This is an idea that came to mind a few weeks ago for a pairing I haven't written before. I know a lot of people like Jake & Emmett so I hope you'll enjoy this one-shot. I might one day decide to make it into a chapter fic, but for the moment I haven't the time so I hope you'll like it for what it is :o)
The story is all human and rated M for adult scenes (slash). I'm writing from Jacob's point of view.
SHIPS IN THE NIGHT
I swung my legs up onto the sofa and slouched back against the cushions. The room was silent except for the hum of the filter in the aquarium and I considered switching on the television, but I already had my thoughts for company and I didn't want the distraction. I let out a heavy sigh and rubbed a hand over my face. When had it all started to go wrong? We had been together eight years and I couldn't really pinpoint it, although I knew it had got much worse since he had been promoted at work. He had been one of the sports teachers at the local comprehensive school for three years now and had been offered the Head of Department position, which involved longer hours, after-school clubs and organising games and matches with other school teams, most of which took place on the weekends.
We had already grown distant from each other by that point, but now we were like ships passing in the night. I rose before him to go to my job at the gym where I was a personal trainer and when I got home, I ate alone and spent most of my evening by myself. He was usually back by seven, but then he'd be exhausted from a day of chasing kids around the sports field and by the time he'd eaten something, all he wanted to do was lounge in front of the TV until bedtime. We still shared a bed, but he may as well not have been there for all the attention he showed me. I could barely remember the last time we had sex - it had certainly been months rather than weeks. It had got to the point where I didn't even think about it that much, viewing my morning erection as an inconvenience preventing me from taking a piss right away, instead of an opportunity for fun.
Sometimes the weekends were better, but more often than not they weren't. I had to work some weekends and so did he. It was rare that both of us had two days together and when we did, we invariably did our own thing rather than shared something. We didn't talk any more and I was sure I imagined the way he sometimes looked at me, apparently about to start talking, but then thought better of it. I knew I loved him and I hoped that he still loved me, but most of the time it seemed as if there was nothing there any more. We hardly shared anything and I didn't know how to put it right, or even if there was any point in trying. We drifted and I'd grown so used to being alone in the relationship that as I sat there, waiting for him to come back from a Friday night football match, I didn't even know if I wanted to try to change things.
With a sigh, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, realising it was still on silent mode after leaving the gym. I had received a text message earlier in the afternoon and I opened it in surprise. Usually the only person to text me was Mum, asking me when I would drop around for tea next and admonishing me for not calling more often. However, this text was the type I certainly didn't expect - it was an invitation to have coffee.
"A date?" I said aloud and almost laughed. It was so long since I'd been on a date that I could barely remember what to do. I'd certainly lost the ability to talk and flirt with a man. Why now? I felt a slight flutter in my stomach as I considered whether I should answer the text and if I should say 'yes, I'll meet you for coffee'. I supposed if I said no, I would always wonder whether I should have said yes, but if I did go, would it end up being a mistake?
"Emmett," I murmured. Really, what did I have to lose? It might be just what I needed. If he asked me out he must want something to happen and when I thought about it, I had to admit he was the hottest guy I knew. He was huge and muscular, his hair dark and eyes blue. But then I wavered again, unconvinced of my own appeal. Perhaps it really only would be coffee and some uncomfortable conversation that wouldn't lead anywhere. I chewed my lip and read the message again. Wasn't it worth a try? Decidedly I answered the text, agreeing to meet for coffee. The time suggested was for the following afternoon at a coffee shop not too far from home. For once I wasn't working on Saturday and I would have plenty of time to get ready and walk there.
I got up and made my way upstairs to the bathroom, looking at myself in the mirror, something I hadn't done for a long time except when I was shaving. I looked tired and a little sad, not the way a thirty-year-old man should look. It was time for me to do something about it and I tried giving my reflection a smile. Instantly I looked brighter and younger. I was lucky enough to have perfect teeth without ever having to have much dental work and physically I looked good from the gym. Smirking slightly, I flexed a bicep and pulled my shirt up a few inches to examine my six-pack. I got plenty of attention at the gym where I didn't want it and none at home where I did. Maybe things were about to change after all.
I was already in bed, drifting towards sleep when he came in. He and the other sports staff had gone to a bar after the football match and downed a few beers as they often did.
"Alright, Jake," he grunted as he slid into the other side of the bed.
"Good night?" I queried.
"Not bad. You?"
"Night." It was all he said and then he turned over and buried his face in the pillow the same as always. I let out a sigh as I thought about the text again. I had made up my mind to go - responded to accept the date - but still I couldn't help wondering if there was much point. I supposed the confidence I'd once had, had started to slip away over the months I'd begun to feel like a spare part.
I didn't really think I would sleep well, but when I next opened my eyes it was daylight and I was alone. I could hear sounds downstairs and then the door opened and closed and there was silence again. He would be going for a workout in the gym or perhaps a run. I stayed in bed for another half hour and then hauled myself up, had a shower and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt. I made coffee and toast and then busied myself with hoovering and dusting and cleaning the kitchen.
As the day wore on, I kept glancing at my watch and checking my phone, expecting another message from Emmett to say he'd changed his mind. I told myself I'd dreamed the text until I read it again and again - coffee at Liberace's, 3.30pm. There was no cancellation and an hour before, I had another quick scrub and put on a newer pair of jeans and a black shirt, making sure I had wallet and keys and my phone. Heavy footsteps were stomping around in the bathroom and I went to the front door and opened it.
"Going out!" I shouted.
"Yeah!" came the muffled response. He sounded as if he had a toothbrush in his mouth.
I closed the door behind me and walked briskly. The coffee shop was ten minutes away and it was only three o'clock, but I was nervous and wanted to get there before Emmett. I walked in and decided to buy myself a drink while I waited and I chose a favourite from the menu - mocha frappaccino accompanied by biscotti. In another minute I was seated at a corner table, sipping the icy beverage and glancing at my watch every thirty seconds. Would he even turn up? Was I kidding myself? The door jangled open again at three-twenty-five and he strode in, pausing to look around him and rather than go to the counter, he headed for my table.
"Do you want a refill?"
"Uh..." I glanced at the empty glass. "Yes, please, it's mocha frap."
"Mmm, I think I'll have that." He gave me a small grin and turned away again to go to the counter. I wiped my hands on my jeans under the table, feeling stupidly anxious as I stared at Emmett's back. He was wearing tight faded jeans and a dark blue shirt and I could see the bulge of a wallet in his back pocket, nestled against his butt. I let my gaze slip a little lower over muscular thighs and then back up to his massive shoulders. His shirt pulled tightly across them as he stretched an arm forward to give the waitress some money and I felt a slight stirring in my jeans for the first time in forever. Maybe this had been the right decision after all.
"Here you go." My drink appeared in front of me and he pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. "I wanted to do this for a while," he told me. "I suppose it took me a some time to pluck up the courage."
"You needed to pluck up the courage to ask me for coffee?" I said in surprise.
"I thought you might say no." Another small grin and then he sipped his drink.
"Well...um...I had to think about it," I admitted.
He nodded and took another drink. "How are things at home?"
I stared at him for a moment, considering what to say. His blue eyes held mine and he gave me an encouraging smile before dropping his gaze to the table.
"They've been better," I said. "That's why I came today. I suppose I think I've nothing to lose. I'm lonely."
"I've got an idea of what that feels like." His brow furrowed, but then he seemed to shake himself and smiled at me again. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about heavy stuff on a first date."
"You asked," I reminded him.
"You said first date?" I added, encouraged by the fact that he already seemed to be thinking about doing this again.
"Well, maybe if this goes well, we could have another one," he confirmed. "If you want. What would you like to do, after this?"
"I thought it was just coffee." I fiddled with the empty plate the biscotti had arrived on, tracing the blue rim around the edge with one finger. I didn't know what to say or how to act and I felt ridiculously awkward.
"I think I should have suggested beer instead." He chuckled softly. "It might loosen us up. Do you want to go to a pub? The one at the end of the High Street changed hands. I heard about it the other day. It's supposed to be pretty good."
"You mean The Haywain?" I asked, remembering the rundown country-style pub that I'd been to a handful of times a few years before, until its awful food and poor service began to lose customers by the dozen.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Okay." I gulped half of my frappuccino and grimaced as brain-freeze set in. Emmett laughed, rubbing his jaw as he suffered the same fate.
"Bloody things cost the earth, I don't want to waste it," he muttered.
"Yeah, I know. Four quid for a cold coffee." I pulled the door open and stepped outside with him following close behind. Suddenly things seemed a little easier and we strode along the street together, turned a corner and continued to the pub. We chatted about random things like the man on a bike wobbling precariously with a huge box balanced on his handlebars and the frustrated mother trying to calm a screaming baby in a pushchair while her toddler had a tantrum, loudly demanding sweets.
This time I bought the drinks, ordering two pints of Carling while Emmett found a table in a quiet corner. The pub had a much more modern look to it now and the number of people inside indicated it was already growing in popularity. I sat down beside Emmett rather than opposite and placed his beer in front of him. For a while we continued to talk about nothing serious - our jobs, the football match being shown on the screen mounted above the bar, our mutual love of performance cars. Emmett got up to fetch more beers after a while and sat down a little closer to me, his firm thigh touching mine. A shiver of desire ran through me and my eyes dropped to his leg. He was sitting with his thighs apart, the jeans hugging every inch of him, including the impressive bulge between his legs. It occurred to me that if he got hard right now, it would be as uncomfortable as hell.
"What are you looking at?" He nudged me with his elbow and smirked and foolishly I felt my face heat up.
"Sorry," I muttered and cursed myself for saying it. I should have been witty and confident - responded with 'your cock' or something of that nature.
"You're apologising for staring at my cock?" he said in a low voice. He lowered a hand to adjust his jeans and I noticed that he was now half hard. "Look what you're doing to me."
"Huh...it's been a long time," I responded.
"Maybe we could so something about that later." He leaned in closer so that he could speak directly into my ear. "Do you think the people in here will notice if...?" His hand came to rest on my thigh and stroked slowly up and down. Automatically I parted my legs as much as the small space between his thigh and the end of the bench would allow and his fingers dipped between them, an inch from my balls. Blood rushed to my groin and I rapidly hardened while I felt both surprise and delight at this development.
"God, Emmett," I hissed.
"Is this what you want?" he whispered. He was concentrating his stroking on my upper thigh now, letting his fingertips bump against me frustratingly lightly. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so achingly hard and I whimpered helplessly, hanging my head as he turned his hand and cupped me.
"We can't do this here," I said reluctantly.
"I know." He took his hand off. "I'm fucking aching now."
"Not surprised, couldn't you find any tighter jeans?" I teased.
"Maybe I can convince you to take them off later." The tip of his tongue touched my earlobe and I shivered, but then he pulled away and put a small gap between us. "Do you want to get something to eat while we're here? I haven't had much all day."
"Me neither," I said. "Only toast and a biscotti in the coffee shop."
"Looks like they serve food all day." He indicated a member of staff carrying two plates loaded with steak and chips to another table.
I quickly realised I was starving and the thought took my attention away from the tightness in my jeans, at least a little. "I could murder a steak," I agreed.
"Me too. Shall I order?"
"Yes, please, I'll have mine rare."
"I could just go out and kill a cow if you like," he grinned. "It has to be well done to be edible."
"You mean cremated."
"Each to their own, although I don't mind a bit of raw meat on occasion." His eyes shifted down my body briefly before he slid out from behind the table and headed for the bar, pulling the untucked shirt down to cover his arousal. I leaned back in the seat and adjusted myself, amazed by the way things were going. I had really only expected coffee and talk and from the way things had started, I had thought an awkward half hour would be all this was. Now we were about to have a meal together and it seemed like there would be developments afterwards. Would he want to touch me? Have sex?
Immediately I pictured us alone together, naked, all those delicious muscles popping as he held himself above me and drove his cock into my ass. It had been so long that it would hurt like hell. I'd feel almost like a virgin again. My erection twitched and leaked a little into my shorts and I bit my lip to suppress a groan. I didn't want to think about later or tomorrow or anything after these few hours. I meant to enjoy every second and worry about it afterwards.
Emmett returned a few minutes later, tucking his wallet away and reporting that the food would be about twenty minutes. He sat down close to me again and stretched his arm along the back of the bench behind me. "Is this okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." I glanced around at the nearest groups of people and other than a pair of girls who looked too young to be in a pub, no one was even looking at us. We sat close together, chatting easily as we waited for the food and gradually my erection subsided, at least to half mast. I tried not to think about it, but no matter what the subject we discussed, even when the steaks arrived and I began to eat, my cock stayed stubbornly firm.
We stayed another hour and drank more beer after the meal and I began to wonder if the flirting earlier had really meant anything. Emmett wasn't sitting so close to me now and I'd glanced at his crotch a few times, establishing that he wasn't turned on. In response, my cock had finally shrunk and I felt disappointed, until suddenly he got to his feet and I looked up quickly.
"I'm going for a piss. Do you want to get out of here then?"
"Yes," I said in relief. I got up and hovered by the door while I waited for him to come out of the gents and then we set off at a brisk walk. We didn't talk much as we strode along and I rolled down my shirt sleeves, feeling chilled and wishing I'd worn a jacket. It was almost dark and I felt nervous again, wondering if things really would return to the stage we'd got to in the pub. Did he want me?
He had his keys in his hand as we walked up to the door of the semi-detached house and he opened the door quickly, then surprisingly stepped back to let me enter first. I took a couple of steps down the hall and then paused, unsure where to go. I didn't know what he had in mind and I stood there, heart hammering as he closed the door and moved closer to me.
"Do you want some coffee or anything?"
"No, not really," I answered.
"You don't want...anything?" A large hand came to rest on my side just above the waistband of my jeans and I felt the heat of it through my shirt.
"Well..." I licked my lips. "I want...you."
"Do you? It wasn't just the beer, or the situation, or...?"
"No." I shook my head firmly. "I want you to fuck me," I said.
"Shit." The word hissed out and then his mouth covered mine. He didn't lead into it with tentative brushes of lips. Instead his warm lips crushed mine against my teeth and his tongue plunged between them, licking against my own while a large arm snaked around my body and held me tight against his. I immediately felt he was hard again and my cock grew rapidly, straining against my fly and aching for contact with his. I moaned into the kiss and clutched at him, gyrating my hips to gain friction. He began to move us then, shuffling sideways through a doorway while his mouth continued to assault mine, the hand on my back dropping to my ass to squeeze me more firmly against himself. My leg bumped against a piece of furniture and I grunted softly in surprise. At last Emmett broke the kiss, panting hard as he manoeuvred me a little more and had us both tumbling onto the nearby couch. I squirmed beneath him, struggling to spread my legs while his weight pinned me there and my clothes continued to crush my erection. His hand fumbled between us, unzipping himself and then me and I felt the delicious hard heat of his cock against mine.
"Oh, fuck," he gasped, his hand wrapping around both of us together. "That feels good." He was leaking, precum oozing from his tip onto mine and onto my belly and a dribble of my own fluid quickly joined it. My balls were already tight and I doubted I would last long. The last time I came had been more than a week ago - a quick wank in the shower to relieve the pressure, rather than because I was so horny and desperate I couldn't stop myself.
"God, please," I moaned, thrusting up into his hand. "I need to cum, please!"
"Want me to suck you?"
He pulled off me and began to relieve me of my clothes, as fast as his shaking hands would allow. In the unlit room, I could just make out the slight tremble, making his efforts clumsy as he unfastened my shirt and then began to pull my jeans and boxers down my legs. I sat up, shrugging out of my shirt while he paused to remove my shoes and socks, then dragged the other items off completely. I lay back, naked, eyeing his erection as it jutted out of the front of his jeans, a bead of precum dripping from him onto my thigh. He grasped it for a moment, giving it a couple of firm tugs before reluctantly letting go and bending over me, his lips gently touching the head of my cock and then parting to draw it in.
"Oh, shit!" I arched up from the sofa cushions as he ducked lower, taking half of my length into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. "Shit, Emmett!"
"Mmph." He pushed me down and then wrapped a hand around me, cupping my balls in the other. His mouth and hand began to work me, stroking, sucking, licking, gently nipping while he caressed and squeezed my balls, filling me with a frenzy of sensations that I knew I wasn't going to be able to take for very long. How had I gone this long without even a touch when I loved it so much? How had things gone so wrong? I forced the thought away and concentrated only on what was happening to me at that moment. Emmett's nose was brushing my pubic hair, the head of my cock in his throat, a finger stroking over my perineum and lightly touching my hole. I was so close to losing control, but I struggled to prolong it for just another minute, not wanting the feeling to end yet. It was a losing battle and I gave up in just a few more seconds. I shot my load with a yell and felt his throat move as he swallowed around me, lips tugging firmly to draw out the last few drops.
"Fuck!" I panted. "So good."
"Mmm." Grinning, he released me and sat up. He was still leaking I noticed, and he kneeled there, stroking himself while I watched.
"Do you want me to...return the favour?" I offered.
"No, I want you to watch me cum."
I relaxed, tucking a hand behind my head to lift it a couple of inches so that I could see everything. He got up quickly to remove his clothes and then returned to the couch, kneeling over me with his thighs spread apart. His balls hung heavy between them and he began to stroke firmly up and down his shaft, sliding his foreskin back and forth, catching precum to lubricate the movement.
"God, that's so hot," I said.
He was already panting for breath and his hand quickened its pace while he cupped his balls with the other and tugged at them gently. "I'm not gonna last long."
"Do it harder," I encouraged. "Cum on me."
"Fuck." He wanked himself vigorously, his hips thrusting forward a little as he got closer to orgasm. He was sweating, his sunbed-tanned chest glistening and the muscles in his arms and chest flexing. The four pairs of abs moved under taut skin, hard thighs quivering with the effort of holding himself up.
"Christ, Emmett, you look fucking amazing," I breathed.
He came then, hot splashes of cum painting my belly, the last drops dribbling over his hand. He sat back on his heels, chest heaving, and grabbed for a pair of discarded underwear to wipe his fingers and then me. "God, I needed that," he panted.
"Do you still want...to fuck?"
"Let's move this upstairs." He got up and I followed silently. Somehow I expected it to be awkward again, but that didn't happen. In another minute we were in each other's arms on top of the bed covers, exchanging light kisses as our bodies recovered and slowly grew ready once more. My heart continued to thump wildly and when I ran my hand over Emmett's chest, I could feel his racing just as keenly. Everything about it was more than I could possibly have hoped for and my cock quickly grew again, insistently nudging Emmett's thigh until his stiffened in response and pushed against me. He rolled away from me, opened a drawer and produced lube. I watched as he coated his fingers and then I rolled onto my back, pulling my knees up and spreading them to give him access. He reached down and stroked along my crack, circling my tight hole slowly and making it twitch and flutter.
"Feel good?" he murmured.
"Fuck, yes. Just go slow, it's been a long time."
"Sorry." He dipped the end of one finger carefully into me and then removed it. "Shit, Jake, you're so tight."
"Wait until your cock's in there," I grinned.
"I won't last five minutes, even after just cumming." He pushed the digit slowly inside me again and this time continued until it was as deep as he could reach. I moaned and shivered, not feeling any discomfort yet, but knowing I soon would. He pumped the finger in and out and then tentatively began to add a second, his eyes fixed on my face. I concentrated on staying relaxed, breathing slow and deep as he breached me. "Okay?"
"Yeah...so far," I whispered. He pressed deeper and I felt the burn and stretch of the invasion, but I stayed loose and didn't fight it. Soon I would have his cock and that would be worse, at least for a minute until it began to feel good.
"Jake, tell me if it hurts," he prompted.
"It's okay, I promise. Just a slight burn."
"I want to fuck you so badly right now." His mouth brushed over mine. "Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me."
"I want you," I answered. "I want your cock, Emmett. I want you in me...I want you to cum in me."
"Shit," he groaned. "Let me know when."
His fingers continued to move in and out of me, curling upwards in search of my prostate and repeatedly bumping it until I felt sure I would cum again without him even getting around to fucking me.
"I'm ready," I said.
His fingers slipped from me and he moved away a little, squeezing out more lube to coat his cock. I watched eagerly as he covered it, stroking it over his length with a slick, wet sound. Then he tossed the bottle aside and lowered himself between my spread legs, taking his weight on his knees as he guided himself. I felt the head push against me and I breathed out, trying not to flinch as he entered me.
"Christ, Emmett, you're so fucking big," I hissed.
"Flattery...will get you everywhere," he panted and my chuckle turned into a moan as he pushed deeper, stretching me uncomfortably. He held still, moving his arm to rest beside me on the bed.
"I'm okay, keep going," I encouraged, sliding my arms around him. He rocked his hips forward and buried himself, causing me to groan and dig my nails into his back, but I urged him to keep moving, slow shallow thrusts back and forth until the intense pleasure of it overtook the discomfort. Then he began to pull back further each time, plunging in forcefully, thighs slapping against mine as he began to fuck me in earnest. He felt so good, so big, filling me, his length dragging over my prostate and his balls bumping mine. I moved with him, pushing my hips up to meet each thrust and keeping my eyes on his face, waiting for him to open his eyes and meet mine. He did so as his orgasm approached, his pupils blown as his eyes locked with mine. His body drove me harder into the mattress as he impaled me and made the head of the bed bang against the wall.
"Fuck...Jacob...I'm gonna cum...so close..." he panted. "Touch yourself, I want you to cum on my cock." He raised himself up a little, arms braced to give me room and I slipped one hand between us to grasp myself. My cock was painfully hard and leaking, the friction between our bellies not quite enough to make me cum. I gripped tight and stroked rapidly while Emmett's cock continued to slam into me, his body slick with sweat again as was mine. When I came, the fluid spurted onto my belly and chest and my ass clenched, squeezing the thick shaft inside me and pushing Emmett over the edge. He jerked erratically, his hips bucking before he thrust himself deep one last time and held still and I felt the warm rush of fluid inside me. I slid my arms around him again as he collapsed bonelessly onto me and we lay panting, clinging to each other. Gradually he softened and slipped from me and then he rolled onto his side, still holding me, his lips brushing over my damp forehead.
We didn't move for some time, sweat and cum drying, leaving us sticky, but too physically drained to move to the bathroom. I closed my eyes, listening to the gradually slowing thump of Emmett's heartbeat and eventually I drifted into sleep.
When I opened my eyes it was still dark and I was alone. I could hear Emmett taking a piss and then the flush of the toilet before he returned to the bed, a washcloth in his hand. I rolled over and looked up at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Cleaning up the mess I made." He began to wipe my chest and belly, then my cock and between my legs and I lay there, letting him, my pulse quickening again as I wondered what would happen next. He tossed the cloth aside and lay down, pulling me towards him. His cock nudged my belly, hard again and I relaxed with a smile. It wasn't over yet. I slid my hand down and grasped him, stroking lightly and teasingly until he was thrusting himself against my palm.
"Can we make love, or are you too sore?"
Make love? Warmth filled me and I lifted my hand to his face. "I'm okay, just be gentle."
"I want to say some things to you first. I was gonna do it yesterday over coffee, but things seemed so awkward, I thought it'd be easier to just see what happened first."
"Uh huh." I slid my hand to the back of his neck and stroked my fingers through his short cropped hair.
"I don't know what happened the last few months. I could use the excuse of work and whatever, but it wasn't really that. I love you, so much, but I felt like we were slipping away from each other. It's my fault, but..."
"It's not just your fault," I interrupted. "I felt like maybe you were tired of me, but I didn't help. I just withdrew instead of trying to talk about it. It was easier to keep on and pretend things were okay."
"But you felt like I didn't want you any more and I suppose I felt the same. It's hard to explain. You know what I was like before I met you."
"A slut," I said with a smile to show him I wasn't being insulting.
"Yeah. I struggled at first to do the whole relationship thing when we first moved in together and then it was so good for a while...but I got complacent. I just took you for granted and eventually it seemed to stop being exciting and just be...comfortable."
"I know. I suppose it's not just us, but somehow I thought we wouldn't get like this until we were older...like in our forties or fifties. I never thought we would become so distant, almost like strangers. I think we need to work at it. I almost said so a few times over the past few months, but I started to think that...maybe you wouldn't want to hear it. Maybe you'd rather just keep it like it was."
"I felt like that too. The times I wanted to turn over and kiss you and touch you and because we weren't close any more, I thought you wouldn't want it. I thought maybe you didn't want me any more."
"We need to talk more," I said. "Properly. Not now, but tomorrow. We've got the whole day together for once. We need to talk about everything and how it got to the point it's at now. I do love you, Emmett. I don't want us to carry on the way we were - I want it to be like it was before - like right now."
"So do I." He nudged himself against me.
"What made you think of asking me on a date?" I wondered.
"I don't know, I tried to think about when things were at their best. We always used to go out on dates, even after we moved in, to keep things fun. I wanted to get that back and I thought coffee would be a start. I half expected you to say no."
"I almost did." I pulled his head down and touched my lips to his. "I didn't want to be disappointed if it was just two guys who know each other too well, trying to pretend there's still something there. But then I thought I have nothing to lose. Neither of us are...were...happy and there was a chance it would lead to us fixing things."
"So did you like my flirting in the pub?" he grinned.
"Yeah, it was like when we first met. I was so fucking hard, Emmett, seriously, I wanted you to get me off right there under the table."
He laughed softly. "I'll take you up on that another time. Anyway, we were going to talk later...tomorrow...well today, but you know what I mean. Where were we?"
"You were going to grab the lube and put that gorgeous big cock in me again." I moved my thigh and bumped it against him, feeling a smear of precum dampen my skin. He groaned and reached for the lube. I watched him coat both his cock and his fingers and then I slid closer, pulling one leg up to drape over his hip. He reached down to touch me, two fingers slipping easily into my still stretched hole and coating me with lube. It felt a little uncomfortable, but no worse than when he had first breached me. It had seemed like our first time again, I thought. Frenzied, aching, fumbling, tight.
I groaned as he prodded my prostate and I rocked myself against him. He stopped touching me after a minute or so and pushed me away a little. "Turn over, I want you from behind."
I rolled away from him and immediately his arm was around me, his lips on the back of my neck, warm and firm. His hand found my cock and stroked it steadily, his thumb rubbing over the tip until I was shaking with need and trying to thrust into his hand. He let go instead and tucked a hand under my knee, guiding it up to give him access and then pushing his cock against me. The head slipped in and I flinched and hissed. He held still and his arm came around me again. "If it's uncomfortable, I'll stop."
"I'm a bit sore, that's all. I forgot how big you are."
"I can't believe I let things get like this."
"Stop it. It wasn't just you," I said at once. "Later we'll talk. Now..." I pushed back onto him a little. "Just love me."
He groaned and his arm hugged me tighter, mouth hot against my neck as he inched in more, filling me. He had used a lot of lube and I was still a little wet inside from earlier. Once we began to move together, I forgot about the discomfort and just enjoyed. My man, the love of my life, still felt the same way I did. Both of us were to blame, but communication had never been our strong point. We would fix it. We would talk, properly, lay everything out and move forward together. No more passing like ships in the night - we would be the couple we once had been.
I groaned and rolled my head back against his shoulder as he struck my prostate, his hand stroking me at the same time. "I love you, Jacob," he breathed. "And I'm sorry."
"Me too," I answered. "I love you."