Silas

I had no idea what I was doing.

Well, no. That wasn’t entirely true. I knew exactly what I was doing. Dragging George down onto my bed while we made out and shoved clothes out of the way didn’t leave a whole lot of room for interpretation.

But I didn’t know what I was doing. Or why. Or what I thought would come of this.

I needed it, though. I needed him. The conversation in the restaurant had left me even more raw and brittle than the last twenty-four hours had, which said alot, and I couldn’t even figure out how I felt about anything. Especially how I felt about George.

All I knew for sure was that, right or wrong, I needed him. Here. Now. Like this.

Whatever came next, we’d deal with when it came.

For now…

“Oh my God,” I moaned as George’s lips skated up the side of my neck. I had his shirt mostly unbuttoned, and I alternated between gripping it for dear life and trying to shove it off his gorgeous broad shoulders. His hot breath across my skin was almost as dizzying as his narrow hips between my thighs, and that groan he released when our clothed erections rubbed together—fuuuck.

“I want you so damn bad,” he growled, pausing to nip my earlobe. “Jesus, baby…”

I bit my lip and arched under him. “M-me too. There’s…” I pushed his shirt over his shoulders, but some of the buttons still held. “Too many clothes.”

George came up and kissed my mouth deep, hard, and messy. Then he sat up, leaving me breathless and trembling and hungry for more, and he started on the remaining buttons. “Definitely too many clothes.” He nodded sharply at me. “Lose your pants.”

His commanding tone gave me goose bumps, and my hands were already moving—already undoing my belt and pants—before my mind had fully caught up.

Holy shit. This was like when we’d first started dating. When the sex was new and we couldn’t get enough of each other. Long before we’d settled into a relationship and a life together. When things were still surprising and just the sight of his naked body made breath hard to come by.

Before the last piece of clothing landed on the floor, we were tangled up again. We started out on our sides, but then George rolled me onto my back, and I could only whimper with need as my palms slid up his back and his tongue slipped between my lips. There was nothing between us now apart from that bandage on his arm, and this was… fuck. It was perfect.

As far as my mind knew, the last time we’d touched had been two nights ago. The last time we’d had sex like ten days earlier, right before he’d left for the conference in Toronto. The year that had passed in between was gone.

But my body remembered it. As we held each other now, as the weight of George’s body settled over mine and my hands roamed his familiar angles and contours, the time that had passed was painfully there. My whole body reacted as if this were the first time after a long, long dry spell, because it was. My touch-starved nerve endings lit up with every brush of his lips or fingertips. My breath stuttered with every whispered curse, and my back arched as a low groan rumbled against my throat.

I was dizzy with need and relief, my senses on fire with both hunger and satisfaction—as if I desperately wanted the orgasm he’d no doubt give me, but I was beyond sated because George was here. We were here. We were back in this bed, tangled up and turning each other on the way we had for years, and I was so overwhelmed, I was on the verge of crying.

Where have you been, George?

Of course I knew. I knew exactly why we’d been apart for long months that I couldn’t remember, but my body didn’t know or care. For the first time, I was keenly aware of the huge expanse of time that had passed, and even though I still couldn’t remember that period, I needed to make up for all of it. For every second we hadn’t been in each other’s arms. For every second we’d both believed we’d never be here again.

He kissed down my neck, pausing on my collarbone, and when he started down my chest, my toes curled because I knew him, and I knew exactly where this was going.

“George…” I wasn’t trying to stop him or even encourage him. His name just tumbled off my lips like a prayer.

He dropped a kiss on my breastbone and looked up at me, dark eyes glittering with everything he’d said and everything we still couldn’t say. “Anything you want.”

“You,” I breathed. “Just… fuck, George…”

He kissed the same spot again, and as he continued downward, my nerves sang with excitement and desire. I couldn’t breathe and I was sure I was going to come from sheer anticipation. He’d blown me the night we’d met, but that didn’t stop me from trembling as if this were the first time all over again. As if he’d long ago memorized my erogenous zones, and at the same time, he’d never laid hand or mouth on my body before.

One flick of his tongue across my hipbone had me halfway to heaven. Then the wet heat of his mouth was around my dick, and I moaned something even I didn’t understand. The sheets bunched in my clawing hands, and the bed frame creaked as George’s ministrations made me squirm. Everything he did was just… oh my God. His lips and tongue were pure magic, and when he added tight, slick strokes of his hand, I thought I was going to come unglued.

And holy hell, I was going to come. I never came fast unless we’d spent all evening keying each other up until we were both ready to lose it, or…

My heart skipped.

Or it had been a long, long time since I’d gotten off.

Which it had.

I didn’t know that for sure—I had no way of recalling if I’d jacked off or hooked up recently—but I could feel it. In the way my orgasm was closing in fast, and in the way my touch-starved senses couldn’t get enough of finally, finally, finally being in someone’s arms.

Being in George’s arms.