Page 82 of As the Years Pass
I run my hand up and down Emmet’s muscular back as he sleeps, half his body draped across mine. He always was warm when he slept, and nothing has changed on that front. He is much heavier than he used to be though, and I’m not sure how I haven’t suffocated. It would be a good way to go, though, I’ll tell you that.
My bedroom smells of sweat and cum, and part of me hopes it lingers so I’ll have a reminder of him here. I’ll have to change these sheets, but I don’t regret a single thing that happened. Though, we do need to talk about what we’re doing, what this is between us.
Communication never used to be an issue for us. We talked about everything, always, all the time. We were close, best friends. We did everything together, had so many of each other’s firsts. The more I think about it, the more I get angry with myself for fucking it up.
Why did I give this up?
I was young and dumb. That’s all I can really say.
And Emmet is right. What happened then doesn’t matter. All that matters is now. Us, here.
I lean closer to kiss his forehead, letting my lips linger.
This is so perfect. Everything about this feels right, like it’s where I belong and what I’m supposed to be doing.
I settle against my pillow, holding onto Emmet. He stirs in his sleep, gripping me tighter too.
All this time? All these years and he’s just been waiting for me?
I sigh and close my eyes, drifting back to sleep that I’m awakened from a short time later, by the feel of Emmet’s mouth wrapped around my dick.
“Best way to wake up,” I say, running my fingers through his hair. Half of it is still in a bun, but it’s messy as hell.
He moans around me, the vibrations going right to my balls.
I forgot how good this feels…
It’s been so long, years, since anyone has done this for me.
Emmet takes his time, enjoying me as much as I’m enjoying him. The orgasm builds slowly until I’m coming down his throat.
“I could get used to that,” I say when he comes to lay beside me, licking his lips clean.
“Fine by me.” He kisses my cheek, then throws his limbs over me to cuddle. He always was like a koala—a very large koala.
“We should shower,” I say.
Emmet hugs me tighter. “Don’t want to move.”
I laugh, because neither do I. But there’s a layer of sweat covering my body that I need to wash off.
“Five more minutes,” I mutter, and he hums happily.
Five minutes turns into twenty, but I eventually coax Emmet out of bed with promises of a blow job in the shower. He would have gotten up anyway, but I wanted his dick in my mouth, so I used it as an excuse. Not that I need one, but it makes it fun.
My back is against the shower wall while he stands above me, both hands braced against the tile as he slowly slides in and out of my mouth. When he comes, he pulls out and strokes himself all over my tongue.
We count the marks he left on my stomach last night, when he was licking our cum from me. There are eight of them. A mix ofhickeys and bites. I’m not mad. In fact, I love them. We wash up, then get out.
It’s still dark out, but we’re wide awake, so we make breakfast together. I scramble eggs while he fries bacon. I get the toast going while he makes coffee. We work together like a well-oiled machine, like we haven’t spent so many years apart. You’d think we’d been doing all these things every day since the day we were born, and it feels damn good.
When we’re done eating, the sun is finally up. We go into the living room and lay on the couch. I put on another Indiana Jones movie, and we end up falling asleep again. When we wake, it’s late into the afternoon and raining heavily.
“Don’t you have to be at the bar?” I ask, brushing my fingers through his hair.
“That’s the good thing about owning the place: I can do what I want.”
I chuckle.
