eh, fuck a schedule
couldn't wait
8=====D

—

I had the jitters.

It was one thing to reunite with your ex-who's-not-your-ex for a switch hookup. It was a whole other ballgame to rekindle a spark that had sat in the lost and found for two years with said now-boyfriend. Sure, we'd hooked up at Thanksgiving in an off-hand, drunken mistake of a decision while simultaneously cheating on his girlfriend. But that was when the strings were forbidden to be attached, at least on my terms.

To say it scared me jumping into this head-first would be an understatement—I was shitting a brick and a half. Not enough to regret saying yes to a relationship, but enough to keep my guard up in fear of getting my heart broken.

It had been a long time since I'd committed to someone: Frasier Callahan to be exact. That ended in a burst of despicable flames that truly burned my heart to an irreparable crisp. Maybe I was naive for that one; I should have known it was a dangerous game to play with someone who couldn't accept themselves the way Dallas could in the beat of a heart. Frasier had his own issues, ones that not even I could touch on.

But Dallas had issues, too. For example, the whole cheating situation. I was too afraid to ask about the breakup because the thought of Dallas being heartless enough to dump that girl for me was a tough pill to swallow. And then there was the matter of the fact that he had a girlfriend when we met. He claimed they had broken up for a number of petty reasons and—hey, I couldn't judge a lack of commitment. Hello, King of Trust Issues here. But one of those reasons being I'm into someone else should be a red flag. It was a red flag.

Dallas was a green flag about eighty-percent of the time. But the other thirty was blazing red. He was a brown flag.

My mom's words, 'How you get them is often how you lose them,' echoed in my mind. What was stopping Dallas from leaving me at the drop of a hat when someone shiny and new caught his eye? Especially now that he had a bisexual awakening—the world was open season for a guy like him.

The last thing I wanted, however, was to project those insecurities onto him after we just became boyfriend official. I had to make an effort to at least have a conversation about it at some point, for the sake of my sanity.

Unfortunately, all of that had to be put on the back burner for now because I was thinking with my dick and not my heart. Well, maybe a mix of both. Dallas just asked me to fuck him.

I took him on a very brief and very unproductive apartment tour which included a lot of kissing and bumping into doorframes until we ended up on my bed with me back in his lap. It was one of my new favorite places to be, I decided.

"Are you sure? It's not something you should just jump into. I mean, it takes some prepping and it probably won't be very good your first time because it's like eating a bunch of rocks and then taking a massive du—"

My mouth ultimately shut when Dallas said, "I practiced."

"What?"

He pressed his lips together, looking a bit shy at the direction of this conversation. "Please don't think I just assumed this would happen, but I was kind of hoping, so I did some research and I bought a . . . toy . . . online. And I practiced," he mumbled and though his voice wavered with the confession, his eyes never left mine. I simply gaped at him at a complete loss of words. "Is that weird? I just wanted to be prepared in case, y'know . . . you wanted to do this."

"And what if I didn't? Then you would have fucked your own butt for no reason," I said like an idiot, stifling a laugh into my hand. He rolled his eyes and started pushing me off of him. "No, honestly, that's really hot. Can't get the image out of my head, actually—"

"I hate you," he muttered before catching my lips in his. In a matter of seconds, the air turned from silly to hot and heavy.

Things escalated before I could even catch up and I was rock solid, sweat forming on my forehead from far too much friction with far too much clothing. He clapped his hands over my ass when I pushed him back onto the bed. God, I missed his taste and his touch and his smell. Everything about him, all consuming when he wasn't around, and even worse when he was.

We kissed for only a moment before I grew impatient, shedding my shirt. It was hot in my room due to poor air circulation, factor in my man who was hot as lava and it was sweltering. I ran my hands down his chest, so familiar yet unmemorized.

Dallas's eyes were blown wide and that was just how I loved him. When he looked at me like I could shatter the ground he stepped on with just a single breath, it plucked at the strings of my heart just right. That look sent signals straight to my cock that I simply couldn't ignore.

"Take your clothes off," I tried to order him. My voice came out breathless and needy, but he acted like he didn't notice. We stripped down to just our boxers, but stopped there. I pressed my lips to his neck and mouthed all the way down to his nipples, stopping to lap all around his chest for the ultimate experience.

He was making these noises. It was driving me absolutely fucking crazy. It was like open-mouthed, voiced pants. Little ahs and ohs and I was going to cream just listening to him.

I made my way down and, after kissing his little anchor tattoo, greeted his cock through his boxers, hands scratching softly down his abdomen. His hands found my hair and he tugged at the roots, tightening his grip and steering my face into his pelvis. I let out a moan at the force. When he released me, I pulled down his boxers and gave him no warning before finally getting my mouth on his cock.

Those sounds continued as I sucked him off, his hand back in my curls to take control of the rhythm. His size was always a bit overwhelming, but I pleased him nonetheless. "Now on your knees, face down," I said when my lips popped off of him, swollen and ready to move on.

I couldn't believe this was even happening. In the past few months, I had literally had a dream about this exact moment. He was submissive to my requests and getting on his knees for me, exposing the only part of him I hadn't truly seen. It was a fantasy, just an unrealistic vision in which he'd be mine and trust me wholly. Well, here we were. And I was face level with Dallas's ass.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" I asked before I couldn't hold back. Dallas looked back at me with his face in my pillows with a smile and I disintegrated on the spot, the provocative position being far too sexy.

"Yes, please," he said. "Are you gonna—"

I sunk my face into his ass tongue first. He let out a surprised groan, half muffled by my bedsheets, and I wished I could watch him. My tongue did the talking as I licked and prodded his hole. He wasn't groomed, but that was how I liked it. I loved my men hairy and tall—and also covered in tattoos, but we were working on that.

"Fuck, that feels really good," Dallas said. I came up for air and found him grasping at my pillows, white-knuckled and panting. I admired the sight, my hands finding his ass cheeks and squeezing in delight. He was spread wide open for me. "More, baby."

I couldn't refuse that. So I went back to making a claim on him, marking my territory, writing my name on his body where only I could see it. No way was I letting go easily. This was all mine.

When I felt he'd had enough—and I felt like I was running out of time—, I pulled away and lowered my own boxers. In my bedside table I kept lube and one single condom. It was my last one since I would bring them out to the bar with me half the time and usually lose them at some point. There were probably more lost to the bar floor than actually used for sex. I thanked whoever was listening for leaving me one last rubber.

"One more time, are you sure?" I asked with a hand softly stroking his back, my fingertips tracing the knobs of his spine.

"Yes, yes," he said, still in the same position. I instructed him to lay down on his back again because I wanted to see his face. This was personal, more intimate than just senseless fucking. He was giving me much more than just his body tonight. Dallas spoke when I was getting in position. "Thomas?"

I slid my knees under his thighs so his bottom was somewhat elevated. "What?" I asked and stopped in case he changed his mind.

"I fucking love you so much."

My lips spread in an insuppressible smile. He mimicked it, a touch of nervousness behind his grin. "I fucking love you, too," I replied and dropped the condom somewhere on the bed to lean forward to kiss him.

Maybe our souls really were tied. It might not have been astrological or even biblical. But in my heart I knew I was meant to share my time with this man. He was the beacon of light when I was treading unforgiving waters, my floaties when my feet couldn't touch the bottom and I felt like I couldn't swim. Metaphorical, literal, what the fuck ever. All I knew was that he kept me afloat when he was mine to hold onto. My own heart was swimming in hatred and disturbing memories of the past, I'd simply drown if I let myself. But two years ago, I met the love of my life.

"Please don't abandon ship in the morning," he whispered against my lips.

I pecked his mouth and sat back up. Those baby blues shone up at me with equal parts lust, love, and doubt. My heart pounded beneath my chest and I shook my head. "I don't think I could if I wanted to."

My hands worked without fumbling to get the condom on and get us lubed up. He watched me with his hands on my knees, tucked underneath him like he was rooted to my body. I got in position and looked at him for one final affirmative look. Dallas nodded once. I made the first move.

His jaw unhooked and I felt my face matching the expression, our eyes locked together while our bodies did the same. I held his thighs tightly, not meaning to but feeling like I needed the support. When Dallas released a deep breath, I pushed in further and pulled back.

He was so warm, I had to take a deep breath myself. "Go ahead, I can take it," he said in a half whisper and I wondered just how much he 'practiced' this.

With his verbal go ahead, I loosened the reins on my control. I began to move at an even pace, my body pumping on its own accord. He was breathing heavily, his eyes screwed shut. "Look at me," I whimpered, still fucking him but insistent on the eye contact. "Please."

His eyes opened again and he let out the filthiest moan I'd ever heard. I was practically just his echo, because a similar sound escaped my mouth as soon as he'd done it. I grabbed his cock and started stroking while my hips moved. "Fuck, baby," he exclaimed, much louder when on the bottom. "Fuck."

I only paused the motion of my cock, warm and rubbed right, to sit up and slam my lips onto his. He grabbed my cheek and kissed me back, the other sliding down to my ass to push me towards him. I did my best to multitask, kiss his dirty mouth and fuck him, but it proved nonproductive so I sat back up. Dallas was clenching around me and I looked down between our bodies, a high-pitched cry of some sort tumbling out when I observed the scene. He was now jerking himself off while my cock slid in and out of his tight hole, wet and hot.

"Shit, I'm gonna—"

I came. It was sudden and I hadn't quite prepared for it, but I came in the condom in jerky spurts. The arrhythmic pumps in and out of Dallas eventually ceased until I managed to pull out, my chest heaving.

When I looked up at him, he was still stroking his cock, his cheeks red and flushed, and his mouth was open in awe. I immediately swooped in to replace his hand with mine and kiss him hard, our tongues sloppy and lips barely touching. I was moaning with him by the time he came, the energy of his arousal and the sounds of his pleasure feeling like I was almost riding the high with him. His hand and my fingers had drips of cum on them by the time I sat up.

He didn't say a word while I took off the condom and got us cleaned up with my thrown aside T-shirt. The blue eyes I could now call mine just watched in a silent comedown.

"Are you okay?" I asked when I laid down beside him, our naked bodies pressed together.

"Mm," was all he managed as he flipped his body until he was deadweight on top of me.

I giggled and kissed his dampened skin. He was falling asleep with his face in the crook of my shoulder, his heartbeat drumming against my own, and his fingers nestled in the sweaty curls at the nape of my neck. I tried to hold him, emphasis on 'try', seeing as he was much broader than me. I felt myself dozing, too, the intensity of what couldn't have been more than the last twenty minutes—pitiful, by the way, Meek—rendering the both of us exhausted.

My soul-tie. The love of my life. Dallas.