Page 98 of Without You

While he was ultimately the Deacon I always knew, the man in front of me is the one I’m falling in love with.

He’d touched me every chance he got this afternoon. Public be damned, he couldn’t get enough. I knew it was different for him because Wade would stare for a little bit too long every time it happened. Not in disgust or even disappointment, but in amazement.

I don’t even know if Deacon realizes how tight he’s still holding on to me now. We’re in the elevator, waiting for it to stop on his floor, and his hand is squeezing the life out of mine.

The good mood from lunch is nowhere to be found, both of us somber, stuck in our own heads, thinking about my inevitable departure that’s just around the corner.

The walk into the apartment is silent, the weight of the goodbye is like a thousand tons of stone sitting on my shoulders. The space is dark, the winter siphoning the sun out of the room much earlier than usual.

“Deacon,” my voice croaks.

“Mhmm.”

He’s no longer holding my hand, but pacing around the room. He’s not looking at me. He either can’t or he won’t, but it doesn’t matter, because they both hurt all the same.

“Deacon,” I say, my voice a little firmer. He freezes but still doesn’t turn around. “Deacon, look at me.”

Several long seconds pass before he speaks. “I had one of the best days of my life today and all we did was eat with my friends and talk shit.”

“And buy me gloves,” I add.

I think I’m falling in love with you.

“Yes,” he exclaims, spinning on his heels, taking large strides towards me. His large calloused hands grab my face with restrained strength, and his blue eyes shimmer with all the love I feel in my chest. “And buy you gloves, you fucking weirdo.”

I’m not sure which one of us moves first. Fueled by love and goodbyes, our lips collide in desperation.

It’s hungry and feral and every bit as rough and raw as we’re both feeling.

“Please come back,” he pleads through our kisses. “I know I said—”

I cut him off, bruising his lips. Searing him with my touch, so even when I’m not here he never doubts how much I love kissing him. The lengths I would go to to be able to do it for as long as he’ll let me.

“Trust me,” I murmur. “Trust me with your heart. Trust in us.”

Deacon groans as he deepens the kiss. It’s punishing and heady, masking the fear I feel trembling beneath his skin.

Wanting to reassure him, I walk him back down the hallway, our lips still glued together. By the time we pass the bedroom’s threshold he’s tugging my clothes loose, itching to get at my skin.

“You’re wearing too many fucking clothes,” he grunts. “Fucking winter.”

A strained chuckle leaves my mouth as he pushes me onto the bed and begins stripping me naked.

By the time his hands are at the buttons on my jeans, my cock is thick, hard, and ready to explode.

“Wait,” I breathe out. “Deac, wait.”

He snaps his head up. “What is it?”

“Go to my bag.” His eyes narrow. “Just do it,” I say shakily. “You’ll work it out.”

He stomps into the walk-in closet, and I lazily stroke my dick over my jeans, anxious for his return.

I need the release, I need to feel him, and I need it soon.

“Are you sure?” His voice is lust and gravel as he walks in holding the bottle of lube and the box of condoms I bought earlier this week. We hadn’t discussedthisspecifically, but we’d both spent the week familiarizing ourselves with one another enough to know what’s next.

But I want this. I want to give myself to him in every way I can. I can’t yet give him my words, but I’ll be damned if I walk away from him this time without giving him my body.

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