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“Oh, God, Jordy… missed you so much…” Sid rained a torrent of kisses over his lover, lips flitting here and there, touching every spot he could reach. He wove greedy fingers into Jordan’s close-cropped blond hair, wound an arm around his broad shoulders, hooked both Jordan’s legs with one of his own. He felt the sheets below them begin to dampen with the sweat that rolled from their naked bodies. “Don’t know how you did it… so don’t care…”
“Connections in the right places,” Jordan breathed into his ear. “Nothing could ever keep me away from you.” He rolled them both, pinning Sid underneath, and flashed that smile that melted Sid from within. He lowered his forehead to Sid’s and twined their fingers together. “Way, way too long...”
Sid lay back as Jordan showed him just how long it had been, the moment seeming to stretch into unreality, days and weeks of denial and frustration turning, Vesuvius-like, into the blinding flash of triumph. He felt Jordan’s hands everywhere, simultaneously touching his face, his hands, roaming down his sides, cupping his ass and pulling him closer. It seemed impossible, seemed almost unearthly, but who was he to decide the laws of the universe?
“Kiss me,” he begged. “Want you, Jordy, want you now…”
“Shhh… All in good time…”
Sid’s mind was awhirl, clutching a bit at reality. He tried to remember where he was, what day it was. But Jordan’s fingers on his face, redirecting his eyes toward Jordan’s, made all effort in vain. “Hey, we have all the time in the world. Relax.”
Like a man sleeping in a hammock, Sid rested in that assurance and stopped questioning. But merely lying back and letting it happen lost its appeal to him. He grabbed Jordan’s face, nibbling the tiny cleft of his strong chin, before pulling Jordan’s mouth down upon his. He felt the pull, the jolt deep within him as he slid his tongue up and widened his lips in wordless invitation.
“You are in a hurry, aren’t you?” Jordan asked, rhetorically.
“Why wait?” Sid countered. “Like you said, it’s been too long.” He kissed him again, sliding his hand down between their bodies as he did so. He found his objective, rock-hard and ready, and eased his fingers up and down the shaft. Jordan gasped and Sid used his momentary lapse of control to take the upper hand. “Still want to wait?”
Jordan moaned and toppled to his side, obviously enjoying Sid’s attentions. So he ramped it up a bit, sliding his hand harder, faster, gripping tighter, until he saw a tiny pulse beat on the side of Jordan’s neck. He kissed that spot, loving how all of Jordan’s body responded to him, not just the important parts.
“Slow down… c’mon, Sid, please…”
Sid realized that Jordan would never be able to hang on, to build the fire slowly, if Sid continued doing what he was doing. He laughed; nothing was going to make him rush this. Not when he knew that, when it was over, there was only more longing ahead of them both. “OK. You talked me into it,” Sid whispered. “We’ll slow down.” He glanced around the room, trying to get his bearings, still feeling a bit fuzzy in the head. Had he been drinking? He didn’t remember having anything alcoholic. Then again, he really didn’t remember answering his door and finding Jordan on the other side.
“You still there, babe?”
I’m still here, Sid thought, but when had he left? This was his bedroom, his bed, his favorite white sheets – but wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere else? He remembered being at the Consol, and he was playing, and then Jordan was there and they were home.
And here they were, still here and still in bed and Jordan’s hands were everywhere once more. Oh, it felt so good… Sid kissed him again and again, exploring with lips and tongue and teeth all those places that made Jordan moan with desire. The hollow at the base of his neck. The tiny crinkle of hair between his pecs. And his nipples, oh, yes, Sid loved to watch them form tiny pebbles beneath his touch.
Now this was a pace too slow. Like this, they might never get there – and what a waste of the time they had.
But when Jordan repeated “We have all the time in the world,” Sid’s mind rebelled.
“You said that before.”
“Said what before?”
Sid began to look around, to take stock of his surroundings. Something gave him a distinct feeling of wrongness, and since it couldn’t be the man currently nibbling at his ear, it had to be something else. That lamp next to his bed? He’d had that old thing back in school, had replaced it years ago. And the window – the sun was shining through it, even though it couldn’t – the wrong side of the house; the wrong time of day—
Like a bolt of lightning, like a slap shot hitting the twine, the realization: his face hurt.
“I didn’t hit you,” Jordan murmured at Sid’s unspoken observation.
He knew that. Jordan hadn’t even been there, wasn’t the one who wound up to take the shot, let alone the one who deflected it up into Sid’s face. But it didn’t make sense – how had he heard his thoughts? How was he here now?
Even as Jordan answered Sid’s silent question, he seemed to fade in and out of sight. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”
Oh, this was really wrong… Jordan’s words were echoed, hollow, as if he were saying them from down a long tiled corridor. Jordan’s hands were gone too, and his lips, and for that matter, most of Sid’s own body. If he concentrated, he could detect what was beneath his fingertips, but at the moment, concentration eluded him.
And then a different fingertip touched his own lips, and the otherworldly Jordan-voice said, “Don’t try to talk, OK?” He felt a hand light on his hair. “Happy Easter, Sid.”
Sid shook his head to clear it and then opened his eyes to the archangel Jordan, surrounded by a halo of white. But when he tried to open his mouth to ask how and why, a jolt of pain shot through him.
“Told you not to talk, didn’t I? You just got out of surgery for a broken jaw, so it’ll hurt like hell to move it. Let me get you something for the pain,” he said, reaching beside Sid’s head and fiddling with a sort of remote control. Sid wondered what an angel needed with a remote and just what good would changing the channel do, when a warm blanket of comfort seemed to envelop his body. Something slid into his unresisting hand. He glanced down and there was that odd remote with the single button.
Ah, yes. Not an angel after all, but morphine-induced illusion. Was Jordan really there, though? Sid reached out to him, but his hand seemed made of lead, and it flopped back onto the mattress with an audible thump.
No, not an angel, but Jordan was indeed real, as he lifted Sid’s hand and raised it to his lips. “I only have the day, gotta catch a flight out late tonight – but I couldn’t not come,” he said, trying and failing to keep a cheerful expression on his face. “And you probably think I’m a dream right about now.”
Sid nodded, and his eyelids followed suit, and the angel’s echo sang in his ears. “I’ll be right here…”
And then, oddly, he was right there, back in his bedroom with the sunlight and the soft white sheets, the sweat from their lovemaking sharp and acrid in Sid’s nose. This time when Sid reached for him, his hand weighed no more than a feather.
“How long can you stay?” asked Sid.
Jordan smiled, cuddled Sid’s head to his chest. “We have all the time in the world…”