But instead, he lifted his legs in one fluid motion and hooked his knees over my shoulders. “That’s better,” Rusty breathed, his voice rough but a sparkle in his eyes.
Fuck, he was hot, bending himself in two like it was nothing. It shifted our angles, and with every thrust I delivered, he clenched and whimpered under me.
“That’s the spot,” Rusty mumbled, pressing his lips against mine. He gripped my back in a double handful. His nails bit into my skin, and hot need flooded my veins as they did.
His breath was hot on my cheek, still stuttering whenever I pushed into him particularly hard, and his moans grew louder until they filled the air of the bedroom.
I figured out the right pace, slow and gentle at first, but Rusty kept egging me on. “More,” he begged, breathless and blushing. “Fuck me like you mean it, Tom.”
I licked my lips and kissed him roughly now, open-mouthed and hard. I sucked the tip of his tongue into my mouth and nipped lightly, then bit his lower lip until he groaned.
It was startling to realize this energy between us was no less tender because I was pounding him into the mattress. Instead, it was more intimate as Rusty gave himself over to me completely.
“Yes!” Rusty cried out, his whole body trembling in pleasure under me as I bottomed out inside me, balls smacking skin firmly. I’d found the right tempo at last, my hips moving almost of their own accord as pure instinct kicked in.
I owned Rusty’s pleasure, and I drew it from him like a music note—lingering in the air between each pounding beat, quivering and trembling and scarcely able to contain it.
“Yes,” Rusty whimpered, rough and breathless. “Yes, baby! Ahh, it’s so good. Fuck, I can’t stop it, Tom. I’m so close.”
I growled and nipped his throat, then sucked his earlobe and bit it firmly. I ran my tongue along his jaw and back to his mouth, claiming every breath as mine.
“Cum for me,” I breathed, barely audible between Rusty’s whimpers and gasps, the creaking mattress, and my own grunts. “I want to feel you cumming while I’m deep inside you.”
My body pulsed, quivered, and I clenched down hard with everything I had. Not yet. Another minute, I begged myself, though my head was spinning and the room might as well have been invisible around us.
Rusty couldn’t look away from me, his gaze hazy and lips parted for breath. The pained ecstasy told me how close he was, even without the fluttering contractions of his muscles or the way he drew tight around me with every thrust now.
“Tom…” Rusty whimpered, his hold around my back tightening as he clutched me close. “I’m gonna cum—ohmyGodyesplea—ahhh!”
His voice faded into a series of breathless, whimpering cries, and then he was lost. Rusty’s head rolled back, his thighs trembling against my shoulders. Trapped under me, there was nowhere for him to squirm. He clenched so tightly that my thrusts slowed and nearly stopped, but the rhythmic squeezes along the length of my shaft were more than I could bear.
“Rusty,” I gasped against his cheek. My very world drew in until all I could feel was the heat of our bodies locked together. I wanted this moment to last forever—the two of us and nothing else. I cried out, hoarse and rough, as I spilled over the edge. Everything felt abrupt and out of control, my hips driving into him erratically.
With every thrust, I claimed him as my own, spilling inside his heat as I grew aware of his mess coating our bodies, too.
Our bodies trembled against each other, and I found myself kissing him breathlessly, over and over, until Rusty whimpered for mercy and turned his face away.
“It’s too good,” Rusty breathed out, a tear at the corner of his eye.
I brushed it away gently and cupped his face, stroking his hair and pulling him into me. I knew what he meant. After so long alone, I’d hardly let myself imagine the fantasy of this moment.
The reality was so much better, and life felt almost unbearably good.
“I love you,” I whispered as his knees slid off my shoulders and he snuggled up close to me.
Rusty’s smile was swift and his words certain. “I love you, too.” He kissed me again, this time slow and sweet.
I would never stop seeking our happiness, side by side and together at last.
Epilogue
Rusty, six months later
January was my least favorite month. It was all gray skies, and except for rare occasions, not even any snow to liven up the mood. But this winter was by far the best I’d ever had.
For the first time, I had my own blue skies and sunshine right there at home with me.
I’d moved in with Tom just a month after the Walker Not-Wedding. Although I was sad to leave behind the gorgeous open living room, Tom had moved around some furniture and now I had my very own dance floor in the middle—with room for an audience on the weekends.
I grinned, swinging my hands with Tom as we walked from the car to the restaurant. Tonight, we were going out dancing. Tom said he’d tracked down a restaurant that cleared the floor and held swing-dancing nights twice a month,
It was one of the few styles we hadn’t practiced very much together, and Tom had become quite the enthusiastic amateur dancer. He said he wanted to try every style out there, and the more he practiced, the better he became.
He might never be a professional dancer, but he was already one of the best dancers I knew, because these days, he threw his whole heart into it. Not just dance, either. Tom shone at everything and anything he did.
The shy, insecure guy I’d first met was gone, and in his place was the kickass cool guy he’d never let himself believe in before me. I knew because he’d told me as much several times.
That honesty and vulnerability always startled me, but it was a breath of fresh air how willing Tom was to talk about his feelings, and how close it brought us together.
“What time does it start?” I asked again. I’d been too interested in watching Tom get dressed to hold onto little details like that.
Tom grinned at me. “Seven. The class is just finishing now, so it’s time for the open dance session.”
“Perfect,” I approved. Tom jiggled my hand nervously as we approached, but I squeezed his hand and grinned. We could just walk in and blow everyone away, I knew it.
It turned out I recognized the teacher, of course. Dance was a small world. I got so caught up in talking to her that it took a moment to notice the music starting—not quite the right pace for a swing dance number.
It was, however, a slow love song—one of the oldies that Tom liked to listen to. Most people in the room were starting to dance in sync, like it was a routine they’d all just learned.
I grinned and stood back to watch, squeezing Tom’s hand.
It didn’t hit me until he let go of my hand and moved to join the group what was happening. From the corner of my eye, the teacher was standing there recording the whole thing…
Wait, is this… a flash mob?
I instantly lost track of what the rest of the group were doing. Tom danced in the middle of the group, moving almost effortlessly through the air. He moved like he was born to it.
And—a far cry from the tensed-up, stiff man who had been so afraid of messing up—he was smiling, fluid, laughing off his few little fumbles. It made me ache with my desire to join them.