Page 26 of The New Place

Ned is different. Ned is here, in his kitchen, stealing a night together because he couldn’t wait another two days.

And they have a future together, too. Adams, Abbot thinks, and touches Ned’s chin. “Come with me,” Abbot whispers and leads him up through the darkened house.

He doesn’t bother with lights. He’s waited a month for Ned, and thought he’d have to be waiting still. But Ned is here, laughing as they try to keep kissing on the stairs, grabbing the banister for balance, giving Abbot’s ass a playful slap when he turns and jogs up the steps.

No, Abbot doesn’t want to dwell on that prior version of himself, and he certainly doesn’t need Ned’s curiosity about it either. Abbot flicks the lamp on and pulls Ned to him, pressing him to sit on the edge of the bed. He kneels, drawing his hands up Ned’s thighs and leaning in for a kiss that’s all heat and tongue and the nip of teeth. Yes, there’s Ned moving with him in answer, distracted by the push and pull of their mouths, no more questions on the catch of his breath.

His eyes are dark when Abbot draws back to study him for a moment before leaning in again. He’s waited so long for this. The little sound in the back of Ned’s throat. How his hand grips the side of Abbot’s neck. Abbot parts his lips and Ned answers him and this is what he’s wanted, the smell of Ned’s skin and the slide of his tongue, and how when Abbot hauls him closer, Ned wraps his arm around his neck and they hold each other, breathless and growing frantic.

Ned gets his hands up under Abbot’s dress shirt and undershirt both, smoothing over the bare skin of Abbot’s back, fabric bunched around his wrists. Abbot’s glasses bump Ned’s cheek. He takes them off and sets them on the nightstand, then unstraps his watch and dumps it in a heavy pile. Ned tosses his next to it, and when Abbot yanks Ned’s belt off and tugs his pants down his legs, Ned doesn’t bother retrieving his wallet or phone before he kicks the pants off, sending them across the floor.

With a hand on Ned’s shoulder, Abbot presses him back to rest his weight on his elbows and nudges his knees apart. Ned’s boxer briefs are tented, and Abbot tickles his fingers up his thigh beneath the fabric, slides his hand down to his knee, and then back up again.

Ned’s hips shift and Abbot grazes his knuckles up the long ridge of Ned’s erection, listening for the change in his breath, then thumbing the head of his cock through the fabric to hear it again.

“Hey. Shit. It’s been a while. Have mercy.”

Abbot presses his face to the crease of thigh and hip and inhales. How he’s missed the deep scent of Ned’s body, the smell of him impossible to truly grasp in memory. Ned’s hand lands heavy on his head, and when Abbot breathes over the bulge of fabric, his fingers grip, relax, and then grip again.

“Although I absolutely blew off some steam before I drove up,” Ned says and yes, he talks and talks, but this topic at least is one Abbot is thirsty for.

“Did you?” Abbot asks.

“I was thinking about you all day,” Ned says as Abbot noses at his cock. “I couldn’t—ah—focus and I had to—to⁠—”

Abbot pulls his waistband down.

Ned lifts his hips and his cock bobs free. Abbot takes him in his mouth, and Ned hisses. “That’s so good.” Ned lets out a high, breathy laugh. “Abbot, that’s so good, like that, just like that.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me more?”

“I can’t,” Ned moans.

Yes, Abbot knows what he likes. Has spent hours cataloguing and studying and Do you have a damn spreadsheet? Ned had gasped once. Now, he laps at the head of Ned’s cock and works his underwear down and off so he can tug at Ned’s balls, smooth his thumbs over the thin skin at the inside of his thighs, taste the need that seeps onto his tongue.

“Abbot,” Ned says, the word a low croon. And then louder, more urgent. “Abbot. Hey.”

“Hmm?” Abbot hums. Ned’s legs twitch and he smiles around his mouthful and does it again.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ned says, each syllable stumbling into the next. “Do you want to fuck? Because I can’t⁠—”

Abbot weighs the option, wanting to just continue like this, bring Ned to a whimpering finish and then on the agenda, as Ned had said⁠—

No, Abbot can draw this out. Distract Ned as thoroughly as he knows how, and enjoy doing it. They’ve done plenty of talking this past month. Abbot has no need to hurry back to that, not now of all times.

He sits up and it’s all the answer Ned needs, hauling his shirt off as Abbot works the buttons of his own. Abbot steps out of the rest of his clothes and lets Ned pull him down onto the bed. Oh how Abbot has missed this, the warm press of Ned’s bare body to his, how in sync they are, moving together up the mattress, yanking the covers down, Abbot on his back and Ned bearing him down, kissing and kissing and kissing.

Ned touches him everywhere, skating up his ribs, drawing a hand down the outside of his leg, sucking kisses down the length of his neck and back up to his ear, his jaw, his mouth. Abbot touches him too, a hand tight in Ned’s hair, another grabbing his ass, his waist, encouraging him close so Ned can grind his cock into Abbot’s stomach.

They’re good like this, and have been since those early days, back when Abbot was still shocked to find Ned in his bed. They move together now in a familiar dance of their bodies, their hands, their mouths, caught up in each other on the bed as their reunion plays out like it does so often, the miserable time apart ending when they finally find themselves back together at last.

Tonight’s more desperate than usual, with too many weeks between now and when they last had any time alone, but the steps are as familiar as ever, crowding close to kiss each other, anticipation building even as relief courses through Abbot at finally being back here.

His breath catches as Ned touches him, a squeeze of his fingers around Abbot’s cock, a gentle tug at his balls, Abbot’s legs shifting open wider.

Ned drops his forehead to press to Abbot’s. “I missed you,” he whispers.

“I’m glad you came up tonight.”