Forgive and Forget

“Joe, look at me.”

Joe did, hesitantly, his blue-green eyes searching Tom’s for… what? Hope? If that was the case, Tom would do everything in his power not to let Joe down. He made no effort to hide the desire he was feeling and he explored Joe’s skin as he spoke, his gaze never leaving Joe’s. “You’re stunning. Every inch of you. I love the way you feel. There’s nothing I would change, Joe. Nothing.” He placed a hand to Joe’s chest over his heart, his thumb finding a pink nipple that pebbled under his touch and brought the most delicious whimper from Joe. Tom flicked the little nub, reveling in Joe’s gasp as he writhed and wriggled under Tom.

Joe thrust his hips upward as he drew Tom down against him. Good God, he could feel how hard Joe was. All that lay between them was a couple of thin layers of clothing, and it was enough to ignite the fire kindling inside Tom. He picked up his pace, eagerly seeking, needing more.

“Tell me what you want, Joe. Anything and it’s yours,” Tom promised breathlessly, surprised at the realization he meant every word. Something deep down wanted to give Joe everything, wanted to hold him in his arms, protect him from the world, keep him safe and never let go. Despite his lack of memories, something in Tom knew Joe needed that more than he did, needed to be assured he was worthy of unfathomable affection, and damn if Tom didn’t want to be the one to do it. Tom trusted his gut. It was something he’d always relied on. Joe was special.

“Kiss me,” Joe rasped, almost too low for Tom to hear. “Please.”

Those few little words were all Tom needed. Everything inside him sizzled and sparked with life. He captured Joe’s mouth and kissed him feverishly, desperate to explore and taste. His body felt like it wanted to consume Joe. Nothing had the power to control the blaze roaring within him except for the timid, beautiful man underneath him.

Tom reached between them and freed their erections, pulling away only long enough to spit into his hand before crushing his mouth back against Joe’s and taking them both in hand. Joe’s little gasps and moans urged him forward.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Joe hissed, letting out a shaky breath.

“Is this okay?” Tom breathed, brushing his lips over Joe’s cheek. “It feels so damn good, Joe, but I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No, don’t,” Joe all but begged. “Don’t stop, Tom. Oh, God….”

Feeling an overwhelming need to please Joe, Tom tightened his grip and quickened his pumping fist, delighting in Joe’s sweet sounds as he threw his head back, exposing the smooth, expansive flesh of his neck. Tom took advantage and poked his tongue out to taste and lick Joe from his collarbone to his jaw line.

“You taste like your pies, Joe. So sweet, warm, and full of life.”

Joe sprung forward as if some magic switch had been hit, and Tom couldn’t help his surprised gasp. His heavy breaths became pants as Joe buried his head against Tom’s neck and his hand joined in on the stroking, their hips thrusting wildly and erratically. Joe’s grip on Tom was almost painful, and his low growl reverberated against Tom’s scorching skin. Cupping his free hand at the back of Joe’s neck, Tom held Joe to him as he met every fraught thrust of Joe’s hips with one of his own.

“Tom, I—I’m going to—” Joe’s words cut off sharply as he cried out, clutching Tom so tightly he was sure there would be some bruising the next day. Joe’s body trembled and shook beneath him as he rode his climax, the feel of his warm come coating both their bellies enough for Tom to find his own release. He muffled his hoarse cry against Joe’s hair, the silkiness and scent of it swirling around in his head helping him lose himself in the rolling waves of pleasure, their hands milking every last drop from each other.

They slumped together, spent, each man’s weight holding up the other, their breathing slowly coming down from the clouds. Joe’s chest rose and fell steadily against his own, and Tom could feel himself starting to drift off. He moved his hand and Joe groaned, rousing Tom and reminding him that if he didn’t clean them up, they’d get stuck like this.

Charlie Cochet's books