Tom was about to open his mouth, to say it. To tell Frank why he’d hit him. To share his fears. Before he could, though, Frank cupped his cheeks and kissed him again, properly this time. Tom’s heart heaved a happy sigh at the sweetness of that mouth pressed to his. At the brushes of lips, the almost chaste exchange as they learned the shape of each other, how their lips fit together. It was familiar and strange and wonderful, and when Frank parted his lips, Tom flicked his tongue between, just once in a quick tease.
He felt Frank’s lips curve and couldn’t help grinning in response. Their kisses became pecks and near misses as smiles interfered with their ability to connect more deeply, as they nipped, touched tongues, and played. Played.
Oh, this! Tom could cry for the joy of this. This was what their first kiss should have been. Light and happy, yet full of expectation. The knowledge that this led to everything else burned a blissful path down through his middle. Anticipation tightened his gut. Around them, the frogs continued to sing in praise of their reunion.
Lips still connected to Frank’s, Tom got to his feet and straddled Frank’s thighs, sliding into his lap. Frank welcomed him with a hand to either side, gripping his ass and pulling him forward. Now high enough to look down at the face he’d never forgotten, Tom took time to pay homage to each feature all over again. Pale-ginger eyebrows and lashes, Frank’s almost button nose. His small, pink lips. Wide chin with a slight cleft between. The softening angle of his jaw. The pebble of one earlobe, then the other.
Frank’s hands traveled up and down Tom’s back. His hips seemed to undulate beneath him. Tom rode the wave, moving in with each crest until he was fused to Frank, until their mouths joined in the deeper kiss they both craved. Warmth touched Tom’s back as Frank delved beneath his shirt. Tom sighed at the spread of a broad hand over his spine, the way Frank pressed his thumb just there, over Tom’s hip, and traced up and down, as though he wanted to know every part of him.
Tom rocked forward, the heat in his groin hardening. The press of his zipper was uncomfortable, but pleasurably so. The strain over his thickening cock, another tease. He pushed a hand inside the collar of Frank’s shirt. Then, trailing a kiss downward, unbuttoned from the top, baring Frank’s chest while bending to kiss his collarbones. He scooted backward a little, opening a space between them. The hand at his back held him upright and steady. Tom left the rest of Frank’s shirt buttoned, but pulled it out of his pants so he could touch Frank’s hip, explore the softness of his stomach.
This was his Frank. Big and strong. Built for comfort, not speed. Tom wanted to be in bed with this man—enfolded in his arms and crushed up against his skin. His Frankie, his Frank.
Tom raised his chin, meeting Frank’s lips, and inched his fingers downward over the hard ridge beneath Frank’s belt and cupped Frank’s erection, squeezing gently. Frank moaned into his mouth. The kiss deepened again, becoming frenzied and breathless. Tom could feel his hips moving as he stroked Frank’s cock, catching the rhythm. He began tugging at Frank’s belt.
“Wait.” Frank’s breath was warm against his cheek.
Tom stilled his hand. “What’s up?” He hoped Frank wouldn’t ask him to stop. Tom had denied himself—them—this for so long.
Frank glanced around Tom’s shoulder, toward the water. “Someone might see us.”
Tom touched the side of Frank’s face and guided his gaze back to him. He smiled. Leaned in to kiss Frank’s worried frown. “Why do you think I brought you back here?”
Frank grinned. “You brought me to your hookup spot? I’m beyond flattered.”
“Fuck you.”
“I wish you would, but not here.”
Tom had Frank’s belt undone. He reached inside Frank’s pants, first tracing the outline of his cock through the cotton of his underwear, then easing the elastic away to expose him to the late-afternoon light. “Not here,” he agreed as he shuffled backward.
Frank let him go and Tom stood for long enough to nudge Frank’s legs apart.
“Pull your pants down a little,” he said, kneeling between Frank’s thighs.
“Oh God.”
What he was about to do might be foolhardy, but Tom didn’t care. He wanted this. Frank wanted it. And there was a certain poetry to doing it this way, out in the woods. As though he were making up for what he’d ruined. At eighteen, this might have been all they’d have managed. Furtive encounters somewhere off the beaten path. Quick and dirty fumbling behind locked doors. Their romance would have begun in secret and been all the more delicious for it.
Why not start that way now? Why not go back so they could go forward?
Tom licked his lips as Frank got his pants down to free a cock that was hard enough to poke a hole in the universe. Tom wrapped his hand around Frank’s shaft and squeezed, reveling in the firmness of flesh and the sheer pleasure of having a cock in his hand. Pre-come glistened in the shallow divot at the top, beckoning his tongue, and Tom bent to savor his first taste of Frank as a man. He swiped his tongue across the swollen head and smiled as he felt the pulse of need travel down through Frank’s cock and out into his thighs. The stiffening and relaxing that would soon become a roll of hips, then a thrust.
Frank put one hand on Tom’s shoulder. He braced the other on the bench. “This is going to be over very quickly,” he said, cheeks turning pink beneath his freckles.
“Been a while?” Tom murmured as he licked his way over the top and around the flare.
“Yes. And this might be a particular fantasy of mine.”
“Being sucked off in the woods.”
“By you.”
A couple of weeks ago, that admission would have sent a jolt of panic through Tom’s chest. Now he felt more of a thrill. Hadn’t he always wanted to be Frank’s fantasy?
Why did you let him go? a small voice whispered somewhere behind the spreading warmth of sex thoughts.
Not now, Tom chided. He bent to his task with enthusiasm and determination, wrapping his tongue around the glans before closing his lips and sucking downward, following his hand as far as he could. His fist nested into the folds of Frank’s underwear and slacks, exposing a goodly length of firm, hot flesh. Tom savored his way down and up again. Down and up. It’d been a while since he’d given a blowjob, but he’d always liked doing it. Having a cock of his own made it easier. He knew where to squeeze, how to use his teeth—ever so gently—and what to do with his tongue.
After a short while, Frank’s hips began to tremble. He didn’t buck, though he used the hand at Tom’s shoulder to keep pace, pushing as Tom sank down over his cock, gripping as Tom rose back up.
And he was making noise. Breathing harshly, muttering curses. Groaning, calling Tom’s name in a soft patter of repetition: “Tom, Tom, Tom . . . Oh, God, Tommy.” The sound of his voice joined that thrill seeping beneath Tom’s skin. To know Frank wanted him this much. To know he wasn’t just some random dude attached to the end of Frank’s dick. This was him. This was them.
This was how it always should have been.
Inside his own pants, Tom’s cock came along for the ride. The friction of his movement wasn’t perfect, and he could do without a zip pressing into the side of his shaft, but . . . Man, he could come from this, without touching himself. By rubbing the inside of his boxers and jeans. By sucking Frank’s cock.
Frank jerked forward, his hand tightening on Tom’s shoulder. “So close,” he hissed.
Nodding slightly, Tom sucked his way back down. He fumbled with the tangle of material beneath Frank’s cock. Frank’s balls were trapped in there. He’d loved to have sucked on them and played with them. Next time.
Frank stiffened, jerked, and stiffened again. He pushed at Tom’s shoulder, but Tom remained where he was, resolute. He wanted all of Frank. Hot semen hit the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat, and he swallowed reflexively and then eagerly. Felt the release in his own groin and the quick pulse of his climax.
Tom kept moving his hand, with the ebb and flow of Frank’s peak, and grinned around his mouthful at the shout that echoed back across the lake, silencing the frogs for a single, golden moment. He sucked until Frank fell almost limp. Then Tom licked his lips, rocked back onto his heels, and glanced up.
Frank looked wrecked. As though he’d run a marathon only to fall across the finish line. His chest heaved, pushing his broad shoulders up and down. Sweat dampened the hair over his forehead, almost darkening it to orange. Almost. His eyes were closed, his cheeks pale but for a flush of pink. Grinning, Tom grabbed a hold of Frank’s shoulders and hauled himself up high enough to kiss slack lips. Frank’s eyes fluttered open. He focused on Tom, smiled loosely, and pulled Tom into his lap. Closer, then closer still, crushing Tom against his chest.
Where he belonged.
Tom put his head to Frank’s shoulder. Could smell the sweat on his skin, feel the warmth of him beneath the damp linen of his shirt. The scent of semen and forest and Frank was so right, it put a lump in his throat.
Eventually, after a period of forever, Frank eased him backward. Hands to Tom’s shoulders, he looked up into Tom’s face. “How are you doing?”
“I came in my jeans.”
Frank laughed. “Really?”
“Mm-hmm. I’d been waiting a long, long time.”
Frank’s smiled shortened into something sweet and light. “I can’t believe we fooled around in the woods. At our age.”
“You’re only as old as you feel, and right now, I feel about twenty. Or I will until I stand up and remember I was on my knees for about half an hour.”
“Not that long.”
“Time passes quickly when you’re having fun.”
“You certainly were. You’re, ah, very good at sucking cock.”
Tom grinned. “I like doing it.”
“Marry me.”
Laughing softly against the fear squeezing his lungs, Tom eased himself out of Frank’s lap. “Maybe we should see how the rest of it works first.”
He cut a sideways glance at Frank and caught an expression that pretty much summed up how he felt. Frank’s face showed the utter contentment that always followed a mind-blowing orgasm. His eyes glowed with fondness. Beneath all of that, though, was a sort of truth.
They weren’t messing around here. They were, but not as teenagers. Sure, they might be recapturing their youth. But if the rest of it did work, then this could be it for them. A place to rest their forevers. The thought scared him spitless. But right now, as he gazed into Frank’s light-brown eyes, Tom felt more welcome than scared, as though Frank had opened a door that only he had the key to and was saying, Come on in. Stay a while.
And Tom wanted to stay forever.