Chapter Twelve
“THAT’S ONE way to stay warm.” Lewis sounds well-fucked and sleepy.
Turning his head to nuzzle into Lewis’s hair, Tad agrees with an inarticulate hum. “We should clean up, I guess.” He kisses Lewis softly on his bristly cheek. “Don’t move.”
The wet wipes are in his backpack outside. Once he has them, they clean up silently. Tad brushes a wipe over Lewis’s stomach, even though Lewis has already done it. Something aches in his chest. It’s just… he wants. He wants something . He wants to make Lewis feel looked after.
Lewis hasn’t said anything except that first blitzed-out that’s one way to stay warm .
Is he having second thoughts? Is he freaking out?
Under the sleeping bag, Lewis snuggles up to Tad. His arms loop around Tad’s neck, and Tad can’t stop himself from finding Lewis’s lips with his own.
This kiss is slow, banked heat and—maybe, maybe—a promise of more to come. Lewis isn’t freaking out, and Tad’s body is loose and noodle-limbed, and that’s enough for now.
WHEN TAD drifts to consciousness the next morning, he doesn’t want to open his eyes, just in case he dreamt everything. Sure, he can feel Lewis’s legs tangled with his, the heavy weight of Lewis in his arms, Lewis’s arm slung over him, and the tickle of his hair on Tad’s face from the way his head is tucked against Tad’s shoulder. But you never know.
The slow rise and fall of Lewis’s chest and the perfect warmth of his body makes Tad want to stay here forever. He doesn’t want to wake Lewis up, but he knows he has to if they’re going to make up miles today.
God, it’s so tempting to just stay here, cuddled up with Lewis. But he wanted to make Lewis feel looked after last night. He still feels that way. He’s kind of felt that way ever since they woke up in the hotel room together and Lewis started freaking out. If he doesn’t do everything he can to push them a few extra miles today, then he’s not looking after Lewis.
He tries not to think about the fact that maybe when Lewis said they could have something for now, he meant just last night. Gently, he nudges Lewis awake.
Lewis makes a complaining little mewl of protest, which is so adorable that Tad has to close his eyes and breathe deeply. God. He agreed to have something “just for now,” but he wants something for way longer than now.
“Lewis,” he says. “We better get up.”
Instead of progress toward getting up, Lewis tightens his hold on Tad, moving closer and mumbling, “Rather stay here.”
“I think you might still be asleep,” Tad says. No way Lewis, Dating Break Lewis, We Need A Divorce As Soon As Possible Lewis, is suggesting cuddling over getting an early start.
“I’m not asleep. I’m just comfortable.” Lewis’s hand slides up Tad’s back, and Tad shudders. The hand stops. Lewis pulls back. “Shit. Sorry.” He sounds completely awake now. “Should I… was that not okay?”
“It was okay.” Tad’s face heats. “It was, you know. Really okay.”
“ Oh. ” Lewis’s hand returns to Tad’s waist, slipping under his shirt to continue its slow trajectory up his spine. “Good.”
“Mm.” Tad leans into Lewis’s touch, bending toward it. “Don’t think we have time for this, though.”
Lewis buries his face in Tad’s neck and plants slow, molten kisses there. Tad’s half hard and his willpower can only take so much of Lewis’s soft, plush lips on his neck and that hand rubbing his back, dipping under his waistband on each trip down.
“Lewis,” he groans, rubbing his dick against Lewis.
Lewis makes a satisfied sound. “Yeah, baby?”
They both freeze. Tad doesn’t know what to do. His heart wants to soar at the endearment, but he knows Lewis didn’t mean to say it.
“Um, sorry.” Lewis disentangles himself from the sleeping bag, from Tad, and unzips the tent flap. “Sorry,” he repeats, throwing a tortured glance over his shoulder.
Tad can’t make his mouth say It’s okay , or Please call me that again . He lets Lewis go and flops onto his back, hand over his face, and the echo of that accidental baby ringing in his ears and heart.
After a couple minutes, he joins Lewis outside the tent and gets dressed. The cold is like a slap, so stripping out of his warm pajamas into his cold clothes feels vaguely like torture.
He gives his hair several sprays of dry shampoo and is a little surprised when Lewis clears his throat and asks, “Do you mind if I use that?”
Tad tosses it to him and though Lewis fumbles, he manages to catch it. Why does Tad find that so cute?
As they pack up, they don’t talk about what happened last night. They don’t talk about that errant baby. They don’t talk, in fact, at all, and Tad wonders if he traded away all the easy camaraderie and burgeoning friendship for one more fuck.
He knows he should just talk to Lewis, but talking scares the hell out of him. The fact that talking is scary is part of the reason his relationship with John crashed and burned. They never quite got that part down, and then there wasn’t anything left to talk about.
If he was too scared to talk to his boyfriend of three years, how the hell is he going to work up the nerve to talk to Lewis?
It seems like it takes forever to get to the washed-out section of trail. They don’t speak the entire time. By the time they arrive, Tad is anxious, miserable, and convinced he caused this, even though he’s almost positive it’s because Lewis accidentally called him baby .
Too bad he’s never initiated a difficult conversation in his life. Fuck, Lewis is totally right that being married to each other is a horrible idea. Marriage requires communication. Tad doesn’t know how to do that.
“Follow my lead, okay?” Tad says. “I’ve done trails like this before. We’ll just take it slow, and tell me if you need me to wait. Sound good?”
He looks at Lewis. Lewis’s face is drawn and set, like he’s going off to war.
“Lewis?” Tad prompts. Is he freaking out? Like, Freaking Out freaking out?
Lewis’s eyes find him. “Tad,” he says. Tad waits. Lewis swallows hard. “I might die, and I don’t want to die with like, a bunch of stuff unsaid.”
“Okay, first of all, you’re not going to die,” Tad says, even though he’d very much like to talk and he’s glad Lewis is initiating. Maybe he should have agreed that death is on the table to inspire more open and honest communication.
For a second, Lewis just stands there, looking at a loss. Finally, he says, “Is there a second of all?”
“Er, no. You, um, wanted to say something?” Tad’s pulse picks up. Maybe Lewis is going to rescind the something-just-for-now offer of last night.
Taking a deep breath, Lewis replies, “Yeah. God. I’m—I’m fucking this up. I just—I’m such a mess with dating. Or romance in general. I’m like—you know, I’m a huge rom-com fan? And I think it totally messed with my perception. My expectations are all wrong. Like, I think I’m so smart because I’m not waiting for my prince to come along and sweep me off my feet, you know? Except I’m totally waiting for my Tom Hanks or Hugh Grant or Billy Crystal—”
“Wait, Billy Crystal?” Tad asks.
“Oh my god, haven’t you seen When Harry Met Sally? ”
“Billy Crystal is in that?”
“Yeah, he’s Meg Ryan’s love interest, he’s amazing—okay, look, not the point.”
Actually it totally could be the point because Tad’s kind of hung up on the idea of Lewis having a thing for Billy Crystal. He keeps picturing Miracle Max from The Princess Bride .
“The point is,” Lewis goes on, “I have all these ideas of what romance is, you know? And it’s like… it messed everything up for me. I fall too fast because I keep thinking this is it, this is what leads to that Moment, and this guy’s the one. And I just… I’m sorry for freaking out about calling you baby . ”
Tad isn’t quite following the logic, but the important thing is that last bit. “It didn’t bother me,” he says cautiously.
Raking a hand through his hair, Lewis says, “But I’m not the kind of person who throws terms of endearments around lightly. And I don’t want to lead you on or make you think this is something it’s not, and I don’t even know what this is, and—”
His hair is sticking up adorably. Lewis swallows hard again. “Did it really not bother you?”
Tad offers a tiny smile. “I liked it?”
“Oh.” Lewis looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that. He rubs his elbow. “I would understand if you want to tell me to take a hike after this morning.”
“Pun intended?” Tad’s heart still feels like it’s going to fling itself out of his rib cage.
A startled laugh fizzes out of Lewis, skipping across the mountainside. The tension between them eases. “Yeah, I definitely thought that one out in advance because I’m really clever.”
“And obviously you wouldn’t take credit for a pun you didn’t intend,” Tad says, making his eyes big and innocent.
Lewis laughs again, and this time, when he runs his fingers through his hair, it’s a little less frantic and a little more abashed. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t even know what this is.”
Tad’s wedding ring catches his eye. Weirdly, it calms him. He doesn’t know what this is either, but they’re dealing with it together, and that’s something.
“Do you still want….” Tad begins, trailing off when he realizes he doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to ask.
Lewis comes closer. “I still want to have—” He hesitates, then smiles. “Something. Last night was….”
“Amazing.”
“Yeah. Really amazing.”
Tad draws a slow breath. His heart is still pounding, but now giddy euphoria is pinging around his chest. He leans forward, giving Lewis enough time to pull away. But Lewis doesn’t, and Tad kisses him chastely.
They smile at each other. Lewis’s smile looks goofy. Tad has a feeling his looks the same way.
Tad squeezes Lewis’s hand. “Now that you can go to your death with no regrets, want to climb down this trail?”
Lewis laughs, free and relieved. Tad’s heart swells at the sound.
This is just for now , he reminds himself.
If he doesn’t keep telling himself that, he’s going to be in trouble.
WHEN THEY arrive at their planned campsite, Tad takes inventory: two extra miles successfully walked, zero broken bones, nine hours of wonderful, easy conversation, and one sexual fantasy that has him half hard and very glad they talked.
They’re like a well-oiled machine while they set up everything. A good team. Like a couple, even if they’re only a just-for-now couple.
After dinner, they sit by the fire. It’s warmer now that they’re off the mountain, so they’re still in T-shirts. Their arms keep brushing. Lewis touches Tad’s leg once, then again, and the third time, he leaves it there, his thumb rubbing little circles on Tad’s thigh.
Tad stands, stretching his arms over his head and letting his shirt ride up. Lewis’s eyes go straight to that exposed skin, and his Adam’s apple gives a sharp bob.
Tad leaves his arms over his head, hooking one hand around his elbow. “So, I was thinking, considering this is your first camping trip, and you had to do something outside your comfort zone today, you should get a reward.”
Lewis’s eyes drag up Tad’s body. It might just be an effect of the firelight, but his face looks flushed. “What kind of reward?”
With a sly smile, Tad goes to his knees. “The kind that doesn’t require pants.”
“Fuck,” Lewis breathes. His Adam’s apple jags again. Tad wants to lick it.
Tad lays his palms on Lewis’s thighs and runs them slowly upward. “If you want that kind of reward, I mean.”
Hoarsely, Lewis says, “I definitely, very much want that kind of reward.”
Tad bypasses Lewis’s growing bulge and instead hooks his fingers into his waistband. Lewis groans and his hips twitch up. Tad pops the button on Lewis’s jeans and pushes his legs apart so he can shuffle closer.
Slowly, Tad draws down Lewis’s zipper. Lewis’s cock strains against his briefs, and Tad makes a helpless noise.
Lewis strokes Tad’s hair, running his fingers through it, and whispers, “You’re so beautiful.”
It makes Tad want to die with newness. No one has ever looked at him like that and told him he’s beautiful. He’s tall and too lean, and his nose is too long, and he has too many freckles.
They gaze at each other, firelight flickering on their skin and clothes. Tad smiles again and tugs on Lewis’s waistband. “Off. Help me.”
“Bossy.” Lewis laughs and lifts his hips. Tad slides his jeans and briefs down to his ankles.
Then Lewis is spread for him, and Tad’s between the V of his legs, admiring his cock, jutting upward to Lewis’s belly. The thatch of dark hair in his groin, his balls, the fur on his legs. With a hungry noise, Tad touches the tip of his tongue to Lewis’s cockhead, running it lightly around the slit.
Lewis gasps and jerks.
Tad smiles. He makes circles with his tongue, varies the pressure, teases Lewis’s slit, until Lewis says in a strained voice, “I thought this was supposed to be a reward . ”
“This is very rewarding for me.”
Lewis groans. His fingers tighten in Tad’s hair, then loosen, stroking again.
Teasing is fun, but Tad has the taste of Lewis on his tongue—salty pre-cum, which is pulsing out steadily and making Tad ridiculously hard himself. Need throbs low in his gut. With a groan, he takes Lewis in his mouth, swallowing him from tip to root.
The low, guttural noises Lewis makes as Tad sucks him off will live rent-free in his mind for the rest of his life. Before long, Tad’s rubbing himself on Lewis’s shin, moaning around Lewis’s spit-slicked cock and clutching his hips as Lewis grips his hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other.
“Oh fuck—Tad—oh god oh god oh god yeah that’s it—oh— there —”
His hips buck wildly, he lets out a strangled cry, and hot, thick, musky cum shoots down Tad’s throat and fills his mouth.
Fuck . Lewis tastes good.
Tad licks Lewis clean as Lewis sags, still groaning. “Holy fuck,” Lewis says, then bends over to crush his mouth to Tad’s. Their tongues slide together. Lewis tastes like the mac and cheese they had for dinner and woodsmoke and sex as he licks into Tad’s mouth.
“Come for me,” Lewis breathes into Tad’s mouth. Tad nips at his bottom lip and grinds into his leg, and Lewis is stroking his hair and down his neck and whispering, “That’s it, baby—I wanna see you come—come for me just like this—”
It’s his voice that sends Tad over the edge. It’s silk and filth and safety and Tad’s helpless against it. His body winds tight and then he’s coming, thrusting wildly against Lewis as Lewis swallows his cries.
When he’s done, he goes boneless, flopping against Lewis and burying his face in the crease of Lewis’s hip. Lewis’s fingers are in his hair, stroking his scalp and down his neck to his shoulders. “You’re so hot,” Lewis says wonderingly.
“Good reward?” Tad asks, his voice muffled by Lewis’s skin.
Lewis draws him upright and kisses him slowly. Tad’s heart turns to molten gold as Lewis’s lips open him up and Lewis’s hands cup his jaw, and they kiss and kiss.
Lewis called him baby and didn’t freak out.
This is the best camping trip Tad’s ever been on.