“Nick.” His hands are covering his face, and he devolves into a series of quiet snickers. “I’m gonna miss you for a whole lot of reasons, but this?” Another strained, happy moan. “I can tell you now, I’ll be crawling up the walls within three days. Trust.”
Then stay.Fucking useless, futile thought. We both know he can’t.
“Nick,” he says again, needy and eager and just how I like.
“What?” I scoff. “You got what you want.”
“Not yet.” He grabs at my waist.
My head tilts. “I already sucked you off.”
“No, I want you. Get naked and get over here.”
Call me emotional, but that line alone almost makes me come on the spot. I slip my clothes off, freeing my aching dick, and Dean stretches over. He hovers his open mouth above me before sucking me into sweet, distracting, brain-melting ecstasy and blanking my mind out. For a while, maybe five minutes if I’m beingreallygenerous, nothing else matters except for how I’m being cared for like I never was, until I met this gem of a guy.
I almost wish he wasn’t as good at what he does, because when he shoves me over the edge with a series of brain-scrambling strokes, reality crashes back.
I need to get ready toleave.
Dean isn’t the only person I’m leaving in the lurch—I’m ditching Jeremy, and while I hope he can find someone to take over my portion of the rent, I think I can cover the rest of what I owe if he can’t.
I have to pack what I need, which in all likelihood is scattered between my place and Dean’s, and then strong-arm my friends into sorting through the rest of my shit because there’s no way I can do it myself within a few days.
I— “I need to leave.” I freeze. “Fuck! Sorry, no! I didn’t meanit like that!” In a desperate move, I put a hand on Dean’s bare thigh, a move I hope makes up for my rude slip-up. “There are just a ton of things I need to do to get ready, and I’m freaking out.”
“No, I get you. Don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t even flinch. Do I even deserve him?
“I’d like to see you before you go, though, if you can make it happen.” He surrounds me in a gentle hug, and god, tears prick my eyes.
“I’ll make it happen,” I insist. “If it means I lie here for the next seventy-two hours and leave for training with nothing but my clothes and the toothbrush I’m keeping next to your sink, I’ll do it.”
He punches my shoulder, laughing. “Don’t do that, Nick. Go get yourself sorted, and I’ll come over to yours and help out.” The two of us stay silent, and he opens his mouth, biting his tongue between those bright, flashy teeth and looking off to the side.
I give him a weak smile—as flexible as he’s being, basically bending his whole life to fit my chaos in, I can’t help but feel as though anything we do is only delaying the inevitable chasm that’ll open up between us.
It isn’t possible to muster up a reply, so with slow, shaky movements, I put a fresh pair of pants on and slip into my hoodie. I’ve taken to wearing Dean’s, since he has way too many, but I need to take this home with me and wash it. The more stuff I can consolidate, the better.
One awkward wave later, I’m out of the apartment and heading on the well-trodden route back to my place.
Shit.
In the space of thirty minutes, I went from sulking about Dean packing, to sulking about me packing.
It’s funny, in a sick way, how things work out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DEAN
“You didn’t have to come,” I say, and Nick swats my forehead, rolling his eyes.
“The fuck I did. You think I’m gonna leave without seeing you one last time?”
That certainly would have made things easier. If I’m not mistaken, he’s flying out to Phoenix in under five hours, the drive to Boston isn’t short, and therefore, he’s already running late.
I shake my head, and he presses his lips to mine.
