. Shit. That gave me a bit of a boner.”
“That’s normal, Tom. If you want, I can give you a moment to self-pleasure?”
Tom thought about it. “Let me text James.”
Dr. Choundry threw away his gloves and washed his hands. “You have such good discipline for such a sexually active boy as yourself.”
Tom smiled. “Thank you, Doctor.”

He texted with James, who was ready to respond, eager how his boyfriend’s appointment was going. After a moment, Tom lifted his head. “I’m not allowed to. He wants me pent up for tonight.”
“Tonight? What’s tonight?”
Tom bit his lip as he smiled. “Not sure. Maybe he’s going to finally lock me.”
Dr. Choudry was making notes. “Well use a lot of lube and play safe. I’ll bring you a cold washcloth to get your erection down.”

Tom sighed in relief. “Thank you Doctor. You know, since I started dating James, I’m starting to feel like the world is full of men who will gladly look out for me if they know I need a little help. I like that feeling. It feels …secure, I guess.”
The doctor clapped Tom on the shoulder. “I’m happy to hear it. As a doctor, my patient’s mental well-being is just as important as the physical. Anything to help keep you happy.”
Tom was sure if his cock wasn’t preventing him from putting on his pants that he would have hugged his physician.

When James picked Tom up from his appointment, he was amused to see that Tom got a sticker and a lollypop for good behavior.

_________________________
Text is fictional.

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I hear someone’s footsteps behind me. I can sense it’s Shea without him even saying anything. I ignore him though and focus on my task. My eyes remain closed. Then, after a moment I feel Shea’s breath on the back of my neck and his nose bumps my ear. I can’t ignore him nuzzling me, especially when he puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Shea, I’m meditating,” I gently say.
“You’ve been meditating for an hour. I want you.”
“You want me how?”
“I dunno…I just want to be with you. This country air is making me feel romantic.”
“Really?”
“Mm hm.” Shea kisses the shell of my ear. “This is how i meditate.”
I chuff and open my eyes as I glance over my shoulder. “You’re distracting.”
He smiles, not at all feeling guilty. “Sorry.”
“I like it.”
Shea puts his second hand on my shoulder and rubs them. “Can we make out for a bit?”
“Make out?” I tease. “Like we’re in high school?”
“Yeah,” Shea replies. “I want to kiss you.”
“Is that so?” I ask, interested. “You don’t want my dick?”
“Dicks are good. I like dicks. Maybe we can get to that later. I dunno, right now…just want to kiss you.”
“Come ere, sit in my lap,” I offer.
“I’m bigger than you are,” he reminds me.
“Then you sit here, and I’ll sit on you.”
“Mm that’s a good kissing position.”

We trade spots. I sit down on his firm thighs and Shea wraps his arms around my waist. I slide my palms up his stomach as our kisses begin. Maybe he’s right about this country thing. The air is so clean and sweet here that everything else smells amplified. Shea’s own natural scent is present, warm and inviting, with a bit vanilla, a bit of sandalwood, with a bit of pheromones mixed in. I run my fingers through his hair and kiss him again and again. I don’t even notice my cock -or his – is painfully hard and leaking until half an hour later.

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Text is fictional. Source:

curatedeyeful:

Travis Stevens and Tyler Hill, in a scene for Helix Studios. (Link nsfw.)

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“What?” James asks, letting his hand hover over his rolls. I’m sure he’s thinking I’m mentally critiquing something about the way he’s holding chopsticks or eating his maki. When we go out for Japanese food, he always tries to impress me with his ease in adapting my culture and asks a lot of questions to get it right. But now, it’s not that.
I duck my face to hide my smile. “Nothing, nothing. I just…I like the view a lot. It seems stupid to say it loud but, I just realized that I could sit across from you like this for the rest of my life and be happy with it.  Only in the future, you’ll be wearing a button-up shirt, and then a polo, or maybe a cardigan, and …I don’t know. You’re still wearing a shirt from college.It just …feels like a beginning a guess.”
I busy myself with my miso, my face feeling hot.
James sets his chopsticks down and seems at loss for words.
“Seems stupid right?” I mutter, poking the tofu in the bowl.
“No no…it’s just-” James takes a sip of his water. “I was wondering if you’re psychic or something because I was thinking the same thing.”
My eyes widen. “Eh?”
“I mean, about sitting here with you. Well, not exactly. I was uh, trying to picture you in like traditional Japanese clothing…I don’t think you’d look good in a cardigan really.”

I laugh, freeing myself from discomfort. Now I can’t stop smiling. The words slip out of my mouth before I’m even aware I’ve thought them: “I love you, James.”
James puts his hand on the table on the rainbow scarf from today’s Pride, and I put my hand over this.
“I love you too,” James replies, trying out the words for the first time.

I feel like my heart’s going to explode. I suddenly want to kiss him very badly. I lean forward and James understands what I want. He lifts himself off the seat slightly and meets me halfway across the table. The kiss is gentle, sweet and warm, and then we sit back in our chairs and continue eating like nothing’s happened. Only now, we can’t stop grinning like idiots.

____________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. This is Derek Binsack and this post isn’t an attempt to personify him or assume his sexuality (although I’m pretty sure he’s gay).

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I hear the door close, then silence. “Honey is that you?” I ask, sticking my head out from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” he grunts. “I’m home. Jesus, what a day. This just won’t end. It just won’t end.”
I furrow my brow and come out to greet him. The kiss is cold from the spring chill and his eyes are not seeing me. I cup his cheek. “Are you really alright? You’re in shock.”
Laurent runs his fingers through his shoulder-length auburn hair. “I can’t feel anything. I’m totally numb. Last week I found out I’m likely losing my job in the merger. Found out today my dad has cancer, and someone’s been using my credit card without my permission… just one thing after another. ” I help Laurent off with his coat. “I can’t even remember leaving the office and getting here…”

“My poor Laurent.” I put an arm around his shoulders. Despite his strong build, he feels fragile and unsteady. “Come to the kitchen, you need to sit down.”  My boyfriend just grunts and lets me lead him.

I sit him down in a kitchen chair and put a glass of strawberry milk in front of him. “Here,” I say.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Your drink, to wash this down.” I fetch the plate off the counter and hold it in front of him.

Laurent stares at it, blankly. “How did you…”
“Your mother told me,” I answer. “I called her today, because I was worried about you. She said when you were little and having a bad time at things, she would make you Happy Cake so you’d feel better. She told you the sprinkles were made of real, dried rainbows and they were medicine that only works on children. So…how did I do?”
Lauren takes the plate and cups it in his hands, as if shielding it from his shitty week. “It’s beautiful, Alain. I forgot how pretty the colors were. You know, I used to ask my mother what flavor the cake was and she said ‘sun flavored’. I thought vanilla was ‘sun flavored’ for years,” he chuckles. “Jesus, it’s just perfect.” Laurent lowers the plate to the table and picks up his fork, but he hesitates to molest it.

I put my hand over his other hand, loosely curled on the table. “Laurent.” Our eyes meet. “Everything is to be ok. We’ll know more on Monday about your father’s cancer, but the doctor was optimistic wasn’t he? And the credit card company froze your card right? The assets are protected. About your job, well, maybe you’ll find another job you’ll love even more. You still have me too, no matter what happens.”

Laurent swallows, hard, and he tries to make some words come out but his throat is too tight. I pat his arm and nod understandably. I get up to get my own piece of cake, and we sit there in calm silence and eat.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Laurent methodically carves up his dessert and eats every bite in his usual fastidious manner. When every crumb has been collected and every sip of milk is gone, Laurent sets his fork on his empty plate and dabs his mouth with a napkin.

“Alain?” Laurent asks. He has a slight accent from his childhood in the south of France and I love how he says my name.
“Yes?” I reply.
“Would you like to go upstairs and make love?”
The tone in his voice makes the hairs go up on the back of my neck. He didn’t say ‘fuck’ or ‘have sex’, he said make love. “You’re up for that?” I reply, cautious.
Laurent nods. “I…I need it. I need you. I feel like my emotions, my feelings, are all backed up and I can’t hit unpause. You are so kind to me, so loving, that when we’re together I just dissolve and drift into pieces like foam on the sea. I need that. I need you to unravel me or I’m going to break.”
I can see the pain on Laurent’s face, clear as day. He needs to cry, but he can’t. I finish my last bite of cake and drain my milk. “I would love that. I’ll put on the heater, make it warm. You go get ready, I’ll make us some tea.”
“Tea. Yes. Good idea.” Laurent pushes away from the table and shuffles to the bedroom like a zombie.

Later, when the sheets are stained and I am blessedly tingling all over, I rock Laurent as he sobs into my arms. Change scares him. Losing his father, his best friend, before we have children, scares him. Financial instability scares him. In one week, everything he could count on to be stable has crumbled. Eventually he collapses into exhausted sleep around me, and I tuck him into bed.

The next morning, when I wake up, Laurent is already sitting up and gazing out the window. It’s kind of hard to see his face as the sun pours over the bed.
“Laurent…?” I say softly.
To my cautious delight, he smiles. “Look. It rained last night, and it’s just beautiful today. Come here, to this side of the bed – watch the mess now – look! Can you see it? There’s a rainbow over those hills.”
“Yeah – yeah I see it. Wow, Laurent. It’s a beauty.” I slide my fingers into his, interlocking them, and we share it together.

______________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. This is not the first time I’ve made a post with just a picture of cake, lol. Pic is watermarked for ownership.

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mytintinposts:

Mytintinposts

Maybe too queer, but still hot

“Jordy, it’s not too queer.”
“It is. I mean…we have both our hands over my penis.”
“…Jordy that was your idea.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking! I guess I just, like, let all my gayness cloud my judgement.”
“Jordy, honey have you eaten?”
“What?” he blinks.
“You’re getting manic, have you eaten honey?”
“…I ate a protein bar. And a latte.”
“Decaf?”
“…No.”
“Jordy, you need to eat real food.”
“How can I eat at a time like this!” he huffs, throwing his arms dramatically. “Why did I allow naked photos to be taken of us? They’re so…cheesy.”
I pick up the prints the photographer mailed us. “I think they’re sweet.”
“…Sweet?” Jordy repeats.
“Yes. I mean, look at us. It’s so clear. You are shy, scared to put yourself out there as you are – naked in both body and soul – for another man, but you clearly want to because you have puppy eyes for that man. Well, me, in this analogy. And the other man – me – is reaching out to say that being together doesn’t mean surrendering yourself entirely, it means learning to share yourself with someone because that can be wonderful and amazing and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I love it. It conveys our relationship perfectly.”
“Oh my god.” Jordy replies softly, his voice still tinged with that dramatic, twinky tone of us. “You see that in this picture?”
“Yes, baby, I do. You are also damn fine, if I can say so.”
“Oh you can, you can,” Jordy cooes, reaching for me. I embrace him in a hug.
“Oh there there. It’s ok. I know it’s a little embarrassing putting yourself out there on film. I thank you for indulging me with pictures for anniversary. You don’t have to look at them again if you don’t want to.”
“….I don’t?” Jordy replies, pulling away and looking at me.
“Not if they make you that uncomfortable?”
“Well…I mean… when you put it that way…” Jordy shuffles through the photos on the coffee table. “Woah, this one has your penis in it! Ok, this one’s hot.”
I laugh. “Jordy. You can have my penis any time you want.”
“And I really appreciate that.
“But you don’t want to look at the ones of us together?”
“….Now you make me seem like an ungrateful diva bitch.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…”
“Uuughh I am such a virgo.”
“Jordy.”
Jordy crosses his arms and looks away. “I like them. I really do. It’s just weird to see a physical embodiment of the way you feel for someone.”
Suddenly he’s left me speechless. “Jordy…” I begin.
“But you’ll never get me to admit that again!” He grabs the naked photo of me and marches into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
I watch him magnet it to the fridge and smirk. “To make dinner.”
“That photo of me is not staying on the fridge.”
“I’m making you lasagna. It will stay there for now, and then I’m taking it to work and putting it in my locker.”
“…Jordy I’m not sure the other firefighters will like that.”
“Rick has a naked photo of a porn star in his locker! You can see her lips. I want to play too.”

I give him a look. He still won’t say ‘vagina’. Sometimes, Jordy’s just impossible, so I decide I’m done bickering with him and let him make me dinner. We went out for dessert, then came back, made love, and went to sleep.
When I came home from work the next day, the intimate photo of us that caused Jordy to freak out was displayed on our bedroom dresser in a beautiful silver frame.

__________________
Text is fictional.

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There’s a photo I keep folded in my wallet. When smartphones
became a thing, I slid it between my phone and the case. It goes everywhere with me, a treasure thing. That print is a copy though, as is the 8 x 10 facsimile on the mantel in my parents’ living room. I
keep the original in a safe deposit box. The negative is long gone, and
if I lost the original cause I’d lost my phone, I’d be devastated.

I first saw the picture when I was 11. We had
been talking about genealogy in school and my parents took out the
albums to show me old family photos. Each of my parents had their own
albums, up until when they met, and then they merged into one. This photo
however, didn’t have its own page. It was in an envelope, with other
miscellaneous photos from college tucked in the back of an album. When I saw it, I
snatched it up from obscurity.

I still remember that when I first
saw it, I felt completely still. When you’re a child on the cusp of
becoming a self-aware individual, you begin to notice more and more how
your parents interactive with each-other. My parents had always been
close. Mushy, even. When I became into a teenager, I rolled my eyes a
lot and made lots of huffing noises about how they were embarrassing me, gawd! Still,
I was mostly giving them a hard time because I refused to let them see
how much that picture had impacted me. I was scared I would never find
someone who loved me like that.

Their lips aren’t even
touching in the shot, maybe an inch away. Their eyes are closed, and
they’re leaning into each-other. Daddy’s hand’s curled around Papa’s shoulder. Papa is pressed up against Daddy. The kiss is inevitable. What I like most about
them is how natural they look, so casual. Nothing is forced, or cheesy,
or over-thought out. They’re not holding hands or gazing into
each-other’s eyes like Disney characters. They’re just…them.

Papa has told me the backstory so many times I have memorized it by heart:

This was taken in 1958. It says so on the back, so it’s right. We’d just finished our sophomore year of university. Eddie
had a good part-time job at the auto repair center, and he’d repaired
this truck that came in with a bad transmission. Since the owner’s son
was back for the summer and could take over Eddie’s work, we decided to
take a summer road-trip before school started again.

First, we drove from upstate New York to Indiana to visit Eddie’s dad’s side of family. From
there, we just drove West, to see Yellowstone, and even though our
butts were sore, we kept going all the way to see the
Redwoods in California. And it was under one of those big trees that your Daddy asked
to marry me, even though it was a ridiculous idea and illegal at the
time. [pause as Papa swallows his emotions] I must have been in
high heaven after that or something, cause I don’t remember anything
until until we made it to the ocean; we camped there for a few days
cause the truck’s oil pan was leaking and there was some problem with
the radiator.

The drive back was really long. We were both so sick of
each-other when we finally got back to New York. [insert a laugh here] We
didn’t see much of each-other over the rest of the summer, cause we
were both working, but we moved in together for our junior year and
after that it was ok again. [pause] My roommate at the time,
Judie, took this photo of us right before we left as a commemorative
shot. I looked her up some time ago. She married a banker and did
alright for herself. When I told her we were still together and had
adopted, she was not surprised one bit. Yeah…those were the days. God, Eddie was so devilishly handsome at that age with all that tussled blond hair wasn’t he? [at this point, Eddie says: ‘What, I’m not still devilishly handsome?” and they laugh]

What’s
also ridiculous is that it now looks like this photo could have been
taken yesterday. It’s hard to believe that the
shot and the people in are now over fifty years old. I never tire
of looking at it though, because like love my parents share, the photo
is timeless.

__________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. Tracked the photo to Instagram but no IDs beyond that.

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How did it come to this? I mean, last time I checked I was a scruffy, carefree college student. Marriage, home-ownership, 9-5 jobs – those things were for chumps. I was out rock-climbing and kayaking. I backpacked India! and Europe! I went to bath houses in strange cities and had excellent sexual experiences with beautiful men. I was going to start a non-profit…or something….and change the world or something…

And how did I end up here? Didn’t it all start when I met Hugo on the back-packing trail? Weren’t were just going to be in an open-relationship, unbound, fun, and free? Cause trail relationships never work out? When did I become scared of that, and start to play it safe? Now I’m taking my work home with me because 40 hours is not enough hours to get it all done. Our names are on this house, because it’s more economical than renting. And I do believe the man whose arms are wrapped around my waist is thoroughly committed to me monogamously and loves me very much? And most of it all, why does our cat run this house? I haven’t sat down in two hours. I’m no Slytherin, I’m a Hufflepuff. No, I’m a doormat in front of the Hufflepuff house.

“Atlund,” my husband asks softly, “Are you overwhelmed with work tonight? We haven’t had a night together in a while…”I cringe. When he’s speaking softly, it’s not a good sign. It mean he’s scared of being rejected, but he’s still so needy and hopeful that he’s risking it. This is the man that brought surprise-afternoon-sex to our relationship. And now it’s down to him begging while I drown in paper at 8 pm on a Tuesday night. I feel his arms tightening around me. I understand what Hugo’s saying without another word. I’m drifting away, and he’s trying to tether me to him. I glance down at the papers in my hand and suddenly, they’re meaningless.

”Hey Hugo?” I ask, tossing the papers onto the desk. One piece slides off the desk, over the cat. She doesn’t seem to care and resumes cat loafing.
”Yeah Atlund?” he asks, hopeful.
”You know what? I hate this.”
Hugo tenses. “…Oh my god, you hate me?”
My eyes go wide. I spin around and cup his face in my hands. “No, no no no, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. I mean – this.” I gesture with my hand. “I hate this, this…thing I’ve become. Let’s … let’s go.”
He sputters. “Go where?”
”South Asia. Let’s go buy a motorbike in Thailand and ride it across South Asia, and then we’ll meet up with your brother working in China.”
Hugo gasps.
”The distribution center you’re working for is merging and consolidating, right?”
He nods briskly.
”And you seem so burnt out. Volunteer to quit, they’ll probably give you severance. I’ll quit my job, we’ll rent the house for income, live off our savings, and spend those weeks relearning why we fell in love in the first place, and figure out how to live our lives right this time. God, I miss kayaking.”

Hugo looks frankly astonished. “…Am I asleep?” he finally asks, cautiously.
I hear a strange sound, then I realize it was me laughing. It’d been so long I almost didn’t recognize it. “No. No you’re not. I’ve been asleep. I got lulled into this stupid work/spend cycle and lost focus of what was important. You. Us. I can’t enjoy living unless I get time to love you.”
Hugo sniffles and his bottom lip quivers. He takes a deep breath. “Ok.” He says. “Ok, let’s do this. Let’s …let’s go. Wait.”
”What?” I ask, my eyes searching his face.
“What about Mittens?”
I glance at the cat. “We’ll give her to my sister. Our niece looooves her.”
Hugo nods, still seemingly a little stunned. “Wow. There really is an answer to everything.”
”Then let’s go.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
I hook my fingers in his belt loops. “Why don’t we celebrate our renewal by spending the rest of the evening having the dirtiest sex we can imagine?”
Hugo’s blank face slides into a smirk. “You wanna do it bareback? Me slamming again you, making the headboard bang against the wall?”
I groan. “Shit, I just want you fucking me. You do it in whatever pose you want.” I cup him between his legs and rub. “Oh man, Hugo, I forgot how hot you are… I want this. I want you. I want you so goddamn bad. God, how could I have ignored this for so long?”

Hugo jumps on me and kisses me, our lips roiling and colliding. I omit a muffled cry of bliss and bring our hips together. His shirt lands on the cat. Mittens seems miffed and goes off to do cat stuff.

Apparently, ‘dirty’ meant banging me right against the desk and getting cum and sweat all over the TPS reports… but we made it to the bed. Eventually.

_____________________________
Text is fictional.

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I swear to god, he loves this cat more than me. I mean, look at this! First thing in the morning, I’m there, spooned up next to him, leeching his body warmth and cuddling the hell outta him. All the cat is doing is sitting on him, on top of the blankets – not even under like I am! and yet every morning who does he greet first? The cat. Who gets attention first? The cat. Sure she’s fluffy and adorable, especially when he’s purring, but he once told me I was adorable too right? And I get to be under the covers! Shouldn’t I get a morning kiss before the cat does? Not fair.

The cat knows it’s war. She KNOWS that we are fighting over the attention of the same boy. Sure, I don’t have little toebeans and a bottlebrush tail, but I have a tool in my bag that she can’t use though. I return all my boy’s kisses, then start touching him and humping him…aaand suddenly he becomes interested very quickly in what I can do to make him feel good and how I can tend to his morning needs. You should see the deathglare the cat gives me when my boy sets her on the floor so he can have sex. I know, it’s childish and pedantic to feel like you’ve won over the cat but, I often feel that I’m very close to losing my hierarchy in this household. At least I’m still the top in this relationship.

“What is it honey? You want to get another cat? Noooooo!”

_______________________
Text is fictional.

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Lachlan was examining an old book of costume designs for details to borrow for illustrations when he heard a knock at the door. He was both relieved and annoyed by the sound. He needed a distraction, but he bothered that inspiration wasn’t coming to him. The illustrations were due in two days and he hadn’t done the linework – not to mention the coloring! Ugh, it was going to be overtime for sure. The other drawings
for the Richman campaign came to him instantly; he’d propped them up to
remind himself he didn’t suck at his job.

Lachlan sighed and closed the book. “Yes?” He glanced up at his secretary, a smiley, plump blonde woman.
“Um,”
she said, pointing a pencil toward the front of the office, “Your
husband is here. He’s bouncing off the walls, demanding he has to see
you ASAP.”
“Is something wrong?” Lachlan asked, already striding to the door.
“No, quite the opposite, I think.”

Their head illustrator was already running past her to the waiting area.
“Julian?” he called.
Julian
heard Lachlan’s voice and jogged toward him. He was grinning so hard his
cheeks hurt, all his teeth on display. “Come here, I gotta tell you something.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed a very confused Lachlan by the sleeve and dragged him back into his office and
shut the door tight.
“Julian what’s going on?”
“Lach they picked us!” He leapt into his husband’s arms.
“Ooof!” Lachlan exhaled in surprise as he found his arms full of a petit brunet.
“They picked us!” Julian crowed.
“Who picked what?” Lachlan insisted.
Julian
kissed him hard. Lachlan did not dislike that, but was a tad embarrassed to
be receiving that in front of an open window. “My goodne-“
“The
adoption agency called. Couple 17, the teenagers we met two weeks ago? They liked our profile, the book we
sent them, the photos… It’s really happening Lachlan. They’ve picked us to adopt their daughter
when she’s born.”
“…What?” Lachlan breathed, shocked.
Julian smiled. “We’re going to be parents.”
All
the air left Lachlan’s throat. He worked his jaw, but nothing came out.
Tears sprung to his eyes. Julian wiped them away with his sleeve. “Us.
Parents. It’s really happening.”
“Oh my god,” Lachlan sputtered. He let
Julian down so he could hug him properly in a bone-crushing grasp.
“You’re 100% serious? They’ve picked us? Why?”
Julian giggled,
overexcited. “Yes. Our adoption counselor didn’t want to spill all over
the phone, but she said for both teenagers, there’s lot of
religious mania in the families. Huge homophobes, too. The teens said they wanted their kid to
have a “modern life” as they put it.”
“…Are you saying being a gay couple ended up working for us? After all that rejection?”
"That’s what I’m saying.”

Lachlan stared at Julian, trying to digest this. He let out a whoop and punched
the air. They made so much noise that Cathy knocked on the door.

“Um, is everything ok there in Lach?”
He went to the door to reassure their receptionist. “No it’s great! It’s fucking great! I’m going to be a dad!!”

When Lachlan’s boss found out about his and Julian’s adoption success, he took everyone in the small company out for lunch and drinks. People kept buying Lachlan and Julian drinks and the couple got a bit too drunk. Lachlan was given the rest of the day off, and Julian escorted him home.

They stumbled in through the door to their house, then made love on the sofa. As he was lying there, out of breath, delirious with happiness and cuddling a napping Julian, Lachlan suddenly had the inspiration for the drawings he was stuck on at work. He was feverishly sketching when Julian came to fetch him for dinner. After a nice meal, he went right back to his office to put down the basics for the colors. When he was done with the preliminary work, Lachlan didn’t even take a break before moving on to the next drawing project: designing the nursery.

____________________

Text is fictional.