Page 85 of College Town

“Come on, come on,” Tommy chants, wriggling, getting impatient. “You can go for it.”

Lawson hooks his arms up under his knees, and does.

He didn’t forget this. That’s impossible. But for all that it’s familiar, it’s different, too. They’re thirty-seven, now; they’re men. Tommy is all lean muscles and deep shadows, masculine, and mature. He’s enthusiastic in his responses, teenage fumbling replaced by the responses of a man who knows exactly what he wants, and who he wants to give it to him. Lawson mourns the missed chance to discover everything they liked in bed together at eighteen, nineteen, twenty…but he thrills at the way they fit together now, a push-pull of grief and gratitude that piles up behind all the lust jammed in his throat. He can’tbreathe.

But he can push Tommy’s leg up and out so he goes deeper, and lean down to latch his mouth to his collarbone.

“Ah!” Tommy claws at his shoulders, and the back of his neck, bucks beneath him. “Yeah – yeah – like that, just like –fuck.Lawson.”

Lawson has never loved the sound of his own name more. He rakes his teeth lightly over sweaty skin just to elicit more curses, and slams his hips home harder, harder. This isn’t the most efficient angle, but this way he gets to bury his face in Tommy’s neck and breathe him in. Gets to feel Tommy clutching at his back, his ribs, his ass, urging him on, faster, faster, harder, more.

Lawson drifts. Not in the usual way, when he’s trying not to come too soon, or when he’s trying to pretend the person under him is someone else – pretend that person is Tommy. The person under him nowisTommy, and the surreal, prayed-for, unexpected, wonderful truth of that casts a spell over him. He experiences a moment of utter perfect peace, despite the fevered pace of their fucking, despite the way he’s sweating, and breathing loud and deep like a bull in the ring. For a while, as the pleasure builds in sweet-bright layers, he knows only joy.

But then the pressure reaches a painful almost-peak in his guts, in his balls, in the small of his back, and reality snaps back around him. Like the bursting of a bubble, the peace pops apart, and he’s shockingly aware ofeverything, suddenly.

He's braced up on both hands, thrusting hard, and fast, and there’s sweat pouring off his face, dripping off his nose, burning in his eyes. He blinks so he can see Tommy under him, back arched in a perfect bow, tendons standing stark in his throat. His hands slip in the sweat on Lawson’s hips. His mouth is open, his eyes shut, face glazed with sweat and brow crimped: a portrait of a man in the throes of an ecstasy too intense to bear. He’s squeezing around Lawson each time he bottoms out, and as clarity slaps him hard, Lawson realizes he’s murmuring, chanting, over and over.

“Need…need…I need…oh God…I need…”

Lawson’s orgasm ismuchcloser than he expected.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” His voice is dry and cracked. He shifts his weight to one hand, bears down hard with his hips, and reaches between them to take hold of Tommy’s cock. “Come on, baby, come on, that’s it.”

“Oh, God–” Tommy gasps like he’s been struck, and spills all over Lawson’s fist, and both their stomachs, white-hot jets, and somuch.

He clenches like a vise, and Lawson comes.

It starts in the back of his skull, like a blackjack aimed right at his nape, and it whipcracks all down the length of his spine. He can do nothing but jerk through it, grinding forward, pinning Tommy down to the bed while he rides it out.

Again, he drifts, but this time it’s like being caught in a storm. He’s burning up, and everything hurts, and everything feels so amazing he clenches his teeth until he fears they might crack.

Tommy’s making hurt little noises in the back of his throat, hands pawing desperately at the back of Lawson’s neck.

Oh. He’s crushing him.

Lawson lifts his head, and starts to push himself up and off of him, but Tommy says, “No!” in a small, panicky voice, and Lawson subsides. He shifts around a little, though, so he’s supporting some of his own weight. Not that he thinks Tommy’sfragile– he’s never been that – but because this awful urge to cradle and protect him wells up in his chest, as dangerous and volatile as a hemorrhage. He feels it like a welt filling with blood: one wrong poke, and the whole thing will burst and kill him.

Tommy hums, satisfied that their sweaty chests and come-streaked stomachs are glued together. He always did get a little stupid after he came, and now seems to be no exception. He strokes Lawson’s hair, and his neck, and his shoulders, petting him like a dog.

For his part, Lawson’s body is singing, or maybe flying, maybe both. He feels loopy, and fond, and drugged, and pleasure is still pulsing through him in the sort of aftershocks that can pull him under and into sleep if he lets them. The room is silent save the hum of the AC and the harsh give and take of their breathing.

After a few minutes, Tommy takes his jaw in both hands and manhandles him until their faces are aligned so they can kiss. It’s salty, and sluggish, and oh so sweet. Lawson wants to cry.

And then Tommy traces the tender skin beneath his eyes with his thumbs, and murmurs, against his lips, sated, and lazy, and dreamy, “Oh my God, I missed this. I missedyou.” He sighs, and it hitches a little, like maybe his eyes are feeling misty, too. “Lawson. Sweetheart. I love you so much.”

Lawson kisses him, and kisses him, and as he drifts off, he sees the blurry curve of Tommy’s smile.

27

Lawson wakes slowly to the feeling of fingers scratching along his scalp. He thinks of Natalia earlier…but this is different. Blunt fingertips, and short nails. And there’s the fact that he’s lying down – face down, in fact, his cheek pressed to something firm.

He opens his eyes and sees a pale blue glow above him. A phone screen. He’s lying with his head on Tommy’s thigh and Tommy’s sitting up against the headboard, frowning down at his phone as he types something on it, free thumb flying and brows notched.

He looks like an entirely different person than the one Lawson kissed until he fell asleep however long ago it was. Hours? Minutes? It’s still dark, so that’s something.

I love you so much.

Lawson swallows a wave of nausea and says, “Hey.”

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