Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam
Can’t I sleep in just once in my life? I’m on vacation, with no kids and a potential hangover. Yet, here I am, up before the sun.
Emmet takes a deep breath, reminding me he’s there. Reminding me of last night and what happened. What I did. Again.
Why are these feelings toward him so overwhelming when I’m drinking, but not any other time?
Is it because my fear of rejection is gone? Is it because I have no worries? Is it because I refuse to allow myself to think of us like that when alcohol isn’t involved?
But why? Why can’t we be together? What is so bad about that?
It’s a common thing now, men being together.
Men get married all the time, and they even have kids.
It isn’t the way it used to be. And maybe if that was the only thing stopping me, it would be easier.
But it wasn’t just the fear of what people would think or say that ate at me then.
It was me and my fear of losing another person I loved.
Because I remember—then and now— how it felt to lose someone I loved.
So, I left him before he could leave me—before he could break my heart.
And for what? I’m still alone.
I have my children, and I love them more than anything, but is that all my life is ever going to be? For the rest of my life, am I just going to be a dad? Alone and depressed on the days they’re with their mom? It’ll have to be enough if I can’t figure out my shit.
I turn on my side to face Emmet. He’s hugging the pillow, face toward me, the muscles in his arms tense from the position.
I so desperately want to reach out and touch him, run my fingers along his warm, soft skin.
I want to feel him beneath me, the way I did back then.
I want to hear him whisper my name into the dark, along with a million promises I was sure would last forever.
He always kept his promises.
I broke them all.
Every single one of them that I made to him, I destroyed. I stomped on them all, like they meant shit when they meant everything.
What the hell did I do?
Would he even forgive me?
Do I deserve that?
From what I remember of last night, he wants nothing to do with this—with us being more than what we are now. Just friends.
Not like this, he’d said.
Not like what? Because of the alcohol? Or something else?
What did he mean?
I watch Emmet until the sun is fully up, taking in his masculine beauty, and all I can think is how perfect this all feels.
Sharing a room. Sharing a bed.
Sharing a life.
Could we make it work? Is he willing to give me another chance?
There’s only one way to find out. For once in my life, I need to be brave and stand up for what I want, for what is going to make me happy.
I’ve done things I didn’t want to for too long, and I’ve shoved away my feelings for Emmet for too long as well.
There’s always been a fire burning for him within me. I don’t think it ever stopped.
I can’t say this realization has me overcome with emotion and need. It’s never been like that with him. It wasn’t an explosion with Emmet.
It was soft, calm. Like stepping into a warm ocean with slow steps, soon to be embraced by the waves. Then once you’re there, you’re floating, and it’s magic. It’s exactly what happened this time. Years have passed, yet here we are… like nothing has changed.
Well, not nothing.
A smile comes to my face when I realize this is exactly how it happened last time.
Friends to lovers.
Though, we aren’t quite there yet, but I want to be.
I so desperately want to be.
I miss having something for myself, I miss being happy.
I fucking miss Emmet.
And maybe being with him for those reasons isn’t right. Maybe I have my own things to work on, but if I’m with him, it’ll all be easier. Doing it with him, with his support and care and love, I can do anything.
He’s shown that to me already, all those years ago.
When I lost my parents, I thought I would die too.
I wanted to. Hell, I talked about it. I said those words out loud, and was fully prepared to do it.
Emmet was the one who talked me off the ledge.
He was the one who told me things would get better.
And they did get better. He was right. It was the only thing I needed to know I could trust him.
Everything else he did, all the late night conversations and jokes and support, were just a plus.
I shouldn’t have left him. I should have listened to him. I should have known that everything would be okay as long as we were together. I should have trusted him. But I didn’t do any of those things, and there’s nothing I can do about that now except make it up to him.
Of course, that is only if he wants to.
I scoot closer to him, then run my fingers down his arm.
Soft and warm. Firm and familiar, just like I expected.
I drag my fingers back up, over the curve of his shoulder and down his back until I reach the waistband of his underwear, pushing the covers down as I go.
My body heats at the thought of being in bed with him in nearly nothing.
One thin layer of clothing between me and the parts of him I so desperately want.
Dragging my fingers back and forth beneath the band, he stirs, and I slide my hand over his ass cheek, applying more pressure.
He’s firmer here than he was all those years ago.
He presses into my hand, so I squeeze and then he grinds against the bed, letting out a small grunt.
It makes my dick so hard. I squeeze his ass again, this time harder and grabbing more of his lower cheek, my fingers grazing his taint.
Another groan leaves him as he thrusts against the mattress, and my dick threatens to explode.
My heart is pounding as I slide my hand between his legs, nudging them apart. Heat envelopes my hand as I cup his balls as best I can in this position, and he spreads his legs further apart.
I so badly want to keep going, but it’s unfair of me to do this while he’s sleeping and unable to consent.
If we had already crossed this line, it would be a different story, but I can’t take advantage of him.
This isn’t okay. So I pull my hand away, as much as I don’t want to, and press it to his shoulder.
“Emmet,” I say softly.
He sucks in a deep breath, but I don’t think he’s awake yet, so I say it again. “Emmet.”
He blinks his eyes open, recognition flaring past the sleep. “Hm?” he says, clearing his throat.
I slide my hand down his side, and his eyelids flutter shut but open a moment later.
“Turn onto your back,” I say softly, leaning forward to kiss the curve of his shoulder.
The room is still relatively dark, the curtains drawn; only streams of morning light coming through to gleam across his fair skin.
Emmet rolls over, the soft sound of skin on sheets fills the room. When he’s on his back, I slide my hand to his erection, gripping him through his briefs.
“Fuck,” he hisses, head pressing into the pillow. His arms are up by his head, hands stuffed under the pillow. I move closer, leaning over and licking his nipple before dragging my tongue along his chest and up to find his lips. I don’t kiss him though, I linger a millimeter away.
“I still want this,” I whisper.
“Adam.”
I brush his nose with mine.
“I won’t promise, because I’ve broken them before. You just have to trust me.”
It’s dead silent as I wait for him to respond. It’s with a nod. I’ll take it.
I drag my hand up and down his length slowly. He’s always been thicker than me, and I’ve always loved the feeling.
His hips thrust upward just a little, seeking more pressure. I toss the blankets off and move between his legs. I massage his thighs as I lean down and nuzzle my nose against his balls and inhale.
Emmet is the only person I’ve ever been like this with. The only person I can be like this with—open and free. Entirely myself. When I want something, I take it. When I have the urge to do something, I can do it without being judged.
It was never like that with Leslie. Not even close. And it’s only ever been Emmet and Leslie for me.
He lets out a raspy breath, his hand going into my hair.
“More,” he whispers.
I slide my nose up and over his cock, breathing him in and nudging him with the tip. His musk, precum, and the manly scent that is just all him has my dick throbbing.
I nip at his thigh, then open my mouth around his cock, remembering how it feels. I taste him through the fabric, breathe him in, craving more.
He groans, fingers scraping against my head as his breathing gets heavier, bordering on growls. It’s so fucking hot.
I slide my hands higher up his thighs, running my thumbs along the crease of his legs, brushing his balls. I run my cheek over his cock, nuzzling his balls like an animal. It’s always been raw and passionate with Emmet, and it’s clear nothing has changed. Even after all this time…
“Adam,” he says, his tone almost a whine.
“I’m here, baby,” I say, hooking my fingers into his briefs and tugging them down. “I’m here.”
His dick pops free, hard and leaking. I can’t get his briefs pushed down fast enough. When they’re off, I drag my tongue from his balls all the way to the tip where I lick up the bead of precum that’s collected there.
“Fuck, Adam—”
I wrap my mouth around the plump head, sucking on his soft flesh. He’s a little salty, and it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.
My chest aches, my body hot and wanting.
How have I gone so long without this? Without him?
“Adam, please…”
I slide my free hand up his abs, opening my eyes to look at him. I hold my hand out.
“You know what to do,” I say, my lips pressed against his dick.
He takes two of my fingers into his mouth and sucks, getting them soaked. I bring my hand to his hole and press my two wet fingers inside him.
“Oh my god,” he breathes out. “Fuck… fuck.”
“This okay?” I ask.
“So fucking okay.”
He loosens around me, so I push in deeper, pressing upward when I feel his prostate.
He whines, hips lifting from the bed. A stream of precum leaks from his tip and I watch as it trails down the center of his beautiful cock.
I lean in and lick it up before it reaches his balls, and then I take him into my mouth again.
Emmet is vocal and not afraid to show me how good I make him feel. It was always one of my favorite things about him, always what made me know that I was important, that I meant something, that he cared. He made it known, one way or another, but mostly with his words.
I know I’m doing everything right by what he’s showing me on the rare occasion he isn’t using his words.
“Stop,” he says. “Please, I don’t want to come.”
I slap his hand away and keep doing what I’m doing.
“Adam, please—I’m going to—”
I stroke his prostate with two fingers and suck on the tip of his cock. Then I take him to the back of my throat. I gag. He comes, shooting down my throat so hard and so fast I hardly get to taste him. Such a shame.