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?

Nate’s breath catches in his throat as Sam pulls away, a sound of loss clicking from his dry mouth. His eyes were closed, but he leaned in, where he knew Sam was, even without breath, and pressed their foreheads together, his eyes opening just in time to see a pink tongue move over sharp white teeth. There was a haze behind his eyes, pleasure, and desperation, and the want, the need for something better than what they were getting, better than what Longnight could give, better than what he could admit.

”Don’t thank me.” He whispered hoarsely, against Sams lips as they came together, magnetism and need pulling him in to meet the kiss that was offered. Nate’s arms, wrapped around the smaller man, his lover, moved then, one going up, to tangle in ginger hair, and the other, down, to pull at Sams shirt, a question, not a request. Is this what we’re going to do?

His lips grow more insistent, his tongue pressing into Sam’s mouth, his grip growing more insistent. Nate’s eyes closed again, and he pulled the other man further down onto the bed, leaning over him, acting on more instinct than thought. Thought would have him recoiling away, shame and embarrassment coursing through him.

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

But stick around until you hear
that music play again