Page 24 of Pages of My Heart
“Charlie, it won’t happen,” Thomas says, trying once more. “We figured it out. No sex first thing in the morning until you’ve cleared the pipes. And it’s nighttime now. Unless you feel like you need to—”
“No!” Charlie quickly cuts him off, indignant.
“Well then stop talking and let me try. Just relax, please? Lay back and close your eyes.”
Charlie gives him one last look but then finally settles back on the pillow. This time when he places his hands over his face, Thomas lets him. He wants to laugh. It’s so adorable.
Getting into a comfortable position, he questions, briefly, if maybe heisperverted to consider putting his mouth there. But he thought about it a lot the last time they had a weekend together, and he’s fantasized about doing it ever since. He puts his dick in there, his fingers, too. He puts Charlie’s dick inside his mouth. He swallows Charlie’s release. He tastes his own seed on Charlie’s tongue. It allsoundsdirty, but it allfeelsgood.
Refusing to waste another second with his stupid thoughts, he spreads Charlie wide and drags his tongue slowly over Charlie’s hole. With no adverse reaction or sounds of protest this time, he uses the tip of his tongue and circles around the tight rim. Charlie shudders then and lets out a sinful moan. Thomas smiles, then licks in big sloppy strokes over the entrance, his own cock swelling back to full hardness.
“Oh fuck, Tommy. Oh Jesus—”
Thomas glances up to see Charlie’s head is thrown back, his mouth open wide and his hand teasing at his own nipples. He hums contentedly and continues to lavish attention on Charlie, experimenting with small licks and sucking kisses and even pushing his tongue in a short ways which earns him a beautiful broken gasp. Soon Charlie’s thighs are shaking around his head, and Thomas realizes he needs to move this along before it’s allover too soon. Sitting up, he slaps Charlie on the ass and says, “On your knees.”
He helps Charlie maneuver himself into position, his body practically putty in Thomas’s hands. Applying some Vaseline to his fingers, he pushes into Charlie’s hole to find that the pleasurable bump deep inside him is already swollen and pronounced. Even though it’s been some time since they did this, Charlie’s eager body is soon ready for him. Thomas will ask Charlie about it later, wondering if he’s been regularly pleasuring himself. The thought tugs at something low in his belly and his cock throbs, a rush of precome pooling at the tip. He takes himself in hand and spreads the wetness around Charlie’s hole before pressing inside with a low, guttural groan.
Thomas begins by thrusting slowly, purposefully avoiding that sensitive spot inside Charlie and pulling out several times, not only to prolong their pleasure but also to try out different positions now that they actually have the room to move. He likes being positioned behind Charlie so he can grip his ass and watch himself move in and out of Charlie’s tight body. He likes lying on top of Charlie so they can kiss and moan sweet words into each other’s mouths while he slowly sinks into him again and again. And he discovers tonight that he really, really likes lying flat on his back with Charlie sitting astride him, rather like he’s riding a horse, a bit shy at first but then gaining confidence as he rolls and grinds and bounces his ass on Thomas’s cock until he brings them both to climax.
Later, when they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, he asks, “So, you enjoyed it, didn’t you? That thing I did at the start.”
Charlie’s face is tucked into the crook of his neck and he doesn’t answer.
“Charlie!” he says, tickling him under the ribs.
Charlie giggles and squirms.
“Say it. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Charlie mumbles, rather reluctantly, but Thomas can hear the smile in his voice and the heat of Charlie’s cheeks as he flushes.
“I enjoyed it too.” He tries to nuzzle his way closer. “Come here. Kiss me.”
“Hell no!” Charlie says, bolting upright. “You’re not kissing me with that filthy mouth, Thomas O’Reilly. Brush your teeth and wash your mouth out with soap, and thenmaybeyou can kiss me.”
“You know we already kissed while we were making love,” he reminds him, grinning in challenge.
“Ugh, shut up,” Charlie groans, pushing at his face. “Tommy . . . just go.”
Thomas laughs but then obliges. It’s a small price to pay if it means getting to kiss Charlie until they fall asleep.
When they wake the following morning, they spend a lazy hour using their mouths on each other in bed and then go about pretending the O’Reilly house is theirs. They cook breakfast and clean and even take a trip to the local butcher to pick up corned beef for dinner, stopping in at the bakery, too, for fresh rolls. They hold hands listening to a radio show and eat dinner in the kitchen with their bare feet tangled together under the table. They talk. They laugh. They fight over something silly, the fighting dissolving into roughhousing, and the roughhousing ending with Thomas bending Charlie over the formal dining table and taking him passionately from behind. It thrills them both to do something so wild and reckless in the middle of the house, and Thomas thinks this must be what freedom feels like.
Late on Saturday night, after making love again in bed, Thomas lights some candles in the bathroom and draws them a bath. Thomas is physically tired but deeply satisfied. And he knows Charlie is sore, even if he won’t admit it, and he just wants to take care of him. Lowering himself into the water, he holds out his hand and supports Charlie as he climbs in and settles between his legs. It’s a tight fit, but it doesn’t take much encouragement to get Charlie to lay back against his chest and let his body relax. Thomas takes the soap and washcloth, lathering it up and then washing Charlie’s chest in slow, soothing circles.
“Charlie?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you happy?”
Charlie hums again. “If I got to choose what heaven would be, this would be it. With you. Just a simple life.” Charlie tilts his head back for a kiss and Thomas happily obliges.
Thomas agrees, his mind wandering as he imagines them growing old together. “I don’t know what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you.” He speaks softly against Charlie’s temple. “Promise me we’ll always be together.”
Charlie takes hold of Thomas’s hands, threading their fingers together and resting them on his stomach. “I can promise you I’ll always want to be with you, but how long we can get away with this . . . I don’t know.”
The thought of losing Charlie almost brings Thomas to tears. But the last thing he wants to do is spoil this perfect weekend. Why does the world need to be so cruel, so unwilling to accept their kind of love? Charlie thinks Thomas no longer struggles with who he is, but that’s not true. Most Sundays these days Thomas refuses to attend church, but on those occasions when Bridget forces him to go, he spirals just as badly as that first timeall those months ago. He wants nothing more than to be free of his faith, but it clings to him like a parasite.
