Chapter 11 #2
Ian beamed at him, licking the mayo off his bottom lip. “It is good, huh?”
He licked his own lips, watching Ian’s mouth. “It’s very good.” And he wasn’t just talking about the sandwich.
“Yeah. I’m proud.” Ian reached out and brush some crumbs off his chin.
He turned his face to kiss Ian’s fingertips as they went by.
Ian shivered visibly, and those pretty lips parted. He wasn’t ready, but he wished he was.
He wanted to remind Ian exactly who he belonged to. Maybe he didn’t have that right anymore, but it was what he wanted. He thought it was what Ian wanted, too. As soon as he was healed enough to do it.
“Do you think you’ll want to move upstairs soon?” The words were so careful.
“Soon as I can do the stairs without falling and breaking things all over again.”
“I was looking into a stair lift. There’s room, and you could use it as you need it.” Ian nibbled on his sandwich. “It’s expensive, but we could use it.”
Now that was an idea, though it was galling that he might have to use something like that. He wanted to be able to do it himself.
“You sure you wouldn’t mind making that kind of change to the place?”
“Well, it would be useful for things like carrying laundry down, and we’re both going to age. We might need it from time to time.” Oh, that was diplomatic.
“Calling us old, Chou.” He winked, letting Ian know he was just teasing. “Let me think about it?” He wasn’t quite ready to admit that it might be a very long time before he could do those stairs on his own.
“Sure. We have all the time in the world.” Ian sounded as if he meant it too.
“You’re too nice, Chou.”
“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?
He hoped not, but even if it did, he wanted that back.
“You’re right. One of these days I’m going to be able to throw you up against the wall and have my wicked way with you.”
“I will hold you to that.” Ian winked at him. “At least once before you’re off to Florida again.”
He snorted. “I’m not going back to Florida, Chou. I’ll be lucky if I can ever shuffle around the rink, let alone play a game for fun.”
“You don’t know. I bet you’ll be on the ice again and enjoy it.” Ian took his hand, held on to it.
He squeezed Ian’s hand tight. “I would like that. Very much. Almost as much as I like this.”
Ian nodded. “I’ll help, love. Trust me. I know how important it is.”
“Maybe we can get Petey out there along with me.” He wanted both his kids to love skating as much as he did.
“Maybe. Tori is already asking to start her learn to play classes. She’s a natural on the ice.”
“That’s awesome. I’d love to see that.” He could totally imagine her playing hockey, in fact.
“She’s amazing. Fearless. Stubborn. Just like you.”
“Pshaw. I’m not stubborn.”
Ian’s eyes went wide. “You aren’t serious. You are the stubborn-est.”
“Not as stubborn as you,” he countered.
“What do you mean? I’m easy going. Like stupidly.” Ian’s head tilted. “Aren’t I?”
He stared at Ian for a long time before just shrugging. He wasn’t interested in having an argument. They were getting on so well. “So we’re a pair,” he conceded.
“We are.” Ian took his hand and held on. “Even after everything. We’re a pair.”
He smiled, pleased Ian’s takeaway from their conversation had been just that. He kissed Ian again. “We are.”
“I’m glad. I mean, I know we have things, but—I’m glad.”
“Me too, Chou. Me too.”