Thursday morning, Rye had woken up refreshed after over ten hours of sleep, and he’d crawled on top of Jake—actually on top of him under the covers—and spent a good fifteen minutes kissing every inch of Jake’s neck and chest. It had been heavenly, and Jake had loved every single second.
Then last night, Thursday night, had been more of the same. Cuddling and kissing and touching. Rye had undressed Jake fully this time and touched him again, bringing him to another incredible climax even better than the first. And the moments following had been even more special, because Rye had let Jake be there and even hold him while Rye had touched himself, too. It had been so beautiful to watch.
And when Jake had woken up Friday morning to his boyfriend’s lazy kisses trailing up and down his jawline, Jake had been so, so happy and so, so tempted to say something he knew he shouldn’t.
Rye, I’d love it if... if you’d want to just stay here and not... go back home.
But as soon as the words had formed in his head, he’d known he couldn’t say them out loud. After all, how could he even begin to imply that he wanted to essentially... take Rye away from his mom? Notreally, obviously; that wouldn’t have been his intention at all. But the way it might have sounded—at least, to Rye—had stopped Jake from even allowing the thought any more time in his head.
And instead, he’d turned onto his side and cupped Rye’s cheek and given him the best good-morning kiss followed by the best good-morning hug, knowing he’d only have one more of those for a long while.
They’d gone through their morning routine—which now included all of Jake’s normal morning routine plus plenty of teasing and banter and Jake goading Rye into trying for a few extra push-ups or single-leg squats. Jake had dropped Rye off at work and then gone home to a series of phone calls for work. At five, Jake had picked Rye up, and they’d gone home again, barbecued some steaks and veggies on the grill, and hung out on the patio, watching the sun sink lower and lower in the sky.
The perfect ending to the day.
They headed back inside only when it started to get too dark for Rye to feel comfortable. Rye stepped ahead of him into the house, talking about some funny scene in the book he’d been reading, and Jake followed, listening to every single word. But as he turned around to close the slider behind them, he paused and closed his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with too many emotions.
God, how far Rye had come . . .
The room grew silent, and he felt Rye’s hand on his back.
“What’s wrong?”
Jake shook his head and turned around, letting himself lean back against the glass door as he gazed down at the man in front of him. Flashes of their first week together in this house contradicted everything he saw in front of him now. The trembling mess of a man Rye had once been, cowering in the corner, unable to speak, terrified of everything around him, was now confident and sure, standing tall next to him, his eyes filled with intelligence and hope.
There was a fragility about it all still. And Jake knew maybe there always would be. But Rye had grown so much since that time, not quite two years ago now, and he continued to fight for it every day.
Jake’s heart filled with an aching awe, and he shook his head again. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s... finally right,” he said, and he watched as Rye’s expression softened.
Rye closed the already-small distance between them, his hands smoothing up Jake’s chest. And then Rye stretched up to meet him as they kissed. It was one ofthose slow, sweet, tender kisses. Jake’s favorite kind. And when they parted, Jake wrapped his arms around Rye and breathed in deep as he buried his head in Rye’s hair.
“I never thought I’d have this. I didn’t know... how much I needed it,” Jake admitted quietly. “I’m so, so grateful you’re here. I love you.”
Rye’s arms had looped around his waist, and Jake felt him squeeze a little. Then he turned his head and kissed Jake’s cheek. “I love you too,” Rye whispered.
Sweet, beautiful words from a sweet, beautiful man.Hissweet, beautiful man.
Jake closed his eyes and took another deep breath, his head still lowered to rest against Rye’s.
After a few long, comfortable moments, Rye kissed his cheek again. “Ready to go to bed?”
With a nod, Jake straightened up. “Yeah. Of course.”
Rye smiled up at him—that full, bright smile of his that sent Jake’s heart fluttering—and took his hand. Then Rye led them back toward the bedroom.
Saturdaymorningcamemuchtoo fast, even though Jake didn’t sleep a whole lot. Just like each morning for the last few days, Rye was curled up right in Jake’s arms when Jake woke. He was breathing in the slow, deep rhythm of sleep, and his eyes were lightly closed, his face relaxed. Jake just lay there watching him for a few minutes.
He needed to get up, but he really wasn’t quite ready. Because as soon as he did, this would be gone. This beautiful yet fragile thing they’d built over the last week and a half. This waking up next to his best friend. This new intimacy and closeness.
And of course, he inwardly laughed at himself for even having such a doom-and-gloom outlook on things. Rye would still be his boyfriend. Still live only minutes away. Still see Jake probably nearly every day.
But it wouldn’t be quite the same, would it?
As ifsomeonewas reading his thoughts, his phone vibrated on the nightstand on what was now his side of the bed. Carefully, to avoid waking Rye, he reached over and tipped the phone up so he could see the screen.
It was a text message. From his sister. Because of course it was.
Who else would be texting him before seven in the morning?
