He whined. He actually freaking whined against my mouth, and I almost came as a bolt of lust sucker-punched me in the balls. I sucked hard on his tongue, biting his lower lip, just to hear him make that noise again.
“Jesus,” he groaned. “Fuck. You.” He thrust up again and I arched even further away from him. “Eric,” he said, grabbing at my ribs, my shoulders.
I kissed everywhere I could reach on his body, below his ear, on his jawline, the curve of his shoulder. Giving in to my own pressing need, I dropped my hips down, pressing our cocks together, the slide eased by sweat and other bodily fluids. Pleasure sparked up and down my body, pinpricks of pleasure.
Jake’s hands clamped on my ass, holding me in place. I struggled to pull away.
“Eric, please,” he begged. “Please, I need…I need you.”
“Just wait, hold on.” I reached a long arm to the nightstand, fumbling to open the drawer. Jake, brilliant man that he was, realized what I was doing and loosened his hold enough for me to grab the lube.
I’d forgotten that he was as sneaky as he was brilliant. As soon as my weight shifted, he pounced, rolling us over until he was on top. “Fucking tease,” he said, grabbing the lube from me. “That’s new.”
“You fucking love it,” I said with a grin that faded into a moan as he dragged a lube-slick hand up the length of my cock.
I pulled him down on top of me, wrapping my arms and legs around him, and rolled us back over. He might be sneaky, but I was stronger. He laughed breathlessly, grabbing on to the slatted headboard to keep us on the bed. “C’mon, Tiny. Do it. Fuck me. Make me feel it.”
I groaned. “I will. God, I will.” But it would have to wait. My orgasm was right there, beating in the pulse in my throat, my stomach, and my groin. I wedged my hand between us, holding our cocks as tightly as I could. I grabbed Jake by the hair. It was shorter than it had been, and no longer dyed black, but it was just as silken as I’d remembered, sliding through my fingers. And when I yanked his head back, baring his neck, his eyes rolled up under his lids and he gave a full-body shudder the way he always had.
Any control I’d had was lost after that. I rutted against him, my hand not so much circling our dicks as holding them against his stomach. He planted his feet on the mattress, thrusting so hard against me, he actually lifted me up.
“Oh, yeah, oh yeah, please, please. God, don’t stop.”
As if I could.
I mouthed against his neck, worrying the skin. I wanted to mark him up for the world to see, but just like all those years ago, I couldn’t. But I could do it where people couldn’t see. I tilted my mouth down, searching for the hollow of his throat, the hard curve of his collarbone.
His curses and pleas for more, for harder, landed on me like hammer blows and I gave him everything I could, grinding hard against him until I felt him take a huge breath in and hold it as he arched off the bed. His hands tightened against me, painting bruises into my skin. His cock throbbed, and he gasped as he came.
I held off as long as I could, wanting to drag out the pleasure for him. I stroked him through it until his shudders came further apart and he made a move with his hand as if to stop me.
His eyes opened and he looked right at me, the love in his expression taking my breath away. His hand on my cock stripped away any thoughts I might have had as he dragged a bone-rattling orgasm from me.
I collapsed onto him, sweat and come covering both of us. My fingers were still clenched in his hair. Groaning in satisfaction, I uncurled them with a groan, dropped my head to his chest, and waited for my brain to unscramble. I felt a soft kiss on the side of my head and he ran his hand softly over my hair, petting me like a cat. If I could have purred, I would.
Our skin stuck together, peeling apart with a slick sound as I rolled off him. “I’m going to fall off,” I said, shoving at his shoulder. “Move over.”
He moved silently, his arm thrown over his eyes as if he was blocking the light. I thought about what he’d said. Had things changed with the orgasm? I searched my heart and mind for regrets and found none. Could he say the same? Heart in my throat, I nudged him gently. “You okay?”
He nodded but didn’t move his arm, didn’t speak.
“Jake, talk to me. What are you thinking?”
He slowly pulled his arm away, and rolled onto his side. I rolled onto mine to mirror him. Again, the look in his eyes took my breath away. It was almost too much. Putting a hand on my hip, he gently swiped his thumb across the skin stretched tight over my hip bone and kissed me. He shook his head, searching my face for something. Jake was never at a loss for words. Fear pressed an icy touch against my heart as I waited for him to say something. Anything.
“I’m thinking,” he said slowly, thoughtfully, “I was an idiot to stay away for so long.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
He traced my smile with his fingertips. “I’m also thinking I don’t deserve this. If you knew…”
I kissed his fingers. “So tell me.”
Now the look in his eyes was inscrutable. Distant and measuring. “I will,” he said. “Promise. But not right now, if that’s okay?”
One day. It had been one day since he’d strolled back into my life as if he had a right, as if he belonged there. I was beginning to think he did. I think there was a spot in my heart, in my soul, that belonged always and only to him.
“It’s perfectly fine,” I said. “We have time.”
His smile was less than certain. He blinked rapidly and then smiled. “In that case, do we have time to shower?”
The rest of the afternoon was everything I could have hoped. We showered, we napped, and he woke me up with a slow, torturous blow job. I repaid him with a demonstration of the deep-throating skills I had picked up over the years. Judging from his very vocal response, he was a fan.
Eventually, hunger drove us from the bed. After scrounging through the leftovers in my fridge, we sat on the couch again, working our way through two giant pieces of devil’s food cake we’d ordered from one of my favorite restaurants. Having dessert delivered felt decadent and somehow made the cake taste even better.
The television played softly in the background, neither of us watching it, and the conversation flowed easily. We sat with my feet in his lap, and he massaged them for me, working out the constant aches. We spoke like friends catching up after a long separation. I told him about some of the cities I’d lived in, about the friends I’d made and had to leave behind. He told me stories of people he’d met and places he’d been, and of the outrageous situations he’d found himself in.
Midway through a story involving a Russian supermodel, a possibly stolen Lamborghini, and an impromptu border crossing that involved a lot of gesturing with his fork, cake clinging precariously to the tine, I realized I was in love with him again. God damn it. I must have sighed because Jake asked me if anything was wrong.
“No, no,” I said. “Just tired, I guess. Long day. Long emotional day, you know?”
He gave a low tired chuckle. “Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.”
“It’s late,” I said. “And I’m too tired to be subtle. Are you staying over? I’d like you to.”