Page 20 of Pages of My Heart

Thomas

It’s a warm summer night when they begin their third weekend together at the O’Reilly house.

They eat a light dinner outside in the backyard, then Charlie goes to shower, having come straight from the garage.

While he waits, Thomas keeps himself busy by changing the linens on the double bed in Bridget and Eddie’s room where they’ve decided to spend the night.

As he finishes with the last pillowcase, Charlie appears in the doorway, casually leaning against the wall.

He’s naked, bar the towel slung low around his hips.

His hair is damp and slicked back, and the hard lines of his chest are more defined in the evening light.

Thomas greedily takes in his muscular form, sculptured by long days working at the garage.

There is a spattering of hair across his chest and an enticing trail on his lower stomach that gets thicker before it disappears behind the towel.

Thomas hums his approval, his hand coming to rest over his own swelling cock. “Drop the towel,” he commands.

It hadn’t taken long for Thomas to discover that Charlie likes it when he takes the lead. While this is not the case in their day-to-day lives, in bed, Charlie likes to relinquish control. The more assertive Thomas becomes, the more Charlie surrenders.

Charlie bites down seductively on his plump bottom lip, then ever so slowly pulls at the towel until it falls to the floor. Thomas is not disappointed, rewarded with the rare opportunity of seeing Charlie in all his naked glory.

“Turn around,” he says, unbuttoning his own shirt and throwing it aside.

“Take off your undershirt first,” Charlie replies with a teasing smirk.

Thomas strips it off and unbuttons his trousers, too, so Charlie can see how hard he is. “Now turn,” he says more forcefully.

Charlie spins slowly, then looks back at him over his shoulder. “You like my ass, don’t ya?”

Thomas growls appreciatively. He adores Charlie’s ass. It’s round and full and firm. He longs to slap it and make it jiggle. “I love your beautiful ass. Now come here, my darling.”

Charlie walks to him and they kiss tenderly. Despite his body’s urgency, Thomas wants to take things slow. Being together like this is so rare, so he wants to savor every moment.

Charlie pushes Thomas’s trousers and briefs down, and then they are both naked. “Take me to bed, sweetheart,” Charlie whispers, already short of breath.

Thomas’s chest gives a mighty shudder. It’s the first time Charlie has called him that, and he already longs to hear it again.

He leads Charlie to the bed and they lie down, Thomas settling on top, a deep sigh rolling out of him as flesh meets flesh.

At first, they just gaze upon each other, Charlie’s fingertips dancing up and down his spine while Thomas takes inventory of every little thing that’s changed since the last time they were able to be like this.

“I wish it could always be this way,” he says. “Just the two of us. Together. In our own little place.”

Charlie cups Thomas’s face. “Don’t think about that now. Let’s just enjoy the time we got.”

Thomas nods, because Charlie is right, and they shouldn’t waste this time pondering what cannot be. He kisses Charlie again, sweeping his tongue across the seam of his mouth until Charlie opens for him.

They spend a long time like that, attached at the lips and writhing in each other’s arms, until Thomas is so aroused, he fears he will reach his climax before he even enters Charlie.

He knows they can go as many times as their bodies will permit, but he wants this first time to last and to be special.

It’s been four months since he’s been inside Charlie.

Waiting for his family to go away this weekend has been torturous.

Thomas makes his way down Charlie’s body, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he goes, then settles between strong, heated thighs.

He licks the length of Charlie’s arousal, then drops lower to his balls, and then lower still, tongue laving over that sensitive skin underneath.

Driven by his lust, Thomas continues pressing forward, trying something that has been on his mind for some time.

Grabbing Charlie behind the knees, he pushes his legs back and then goes even lower, swiping his heavy tongue over that place that gives Charlie so much pleasure.

The reaction is instant. Charlie shuffles away from him, sitting up with a look of utter horror on his face. “What the hell, Thomas! What are you doing?”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at Charlie, panting shallowly while he tries to put his behavior into words.

“It’s dirty, Tommy,” Charlie says sternly when no answer is forthcoming. “It’s—you could get sick or somethin’.”

“You had a shower and washed, didn’t you?” he challenges.

“Yeah, but it’s—it’s wrong! It’s filthy to put your mouth, your tongue . . . there!”

Thomas feels himself flush right up to the roots of his hair.

“It’s not wrong,” he protests, feeling defensive and a little peeved.

“You’re beautiful. And clean. You smell like soap and .

. . you. And I want to. Don’t make me feel like I’m perverted.

Let me try, and if it feels awful, I promise I’ll stop.

But if my dick feels nice inside you, and my fingers, maybe this will, too. ”

He grabs Charlie’s legs and slides him back down the bed, but before he can get back into position, Charlie is gripping him by the wrist.

“Thomas, stop. I don’t—” Charlie’s eyes dart away. “I’m scared that . . . you know, what happened last time . . .”

Thomas was wondering when this would resurface and cause problems. “Charlie, we talked about that, and you know I don’t care.

It’s a risk we have to accept.” Charlie throws himself back against the mattress with a groan at that and tries to cover his face with an arm, but Thomas quickly grabs his hand and laces their fingers together, not letting him hide.

“We cleaned it up—no harm, no foul. I know you felt embarrassed, but you shouldn’t—we’re in this together, right?

Besides, when we’re old, I’ll have to wipe the shit off your ass for you, anyway.

And you better do the same for me!” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Charlie scowls at him, face tomato red and clearly still unconvinced.

“Charlie, it won’t happen,” Thomas says, trying once more. “We figured it out. No sex first thing in the morning until you’ve cleared the pipes. And it’s nighttime now. Unless you feel like you need to—”

“No!” Charlie quickly cuts him off, indignant.

“Well then stop talking and let me try. Just relax, please? Lay back and close your eyes.”

Charlie gives him one last look but then finally settles back on the pillow. This time when he places his hands over his face, Thomas lets him. He wants to laugh. It’s so adorable.

Getting into a comfortable position, he questions, briefly, if maybe he is perverted to consider putting his mouth there.

But he thought about it a lot the last time they had a weekend together, and he’s fantasized about doing it ever since.

He puts his dick in there, his fingers, too.

He puts Charlie’s dick inside his mouth.

He swallows Charlie’s release. He tastes his own seed on Charlie’s tongue.

It all sounds dirty, but it all feels good.

Refusing to waste another second with his stupid thoughts, he spreads Charlie wide and drags his tongue slowly over Charlie’s hole.

With no adverse reaction or sounds of protest this time, he uses the tip of his tongue and circles around the tight rim.

Charlie shudders then and lets out a sinful moan.

Thomas smiles, then licks in big sloppy strokes over the entrance, his own cock swelling back to full hardness.

“Oh fuck, Tommy. Oh Jesus—”

Thomas glances up to see Charlie’s head is thrown back, his mouth open wide and his hand teasing at his own nipples.

He hums contentedly and continues to lavish attention on Charlie, experimenting with small licks and sucking kisses and even pushing his tongue in a short ways which earns him a beautiful broken gasp.

Soon Charlie’s thighs are shaking around his head, and Thomas realizes he needs to move this along before it’s all over too soon.

Sitting up, he slaps Charlie on the ass and says, “On your knees.”

He helps Charlie maneuver himself into position, his body practically putty in Thomas’s hands.

Applying some Vaseline to his fingers, he pushes into Charlie’s hole to find that the pleasurable bump deep inside him is already swollen and pronounced.

Even though it’s been some time since they did this, Charlie’s eager body is soon ready for him.

Thomas will ask Charlie about it later, wondering if he’s been regularly pleasuring himself.

The thought tugs at something low in his belly and his cock throbs, a rush of precome pooling at the tip.

He takes himself in hand and spreads the wetness around Charlie’s hole before pressing inside with a low, guttural groan.

Thomas begins by thrusting slowly, purposefully avoiding that sensitive spot inside Charlie and pulling out several times, not only to prolong their pleasure but also to try out different positions now that they actually have the room to move.

He likes being positioned behind Charlie so he can grip his ass and watch himself move in and out of Charlie’s tight body.

He likes lying on top of Charlie so they can kiss and moan sweet words into each other’s mouths while he slowly sinks into him again and again.

And he discovers tonight that he really, really likes lying flat on his back with Charlie sitting astride him, rather like he’s riding a horse, a bit shy at first but then gaining confidence as he rolls and grinds and bounces his ass on Thomas’s cock until he brings them both to climax.

Later, when they’re wrapped in each other’s arms, he asks, “So, you enjoyed it, didn’t you? That thing I did at the start.”

Charlie’s face is tucked into the crook of his neck and he doesn’t answer.

“Charlie!” he says, tickling him under the ribs.

Charlie giggles and squirms.

“Say it. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Charlie mumbles, rather reluctantly, but Thomas can hear the smile in his voice and the heat of Charlie’s cheeks as he flushes.

“I enjoyed it too.” He tries to nuzzle his way closer. “Come here. Kiss me.”

“Hell no!” Charlie says, bolting upright. “You’re not kissing me with that filthy mouth, Thomas O’Reilly. Brush your teeth and wash your mouth out with soap, and then maybe you can kiss me.”

“You know we already kissed while we were making love,” he reminds him, grinning in challenge.

“Ugh, shut up,” Charlie groans, pushing at his face. “Tommy . . . just go.”

Thomas laughs but then obliges. It’s a small price to pay if it means getting to kiss Charlie until they fall asleep.

When they wake the following morning, they spend a lazy hour using their mouths on each other in bed and then go about pretending the O’Reilly house is theirs.

They cook breakfast and clean and even take a trip to the local butcher to pick up corned beef for dinner, stopping in at the bakery, too, for fresh rolls.

They hold hands listening to a radio show and eat dinner in the kitchen with their bare feet tangled together under the table.

They talk. They laugh. They fight over something silly, the fighting dissolving into roughhousing, and the roughhousing ending with Thomas bending Charlie over the formal dining table and taking him passionately from behind.

It thrills them both to do something so wild and reckless in the middle of the house, and Thomas thinks this must be what freedom feels like.

Late on Saturday night, after making love again in bed, Thomas lights some candles in the bathroom and draws them a bath.

Thomas is physically tired but deeply satisfied.

And he knows Charlie is sore, even if he won’t admit it, and he just wants to take care of him.

Lowering himself into the water, he holds out his hand and supports Charlie as he climbs in and settles between his legs.

It’s a tight fit, but it doesn’t take much encouragement to get Charlie to lay back against his chest and let his body relax.

Thomas takes the soap and washcloth, lathering it up and then washing Charlie’s chest in slow, soothing circles.

“Charlie?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you happy?”

Charlie hums again. “If I got to choose what heaven would be, this would be it. With you. Just a simple life.” Charlie tilts his head back for a kiss and Thomas happily obliges.

Thomas agrees, his mind wandering as he imagines them growing old together. “I don’t know what my life would be like if I hadn’t met you.” He speaks softly against Charlie’s temple. “Promise me we’ll always be together.”

Charlie takes hold of Thomas’s hands, threading their fingers together and resting them on his stomach. “I can promise you I’ll always want to be with you, but how long we can get away with this . . . I don’t know.”

The thought of losing Charlie almost brings Thomas to tears.

But the last thing he wants to do is spoil this perfect weekend.

Why does the world need to be so cruel, so unwilling to accept their kind of love?

Charlie thinks Thomas no longer struggles with who he is, but that’s not true.

Most Sundays these days Thomas refuses to attend church, but on those occasions when Bridget forces him to go, he spirals just as badly as that first time all those months ago.

He wants nothing more than to be free of his faith, but it clings to him like a parasite.

Thomas places a kiss on Charlie’s shoulder, then pulls him tighter to his chest. “If there was such a world where we could be married, would you marry me, Charlie Miller?”

Charlie reaches back and strokes a hand through his hair. “Sweetheart, you’re such a dreamer.”

“But is that a yes?”

Charlie turns in his arms, looking at him with glassy eyes. “Of course.”