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Merrick pulls the door wide, beckoning me inside with a tip of his head. Once it’s closed and locked, he stands there with arms pulled across his chest, blue eyes narrowed in anger. “What do you need to know, Davis?”
The litany of questions I’ve been asking myself disappear instantly. Answers no longer matter, not now anyway. The rapid pounding of my heart urges me forward. Without pausing to consider the ramifications, I move into his space, hands grasping either sides of his neck, mouth plundering his. He’s stubbornly resistant, refusing to open for me or embrace me in return. The selfish jerk that I am is ready to take on the challenge; the desperate man that I’ve become wants only to feel his body against mine, making me feel wanted as only he can.
I kiss him again and again, teasing the seam of his lips with my tongue, running my hands through his hair. Slowly, his arms loosen, hands coming down on either side of my hips, the feel of his erection against my own making me sigh. He may not want to want me, but he sure as hell can’t hide that he does either.
With gentle pressure against his body, I walk him backwards down the hall toward the bedroom that once felt like my own. His resolve weakens with each step, until he finally pulls me close and sucks my tongue into his mouth.
We kiss frantically as I kick off my shoes and drop my jeans to the floor. He palms my dick through my briefs as I tear my shirt off, then drags his sweats down to his ankles. His expression is unreadable, the fire that I usually see in his eyes tempered by something that looks like fear. Can’t say I blame him. I’m scared out of my ever-loving mind that this moment will ruin me completely.
And yet there is no way in hell I’m walking away.
I pull away long enough to yank my briefs off and to snag a condom and lube out of the side drawer. I know what I want and there’s no way in hell I’m settling for anything else. I need this man, need him desperately, in a way that is both shocking and satisfying. I need his touch to prove to myself that everything before wasn’t imagined or just a dream. I need his closeness to remind me that I’m worthy of real love and that we both deserve a happy future. Preferably together. I know I’m being selfish and focusing all my attention on what I need, but it’s easy to see past my own self-interest when it means I can connect fully with the only person who has ever made me feel whole.
Lying down semi-propped up against the headboard, I roll on the condom and then reach for his hand. I can feel the trembling of his fingers in mine, the nerves threatening to take over. Fear is the last thing I want between us.
Without saying a word, he knows what I want. We are just that in-tune with each other’s needs. He takes the lube in hand, then straddles my legs, prepping himself while his eyes remain locked on mine. For all the times we shared laughter and dirty talk during sex, this time there’s only silence. Regret hangs heavily in the air and the ache in my chest almost outweighs the need I have for him.Almost.
Scooting forward, he slowly eases himself down onto my shaft, wincing at the intrusion. I sigh with relief, wishing he’d say something, wishing he’d prove to me that he’s still the unselfish man who let me walk away early one morning two months ago. Even when I take him in hand and begin to stroke, his teeth clench tightly together, as if he’s forcing himself not to say a word.
Come back to me, Merrick. Please, come back to me.
Fully seated, his eyes drift closed momentarily, and I let myself absorb it all; the warmth of his skin, the blissfully tight fist his ass has around my dick, the knowledge that although there’s tension between us, nothing has really changed. We’re still the same two men who came together in friendship so many months ago. The same two people who have kicked and clawed their way toward one another.
When he finally opens his eyes and shifts his hips up, the walls between us begin to crumble. One warm hand rests on my chest, the other on my face, as he begins to move up and down with infinite patience. I’m beyond ready to come, having avoided release of any kind since I last was in his bed; my own sort of punishment for what I walked away from. But now, making love to him once more, I’m clamoring for release, my body straining with each drag of his tight warmth over mine.
The only sound he makes is a soft groan when he picks up speed and I nudge his prostate over and over again. He is dripping over my fingers, his dick flushed. He’s so damn beautiful as he seeks release from my body, while simultaneously refusing to look away. It’s as if the silence is speaking louder than either of us could say in conversation.
The moment his orgasm takes hold, I find my own release. He spills over my hand and onto my stomach, painting me with steaks of white again and again. The lack of communication is heartbreaking; the relief of our mutual climaxes fading almost instantly as the hurtful emotion between us settles in and regret takes over. There is so much pain there it feels like I can take it in hand. But there’s love there too, or at least what I hope is love, and I’m damn sure going to hang on to it as long as I can.
Everything I needed to know, I have found in this amazing man who has cared for me and been my friend even when he didn’t want to or even when he shouldn’t. I certainly didn’t need to make love to him to prove that there’s more than sex between us. I sure as hell didn’t need to do more than look into his eyes to know that I’ve found my forever. All I can do is hope and pray that I haven’t ruined what was so beautiful between us, and that he’ll find a way to forgive me for walking away.
