Chapter Six
Bobby
Tom found him under a dogwood tree that had just started to bloom, literally hiding from his new father-in-law. Did he feel bad for abandoning Tom in his hour of need? Maybe a little. But maybe it was good for Tom—good for Cal too—to have a moment together. That’s what Bobby told himself, anyway, right until Tom stepped up to him, took his hand, leaned close like he was about to kiss Bobby, and then whispered in his ear, “I’ll repay you for that one day, copper.”
Tom’s breath, so warm and hard against Bobby’s skin, sent a small shudder through him, in perfect counter to the cold dread from the threat. “Because it went so well and you want to thank me?”
“Sure, yeah, that,” Tom said as he pulled back with a glare, but it wasn’t too vicious, so Bobby thought he might survive the night.
“You about ready to get going?”
“Past ready,” he said, tugging at Bobby’s hand. “We did the cake and the dance and all the other bullshit, and now I wanna go soak in that big tub and sleep in that big bed.”
“Just sleep?”
With a sideways glance, Tom said, “I just spent the last half hour talking to my old man. Just sleep.”
“Already punishing me by withholding sex. Is this how married life is gonna go?”
He got a laugh out of Tom for that. “You’re the one who wanted to get married.”
“You’re the one who asked.”
“Never gonna let me forget that, are ya?”
“Nope.”
They made their way to Judy, who had Max and Zoe on either side, Carrie with one of her little friends, Collin and his friends, all eating cake and cookies and seven other kinds of dessert, like they’d never had sugar in their lives. “Glad I’m not gonna be here to see them come down from all that,” Tom said, but he didn’t tell them they’d had enough or even remind them to brush their teeth, so he was either too happy or too distracted to care. Either way, Bobby liked it. Then Tom leaned down and kissed Zoe on the top of her head, ruffled Max’s hair. “I’d pick you two up, but you’re covered in frosting.”
Zoe stuck her arms up anyway, and Tom gave in with a laugh. “Good thing we’re about to head out, or I’d attract ants,” he said, laughing when she kissed his cheek, when she put her frosting-covered fingers all over his face. “I didn’t let Bobby smash cake on me, but you get a pass, I guess.” She simply nodded in response as Tom wiped his face off before he set her down. Max barely looked up at them from his dessert plate, but they made their way around the table, giving hugs and kisses and reminding the kids to be good. Bobby had already told them not to call unless someone was in the hospital or arrested, so he had faith they wouldn’t hear from the kids for at least forty-eight hours. God willing.
Once they tracked down all the kids and said their goodbyes, they headed for Bobby’s car under a shower of flower petals and bubbles—as per Carrie and Zoe’s insistence. And when they got in, once the doors were closed and they pulled away from the house, Tom reached over and set his hand on Bobby’s thigh, his simple wedding band glittering every time a street light caught it. Bobby glanced at his own left hand on the steering wheel and whispered, “I kinda like this.”
“Me too,” Tom said with a gentle squeeze to Bobby’s thigh. “Did you see what the boys did to your car?”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Because of course Davey and Mike couldn’t go with Just Married or their names. No, they had to draw dicks all over it, had to string beer cans and—Bobby wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a dildo at one point. “I think some of the guys from the force might’ve had a hand in it too.”
“Between your coworkers and my idiot brothers, I’m not sure who came up with what, but I’ve got a Sharpie just waiting to draw a dick on Davey’s face when I get home.”
“I’m pretty sure that’d be considered child abuse.”
“Probably,” Tom agreed with a laugh. “Doesn’t mean he don’t deserve it.”
Bobby disagreed, but he didn’t argue. That was his gift to Tom. “What should we do first?” he asked instead.
Tom shifted in his seat, looked over at him. “First, I’m gonna strip outta my frosting-covered suit, then I’m gonna strip you outta yours.”
Bobby liked where Tom was headed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Then I’m gonna pass the hell out.”
“You’re still sticking to that?”
“I didn’t say bath first this time.”
“Fine, but after a nap, I’ll wake you up with a blowjob.”
“I’ll let ya.”
“I see how you are.”
Tom grinned at him as Bobby went through the intersection.
The hotel wasn’t the fanciest in town, but it was nice enough, and they got the honeymoon suite, which was the nicest place either of them had ever stayed. Which, for Tom, was easy given how low his bar was set to begin with.
As promised, Tom started to strip out of his suit as soon as the door fell shut behind him, as soon as he dropped his weekend bag on the floor. Bobby started to do the same, tugging at buttons, tossing his cap on a nightstand. By the time he got his jacket off, Tom looked over at him, his own suit coat off, tie loosened. He took a step closer, reached for Bobby. “Lemme,” he whispered, leaning in for a kiss, just a soft brush of their lips together as he worked the buttons of Bobby’s shirt, pulled his tie free.
Bobby’s breath caught sharply, and he didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like this was their first time together, not like they hadn’t undressed each other hundreds, maybe a thousand times before. But there was something almost reverent in the way Tom touched him, the way he traced every line of Bobby’s body with a fingertip, the way he looked at Bobby. Like he was offering a prayer of thanks, like he was trying to burn this time, this night, into his memory. “I love you,” Bobby blurted out suddenly, softly, as he slid Tom’s tie off, pushed his shirt off his shoulders.
“I fucking hope so,” Tom whispered, a smirk on his face but a bit of something else, something less teasing in his tone. “Kinda stupid to go through all this if you don’t.”
Bobby dipped his head, caught Tom’s eye. “Good thing I do, then. Like. A lot.”
Tom stopped with the buttons on Bobby’s shirt, an easy smile spreading across his face. “Me too. A lot. I don’t know much, but I know that.” He leaned in closer, brushed his lips over Bobby’s, slid his hand up his shoulder, pressed his thumb gently against Bobby’s pulse as he deepened the kiss.
Then, suddenly, they were wearing too many clothes with too many buttons and zippers, godforsaken dress shoes that Bobby would normally be mindful of, would normally take off and put in the dust cover, would set aside on a shelf. Instead, he and Tom tugged and pulled and popped off a button or two, toed their shoes off and left them wherever they ended up until they stood naked in front of each other, touching each other gently with hitched breaths and greedy little moans spilling out between them.
“We don’t gotta rush,” Tom pointed out between kisses. “Got all weekend.”
And what a luxury that was. They lived together, had been for a while now, but time still wasn’t something they got a lot of. Bobby didn’t mind. Not really. But getting to be alone with Tom for two whole nights, getting to hold each other and sleep together and wake up, not when a kid knocked on the door or when work dragged them out of bed or a phone rang in their ears, but whenever they wanted? That was the best gift they could’ve gotten. “I know. But maybe I need to rush a little anyway,” Bobby said as he pressed his hips to Tom’s, their erections grazing together.
“Impatient,” Tom teased, slowing the path of his hand as he dipped his fingers lower, toward Bobby’s cock, but not quite touching.
“I’m always impatient for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Tom wet his lips, tongue trailing over that smirk before he leaned closer, pressed his lips to Bobby’s shoulder, kissed a path from the faded scar to his collarbone, nuzzled against Bobby’s throat, then higher, his warm breath leaving goosebumps along the path as Tom slowly wrapped his fingers around Bobby’s cock and gave him a tight stroke.
Bobby exhaled sharply with the touches, wrapped his arm around Tom’s shoulder and pulled him in, wanting to be pressed up against him, happy to stand there all night and explore each other—at the same time wanting to hurry, wanting to get there, wanting to come with Tom, wanting it all. He rolled his hips, pushing his cock through Tom’s grip, precome spilling out with the motion.
“Christ,” Tom muttered. “How can something so stupid and simple feel so fucking good?”
“I don’t know,” Bobby whispered. “But it always does. Every time. Everything.”
And with that, they stumbled to the bed, Tom pushing Bobby back, about to crawl over him when he stopped and pulled away instead. Bobby held his breath as Tom went to his bag and pulled out a bottle of lube.
“They probably don’t give us this with the tiny shampoo bottles,” he said as he sprawled over Bobby until they were a tangle of limbs.
“They really should, though,” Bobby muttered, barely able to think when Tom scraped his teeth over Bobby’s collarbone, shifted so their cocks pressed together between them.
Talking was done then, neither of them saying much of anything, just moaning softly, panting for breath, a song of need and want and love, familiar and simple. Perfect. When Bobby wrapped his legs around Tom’s body, urged him closer, Tom pulled back instead, found the lube, and carefully, quietly, prepared them both with slick fingers, and Bobby was gasping by the end. Because just that, just watching Tom, just Tom’s fingers inside him, was almost enough. Sometimes that was all it took. But tonight, Tom pushed in slowly, didn’t stop until his cock was buried deep and they moved together, same as they always did, each of them riding their own desires, pulling the other along with whispers and curses and so much goddamn tenderness it could break them both and fuse them back together again.
“Don’t stop,” Bobby murmured, tugging Tom’s hair before pressing his mouth to Tom’s shoulder, too close to say anything else.
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Tom said, the words catching on a sharp groan with another thrust, another hard grind that threatened to push Bobby over the edge. Then Tom pulled back, enough to catch Bobby’s eye. “I’m never lettin’ you go,” he said, grinding the words out as he pushed in deep and slow. “Me and you, okay? I’m yours, and that’s all I need.”
Bobby could barely nod, barely think, because anytime Tom said shit like that, it stole the breath from Bobby’s lungs, his emotions clawing through him, relentless and overwhelming. “Me and you,” he echoed, unable to say anything else as his release slammed into him, and he clung to Tom, clung to the moment, the promises, the unbearable sincerity of it all as he shuddered and cried out something that sounded a lot like Tom’s name.
Shortly after—after a few minutes for their heart rates to drop back down to a safe level, a few minutes to clean up—Tom curled around him, pulled him tight, and rested his head on Bobby’s shoulder. “Think we’ll still be all over each other in ten years?”
“I think we’ll still be all over each other in fifty years.”
With a soft laugh, Tom pressed a kiss to Bobby’s neck, exhaled. “I like that,” he whispered. “Like the idea of getting old with you and being with you forever.”
“Me too.” Bobby slid his feet between Tom’s, traced his fingers over the back of Tom’s hand, up his arm, petted the soft hairs at his wrist. “Did you mean it? In the vows. When you said I’m your favorite?”
“Did you mean it when you said I’m your favorite?”
“Yeah, I really did.” Some days he didn’t know why, but God help him, he meant every word.
“So did I,” Tom whispered, pressing his nose to Bobby’s hair, inhaling like he wanted to make another memory. “I know we’ve got a lotta shit, with the kids and the foster bullshit and your job and… life. But me and you? Life together with you? I never thought I’d ever get so goddamn lucky.”
Bobby swallowed past the tightness in his throat, breathed through the sharp stitch in his chest, and laced his fingers through Tom’s. “Me too,” he whispered, bringing Tom’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there. “You’re the everything for me. You’re the future. My future.” Bobby let the weight of that settle over both of them, the truth of it. Tom was his future, and he was Tom’s. And that, in the end, was the reason to get married. That’s what made it special. And it wouldn’t have mattered if it was at the courthouse in jeans or a beach somewhere or his mom’s backyard. It was special and perfect and right because it was Tom. Tom and him. And it would be Tom and him until one of them died. Maybe longer.
“Yeah,” Tom whispered, nuzzling into Bobby’s hair.
Even as tired as they both were, they still didn’t sleep. Bobby didn’t want the day to end, didn’t want to close his eyes and wake up and it not still be their wedding day. Maybe Tom didn’t either. Instead, they held each other close and talked shit and teased and laughed and made some plans and wondered if it was too late to order food and then changed their minds and decided they didn’t care about eating if it meant having to move. They even argued a little because that was just part of who they were and always would be, and Bobby wouldn’t want it any other way. Because, yeah. Tom was his, and he was Tom’s, and that was all Bobby needed too.
As Long As It’s You
Timing: After Tommy and Bobby are married, after the epilogue in The Last Thing He Needs.
Author’s Note: Written for a free anthology for GRL 2015 attendees.
“Tom, is this really necessary?” Bobby looked annoyed as he sat on the padded table.
“No,” Tommy told him with a laugh. “But neither was this.” He held up his left hand to make sure Bobby could see the band shimmering under the lights.
It had taken Tommy a long time to get used to the ring. Longer than he’d expected. At first, he would sit up at night, turn it around his finger. Then, sometimes—when Bobby wasn’t around—he’d slip it off, just to let his hand feel normal again. He used any excuse he could to take it off. Showers, washing dishes, cleaning the gutters, you name it.
Then, one day, he got out of the shower and looked down, and his ring was still on his finger. Just like that, the tiny little thing was part of him. Like Bobby, the damn thing had crept up on him, annoyed him at first, and then it was something he never wanted to part with.
“That was your idea,” Bobby said. They both knew that wasn’t true. Tommy had just been the one to cave and ask. As if he could hear Tommy formulating his argument, Bobby shook his head—smiling but obviously disagreeing. “And it was necessary. If anything ever happens to—”
“We’re not talkin’ about anything happening to you.” Tommy knew all too well what could happen to Bobby, and it wasn’t something he liked to dwell on.
“Or to you,” Bobby said, trying to finish. “But, fine. We won’t talk about it—God forbid.” There was a teasing glint in Bobby’s eye, and Tommy knew he wasn’t bugged, not too badly, at least. “A tattoo, though? I’ve never been into that.”
Tommy hadn’t either, not really. But there was something about having a permanent reminder on his body—on Bobby’s body—that appealed to Tommy, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Neither of them could lose a tattoo or take it off for a few hours, like Tommy used to do with his wedding ring. If you wanted to get rid of your ink, you had to mean it.
“Yeah, well.” Tommy didn’t have a better answer, not one he wanted to share, so he simply leaned in and kissed Bobby again, hoping to shut him up.
It didn’t work.
“And why did we have to go on a road trip to get a tattoo? I know Ben’s great and all, but there are probably dozens of artists back at home we could use. He probably could’ve recommended someone local…”
“I wanted someone who knows us. And, besides, this gave us an excuse to get away for a whole weekend.”
Bobby still looked a little skeptical, but he didn’t say anything else.
Right on cue, Ben came around the corner with a few pieces of paper in his hand. Tommy wasn’t sure, but he thought the guy had more tattoos than the last time he’d seen him. Ben towered over Bobby and him, looked intimidating as hell until you got to know him.
“Okay,” Ben said in that quiet-rough voice of his. “Before I put this on the transfer, you guys need to take a look and tell me what ya think.”
Tommy took the picture and leaned in against Bobby to look at it.
“Wow,” Bobby muttered.
Carrie had drawn a rough sketch of their idea. Her skills were coming along, but Ben had taken her little design to a whole new level.
“That’s about as small as I can go and still keep the detailing,” Ben explained. “And I added two little branches here for balance.”
Tommy counted them and shook his head. “Nope, has to be seven.”
“I figured you’d say that.” Ben plucked the paper from Tommy’s fingers. “You’re a picky bastard, Tommy.”
Bobby snorted a laugh, nodding, but he didn’t say anything as Ben handed them another sheet of paper. The second design was similar but actually looked better this time around. The intricate knot made from two separate roots was finer, had more details, and the seven little branches stretching out and away from them seemed to have personalities of their own.
“If I weren’t so picky, I wouldn’t be here,” Tommy said after a beat. He looked at Bobby and asked, “What do ya think, copper?”
“It’s… pretty damn amazing, actually.”
Tommy agreed with a nod and handed the drawing back to Ben. “That’s the one.”
“All right,” Ben said, a half-smile on his face as he disappeared behind the curtain again.
Tommy lost track of time, had no idea how long they’d been there, and felt bad for Ben by the end. The guy looked like his hand might fall off when he finally said they were done. He ran through the details about aftercare and, just to be a dick, gave Tommy a nice slap on his chest over his fresh ink. Tommy felt less bad for him then.
“You’re an asshole,” Tommy said, wincing. “I hope you don’t do that to all your customers.”
“You’re the first, actually,” Ben said with a laugh. “But I promised Gene, so blame him.”
That made more sense. He’d have to thank Gene later with a boot in his ass. “How’s Gavin doin’?” Tommy asked, distracted as he watched Bobby button his shirt.
“He’s still a pain in my ass, so I guess I can’t complain.”
Tommy knew the look on Ben’s face for what it was. He probably had the same expression every time he talked about Bobby.
“Tell him to come with ya the next time you’re in town. He deserves a few free drinks down at the bar for putting up with you.”
After they settled the bill and walked outside into the dark blue night, Tommy slipped his arm around Bobby’s shoulder and kissed his temple. “Any regrets?”
Bobby had decided at the last minute to get his tattoo over his heart, just as Tommy had done. Until that second, he’d been firm on having it on his back somewhere—where he wouldn’t have to see it if he didn’t like it.
He turned to face Tommy, looked deep into his eyes for a long minute, and whispered, “Not a one.”
“Good,” Tommy said as he leaned in, brushed his lips over Bobby’s. “Let’s go make some good use of that hotel room.”
Getting Bobby out of his clothes and onto the bed took no time at all. Tommy’s abused skin smarted every time he moved his left arm, but it wasn’t too distracting. Not when Bobby pressed close and ran his fingertips down the length of Tommy’s cock. Not when he pulled Tommy over him and kissed him hard and hungry, bit his bottom lip as he carded his fingers into Tommy’s hair.
When Bobby reached for the small bottle of lube, Tommy asked, “You in some kinda rush tonight?”
Bobby breathed out a soft laugh. “You’re not?” He shifted and spread his legs wider, an obvious invitation as he hitched one foot up the back of Tommy’s leg.
Tommy shook his head and pulled back, practically wrestled with Bobby until he could straddle his hips. “Not in a rush, exactly,” Tommy said as he drizzled the clear fluid into his hand and started to stroke Bobby’s cock in a long, slow rhythm. “Just haven’t decided what I wanna do yet.”
The gasp from Bobby sent a quick, hot spark of want through Tommy. It always did, truth be told. But tonight, he really did want to take his time. He prepped them both slowly, hitched himself higher over Bobby’s body, and watched Bobby’s face as he lowered himself over Bobby’s cock.
Surprise and satisfaction mingled in Bobby’s expression as Tommy started to ride him. They’d been together a while now—Christ, they were married, for fuck’s sake—but it still seemed to shock the hell out of Bobby anytime Tommy bottomed for him.
“What are you smirking about?” Bobby asked, his words tangled in a groan as he rocked his hips, got himself into synch with Tommy.
“Just can’t decide if I should do this more often,” Tommy whispered, having to pause for a strained breath. “Or if I should keep you wanting more.”
Bobby’s laugh was tight, as if it was too much effort to keep up with conversation and fuck Tommy at the same time. “I always want more,” Bobby muttered, running his hand up Tommy’s arm, tugging him closer. “But I don’t care how I get it, as long as it’s you.”
Tommy couldn’t argue with that. He felt the same way, after all.