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Jetlag

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The problem with long distance relationships was the constantly interrupted sex life. He missed Brendan as soon as the plane took off, wishing there was some way for them to spend more than odd weekends and the occasional longer break together. The problem was that he had his research at the Longreen Reserve in Elkins, and Brendan was a highly sought after NSA agent since teaming up with Freya. Neither of them kept a tight schedule, falling to the whims of others that necessitated canceling arrangements far too often, but they had agreed from the start that their work was important.

It was Emmett's turn to go home alone after dropping Brendan off at the airport, and as he had already parceled out all the work for the day among the grad students helping in his research, Emmett decided against checking in at the reserve. The drive home seemed strange without Brendan chatting away next to him and although he had lived alone in his house for several years before he met Brendan, it always seemed so empty now when he stepped inside alone and closed the door behind him. He wandered from room to room, fingers trailing over places where they had laughed and played, and fucked when they were feeling adventurous, eventually reaching the kitchen, fingers stroking across the work surface where Brendan had prepared brunch earlier today--and where Emmett had bent him over the counter and fucked him hard enough that Brendan was probably still wriggling in his airplane seat, trying to get comfortable.

Eventually he made his way back to the bedroom they shared when Brendan visited. He kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his socks and pulled off his pants and over-shirt, flopping down onto the bed in just a t-shirt and boxers. The bed seemed so huge without Brendan filling the empty space so he closed his eyes and imagined Brendan was still beside him. He let his mind's eye wander down Brendan's body, mentally carding through dark chest hair to find an almost hidden nipple. His hand moved down the plane of a washboard stomach, fingers following the striation of lean muscle, mimicking the movement with his other hand trailing down his own body.

Emmett grunted as his boxers got in the way; dragging them off and throwing them aside haphazardly in annoyance. He moaned in appreciation when he returned to his fantasy, letting tactile memory guide his hand as he wrapped fingers around his engorged shaft. He could almost feel the heaviness of Brendan's cock in his hand instead, and wished he was supple enough to bend over double to taste himself the way he had sucked on Brendan earlier this morning. The thought alone was enough to make him groan with need and want. He held the image in his head, quickly lapping the precome off his own fingers so he could concentrate on the memory of that bitter taste and the way Brendan had writhed beneath him with the tiny, abortive thrusts of hips held down by Emmett's hands. He remembered the spurt of salty juices into his mouth when Brendan cried out and came, and his own climax overwhelmed him as he swallowed down the release from that imaginary cock.

Afterwards, he lay sprawled out across the bed, with muscles loose and limbs heavy, panting hard.

Emmett grinned lazily. With luck Brendan would be home in a few hours. As long as nothing called him into the office, and as long as Brendan wasn't feeling jet lagged, he could do this all over again. But next time it would be with Brendan's voice in his ear, telling him where to touch, breathing his demands through his cellphone until the day they could be fully together again once more.

With a half-contented smile, Emmett gave into the lassitude of his tired limbs and slept.

END