We make our way to the parking garage, my arm around his waist, his arm around mine, clutching, holding, laughing, grabbing, unwilling to let go.  Never want to let go.  My hand takes his and I pull him along toward the car but he stops.  Stops.  And the thought occurs to me that he doesn’t want this, that he doesn’t want to go home with me, that he doesn’t want a home with me, that we moved too soon, that we moved too fast, and all I can think is that I can’t go back.  I can’t go back to the way it’s been these last endless days and weeks and months…

I slap a disinterested expression on my face, because if that’s what he wants then… then… But it’s not.  He merely looks from me to the car and then I realize that he’s never seen the ’vette before.  He was expecting the jeep.  He tells me he likes it and he’s not lying… it’s obvious that he’s admiring the smooth lines, the beautiful body, the sleek design… but he’s not being entirely truthful either.  He’ll miss the jeep, he confesses, and as he settles into the ’vette I see the memories flitting across his eyes like wind-whipped clouds. 

Driving to school, to work, to Deb’s, to Babylon. 

Justin singing along with some atrocious form of ‘music’ while I cringed in my seat and threatened to stop the damn jeep and toss him to the side of the road if he didn’t stop.  His infectious, riotous, rebellious smile as he turned up the volume. 

Leaving Babylon, too hot, too horny, too full of desire for each other to make it home without having each other right then.  Right fucking then.  Pushing and pulling and falling into the backseat and fucking hard and fast and it feeling so good, so right. 

Laughing and pouting and smiling and sucking and teasing and whining and joking and… shit, so many memories. 

That jeep brought him to my loft, into my life.  And maybe I moved too fast when I replaced it.  I reach across the seat, wrap my hand around his neck, pull him to me, and show him that we’ll make new memories.

We take the elevator to the loft, not touching, just looking, drinking each other in, and it becomes a game… how long can we go without touching each other, without brushing against each other?  I unlock the door and Justin strides confidently inside, never faltering, never missing a beat, like he owns the place, like he never left, and heads straight for the fridge.  He turns toward the island and I’m on him. I don’t care that he wins. I don’t care that he laughingly mocks my lack of self-control.  I care only that his body is against mine again, his eyes sparkling again, his lips wet and hungry for me again, his open palm running lightly down my cheek again, and I close my eyes because I can’t process it all, and my heart is stuttering, and my breath is coming in shallow gasps, and all because of a long lost sweet caress.

Our lips meet and press and our mouths open and I’m inside, back inside that delicious warmth, and my tongue dives and swirls and probes and he moans and bucks against me and it will never be enough.  There will never be enough of him to satisfy me. 

I tangle my hand in his shirt and tug him toward the bedroom. We stumble up the steps, still locked together and breathless and finally he pulls away, but only to rip his shirt from his body and then he’s on me again, anxious hands pushing at my jacket, fingers fumbling at the buttons on my shirt.  I force myself to leave the feast of his lips and lay my hands on his shoulders, resting my forehead on his and forcibly calming him.  Calming us both.  I push him gently toward the bed.  This time, I want to savour him.  This time, I want to devour every inch of him. This time, I want to worship him. 

We have all night.

So I undress slowly before sliding off his pants.  I lay my body against his and let my hands reacquaint themselves with his lean torso, his firm stomach, his thighs, his hips, the tender skin at the back of his knee, the arch of his foot, his earlobe, every inch of him that was once mine… that is mine again.  And then I follow the path that my hands have taken with my lips, leaving delicate trails of saliva against his burning flesh.  And he is writhing beneath me, lips murmuring mostly incoherent words and phrases though some of them are unmistakable despite his lust.  Some of them, like “now” and “Brian” and “yes” and “oh god” and “I love you”. 

And it is only then that I turn him to his side and sheathe my dick and slide effortlessly into him, moving against him, melting against him, my hand on his hip holding him steady, my lips finding his neck until he turns his head and guides my mouth to his.  We move as one, his channel warm and soft and smooth, his lips full and ripe and sweet, his moans deep and intense and passionate as I swallow them, taking them within me as he takes my body within him.  We shudder together and the warmth fills us and overflows from us and I never want it to end.

Justin rolls toward me, heedless of the sticky fluids that now bind us together, and snuggles into my body.  I brush his hair from his face, letting my fingers blaze a lazy trail through the longer strands.  I feel his lips turn up into a smile against my chest and I pull him closer and wonder at the Fate that brought us together, the Fate that connects us, the Fate that decided that some One Twink Wonder was my destiny.  That knew that I would be forever incomplete without him. 

And I want to tell him. 

My chest tightens and I press my lips together and close my eyes because this is too much, he is too much, the joy I feel is too much, and my body trembles as I struggle to hold it all inside.  Justin lifts his head slightly and I can feel his eyes on me, feel the weighty gaze that can always penetrate my defences, and I finally open my eyes and meet his look and he smiles softly and lets me know that he understands what I’m feeling.  That he’ll always understand what I’m feeling.  He raises up and kisses me softly on the lips before resettling his head against my chest.