“Is it possible to be too nice?”
He shrugged.He certainly didn’t deserve how nice Ian was being to him.He’d take it, though.“Maybe?”
Sometimes he thought that was one reason Peter was so scared all the time.
“The sandwich was really good.Hit the spot.”
“I’m glad.You’re welcome.Anytime.”Ian was almost vibrating there next to him.
He reached out and slid his hand along Ian’s cheek and back into his hair so he could cup Ian’s scalp.
Ian leaned into his touch, his eyes closing.He hummed and leaned, just enough to touch their lips together again.He flicked his tongue out, tasting Ian, tasting the salt of the bacon.
Ian’s sigh sounded like pure satisfaction, like utter joy, and he loved that he had caused it, had drawn it out.
He pressed his lips harder against Ian’s, made the kiss deeper.He could taste Ian even better when he pressed his tongue into Ian’s mouth.Each little cry that pushed into their kisses made JP feel stronger, more powerful.
He tugged Ian closer, grunting as it pulled Ian’s leg against his.He didn’t stop kissing, though, didn’t let Ian back away.The hurt was nothing compared to the pleasure.
“Don’t want to hurt you, love,” Ian murmured.
“You’re not hurting me.”
“Are you sure?I…” Ian stroked his belly.“I don’t know what to do.”
He groaned, that touch sliding through him, settling in his balls.“I don’t even know if I can get it up, Chou,” he admitted.But he didn’t want to stop kissing Ian, so he drew him in again and took Ian’s mouth once more.
Ian touched him — not in a sexual way, even, just slow, gentle caresses.It had been so long, since anyone had touched him like this, with love.
He whimpered, and pressed their foreheads together, stroking Ian’s hair and head, fingers relearning the shape of Ian’s skull.Oh, he could do this forever.
Ian’s hum buzzed his lips, making them tingle, making him smile.
He nibbled on Ian’s lower lip, playing with it between his own, letting his teeth threaten but not bite.
“Be nice, now.”Ian was chuckling, though, sliding against his side.
“You like it when I’m a little not nice,” he noted.He used to fuck Ian into the mattress, his husband yelling more, harder, don’t stop.
“I remember that, sort of.”
“Just sort of?”
Ian pinked and grinned at him.“It’s been a long time.”
“I wish I was well enough to make it more than just a memory.”The spirit wanted, but the flesh wasn’t there yet.
“Shh.Don’t worry.This is enough.This is…us.”Oh, Ian had that right.It was them.Together.
“It is.”He slid his lips along Ian’s again, the glide perfect, gentle and warm and so good.Ian licked at his lips, tongue touching his.
That sent another jolt through him and he groaned.He really wished he was up for more, but Ian was right, this was good.This was enough.This was them.
“Let me know when you want to move back to the bed.I don’t want you to be too tired.”
“I don’t mind being tired because of this.”He hated that he would run out of energy just from limping around the first floor of the house.He used to be able to skate for hours, work out like a fiend, and still come home and make love – vigorously – to his husband.
“Soon it’ll be easier.It’s easier every day, I can tell.”Ian was so sensitive to his moods.He’d missed having that — did that make him selfish?Having someone who helped him, heard him?
