this thing we keep

NATE

Who could ask to be unbroken
or be brave again?

Or honey hope even on this side
of the grave again?

If they were in another place, another moment, another slice of time, Nate might open his mouth, and ask where he would go, but to do that here felt like a violation of whatever slice of relief there was to be found. Instead, Nate leaned in closer, moving his face until he’d captured Sams lips again, muffling his groans and licking them together, an unspoken promise of devotion.

Without prompting, Nate’s hand began to move, stroking over both of their cocks in a slow, insistent drag. He stared into his partners eyes, almost in a daze, almost like it was holy, and leaned in to press their foreheads together, panting against Sams mouth as he felt something overwhelming rise up in his chest, a orgasm that was teased and pulled out. His hand didn’t stop moving, even as it grew slick, but it did slow, a handful of more torturous strokes to ensure Sam came crashing along with him.

Still panting, Nate pressed a hard kiss to Sams mouth, then pulled back, sitting up and pulling the ginger man along with him, chest to chest, and wrapping his arms around him tight. It felt wrong, to part too soon.

And who could ask it to be sound
or to feel saved again?

But stick around until you hear
that music play again