The Easiest Thing
Fandom: Vertical Limit/Lunch With Charles
Category/Rated: NC17
Year/Length: 2000/~5938 words
Pairing: Tom McLaren/Matthew
Disclaimer: They're not our characters and we've made no money with this little story.
Summary: Tom needs something from Matthew.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Teri and Sebastian for the Beta.
Okay, this is... odd. Silently, I watch as he prowls around my living room. I am NOT noticing how gracefully he moves. Just like I'm not noticing how turned on I am by his presence.
Nope. Not noticing anything of the kind.
This isn't the first time, and I'm quite sure it won't be the last. He tends to do this. Not often, once or twice a year, maybe. Just, whenever things get to be too much for him and he needs to let off steam... he appears at my door.
Oddly enough, I'd never thought that acting as a pressure-relief valve was exactly in my job description. Well, okay - maybe this isn't all work related. I mean, we do work together - but we're friends, too. I suppose that, as a friend, being here for him at these times is an important aspect of our relationship.
Besides, I'm horny as hell. And I know that once he's paced around, arguing with himself in tense silence, he'll jump my bones. He won't allow me to do anything but accept him - his touch, his need, his desire...
Which is fine by me, I suppose. I mean, I'm not exactly the submissive type by nature - but, for him, I can get with the program a couple of times a year. And, I know - I just KNOW that some day it'll be my turn.
He sighs heavily and turns to meet my eyes, damn near burning me with the intensity of his gaze.
"Why don't you come and sit down, Tom?" I ask, as he passes me by on what must be his 59th lap of the room. "You can tell me all about what you want me to do once you've settled on a perch."
My place isn't particularly large, and it sure as hell isn't well kept. It used to be a Bed and Breakfast in the before, but now it's just a shack, and I don't spend much time here. Still, in the summer you couldn't wish for a prettier place than Princeton, so I'm here between assignments, recharging my batteries, and here's Tom, pacing around, barely avoiding knocking things over in his restless quest.
He frowns at me fiercely, then sighs. "Sorry, I'm a little keyed up."
Uh huh. That much I figured out on my own, thank you. "I can see that," I say quietly. Hell, I'm not an idiot - no need to add to whatever is bothering him so much. "C'mon, sit down here with me. Tell me what's up."
After another restless trip around the room, he finally comes to sit on the couch with me. Then he starts to fidget. He's twisting his fingers together, straightening the hem of his sweater, pulling at the leg of his jeans. The man's restlessness just rolls off of him in waves, battering at my admittedly shaky composure.
"Tom, what IS the problem? What do you want?" I finally ask, exasperation not very well hidden.
He hunches his shoulders for a moment, then tucks one leg under the other, turning to face me. "I need your help with something."
He needs help. That's progress. I stand up myself and cross to the stove where the pot containing my specialty - vegan chili - is happily burning. Cursing, I pull it off the heat and stir, raising the lid to see whether or not it's salvageable, and turn to Tom.
"Want some chili? It's a one-time offer." I'm grinning as I say it, and he looks at me as though trying to decide whether or not I'm for real. Finally he nods and thanks me.
Slopping the stuff into bowls, I place them on the table before grabbing a loaf that I've just taken from the oven. I turn then, to beckon him over. He comes, his movements jerky as he walks, and I just have to know what's eating him. Something is really wrong. He isn't usually this wound up.
After Tom spends an inordinate amount of time breaking his slice of bread into minute pieces and scattering them all over the table, the floor and himself, I sigh and set my spoon aside. I had kind of hoped that the simple normalcy of sitting at a table and eating might calm him a little. Wrong again.
"Tom," I finally say in a quiet tone, "tell me what's wrong? You're starting to make ME nervous now with all this fidgeting."
Damned if he doesn't shove away from the table, rise to his feet and start pacing again. I watch him for a couple of minutes, then, just as he's passing the table, I rise and step in front of him, blocking his progress.
"Okay, Tom. This stops here. What the hell is the matter? Come on." I grab his shoulders and lean forward to get in his face. "I can't think with you fidgeting as though you're on speed or something. Tell me what the problem is, or get that bug out of your ass as fast as you can."
"Matthew," he says, hesitantly. "I have to go back, and I'm scared shitless. I nearly died up there. A whole bunch of people did die, and I know that the third time will pay for all. She's waiting for me. She wants me, but I have to go. Will you come with me? If I'm going to die, I want the world to know the truth about what happened up there on K2. You're the reporter. Come with me and tell them the truth when I die?"
As he finishes speaking, all the fidgets seem to disappear from him; he permits me to lead him back to the table and his now cold, burned, vegan chili. Picking up the spoon, he begins eating in an abstracted manner.
I have to admit, I've been expecting some kind of fallout from the K2 disaster. Tom's not a talker, you see. He buries things very deeply - and something like this... well, I'd actually thought it would take a little more time before he'd admit to himself, much less ME, how badly the whole thing had spooked him.
While watching him eat, I'm wondering just how to handle this. Also, I'm trying to come to terms with his fear - with the fact that he's actually admitted his fear aloud. That's just not Tom. Not the Tom I know, at any rate. Sure, he's as superstitious as the next guy on the mountain, but he NEVER talks about it. Not to me, anyway.
"Well?"
I jump, startled when he suddenly speaks. He's consumed as much chili as he's gonna eat apparently, and is leaning forward, eyes fixed on me. He looks scared. Hesitant. Unsure of himself. None of the three are expressions I'd ever thought to see on his face.
"Of course I'll go with you, Tom," I hastily assure him. "I don't have any assignments coming up - when did you want to do this?"
"Want? I don't want to. I'd rather do pretty much anything than go back up K2, but if I have to, then the sooner, the better. How does June 15 sound to you? That way we should get the benefit of whatever good weather there might be." Tom's eyes are seeing ghosts, and I can't help feeling that whatever is driving him is going to end in tragedy.
"What's up there, Tom? Why do you need to go?" I move my hand to cover his, and he comes back to reality with a jolt that I can see despite his thick sweater.
"It's money, Matthew. I really need it, and it's a ton of money. A million dollars with a bonus if we get to the summit. I have to, don't you see?"
Rolling my eyes, I look around at the place I call home. Shaking my head at him, I start to clear away the debris from our meal. "Look at this place, Tom. It may be a shack, but I'm comfortable here. What would I do with a million dollars?"
He shrugs. "I don't know, Matthew. Surely you want something - need something?"
"Not really. I have what I need. More stuff is just that - more stuff. But," I tighten my hold on his hand as he shifts his weight, looking as if he's about to start with the laps again, "none the less, I WILL go with you. If you're determined to do this, I'll be there."
Apparently I've said the right thing, because he lets just a little of that awful tension slip away and remains seated.
"Thank you," he finally murmurs after a moment of strained silence. "I... really do need you with me on this one."
Okay, so we've settled that. What next, I wonder as he studiously avoids my gaze. "Is there more?" I ask him in a carefully calm tone.
Clearing his throat, he studies the tabletop with utmost attention. "I um - I need..."
Ah. This I can handle. This I know. Not a problem.
Moving across to where he is sitting, I stand behind him and put my hands on his shoulders.
"My God, man, you're so tense." I start to massage him then, digging my thumbs into the tense traps, working at the muscles as I go. He resists me at first and then at last gives a sigh and starts to relax. I concentrate on helping him to loosen up for a long while, until finally I'm satisfied that he won't crack if I touch him, then I lean over to kiss his mouth.
"Got any other tension you need relieving?" I ask, guilelessly.
He takes one of my hands in his in a tight hold. "Matthew," he says in an uncharacteristically tentative way, "I want something different tonight. I need you to... um, Ineedyoutofuckme." He pauses, swallows heavily then tilts his head back to meet my eyes. "Can you do that for me?"
Yeah, sure. As soon as my heart starts beating again. Damn. I knew my day would come - but he's caught me by surprise here. It's almost overwhelming, to have him actually admit that he needs me - not so much on the mountain, but in bed. In HIM. I'm speechless for several beats, desperately trying to quash the inner voice urging me to bend him over the table and fuck him silly right here and now.
Finally, I get my breathing under control and raise one shaking hand to cup his jaw. "Anything you need, Tom. Surely you know that much by now."
Right answer again. With a moaning sigh, he leans back, resting his head against my stomach. I stand quietly, caressing his hair, his face, trying to tell him without words how much his trust affects me - reassuring him that I WILL take care of him.
He and I go back a long way together. We're both travelers, both driven to explore, and we both have a burning urge to go to the furthest uncharted reaches of the globe. That's what first brought us together. We could be brothers. He's a little older, a little quieter, not as comfortable with people as I am, but he's intense - a burning flame that fills me with a light that only extinguishes when he leaves my side - and of course, he does that all too often. He and I have been lovers from time to time, but before he's never needed me. Now he does, and I wonder precisely what has changed.
I won't ask him that directly though. That would send him screaming from my presence, I know. Instead, I slide my hands down from where they rest on his shoulders, over his pectorals, and down to the edge of his sweater. I take the hem and pull it up, and unbidden he raises his arms for me to lift it over his head. Again my hands stroke down to find and raise the hem of his T-shirt, which goes the way of the sweater, and I stoop to caress his chest, lick his shoulder, then bite gently as my fingers work his nipples.
He's always been rough and abrupt in our lovemaking, and I prefer to spin it out. He's asked me to do him, and if he wants that, then tonight he's going to take it the way that I want to dish it out. My mouth slides over smooth skin to reach bristly neck, rough jaw, and finally lips that part beneath mine, soft as petals 'til I press in against him, and then firm against his teeth.
I can't stop touching him, can't keep my hands off him, and all the while he sits and takes it from me. It makes me shiver with lust that he's mine at last.
"Bed," I suggest in a rough voice. "I want you spread out naked while I taste every part of you."
He shivers.
"And I will, Tom. Every single square inch of your body will feel my tongue."
I hear a catch in his breath as my words sink in. Unsteadily, he rises to his feet and we head into the bedroom. There, he pauses, waiting for instruction. He's given himself over to me completely now and it's all I can do NOT to jump for joy.
Carefully, slowly, I remove his clothing, caressing each bit of revealed skin. I'm almost light-headed with the fierceness of my need - he's never allowed me such freedom with his body and it's so fucking overwhelming that I'm perilously close to orgasm right this moment.
I close my eyes for a moment, calling on my control. I will do this right. I will give him what he needs. I can do no less.
Gently, I guide him over to the bed and lay him back against the pillows. He watches relaxed as I quickly divest myself of clothing and join him.
I grab some massage oil. It's scented with sandalwood and ambergris, and when I pour it into my hands the sweet scent fills the room. He stirs then, and starts to complain.
"Fuck, if you use that on me I'm gonna smell like a Turkish brothel," he says.
"And how the fuck do you know that, Tom McLaren?" I ask with a grin, earning muttered grumbles that stop when I straddle him and begin to massage his chest, feeling for the tension and working the little knots loose.
"God, that feels good. If I'd have known that you were this good, I'd have offered you a job years ago." He gives a yelp then as I tweak his nipple again, and then a groan as I move slightly against his erect penis to draw the contact there to his attention.
"Quiet, Tom. This is my show, right?" I slap his chest lightly to indicate that I'm done with it, and tell him to turn over. He does so eagerly, no doubt expecting me to resume my massage, and I do - only this time I'm concentrating on his round haunches, kneading, massaging, spreading them wide so that I can run my fingers down the groove between them. He writhes, spreading his legs wide as I work, and I can see the tight, velvety balls between his thighs.
Looking at him is making me lightheaded. Bending forward at last, I begin to make good my promise, licking and nibbling at the sturdy frame that lies at my mercy.
I start at his shoulders, paying attention to the nape of his neck and seeing him shiver as I lie along him, my dick tucked into the crevice between those beautiful buttocks of his. He wriggles, and I tell him no. Not yet. I'm nowhere near ready to get down to the nitty-gritty just yet. I continue on my slow way down his body, until I reach his butt. I kiss it, and then skip down to his feet, much to his vocal distress. That makes me laugh, and I slap him again.
"You just wait. You're gonna get what you need, but not until I'm ready to give it to you. Christ, Tom, I've waited so long for this. Think that I'm gonna let you off the hook?"
He groans pitifully, but I'm determined that this time, this night, things will move at my pace. I lean forward and whisper in his ear, "I told you, Tom, I am going to taste every part of you, touch every part of you - so you just lay there and enjoy." He shivers as my words fall softly into the silence of the bedroom.
So, I move back down to his legs, which, by the way, are works of art. There's no other description that could possibly do them justice. Long and leanly muscled, with only the lightest scattering of soft hair along their length. Tasting, nibbling lightly, tracing the line of the muscles that support him, I'm in heaven. I find the backs of his knees to be particularly sensitive and spend long minutes there, laving the delicate skin, teasingly pulling at it with my lips. And he seems to be having a pretty enjoyable time of it. In fact, my head lifts and I study him, suspicious at the fairly rhythmic movements of his hips.
"Oh no you don't!" I complain, as I rise to my knees. "This is my show, Tom, and you're just gonna have to wait until I'm ready to let you come. No cheating." I grasp his hips in my hands and urge him up to his knees, head and chest still on the bed. "You stay like this now."
He reaches for a pillow to put under his hips and I slap his hand away. "Nope, you'll just have to hold yourself up."
He mumbles something uncomplimentary into the mattress.
I now realize that I'm going to have to work harder. If he can still talk, and be sneaky enough to try getting himself off first on the mattress and then on a pillow - well, I'm doing something wrong, because I WILL take away his ability to think or talk before I'm done.
Caressing his back and haunches with wide strokes of my hands, I slowly zero in on my next target. Time to turn up the heat a little, I think. Holding his hips with both hands, I lean down to nuzzle his ass cheeks. After a thorough investigation of the area, I allow my tongue to delve into his crack and slide wetly all along its length.
He shouts and tries to surge forward, away from the unexpected touch. I'm not having any of that, though. Nope. I've wanted this for way too long to allow any interference. "Hold still, Tom. Just let me-"
He draws in a deep breath. "What are you... ? I... no one ever..."
Things are looking very good now. Not only is his coherency deserting him, but I've managed to find something he's never experienced before. I had suspected this might be the case - he's never put his mouth anywhere near my asshole.
"Tom, I promise you, you're gonna love this. Really, you will," I assure him. "Just relax and let me take care of you, let me show you."
Not giving him time to answer me, I open my mouth and let my tongue flutter over his anus with the lightest of touches.
There's a pause, during which I hold him steady, knowing that his body is getting a kick out of what I'm doing from the frantic trembling I can feel. Then he groans. His voice is husky, sinful, desperate, and I can feel my own excitement surge because of it. He's pushing back against my tongue, and that's good. I stiffen it and stab him with it, tasting his flesh and knowing that he's never known this from anyone before me.
That thought is so empowering, so exciting, that I'm shaking a little myself as I slide my hands around to cup his ass cheeks and pull them apart so that nothing is hidden - his very core is exposed to me, for me to caress as I choose.
I can hear his breathing - gasping little breaths that make me crazy. I want to turn him around and kiss that breath out of his body, but I continue to tease him while he gets louder, first gasps, then moans, then pleas, indistinct and articulate. He's mine in a way that he's never been before. In a way that nobody has ever had him.
At last, I think he's going to go mad. I move down to lap at his balls, feeling the skin creep and tighten beneath my tongue. This is so good that I want to hold it to me forever. His body jitters beneath my steadying fingers, and his voice rises again in complaints and curses that are almost incoherent. That makes me smile - then laugh out loud and finally, I roll him over to lie on his back.
"Now you can have that pillow beneath your hips," I say, sweetly, raising his butt to insert the pillow under discussion. His response is an expletive that shocks me. "Why Tom, my love, what a frightfully bad case of toilet mouth you have." As I speak, I'm running my hands along the twin grooves that separate his torso from his thighs, parting his legs, raising his knees so that once more he's exposed to me.
"Do you know just how beautiful you are, my Thomas? Do you know how much I've wanted to see you like this? How much I've wanted to taste you?" He doesn't answer, but his eyes are glassy, clouded with the need I've invoked in him. He's gorgeous. I've always known it, but never before the way that I know it now with him laid out for my pleasure like a banquet.
Slowly, I lean forward to taste the tip of his cock. His taste is salty, a little sour, and totally addictive. His scent reaches my nostrils causing me to make my own small sounds of arousal. He's everything... so like me at first appearance, and yet so different. Tom is the quiet, focused man that I could never be. Tom sees something he wants, and takes it. I get lost in the minutiae of detail surrounding what I want, and find that it's moved out of my reach as often as not.
But not this time. I want him, and he's right here within my grasp. So I grasp him and carry his dick to my mouth, sucking hard on the tip until I feel the start of his orgasm. That won't do. I squeeze hard to defer it and he calls me another bad name, which makes me laugh.
"Okay, Tom. This is it. You're gonna get what you deserve."
Reaching over to the bedside table, I grab a condom and lube. Smiling at the groan he emits when he sees these items, I hand him the condom. "Put it on me," I say in a husky voice. "Get me ready for you."
He freezes for a moment, eyes wide. I've never spoken to him this way - never been so demanding of him. Then his eyelids droop to half-mast and he opens the foil packet with shaking hands.
I wonder if he's ever taken the submissive role with anyone...
On my knees, I crawl up to straddle his chest, giving him an eyeful of my hardened cock. "C'mon, Tom - do it."
He does. And - damn! - the feel of his trembling hands on me is amazing. I have to breathe deeply and push my overwhelming need to come right then and there, back down deep inside of me. Control, Matthew, control. This chance may never roll around again and I have every intention of enjoying this to the fullest.
Condom on, Tom reaches for the lube. I grab it from his hand. "No. I'll do that - you... you get yourself ready. I want to watch."
As I watch, he leans forward, craning his neck to kiss the tip of my cock. The sight does things to me; causes a swooping, melting feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I can feel the moisture ooze from me. "Hurry," I say. "I want you. Slick yourself, Tom."
He closes his eyes, looks away, and I can see the rising tide of crimson creep across his chest and up to stain his face. Well, look at that. I've embarrassed him. I reach to touch his face and pull it back so he can see me. "Look at me, Tom. It's me. I'm going to make love to you. Don't shut me out."
With a long, shuddering sigh, he opens his pretty eyes, staring defiantly into mine. Then, after a moment, he scoops up some of the lube and reaches down to feel between his parted thighs. My heart is pounding, my mouth dry; I gasp, weak with need, seeing his submission
He's nervous, diffident. I can tell that he's feeling strange about this, and for a moment I feel my own set of nerves, but then as I look at him, I know that I want him - have always wanted him like this - and my desire suddenly hits me with full force, a creeping glow that starts in the small of my back and sets me shuddering.
I can't wait any longer. It would be so fucking sad if I were to come like this, all suited up and ready, just from watching him. I stoop, kiss him hard and fast, and then climb back between his knees. This is it. I'm about to fuck him. God, how I love him.
And where did that thought come from? I've never allowed myself to dwell on the 'L' word before. Damn it to hell. I'm totally screwed. With that thought, I drive inside him. No messing around, no preparation, I just want to possess him.
He winces under my assault and tenses. Oh shit! God, don't tell me he's never done this before. Panting, I hold myself still and reach up to caress his face.
"Tom," I murmur. "You HAVE done this before... haven't you?"
Amazingly, his blush deepens. "No," he replies in a low voice, "I haven't. Never wanted to - before."
Damn!
FUCK!
Okay... okay, we can get through this. "Okay, just... just try to relax - it won't hurt for long - give your body a moment to adjust."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
"That's good," I soothe. "Take it easy - I won't move until you tell me you're ready."
Suddenly, his eyes open again and he stares up at me; I see how hard he's trying to do as I've asked and decide to distract him for a moment. With one hand, I reach down and lightly caress his cock while lowering my lips to nibble at his lips.
"Oh, Tom... you feel so good - tight and hot and... " YES! I feel the muscles start to relax, accept the intrusion of my erection.
He writhes - I mean he really writhes under my touch, and whispers something I don't quite catch. There's a fierce look about him. Even as I watch, my own body tense and trembling with the effort of holding back, keeping myself from plunging against him in my effort to lose myself in his heat, he seems to find his center, and I feel the silky flesh that's enclosing me ripple around my cock.
"Oh, God," I moan, and he laughs. Maybe he's not been fucked before, but he's a fast learner. It feels as though he's hooked my orgasm with a stick and is drawing it inexorably out of me. I slap him gently. "Stop it! I'm in charge today. You can have your turn again later."
He laughs again, but he's still, panting breathlessly. After a moment, during which time I'm thinking of my multiplication tables, trying to stave off the approach of ecstasy by recalling what I've read about tantric sex, I can begin to get myself under control.
The jewel is in the lotus. Ommmm... The jewels are well and truly wanting to get into the lotus. I pull back, slide forward, and feel the heat of him. Oh, God. Ommm.
Panting myself, I start to fuck him.
And, oh God, the feel of him. The FEEL of his heat, his need... it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead and drip down onto his face.
Determined to make him come first, I close my eyes, shutting out the ecstatic expression on his face. Just seeing that look is threatening to bring me to crisis.
Groaning at my every thrust, Tom moves in counterpoint, arching his hips up towards me. His head is thrashing on the pillow, hair now standing up in all directions. And his eyes... he's mesmerizing me with those eyes - heavy and slumberous, the barest ring of green showing around his dilated pupils.
"Harder, Matthew!"
How can he talk at a time like this? The bastard. He knows - has known from the beginning what his voice does to me. I'll fix HIM. I adjust my angle and thrust into him again, aiming for his prostate.
He yells in surprised pleasure. "More... YES! Again!"
"You're a pushy bottom, you know that?" I gasp out, and then I let him have it. I don't think that I could stop if I tried. I can barely hold onto my own sense of identity as I lose myself in him - in his eyes, his voice, his delicious ass.
Plunging in and out of him, out of control and riding on a rising surge of pleasure that threatens to take my body and wring out any sense of self, I can hear my own voice. I'm saying things to him, things that I know I'll regret later. I can hear them, but I sure as hell can't stop them.
"Love you, Tom. Love you... Thank you for letting me... Oh, Tom, I love you so much."
And fuck! He's there with me, and his eyes are boring into mine, and his hand is reaching to touch my lips. He loves me too. He has to love me. If he doesn't, I think that I'll die.
My whole body is on fire. Tingles start in the backs of my thighs, and crawl upward to fill my balls with tingling pleasure. A snaking band of stark joy twines from the base of my spine up to invade my skull, and all I can do now is keep moving, keep on.
This is heaven, right here.
"I ... I love you too," he gasps.
Overcome by his words, I gasp, clench my teeth and fuck him with increasing force. His hands are clenched on my ass and his grunts have become needy whimpers. Of course, these sounds only serve to bring me ever closer to climax.
Okay - maybe *I* will come first - maybe I can manage to bring us to that ultimate peak together... To this end, I tighten my hand around his cock and jerk him in concert with my ever-increasing thrusts into his depths.
His breathing stutters momentarily and... I have him. His cock swells and his thighs tighten around my back. "I... I'm gonna-"
"Go for it, lover. Let me see you - give it to me!"
"You," he says, "You too. Together, Matthew." And the bastard clenches his anal muscles around me.
Too much. Shell-shocked, spiraling out of control, I feel myself turn liquid as he groans, and I groan, and all of a sudden I'm spilling, self lost somewhere in the void as I pour myself into him.
"Fuck it, Tom. You just... " I can't talk. All I can do is feel. In this instant he's all mine - there are no realities, no mountains to rob me of him. That's all I care about for now. Seconds later the throbbing of his cock in my hand and a wail that tears from his throat heralds his own orgasm. I fall to lie on him, holding him as tightly as I can whilst I relearn how to breathe.
"When do you want to head out?" I finally ask him, once I can speak again. We are both avoiding the things that we said. He won't meet my eyes, and I am full of jitters. Supposing he doesn't want me now. Supposing I frightened him off with my neediness? What can I do? I can't lose him now.
"Head out?"
Oh shit! Was this sex the real reason for coming to me this night? I mull this over for a nanosecond, then dismiss that thought. No, somehow his need to once again ascend the mountain has loosened something within him. He wanted me - needed me - in this way tonight.
Suddenly, I'm overcome with tenderness for him. Knowing that he's let me take the lead tonight brings a lump to my throat. His trust - the fact that *I* am the first is...
SHIT
For the very first time I realize that he really DID mean his words of love. As I did.
At last I feel recovered enough to rear up on my elbows. I move so that he can lie comfortably, and then drape myself over him, turn his face to me and place my lips to his.
"We are going to talk, Tom. We can't go on this way any more. I can't do it. I need more. I need to know where I'm going. I'm not comfortable when I don't know what to expect. Don't leave me hanging. I... I meant what I said a few minutes ago. I really love you. I think I always have." My lips are moving against his, and I can feel his breath against my mouth. My belly flutters in sympathy and I can't stop myself. I kiss him, lose myself in his mouth, his tongue stroking against mine.
His response is gratifying - gives me hope. Then he breaks off the kiss and veils his eyes. "I meant it, too. But-"
Uh oh. Holding my breath, I wait for him to continue.
"This is... I've never..." He sighs. "I don't know how to - how to have a relationship with a man, Matthew. 'm kinda scared, you know?"
I tighten my hold on him. "So am I - but I think we can muddle our way through this - learn together. I NEED you, Tom. And, I think you need me, too. Let's just take it one day at a time."
His eyes meet mine and he slowly nods.
"Okay, this is day one of the rest of our lives. Our life together." He smiles at me, and my heart lurches. That smile of his is something that I've longed to see trained my way. If he's got to go back up that fucking mountain then I suppose that he must, but now I will be with him every step of the way, and I've got the right to stand beside him. If it takes him, it will take me too. I tell him so, and earn a kiss.
Loving him is so easy. I believe, as I drift off into sleep, that it is perhaps the easiest, and the most natural thing that I have ever done.
The End
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