Not Five Fucking Years

By Theda

I miss Dean. I’m not a guy who normally admits to stuff like that, tries not to think it, either, but he’s been gone for a week.

Okay, nearly a week. Five days. Feels longer. Anyway.

He had a family reunion back in New Hampshire. Mom, Dad, cousins, the whole bunch. And Dean’s got a big family. Okay, so I’m not one for crowds to begin with. When he asked me to come with him, I begged off. Not because of the crowd thing. It’s just that I’m not ready, especially not when I know how his family reacted to his coming out last year.

I’ve seen those looks on other faces—remember all too well how it sat on my brother’s face. My father’s. Uneasy because they didn’t know what to do with the fact of me being gay, and tense because they tried so hard to cover up the unease.

It’s not that they didn't try, but the truth of the matter is that it made my entire family uncomfortable. Which made me uncomfortable.

Now that might be funny if…

No. No it wouldn’t. It wasn’t.

Shit. Dean’s been gone five days and I’m acting like the dog someone left at the kennel to go on vacation, for God’s sake.

So, we have a house. It’s small, one-story. And we have a dog (speaking of). I love Chewie. I love him even more at the moment. He keeps me company. The house may be small but it feels damn big at the moment. Empty.

I turn off the TV, hear Chewie lapping up water down the hall in the kitchen, and go to let him out. It’s dark out and there’s a cool breeze. Chewie stands at the fence and barks at the neighbor’s dog. Seems like he’s in no hurry to come in, so I head inside for a quick shower.

Even with the dog barking outside, it feels quiet.

****


I felt like a fucking idiot getting on that plane. I’ve only been gone five days, not five fucking years, but by the time I landed I didn’t even bother feeling stupid anymore. And by the time the cabbie let me out in front of the house I just wanted to see him.

Okay, and maybe other things.

Chewie runs from behind the house and jumps me, hitting me with both paws square in the middle of my chest. I laugh and ruffle his ears and head, talking nonsense to him, then go inside. I don’t hear David until I head for the bedroom. Then I hear the shower and stop outside the bathroom door. Push it open.

His body’s all slick-wet, hair plastered to his skull. Strong legs bracing himself against the shower wall, stroking himself hard, cock jutting, gleaming in the cascade of water, making those grunting noises in the back of his throat. His hand moves faster, jacking himself, open-mouthed, eyes closed, gasping, his dick going a dusky color in his fist.

I drop my bags and step in the shower. Fully clothed. At this moment I could care less if the President himself got on the boob tube and announced that I am a spineless, miserable wuss who can’t stay away from my boyfriend for five days without folding like a bad hand of cards.

His eyes fly open and for a second he looks scared shitless. After all, it’s not like I told him I was coming home early. I wanted to surprise him. I smile and cover his mouth with mine, and when we finally break away, he looks down at my soaking clothes and laughs his ass off. But only until I sink down on my knees. I catch the head of his cock between my lips, feeling it jump, feeling the heat, the pulse of him inside my mouth, and then I suck him hard, hot and close. His green eyes burn and he pants, mouth open, holding my head and pushing me harder down on him. I grab his ass in both hands, feeling him heavy in my mouth, sucking him hard and fast, and I run a hand between his legs, behind his balls, and push just a little inside. He's so tight- I feel him spasm around the tip of my finger. Then he opens his legs wide, pressing down, asking for more. I push another finger just inside, rotating them both, pushing my mouth over his cock as far as I can go. He arches his spine, eyes gone dark and wild, desperate, looking into mine. His mouth is open and wet, panting, and then he’s writhing against the wall, shooting off, jerking against my lips. I take everything he’s got and swallow it, asking for more. God I want more.

And I tell you, even if it's only been five days and I’m an idiot for missing this guy so damned much—this big, lanky, moody guy with the green eyes and wide smile made just for me—then so be it.

So fucking be it.