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He coughed. “I guess we’re having a late dinner, then.”
I moved closer, until our bodies were touching, his skin warm against mine. “I really do need that photo,” I said. The previous year, I’d tried to fix his image in my mind, but as the days passed, it faded from my memory.
“And you’ll get it. So will I.” He lowered his gaze. “Is it okay that I want to look at you?”
“More than okay,” I murmured. “I’m doing the same thing.” His hands hung by his sides, and I grasped his wrist, bringing it to my chest where I pressed his palm to my heart. “You can touch, you know.”
Slowly, so slowly, he looped one arm around my neck, and our lips fused, our bodies meeting from chest to groin. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him there, feeling his dick so solid against my own.
Finally.
We were reconnected.
He slid his hand down my body to my dick, his fingertips brushing over it with a reverence that made my heart sing. “I was considering taking up ceramics as a new hobby.”
I blinked. “Okay, where did that come from?”
His eyes gleamed. “I wanted to make a model of your penis.”
“And why would you do that?”
He raised his eyebrows. “So I could cast it in silicone. So I’d be able to… appreciate it when you’re not here.”
I stared at him. “Now I know what to get you for next Christmas.” He frowned, and I grinned. “It’s a kit that lets you clone a penis.”
He gaped. “Those arereal? I thought they were a joke gift.”
I laughed. “You and I are going to have a lot of fun, choosing toys for you.”
Except there wasn’t time for that, was there?
His eyes met mine. “Right now, I’d rather have the real thing.” He walked me backward until my legs met the edge of the mattress, then pushed me until I fell onto the bed. “I’ve waited a whole year for this.” He knelt before me, staring at my upright cock.
I wasn’t looking at my dick—all I could see was his face.
When I realized the truth
He rubbed my shaft with his fingertips, studying it, feeling its texture. “Such a pretty penis.”
“And it’s all yours,” I whispered. I was already leaking pre-cum. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his beautiful face, his expression of intense concentration. He tightened his grip, sliding his hand up and down my shaft, and I pushed up through the funnel of his fingers. Our breathing quickened. He cupped my balls in one hand, stroking them, teasing them, until finally he rubbed his thumb over my perineum before reaching my hole.
My breathing caught.
He smiled. “That’s for another time.” He looked me in the eye as he inched closer, closer, closer, until at last his breath warmed the head of my cock. Without breaking eye contact, he flicked it with his tongue.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that delicious sensation.
I couldn’t say how long I’d yearned to feel his lips graze my dick.
He closed his eyes, as though he was savoring the moment. Then he opened them, focused on my face, and took the head into his mouth.
Finally.
I shuddered when he pulled free. “Do it again,” I begged. The music wove its magic around us, sending my desire for him—my need—spiraling ever higher.
His fingers caressed my cock with firm upward strokes. He paused to lick the shaft, then kissed down its length to its root, followed by a long lick to the slit where he lapped at my pre-cum.
I stroked his head, and he raised his chin to gaze at me. “I could spend all my days worshipping your penis.”
