Page 36 of Pages of My Heart
Time slows for a beat and then Thomas comes at him fast, almost knocking him off his feet as their lips meet in a devouring kiss. But soon Thomas is burying his face into the crook of Charlie’s neck and simply holding him tight. Charlie clings on for dear life too, and they both struggle to keep their emotions in check. But it’s the sheer definition of futility.
Thomas breaks first, shuddering breaths and gasps for air as he sobs. His tears dampen Charlie’s neck and roll down under his shirt collar, and it hits Charlie deep in his gut, where a mass of unease has sat for the last three years. He wants to be strong for Thomas, but everything overwhelms him at once and he finally allows himself to cry too. As his shoulders shake and his chest heaves, he feels the mass in his gut begin to loosen and break into smaller fragments, then dissolve altogether. A sense of joy and freedom rises in its place, like a bird released from its caged prison. Thomas belongs to him, and he to Thomas. Wholly and completely. Standing in the kitchen oftheirhome.
“Am I dreaming?” Thomas mumbles into his neck.
“No, sweetheart. It’s real.”
“I get to fall asleep next to you every night?”
“Yeah, you do.” Charlie strokes up and down Thomas’s back. “And we get to wake up together every morning.”
“And take baths together.”
“And eat meals together.”
They separate, laughing softly as they take turns using the handkerchief Thomas produces from his pocket, blowing their noses and smiling almost shyly as they wipe the tears from their faces.
“It almost seems too easy,” Thomas muses.
Charlie runs his fingers through Thomas’s bright hair. “You were right. They don’t know. We’ll always need to be carefuloutside of this house, but inside, when the doors are locked and the curtains are drawn, we can be ourselves. We can be free.”
Thomas cradles Charlie’s face with one hand, rubbing his thumb softly across his cheek. “Darling, I want to take you to bed.”
“I want that too. But let’s eat a little and take our time. We don’t need to fit everything into one weekend every few months anymore. We get to have this every day now.”
Thomas closes his eyes and smiles, one last silent tear slipping through his fine orange lashes as he nods in agreement.
They warm his ma’s casserole and eat at their new table, the elation soaking into their skin and settling warm and solid around their hearts. Charlie is content and peaceful in a way he never thought he would, norcould, be.
It makes eating a bit awkward, but they hold each other’s hands on top of the table for the whole meal, just because they can.
Later in the evening, when fresh linens have been spread and their bodies are clean, Thomas’s wish is realized, and he takes Charlie to bed. With five church-white candles casting their skin in fluttering hues of tangerine and gold, Charlie sits atop Thomas, rolling his hips with grace. He loves this position, even though he can count on one hand the number of times they’ve had the opportunity to indulge in it. The way Thomas looks up at him with such wonder and desire, as if he’s worshipping a god, fills Charlie with a heightened sense of power. It’s intoxicating and divinely addictive.
When Charlie’s skin glistens with sweat and he’s close to release, he kisses Thomas and moans breathlessly, “Take me.”
Thomas lets out a desperate sounding whimper, then rolls them to take his position on top. Charlie willingly relinquishes all control. He hooks his legs around Thomas’s waist andwelcomes the force and speed of his thrusts. Pressure builds inside of him, a rising, spiraling race toward euphoria. Thomas threads their fingers together on the pillow above Charlie’s head and lavishes him with kisses—upon his lips and down his neck and back again. Charlie’s cock, trapped between them, receives all the friction it needs from their sensual rocking.
“Inside me,” he begs. “I need a part of you.”
Thomas cries out, stilling deep inside him, beautiful shudders rippling through his body. Charlie’s climax follows like a chain reaction, the pulses so strong that for a moment there are no thoughts, just pure physical pleasure. He’s floating, his skin tingling and his limbs loose. When he opens his eyes, Thomas is sitting back on his knees, still inside of him and lazily rocking in and out. Charlie loves to have the remains of their lovemaking inside him now—loves to be marked by this evidence of Thomas’s lust for him.
“You climaxed so hard,” Thomas says, smiling in wonder. “And I didn’t even touch you.”
“I can’t explain it, but it felt different. Inside of me, it felt . . . different,” he struggles to explain, unable to find the right words. “Maybe it’s cause I’m so happy. I never thought . . .” He trails off, too overcome to finish.
Thomas presses soft lips to his, giving him the out he needs. “Let me clean you up.”
Thomas pulls out of his body and leaves for the bathroom, returning a few moments later with a washcloth. Thomas cleans him with a tenderness that is almost too much to bear, and then they settle under the blankets, face to face.
Drawing Thomas closer, he asks, “Did it feel different for you?”
“Yeah. I felt safe. And relaxed. I always thought I felt relaxed on our weekends at myhouse—”
“You mean your old house?” Charlie interrupts, pinching Thomas’s ass.
“Ow! Yes, myoldhouse. But this . . . this is completely different. This isourbed andourroom, and there’s no chance anyone can catch us because no one else has a key.” Thomas kisses him on the nose and then the forehead. “I love you.”
“Love you too. More and more each day.” He presses a kiss to Thomas’s neck and nibbles once, twice, at his jaw. “I want it to always be like this, just the two of us.”
