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Where We Left Off

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Greg first woke to the caress of fingers through his hair and the distant hazy drone of rain outside. His questioning murmur was gently hushed, the sheets shifting higher over his bare shoulders. Softness whispered against the shell of his ear that he only half took in. Contented, he dropped off as warm, familiar arms settled back into place around him.

When Greg opened his eyes again, there was morning sun in the sky and fresh coffee on the nightstand. Black, two sugars. It tasted perfect, of course. Probably effortless on the maker’s part, and still better than anything Greg could fumble together. Bit disappointing to be drinking it alone, though.

The water he heard running over in the en suite seemed much more inviting.

Greg managed to slip into the shower unnoticed, enjoying a few leisurely moments to admire the plush arse turned in his direction. It looked just as inviting wet as it did dry. Only made sense to find out for sure.

“Oh–!“ Greg felt the back muscles tense as he cosied against them. Surprised grey eyes swung round. “What - Greg?“

Greg smiled, cuddling closer, soothing his fingers through damp chest hair. 

“Mornin’,” he husked, just audible over the spray. The steam made everything feel little hazy, a little unsubstantial. “Missed you. Lonely drinking coffee all by myself.” 

Hesitation. Then, a shift as the rest of the body settled back further into Greg’s arms.

There we are. Close again. 

“My apologies. I only meant to be a moment.”

“S’fine. Needed a wash anyway.” Greg nuzzled lower, helping himself to that gorgeous pale throat again. His lips pressed to one of the discoloured reminders from last night. The first of many, he hoped. It had darkened prettily, carrying the promise that it would be remembered long after it faded from sight.

He couldn’t resist another taste - a slow, hungry sweep with the flat of his tongue. The rumble of the shower couldn’t cover the breathless moan that rose up.

“Don’t going rushing off right away, okay? Like to have breakfast with you at least.”

He heard a slight, nervous swallow. “Actually, I - I had Anthea clear my schedule for the weekend.” 

Greg’s face opened into a grin, the sugar-rush of something warm and fluttery under his ribs.

“Yeah?” 

A nod this time. “Barring an emergency, I’m not due in the office until Monday morning. I-If you’d like, you could stay-“

Greg turned his head, catching that small stutter between their mouths, feeling the tightening of breath as he eased his hand downwards. 

“Definitely would like,” he murmured, soft as a secret. “Not anywhere near done with you yet.” His initial brushes were whisper-light, just with the tips of his fingers before taking a proper grip. God, he’d missed mornings like this – a lover held fast against his chest, panting, plaint lips responding in kind. This quiet enthusiasm was everything to him. He loved the bitten down gasps and whimpers, the way his armful writhed with his steady strokes, the startled glance back as he suddenly let go and dropped down to his knees. 

“G-Greg-?” The intimate play of Greg’s tongue coiling over the bump of the tailbone and further down into the cleft triggered a beautiful, helpless groan. “Oh, Christ…” 

Greg hummed his approval. He probably wasn’t the first to do this, not with how those trembling legs adjusted their stance, quick to give him better access. But there was something in those lost, pleading sounds; the way the back arched with each deepening lick-

“When’s the last time someone did this for you?”

“I – mmm – years, I think-“

Greg smiled, and took a firmer grip of the arse cheeks, parting them.

“Lucky we’ve got the whole weekend then, Myc.”