Summer Quickwrite #2
Reunion sex in celebration of their one year anniversary.
eisenfieldloveforever
They never broke up. So they only see eachother a handful of times in a year now, Andrew’s got to be Biff and Spiderman and Jesse’s got to be Edgar and Atlas and all of that jazz. It’s not as if either of them would ever find someone they were better suited with. Jesse though has still always feared that it’ll happen, that Andrew will find someone else he loves more. He holds on to every word of conversation that passes between them, and he especially cherishes the times they’re able to spend together.
The night that Jesse sees Death of a Salesman is their one-year anniversary. A year ago that Jesse worked up the nerve and asked Andrew out over the phone because he wouldn’t have been able to bear the rejection in person. Turns out he didn’t have to worry, and the long stretches of time between their meetings only make those few fleeting moments so much better. It makes Jesse learn to cherish everything; the feel of Andrew’s hair under his face, the smell of his shampoo and his deodorant and his toothpaste, Andrew’s laugh, his gestures, his little jokes and the way he loves to play keep-away with Jesse’s red hat.
He loves the sex, too, he’ll admit that. And it’s so rate; usually when they see eachother there’s no time, or they’re tired, or it’s just inconvenient. But today they’ve made time.
“You’re way too young to be using mothballs, Jes,” Andrew says the moment he enters Jesse’s apartment. The furniture is arranged differently but he’s used to coming inside and seeing everything in a new location; Jesse seems to have a compulsive need to redecorate once a month. He has the same maps hung up on the wall though, the Broadway posters and photos of his families and his cats, past and present.
“There’s no age limit on moth repellant,” Jesse replies, and Andrew kisses him affectionately, backing them up to Jesse’s bedroom. Jesse melts into it and lets himself be moved; he slides his hand up Andrew’s cheek, closes his eyes and kisses him, slow and tender. It’s been too long. Way too long.
Jesse had never had sex with another guy before he met Andrew and he can’t imagine ever doing it with anyone else. Andrew uses a lubed pinky first, Jesse spread out across the bed, mumbling and squeaking as the tip of Andrew’s finger circles his hole. Andrew kisses him and tastes Jesse’s familiar chapstick, melon and blueberry - some things about him never change, like the way he picks his nails and chews his lips until they’re all raw and he won’t stop no matter how many times Andrew asks him to.
“Drew,” Jesse mumbles, pink licking over those red chapped lips, eyes all black and curls bouncing every time he thrusts back against Andrew’s fingers.
“You love this,” Andrew laughs, and it’s so true that Jesse’s not even embarrassed. He’s so tight around Andrew’s fingers, his cock is so hard against his stomach, he hasn’t been fucked in so long. Hasn’t even come in ages, really, when Andrew’s not around he doesn’t really jack off, as childish as it sounds. It’s something only his boyfriend can make him do.
“M’ready,” Jesse finally says, his breath coming in a gasp. Andrew pulls the three fingers out, runs a hand over Jesse’s chest, tweaks one of his nipples.
”Please,” Jesse gasps. “I love you, Drew, please.”
Andrew and Jesse never fuck. They make love, and that’s the only way Jesse would have it. Andrew wraps his arms around under his back, he peppers his face and neck with kisses and sometimes bruises, glaring angry purple and blue circles across his collar. When it’s done, they’re both sticky with sweat, red-faced from the exertion. Andrew pulls Jesse’s back against his chest, he drapes his arm over Jesse’s front. Their hands hook together, he whispers “I love you, Jes,” and they lie, and they sleep.