Page 29 of Grease & Grips
I clear my throat. “So… airport bathrooms still exist, right?”
He blinks. “What?”
“Flight’s already delayed, I’m feeling nostalgic, and you look like you might still taste the same.”
He stares for a second, mouth fighting a smile. “That’s your pitch?”
“Figured I’d cut to the chase.”
He laughs, shaking his head.
“I’m not hearing a no.”
He nods, eyes glinting, and walks off without a word. Confidence in every step.
I watch him for a second longer than I should, caught on the way his jacket shifts around his shoulders, the lazy sway in his hips.
Hard not to roll my eyes when I know he’s drawing this out for the effect, but I’m down bad enough to let him.
He’s halfway to the family restroom when he glances back. It’s a quick look back and one sharp eyebrow raise, like a period on a sentence he didn’t say.
I glance around, wipe my jaw, and follow. Heart is damn near beating out of my chest as legs work to catch up with my decision. He slips in before I can reach him, door clicking shut. I pause, breathe, then grab the handle.
The second the door’s open, he’s on me. Mouth crashing into mine and I give back everything he’s giving me cause we’re both hungry for something we thought we lost. I’m sure if we kiss hard enough, it’ll anchor us both back to that night, that version of us that never got a proper ending.
He sears his mouth to mine like he’s trying to leave a mark so that if we go another year without seeing each other, he’ll still carry the shape of me in his memory.
I grasp at the front of his jacket, words tangled against his lips. “You ghosted.”
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he murmurs, nipping at my bottom lip.
“Here I am.”
“Thank God.”
Our shirts come off, pants shoved down, everything in a messy pile on the tile floor. The second we’re naked, I haul him in tight, skin on skin, his cock pressed firm against mine. My mouth finds his jaw, and I trail a line of teeth along it, leaving marks along my path. He shudders every time I nip at him, breath catching at each tug of skin between my teeth.
On a gasp, he mutters, “A bit more confident than last time.”
I grin against his skin, “Yeah, well. You left me thinking about it long enough. Wanna get it right since I’ve got the chance again.”
He lets out a breathy sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and I take it as permission to keep going. My handsmove over his sides like I’m relearning what I already know by heart.
“Get a lot of action lately?” he teases.
I pull back and look him in the eye, smirk tugging at my mouth. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
The kiss I give him is desperate. Maybe if I press hard enough I can remind him he’s mine again. Can I rewrite the months we spent apart with the way our mouths meet?
I let the ache lead me. Every movement is pulled from somewhere deep, every part of me chasing something I never stopped wanting, and under all of it, there’s this softness I can’t shut off, no matter how hard I try.
“You gonna fuck me or what, Mack?”
His voice hits my lips like a spark to dry brush, and something inside me breaks wide open. I spin him around and press him up against the wall between the sink and the mirror, his breath hitching as his hands brace the tile.
“Lube?” he asks, and I crowd in close to him.
I shake my head as I reach under the soap dispenser and fill my palm.
