by Cameron Dane
I'm sorry for not being open with you about everything that happened when we were teenagers, right from the start.
Love,
Marek
Opening the next, Colin held his breath, so uncertain about what to expect.
Colin—The architect came today. Her name is Hattie; she's Australian, and she called our house unique and charming. I think I like her already, and I feel good about the advisory role she will play. The wood slat siding will need to be replaced. It cannot be cleaned and painted over enough to hide the damage done over the years. That will likely be the first task. I have to say I think my body is looking forward to the challenging work.
I wish you could have been here to take part in the conversation, but I understand why you can't right now.
I miss you.
Love,
Marek
Colin steeled himself not to react to the plural possessive of ownership and read on. After reading a dozen or so more notes—about two months into the repair work on the house—Colin got something a little different.
Colin—It rained pretty hard last night, and we weren't able to safely do any work on the house today. That's okay. The guys and I probably needed a break. I hiked up the mountain to the waterfall instead, and it was nearly as beautiful as the day we went up there together. I jumped off the shelf, but it didn't feel right without you there, holding my hand, so I got dressed and hiked back to the house.
Jesus Christ. I know I shouldn't say this, and I'm probably risking Jordan even forwarding this to you, but I miss you so fucking much, sweetness. I wish I could feel the house and sink into those dreams of us like you used to do. At least I would have you in some way. This island isn't my home without you.
I've written more here than I promised Jordan I would. I'm sorry. I have to go.
Love,
Marek
Wiping the blur of wetness from his eyes, Colin moved to the next e-mail, dated a week later.
Colin—We're starting on the porch today. I can't believe I left it in such a bad way on that right side for so long. Now that I've been looking so closely at the house these last few months, I'm shocked the whole thing didn't collapse around me long ago. Christ, what you must have thought of me when you saw it in such disrepair the first time.
Anyway, when it's finished, I want to buy rocking chairs to put on one side of the porch, and a hammock for the other. I can't believe I've lived in Fiji for nearly two and a half years and I've never put my ass in a hammock in all that time. I think there's a science to them, and I'm kind of nervous I'll flip right out the second I sit down. One of the rocking chairs will have your name on it, waiting for you.
I didn't know it was possible to miss you this much, and I don't know how the hell I'm staying away from the airport. Everywhere I turn, I feel you around me, but when I reach out my hand, you're not there. I'm not sure if that's some form of madness or just… Never mind.
Love,
Marek
Colin's heart squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe. But there was no way he could stop reading, even for a second, and regain control.
Colin—I was thinking about Stewart and Beatrice today; I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just working on the house and thinking about Stewart building it with pride, knowing he would live in it with his bride. I hope they're pleased with what is happening to their home recently. Hattie says what we've done so far is a nearly flawless refurbishment of the original specs of the house, and she can't believe the change. The blue tiles to replace the terra cotta colored ones on the roof should be coming soon.
I have all the rooms and doors inside the house open all the time now, but I don't have any more furniture than I did before. I think I know what kinds of styles you would like, but I also have a gut feeling you would have a hell of a lot of fun picking those things out yourself, so I haven't bought anything yet.
When Tag came to pick up your stuff, I forgot to give him the red butt plug you came to me with the night of the wedding. I use it at night when I can't stop thinking about you. I close my eyes and try to feel your weight on me and your cock in me. I'm hard right now. Jesus, Colin, I want to feel you inside me again.
Marek
Colin read three more notes, which mixed house updates with more and more intimate, personal asides. Then there was only one left. The final e-mail, the one Jordan forwarded today. Almost afraid to read it, because then there would be no more, Colin clicked it open.
I love you. Please come home to me.
Two simple sentences. Marek didn't even sign it. Just those few words, in such small print, filled Colin's vision. He could see nothing else. His fingers shook as he covered his mouth and stared. “Oh, God.” Without conscious thought, Colin got up from his desk and started to walk.
He appeared at the door to Jordan's office, unbearably choked up. “I have to…”
“I know.” Jordan got up, ran to Colin, and threw herself into a hug. “I'm going to miss you like hell, but I want for you whatever will fill you up the same way having Tag does for me.” She pulled back, and a little grumble resonated in her throat. “Even if that happens to be all the way in Fiji.”
Colin laughed with a wobble, tears still filming his eyes. He couldn't believe how ridiculously emotional he was, but he knew how difficult it was for Marek to let down his guard and admit to those three little words. I love you.
“Think of it like this.” Colin finally gathered himself enough to speak. “You have a free place to stay whenever you want a vacation.”
Jordan raised a brow. “Now I know you're a real couple because you're already making plans for your friends' visits without consulting your partner first.” Her brown eyes softened, letting vulnerability show in a way she let very few people see. “Go. Be with Marek. Prove to me my gut wasn't wrong in helping him find a way back into your heart.”
“I don't think he ever left.” Cupping Jordan's cheek, Colin brushed his thumb over her baby-smooth skin, committing every inch of his dearest friend to memory. “You know I love you, right? I'll come back and take care of work stuff and my apartment stuff and a thousand other things.”
“Don't worry about any of that.” Jordan brushed him aside. “You own your percentage of the firm until you decide to sell. You never have to, if that's not what you want. We'll help you from here. I love you too.” She smacked his ass with a sharp sting. “Now go pack a bag and get out of here.”
He gave her one more suffocating hug. “Bye,” he whispered roughly and pulled away before he started bawling like a baby again.
“Call me when you get there so I know you're safe!”
Colin gave her a thumbs-up and left the office he'd called home for five years.
He had a man, a house, and an island who owned that title in his heart now.
* * * * *
“Thank you.” Colin set his bag down on the dock and paid the taxi-boat driver. He shook the man's hand, let go, and stepped back, watching as the boat drove away.
Without even looking up, Colin took note of one thing immediately. No boat. Marek isn't here. Upon taking a moment, Colin realized that might not be such a bad thing. He probably needed some time to feel his way around again and get a handle on his emotions before dealing with an audience. Inhaling the balmy tropical air and listening to the signs of life coming from the cover of trees and mountain, Colin finally turned and lifted his gaze to the house.
Oh my. He grabbed his duffel and started jogging down the dock, needing to get closer. It's nearly perfect.
The white of the house gleamed with almost blinding brightness in the sunlight, and the tile roof was now all blue again, uniform and clean. Against the sharp backdrop of life-rich green, the house stood out as if it were framed. As he drew near, Colin noticed the windows sparkled with washed panes of glass, and the comforting sight of gauzy curtains flowing settled many of his jumping nerves.
Colin strode up the porch steps and planted his foot right where he had in his first dream a
nd real-life visit…and it did not groan or protest his weight. He fixed it for me. Rocking chairs and a low table sat to the left of the door, and all the way to the end on the right, a blue and white striped hammock swayed in the breeze.
The door itself remained a raw, natural wood, no red in sight.
Somehow, that didn't surprise Colin one bit.
Opening the door, Colin stepped over the threshold and put down his bag. Not waiting any longer, he took off his shoes and socks and let the soles of his feet absorb the cool hardwood flooring beneath them.
He got nothing, and although he understood, his heart twinged with guilt and sadness.
Walking to the wall, Colin put his mouth right against the plaster. “I'm sorry I went away.” His fingers danced over the surface in a loving, apologetic caress. “I promise I'm not leaving again.”
Colin continued moving and whispering about the invigorated state of the home, and its masters' renewed partnership, never letting up or feeling silly. Some long minutes later, the first tingles tickled the undersides of his feet. “There's my darlin'.” Colin smiled as the talons of sensation climbed up his legs, fully embracing him. “It's nice to feel you again.”
The sounds of an engine reached Colin through the open windows and door. As the throttling noise decelerated then came to a stop, Colin whispered, “I'll be right back.” He stepped out on the porch, and his heart rate kicked into dizzying speed the second he set eyes on Marek again.
Good God. He has somehow gotten even sexier. His shoulders, arms, and chest all seemed a little wider, no doubt from the task of repairing this house. He'd maintained his haircut, and the beard had not made a reappearance either. Purely stunning. Colin's mouth watered as he stared.
Marek finally looked up to the house when he reached the foot of the sand path, and he stalled in place. Portfolio falling from his grasp, he clutched his heart. “Oh, Jesus Christ.” He almost doubled over, but his pure blue eyes remained glued to Colin. “Are you really here?”
“I am, baby.” A catch in Colin's voice hitched his words. “I missed you too.”
Leaving papers strewn in the sand, Marek started running.
Chapter Nineteen
He can't really be here.
With his hands half covering his face, afraid to believe, Marek bounded up the path and steps but jerked to a stop mere inches from sweeping Colin into his arms. He stared, transfixed, absorbing every inch, every eyelash, every piece of clothing, every nuance of the man standing before him. Strands of hair caught on the breeze and brushed over Colin's forehead, his eyes reflected like green sea glass, early stubble grew along the line of his jaw, his thumbs were hooked on the edges of his front pockets, and his bare feet stuck out from the bottom of his jeans.
It's so much more detailed than the Colin I saw yesterday.
Marek's hand shook as he lifted it, and noticing the tremble, he let it fall back to his side. “I think I'm having another hallucination. I'm afraid to touch you. When I do, you're going to disappear.”
Colin reached down and took Marek's hand in his, and the warmth—real, male, human body heat—made Marek shake all the way down to his marrow.
“I'm home.” Colin put Marek's hand on his lips and spoke against his palm. “And I'm here to stay.”
Marek let his fingers flutter over Colin's cheeks, nose, forehead, and chin, letting the memories of touching, kissing, loving this face return to him. “Oh shit.” A sob wrenched out of him, and he clutched Colin's head in a bruising hold, pulling him close. “Oh shit. It's really you.”
“It's really me.” Colin curled his hands around Marek's neck, pressed their foreheads together, and looked right into Marek's eyes. “I swear.”
Oh Jesus, he's not a mirage.
“I'm so sorry.” Planting little kisses all over Colin's face, Marek's voice broke with emotion on everything he needed to say. “I'm so sorry I was a coward when we were kids and that I didn't confess everything the second I saw you again. I wish I could make it up to you and take away how much pain I caused and have you believe in me again.” He nudged his thumb under Colin's chin and tilted his face up, brushing their lips together. “I'm sorry I wasn't stro—”
Colin put his fingers against Marek's lips, silencing him. “No more anger, no more betrayal, no more accusations, no more 'I'm sorry's.'“ He moved his hand and rested it against Marek's chest, where he could surely feel the crazy thumping of Marek's heart. “Let's just move forward.” His gaze held Marek's with such intensity Marek felt stripped bare of every barrier he had ever erected to protect himself from ridicule or harm. “Together.”
Love and acceptance swelled up a cauldron of need inside Marek, sparking the humid air around them with jolts of electricity. Colin's breath caught audibly, his fingers dug into Marek's chest through his shirt, and Marek reacted as completely as if no clothing existed between them. His cock rose with a rush of blood and pushed against his underwear and khakis, hardening in a shot. Vivid memories of being buried inside this man filled Marek with an exquisite agony of wanting. A brightness reflected back in Colin's eyes and made Marek bold.
He slid his hands down Colin's chest and stomach, loving the rips of hard muscle beneath his fingers. “Can you feel it?”
Colin pushed one of Marek's hands over the stiff ridge in his jeans and, at the same time, scraped a kiss across his lips. His voice husky, he said, “Yeah. I can.”
“Christ, I've missed you.” Marek wrapped his arms around Colin's waist and lifted him right off the porch. “I have to have you again.”
“Yes.” Colin slid down Marek's body and grabbed his waistband, going right for the button closure. “Inside. Now.”
Marek didn't understand if Colin meant inside the house or inside his body, but he would give Colin one if it meant getting the other. He walked Colin over the threshold and slammed the door. Not giving the man a second to adjust, Marek crowded him into the wall and took his mouth with an open, wet kiss. He tangled and stabbed with all the pent-up longing for connection he'd suffered during three and a half endless months apart. Colin rubbed against him and kissed him back with equal enthusiasm, and Marek moaned with sheer, unadulterated joy. He licked Colin's teeth, tongue, lips, and then all over his face, savoring the faint flavor of salt that clung to his skin from being out on the water. Marek's mouth skimmed Colin's hairline, and as he inhaled the clean scent of his shampoo, gratitude tightened a band around his chest. “I can't believe you're real and you're here.”
Colin growled and bit Marek's chin. “My dick is too fucking hard for this to be an illusion.” He yanked Marek's shirt out of his pants and pulled on the waistband of his khakis. “Clothes. You have on too many clothes to fuck me.” Getting the button and zipper undone, Colin pushed everything down to Marek's hips, unearthing his erection.
Staring at Marek's freed prick, Colin's tongue darted out and licked the corner of his mouth. “God. How I dreamed about you like this every night.” He ran the tip of his finger up a thick vein in Marek's cock and rubbed the pad over his slit.
Marek hissed and pumped out a fat bead of early cum; his balls already thickened and grew heavy with seed as excitement built in him after so much time living without his mate. Colin teased the sensitized head of Marek's penis a second time, and Marek almost lost his shit right on the spot.
Knocking Colin's hand away, Marek tore his button-down shirt off over his head and quickly kicked off his shoes. He pushed his pants down to the floor in one swooping motion, removing his socks in the act too. “Hurry; you strip too.” About to lean in for another kiss, Marek froze at the sight unfolding before his eyes. “Fuck.” His arousal kicked up a dozen notches as Colin pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside, leaving his sculpted upper body bare. The man's trim lower belly appeared seconds later when he undid the zipper on his jeans. “I'd forgotten how potent you are to my system.” Marek dropped to his knees and helped Colin tug his jeans to his ankles and then step out of them, leaving him nude.
Suc
cumbing to his desire for contact, Marek ran his hands up the outer length of Colin's legs, to his waist, and around to the small of his back. “Christ.” Reverence laced his words. “You are something to see.”
Colin tunneled his hands in Marek's hair and forced his head back until their gazes met. “So are you.”
Marek's face heated, and he pulled his stare off Colin, uncertain what to say. His fingers brushed over the hairline ridge of skin on Colin's back, and his gut twisted at the feel of the scar. Apologies were neither adequate nor wanted anymore, so Marek said what he needed to without words. He pressed his lips to the start of the scar on Colin's abdomen and kissed his way up and along the curve, turning Colin slowly as he followed the thin line around his side to his back. Pausing for a minute to blink back wetness and swallow the thickness in his throat, Marek traced the scar backward with the tip of his tongue until he reached Colin's side. Then he dipped down and laved on the jagged scarring on his hip. Marek knew the damage lying under the darker patch of marred flesh continued to be an occasional source of pain for Colin when he overtaxed himself, so Marek renewed his efforts to give attention to the area, as if loving it enough could draw the pain out of Colin and into him.
Colin cupped his hand under Marek's jaw, stopping him. “You don't have to do that,” he said.
“Yes.” Residual guilt held Marek in its grip, and he knew it would never fully go away. “I do.”
Shifting his back into the wall, Colin looked down; passion clouded his eyes. “Take care of this”—he stroked his cock and rubbed the head across Marek's mouth, wetting him with pre-ejaculate—“and you'll make me the happiest man in Fiji.”
Marek licked his lips and savored the muted bite of Colin's natural lubricant.
Colin murmured an appreciative noise and batted his dick back and forth in front of Marek's face. “Want a little more of that lipstick?” He held his cock just out of touching distance, tormenting Marek.
