Epilogue #3
Connor drew him toward the bed. They ended up on their sides, Connor behind him, the mattress dipping under their combined weight.
Caleb reached back, hand finding Connor’s thigh, pulling him closer until Connor’s chest pressed flush to his back.
The contact was immediate: skin to skin, Connor fitted close behind him, warm and known.
Connor went still for half a breath. “Yeah?” he asked, low against Caleb’s ear.
Caleb looked back at him over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
Connor’s hand left Caleb’s hip long enough to reach back for the nightstand.
Lube and a condom, the small necessities that had become ordinary between them, though never thoughtless.
Connor tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom on his full and hard length, then slicked his fingers before settling close behind Caleb again.
Caleb shifted his top leg forward, arching his back to give him room.
Connor took his time preparing him, checking Caleb’s responses as he went rather than rushing toward what came next.
Caleb relaxed gradually beneath his touch, taking one finger, then two, stroking in that come-hither gesture that hit him just right.
Connor knew it from the change in Caleb’s breathing, the slight pressure backward, the quiet sounds he no longer seemed interested in holding in.
They took their time, enjoying the slow build of desire.
When Connor sensed that Caleb was ready, he withdrew his hand and shifted closer, his arm still curved around Caleb’s ribs.
Caleb reached back again, gripping Connor’s thigh as Connor positioned himself behind him.
There was a pause between them, familiar enough now to be its own question, and Caleb answered by drawing him closer, a whispered yes.
Connor entered him slowly. Caleb exhaled through the first intensity of it, holding Connor’s thigh as his body adjusted.
Connor let Caleb set the pace, waiting as he pressed back against him.
Then he began carefully, finding the rhythm they knew together, Caleb meeting him as it settled into something easier and instinctive.
Connor’s mouth found the back of his shoulder, and Caleb let his head fall against him, the two of them moving with the practised trust that had made all those ordinary preparations possible in the first place.
Long, rolling thrusts dragged against every sensitive place inside him.
The angle kept them close, Connor’s chest to Caleb’s back, his arm still wrapped around him, hand splayed low on Caleb’s stomach.
Caleb rocked with him, meeting each thrust, guiding the pace with the press of his hips and the flex of his thigh under Connor’s grip.
The hotel sheets whispered against their skin.
Connor’s breath was hot against the nape of his neck, ragged now.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Connor murmured, voice stripped down and honest. Caleb answered by pushing back harder, clenching around the thick length of Connor’s cock on the next thrust, drawing out the low groan he knew would follow.
Their slow rhythm began to speed up, a little at a time, drawing out this moment as long as possible.
Connor’s hand slid down, wrapping around Caleb’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, firm, sure pulls that made Caleb’s thighs tremble.
Caleb’s fingers dug into Connor’s hip, urging him deeper, faster.
Connor gave it to him, thrusts growing surer, the wet sounds of skin and desire filling the quiet room.
Caleb’s world narrowed to the steady drag deep inside him, the heat of Connor’s body wrapped around his, the callused palm working his cock. Every thrust pushed him closer.
Then Caleb came, release washing through him in a long shudder, hot over Connor’s hand and the sheets beneath them, his whole body drawing tight around Connor’s length.
Connor kept moving him through it, unhurried even now, until his own control finally gave way, a low sound breaking against Caleb’s neck as he stilled deep inside him, hips easing against Caleb’s ass.
They stayed locked together for a long minute, breathing hard.
Connor’s arm stayed around him, heavy and warm.
Eventually he eased out, dealt with the condom, and came right back with a towel for Caleb.
Then he pulled Caleb against his chest, one leg slotted between Caleb’s, arm draped over his waist. The hotel sheets were cool against their overheated skin.
Outside, Thunder Bay kept moving through its Saturday night, its distant traffic humming low and different from the near silence of Veil Lake. In here, the lake felt far away.
Caleb lay in the circle of Connor’s arms, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against his back.
Ninety minutes. Connor had driven ninety minutes, watched the game, and gotten a room instead of turning around for the long drive home.
The distance was real, but so was this. The easy weight of Connor’s arm, the scent of his skin, the quiet certainty that they would do it again.
Connor shifted behind him. “Next Saturday,” he said. Not a question.
Caleb thought about it for half a second. “If the roads are good.”
Connor’s arm tightened once, briefly. “I’ll find a way to you. Always.”