"I know you will. Take some time to process and recover. I take it you're driving back?"
Quentin thought of the all-wheel drive Augustus had bought for him. He would have to trade it in for something cheaper. "Yes. I promise I’ll be there by Monday."
"Drive safely."
Quentin slowly took his AirPods out. Not everything was lost just yet. He still had a shot at getting the job. All he had to do was prove he was qualified. And with Professor Danson willing to stick his neck out for him, he stood a chance.
But he would have to leave. He had two, three days at the most, and that was it. If he didn't leave, he'd lose every chance at that job, and he would never get another opportunity like that. If he violated Professor Danson’s trust in him now, he was done for. The man would never recommend him for a position ever again. No, this was his last opportunity. He had to take it.
He had to leave Augustus behind.
27
Dinner was as subdued as lunch. Augustus didn’t have the words. He rarely had them, at least not spoken words, but this was even worse. His insides churned and stormed, but no words were adequate to capture the tumult in his heart.
He was too tired to cook anything healthy, and so he fired up the grill and made burgers. They ate silently, then cleared away the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. He made tea and grabbed some cookies, knowing Quentin would want something sweet after dinner. He always did.
Quentin already lay stretched out on the couch, and Augustus put down the tea and cookies, then hesitated. Was he still welcome in Quentin’s arms? The rules had changed, hadn’t they? They weren’t fighting, exactly, but he wasn’t sure how to act.
Quentin opened his arms. “Come here, baby.”
Augustus crawled into his embrace, putting his head against that bony shoulder. Quentin held him close, then kissed the top of his head. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Augustus closed his eyes and thought of that old No Doubt song. She’d been right, Gwen Stefani. There was no need to say the words when you already knew the outcome and when all they did was hurt. It hurt to say them, and it hurt to hear them. Nothing they could say would change the outcome.
For an hour, they cuddled, sitting up every now and then to sip their tea and, in Quentin’s case, eat his cookies, and then they’d find each other’s arms again. The silence brought peace to Augustus’s head and maybe even a bit of healing. This couldn’t be the end of their story. Their connection was too strong, too special to end like this.
They could do a long-distance relationship until he was done here. They could video call, and Quentin could come visit. Augustus would have to pay his ticket because there was no way Quentin would have the funds. That meant a slight delay in his pay schedule, but surely that would be worth it.
Quentin shifted and found his lips. The kiss was soft, slow. Augustus melted into it, his stomach dancing when Quentin cupped his cheeks with endless tenderness. Their tongues slid against each other, teasing and probing, then soothing and comforting.
A low fire sprang up inside him, gradually building higher. His lips were swollen, but he didn’t want the kiss to stop, didn’t want Quentin to stop. Heat pooled in his belly, in his cock. His right arm was immobilized by Quentin’s weight on it as they lay side by side, face-to-face, but his left hand searched under Quentin’s hoodie, finding that warm, smooth skin.
He rubbed him as they kissed, slow circles that traveled lower and lower. When he reached his waistband, Quentin gyrated his hips against him. Augustus moaned into his mouth. Would he ever get used to the way Quentin made him feel, to the way his body reacted to his touch?
Quentin turned onto his back, pulling Augustus on top of him, and he went willingly, reveling in how they fit together. His insides were roaring with need now, with a blazing fire that kept getting bigger and stronger with every kiss, every brush, every caress. Quentin had free rein now, and he slipped both hands under Augustus’s jeans and underwear and kneaded his ass possessively.
Sweat broke out all over Augustus’s body, and he pushed himself up a moment and dragged his hoodie over his head while Quentin did the same. Their eyes met, and they smiled in understanding as they got up from the couch and took off the rest of their clothes. Back to the couch or were they taking this into the bedroom? Augustus looked at Quentin, who pointed toward the fireplace. He nodded. It was much warmer here.
Quentin stretched out on the couch again, and this time, Augustus didn’t wait for him to give the signal. He lowered himself on top of him, and they both let out a sigh of contentment. Augustus wasn’t sure what the plan was, but the skin-to-skin contact alone was enough to make him tear up. He needed this. He needed him.
Quentin found that tender stretch of skin behind his ear and licked it, then sucked gently. God, how could one spot be so sensitive? His cock jerked in reaction. Next, Quentin nibbled on Augustus’s ear, his teeth scraping all those soft spots that made his insides go all weak.
“I want you inside me tonight,” Quentin whispered in his ear, and Augustus froze.
Had he heard that correctly? He pushed up and met his eyes. “I th-thought you h-h-hated it.”
“Not hate. I don’t prefer it, but tonight, with you, I want to. I want to feel you, baby. I want to feel you for days.”
He understood that need. He’d felt it himself, before, that deep craving to be claimed by Quentin, owned in a way he would still feel the next day. “O-okay.”
Quentin wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him down in another wet, thorough kiss. He explored every bit of his mouth as if he was mapping it…as if he wanted to remember forever. Augustus let him and then did some exploring of his own while his hips found their rhythm, gently grinding into Quentin’s. Their cocks left smears of precum on each other’s bodies, and it felt dirty and right at the same time.
When Quentin finally broke off the kiss, they were both panting. “Show me you love me,” Quentin said, and Augustus wasn’t even surprised he knew. How could he not when Augustus was barely able to keep himself from shouting it out? So he nodded and smiled. There was no more need to keep it in. It was okay to love him, even if he would lose him again.
He dropped his mouth lower, but Quentin’s hand held him back, his finger lifting Augustus’s chin up. “You know I love you too.”
He did. A love as big as he felt, the magical connection they had, could not go unanswered. They belonged together.
He nodded again, unable to speak. But he didn’t have to because Quentin’s eyes shone with understanding. He let go of Augustus. “Make me yours,” he said.
He already was. Didn’t he realize? He was Quentin’s, and Quentin was his. Still, he brought his lips to Quentin’s throat and kissed him there. He licked that slight saltiness away, then hummed in pleasure.
“Give me a hickey,” Quentin said. “Please. I want to see myself in the mirror and see your presence on my body.”
Augustus closed his eyes as he pressed his lips against Quentin’s neck and increased the suction. Quentin’s hips bucked off the couch. He liked that. When he was confident Quentin would see that for days, he let go, and Quentin’s trembling exhale was such a damn turn-on.
He gently bit his shoulders, licked a hot, wet path down his chest, then played with his nipples until he sucked them hard and made Quentin growl. Mmm, what a perfect sound. His belly button was sensitive too, and he tongued it for a while. Quentin laced his hands through his hair and pulled and pushed alternatively.