Page 41 of Pages of My Heart

“I’ll tell you how it’s different. Back then I used to fantasize about it, and now I get to do it.

” Thomas strokes Charlie’s cock, words exchanged for breathless moans.

Charlie’s back arches beautifully against him.

“Mmm, you like that? Are you aching for me?” He tilts Charlie’s head back and captures his mouth in a heated kiss.

They quickly quit the tub, not bothering to towel off properly, and settle on their bed, Thomas covering Charlie’s body with his own.

“Charlie, tell me what you need.” Charlie bites down on his bottom lip, hesitation in his eyes. Thomas tries again. “Darling, I want to give you whatever you want. Don’t be afraid to tell me. Please . . .”

“I want it hard,” Charlie finally replies, face nervous and uncertain. “I want to feel it for days. I want to take some of you with me.”

Thomas is a little shocked, having expected just the opposite. It’s not like they don’t fuck hard from time to time, but he wonders if making love slowly would just be too painful, too raw. “I understand,” he says, smiling softly.

After lubricating them both, Thomas positions himself behind Charlie, who is waiting on his knees with his head lowered to the mattress. Caressing Charlie’s back, he guides himself in. With his emotions heightened, he’s almost glad Charlie has chosen this position.

“Hold my hips, Tommy. Hold ’em tight.”

Thomas grabs hold of Charlie’s narrow waist and thrusts, their bodies meeting time and time again with almost bruising force.

Charlie is his, and Charlie is life.

There is a mournful undertone in their moans and their words, and Thomas finds himself near exhaustion far quicker than usual.

“Charlie, I need you closer.” His voice forsakes him, the pain undeniable.

Thomas pulls Charlie up onto his knees, wrapping one arm around Charlie’s chest to support him and hold him tight against his own.

Charlie leans his head back on his shoulder, and they kiss passionately.

His hand wraps possessively around Charlie’s throat and he increases the speed of his hips, aware he cannot continue much longer.

Charlie’s breath suddenly shudders and then his body stiffens, signaling Thomas can let go, too.

They climax together, desperate cries emptied into each other’s mouths.

It’s almost too much, knowing they won’t have this anymore. That they won’t have each other.

Releasing inside Charlie is always pleasurable, but tonight it is tainted with the deep sorrow of impending loss.

A few hours later, after soft words and gentle hugs, they come together again.

It’s slow and sweet this time, with Charlie under him, held protectively in his arms. They can only gaze upon each other for so long before it becomes overwhelming, so they tuck their faces into the warmth of each other’s necks and try to gather the strength to continue.

“Tommy?” Charlie strokes a hand through his hair.

He kisses Charlie, then pulls back to find tearful blue eyes. “Yes, darling?”

“I love you. Please . . . please don’t forget me when I’m gone.”

Thomas loses his resolve and begins to cry. “Never. You’re a part of me, Charlie. I could never forget you. I love you so much . . . so much it hurts.”

Charlie’s tears roll down the sides of his face until they’re staining the pillow. “Me too . . . I’ll miss you every fuckin’ second.”

“I’ll miss you too, my love. Don’t cry.” Thomas takes his weight onto one elbow and brushes away Charlie’s tears before resuming the gentle roll of his hips. “No more sad words. Let it go and enjoy the time we have.” Thomas isn’t sure if his words are for Charlie or himself.

Charlie nods and pulls Thomas down into a kiss that is filled with promises that feel too tenuous to speak aloud. Their climaxes seem to stretch time itself, leaving them boneless and needing sleep, but they have made a pact to stay awake as long as possible.

Thomas lays down on his side and pulls Charlie into his arms, their faces almost touching. “Tell me again. What made you pick me at the club that night?”

Charlie huffs out a chuckle. “How many times can I tell you this story?”

“At least once more. Please.”

“Well”—Charlie shifts a bit, beginning to trace a pattern with the tips of his fingers up Thomas’s arm to his shoulder and back down again—“I’d been there about thirty minutes when you walked in the door.

I was sitting at a table in the corner, talkin’ to some boys I had met once before.

You looked scared and excited all at once, and I just knew it was your first time.

I watched the way you just stood there, gawking at all the other men, ’til finally you wised up and closed that big fly trap of yours,” he teases, and Thomas gently bumps their foreheads together.

“Then ya made your way over to the bar and took your hat off.”

Thomas smiles and squeezes Charlie’s ass—this is his favorite part of the story.

“I already thought you were handsome, but once I saw that red hair and got a good look at your sweet face, I was gone. But I was worried ya wouldn’t like me. I was shaking in my shoes the whole time.”

“But you seemed so confident and at ease.”

“All an act. I wanted you so badly. I’d never danced before that night, but I took ya for the dancing type and I guess I was right. If I remember correctly, you got a little excited.”

Thomas lightly slaps Charlie’s ass this time. “Stop teasing! I’d never danced with a man before. Let alone someone as handsome as you.”

“Yeah well, that hardness in your pocket gave me the courage to ask ya to take a walk with me. It really was love at first sight.”

“It really was.”

“Like we were meant to be.”

“Fated, like soulmates,” Thomas says, eyes fluttering closed.

Charlie pulls up the blanket that’s pooled at their feet, their bodies cooled now after their lovemaking. “That’s why I never felt whole ’til I met you, I guess.”

“I’m your other half,” he agrees, smiling.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Charlie murmurs, gently shaking Thomas’s shoulder.

“I won’t. I’m just resting my eyes.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you . . . too . . .”

Charlie

Charlie jerks awake at the shrill sound of the alarm clock and reaches out on instinct to slap it off.

“Charlie?” Thomas mumbles, pulling him back by the hips so that their bodies are flush once more.

Absolute dread washes over him as reality hits, and he feels Thomas’s body tense up behind him a second later.

“Shit—did we fall asleep? Is it six already?”

“Yeah.” He lays a delicate kiss to Thomas’s palm, too scared to turn around and see the heartbreak in his husband’s eyes.

He feels a distinct ache from their rough lovemaking and he’s glad for it.

It’s something he can take with him—a physical reminder of who he belongs to as the bus carries him away from home.

Thomas breathes heavy against the back of his neck, seemingly unwilling to let go of his tight hold.

This is worse than Charlie ever imagined.

How will they adjust to being apart when they have become so dependent upon one another?

They are only their true selves with each other, and only truly relaxed when alone in their home.

“Oh, Charlie—” Thomas’s voice breaks. The kiss he places on Charlie’s neck is almost a bite and Charlie’s breath shudders.

“Tommy, touch me,” he whines, dragging Thomas’s hand down to his groin and gasping when Thomas’s hand circles around his rapidly swelling cock.

“One more time. Please. I know you’re sore, but I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

Charlie reaches over to the nightstand and passes back the Vaseline. A moment later Thomas is bending his leg up and sliding inside him with ease.

“Kiss me, Charlie. Give me your lips.”

Charlie tilts his head back and looks into Thomas’s eyes for the first time since waking.

Tears fall almost immediately, before they can even bring their mouths together.

It’s as if Charlie’s body breaks, his muscles turning to dust. He’s utterly helpless in Thomas’s arms. Thomas’s lips quiver against his own and Charlie’s heart begins to fracture.

The mix of their sobs and moans is an unsettling combination.

Thomas’s thrusts are soothing and tender, but they quickly bring him to the unavoidable end.

“Now, sweetheart,” he breathes against Thomas’s mouth. They reach the crescendo together, Thomas’s tears wetting his face as they kiss and cling to each other.

Charlie allows Thomas to wash him in the shower, turning when instructed to do so, but otherwise just observing his husband’s determined effort to get the job done without further tears.

Thomas is so beautiful. More beautiful even than the day they first met.

He loves how Thomas has matured—how his jaw has widened, and his chest expanded, broad and muscular.

He loves his strong hands and elegant, long fingers.

He loves the curve of his shoulders and the brawn of his arms glistening under a hot summer’s day sun. He loves it all.

“Thank you,” he whispers as Thomas rinses the shampoo out of his hair, careful not to get any in his eyes.

Thomas presses a kiss to his forehead, then gathers Charlie into his arms. They remain pressed together until the water begins to run cold.

Once dry, Thomas insists on helping him dress, which they do in silence. They have forty minutes left before they have to leave for the bus station. Words become increasingly hard to find.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Thomas says.

“No. I can’t.”

“Charlie.”

Charlie shakes his head. There is no way he could keep anything down right now, the nausea in his stomach worsening with every passing minute.