Romeo leans his head against the wall behind him and grazes his teeth over his bottom lip, leaving the soft, pink flesh glittering in the low light. “I think you should do up the drawstring before you find yourself with your pants around your ankles…that’s what I think.”
Wait. What?
It’s not just me, right? That was sexually charged, wasn’t it?
I look down, head spinning from the motion, and find he’s right. The pants hang low on me, and the waistband is loose, clinging to my hips with less than a breath to spare. I watch my hands fumble with the ties, fingers thick and spongy, all signs of dexterity well and truly lacking. I take a step or two toward him, so distracted by the effort of tying a bow that I momentarily forget to fight the force that draws me to him.
I find myself a hairsbreadth away from him.
His hand floats up, long graceful fingers stretched out toward me. For a really mad second, I find myself thinking he’s going to rake them through the trail of hair that leads from my naval to my cock. He used to do that. He did. I remember that. He liked it. I know he did. I’m fucking sure he did.
“A-are you trying to seduce me?” I whisper as if keeping my tone low somehow makes the question less embarrassing.
His eyes spark like moonlight hitting glass as they continue to roam my body. A wave of lust washes over me. Before I have time to brace, another one hits me. And another, and another. My words hang in the air, bobbing and dipping between us.
He speaks at last. “But, Jude,” he says reasonably, “if I was trying to seduce you, wouldn’t I be naked with your dick in my ass?”
My breath hitches, catching in my throat and strangling me so hard it leaves me spinning. It’s not just that he said it. It’s that hesaidit. That he acknowledged what we were, what we used to do to each other. What we used to be to each other. What I like, and what he likes too. He never used to talk about it. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never talked about it like this.
It makes me physically ache. For what we were. For what we could have been.
It makes me want to scream. It makes me want to open my lungs and roar for the ages. For the men and women like us. For the people who don’t fit neatly into either of those distinctions. It makes me want to break time, to tear it open with my teeth and howl the same thing my hearthas been weeping since that awful night five years ago. “Give him back. Please, give him back to me.”
“So, like, do you buy me something every year for my birthday, or what?” Not sure how I managed to string all that together, but I’m pretty pleased with the effort.
“Yep. Birthdays…” he says dreamily. “Christmas too.”
“Oh.” I nod as though that makes complete sense when, in fact, it makes less than none. “What do you do with them? The gifts, I mean.”
“Box in the attic.” He raises a shoulder as if that explains everything.
He leans back against the wall again, blinking slowly. This time, as he does it, his mouth twitches. His lips quirk, parting slightly up and to the right, giving me a tiny glimpse of a glossy canine. It’s a small thing, the space between his lips. A little half-moon between a fleshy top and bottom lip.
My brain cuts out.
My dick sees an opening.
I lower my mouth onto his without any warning and press my tongue into that space, sweeping it across smooth enamel, licking and tasting him before I can stop myself. His eyes fly open in shock. Mine do too.
I mean to pull away. I do. I mean to pull away, apologize, and castigate myself wholeheartedly for the extent of thefuckery at hand. I can’t, though, because he’s wrapped a hand around the back of my neck like a vine, locking me tightly in place. He opens his mouth, moans into mine, and my soul starts to fray, coming loose at the edges. Romeo moans again. It’s a soft and husky sound, and it feels and tastes and sounds like one thing. One thing only.
More.
My jaw drops open.
We crash together and his tongue finds mine and takes it as if it’s his. As if it’s always been his. My body reacts instantly. Every cell is aflame. On fire. I’m a rampant inferno of want. Years of tears come to a head and erupt. Spilling out of me in a lust so thick and dense, he’s forced to swallow it down, taking it from me and twisting it, turning it, changing it until it’s something else altogether.
He kisses me hard, teeth scraping my lips and colliding with his. He tears at my skin, my arms, and my back, slamming his hips against mine, grinding our cocks together until I’m blind with desire.
Reality shrieks my name, hitting me like a splash of ice water to the face, and I push him back so hard I hear the hollow sound of air leaving his lungs as he hits the wall behind him. I step back, too, gasping for breath and hoping like hell the rush of oxygen will bring a strong dose of common sense.
“Romeo!What the fuck are you doing? You’re married.” He looks dulled, removed, struck dumb. He fingers his bruised bottom lip, stroking it and pushing it into his mouth, running his tongue slowly across it as if he’s savoring the taste of my kiss. When he releases it, I say, “You’re married.”This time, I say it for my own benefit more than his. It’s a hiss. An accusation. A demand for an explanation.
“You’re hard,” he says as if that's an answer.
“Fuck you, asshole,” I spit. “Hard? You think this is hard?” I drag the heel of my palm over my raging erection, expelling a rushed groan through my teeth from the storm of sensation it wakes. My anger dissipates, dissolving and scattering as he watches. “This isn’t hard. I’m not hard. It’s more than hard, Romeo. It’s pain.I’m in pain.”
His eyes cloud and his Adam’s apple rides up and down his throat as he swallows something that doesn’t go down easily. Regret, I’d say if I still had any faith in my ability to read Romeo, but I don’t, so I’m stunned when he whispers, “Let me help you.”
