Jack enveloped Callum in his arms and held him, breathing in the smell of his soap, his hair, his cologne. He ran a hand down the back of his head and felt the silky brown strands of hair under his fingers as his other hand counted the knobs of Callum’s spine. He was met with a sudden urgency to make up for the last three months that had them held a continent apart. He pressed his cheek against Callum’s temple near his ear before he whispered.
“Then let’s get you out of here, kitten.”
11
Callum
Callum’s handstrembled as he tried to shove his key into the deadbolt lock on the front door of his apartment. Jack was here. Daddy…Daddy was here, and he was so close Callum could feel puffs of hot breath landing against the back of his neck with every exhale. He dropped the keys and caught them in front of his stomach.
Jack’s hands reached around and curled over the tops of his to steady the shaking. Jack pressed his chest against his back and raised their hands to the lock, sliding the key inside and turning it.
The door inched open. Callum remained frozen in the doorway with Jack at his back.
“Are you going to invite me in, kitten?” Jack whispered into his ear.
Callum swallowed, his spit lodging in his throat. He jerked his head up and down. Jack leaned against him, using his body to push them both through the front door before kicking it closed behind them.
Jack used his hand to encourage Callum to drop the keys on the kitchen counter, their bodies still pressed against each other at every possible location, Jack’s breath still hot against his ear.
“Show me where you sleep,” Jack demanded, his cock pressed hot and firm against his ass. He ran his hands up Callum’s arms, to his shoulders and down his ribs before locking tight around his hips and squeezing.
Callum stumbled through the apartment, coming to a stop just past the threshold of his bedroom door.
“What are you thinking?” Jack whispered, licking his tongue up the back of Callum’s ear.
His mind was all over the place. He had no idea what he was thinking, feeling utterly incapable of formulating a single coherent thought.
Whatwashe thinking?
Jack’s skin was so soft.
His fingers, so hot.
His cock, so fucking hard, so insistent.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Callum rasped.
“I’m here,” Jack confirmed, walking them farther into the bedroom.
Callum’s breathing hitched when Jack’s fingers dragged across the waistband of his jeans then flicked at the button.
“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling the zipper down one torturous inch at a time. Callum’s cock pressed against his briefs, against the warm metal of his fly, then a fleeting touch from Jack’s palm.
He nodded, rolling his head against Jack’s shoulder.
“You’re taller than I thought you’d be,” Callum managed to say, the top of his head nestling against the broad angles of Jack’s throat.
Jack used his chin to nudge Callum’s head to the side and dipped down to press a kiss against his temple.
“You’re everything I knew you’d be.”
Callum’s eyes closed and he inhaled a shaking breath. Unshed tears pressed against the back of his eyelids, urgent with their pressure, but Callum willed them away.
More than anything, Callum wanted Jack’s hands down his pants, Jack’s cock in his ass, Jack’s mouth on his skin—he couldn’t choose what he wanted first. He also wanted Jack in his bed, in his kitchen at the stove making breakfast, at the beach on the weekend. Callum wanted a life he hadn’t let himself imagine as possible, and he wanted it all at once.
He reached down and covered Jack’s hands with his, rubbing his palms across Jack’s knuckles, feeling the veins bulge under his touch. Jack straightened his fingers and twined them with his before wrapping his arms around Callum’s stomach in a warm embrace.
“Can we watch a movie?” Callum blurted.
