Tag: wedding night

Six(ish) Sentence Sunday on Monday

From Cleaving:

Zach closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, shifting slightly to get a jet positioned between his shoulder-blades and tangling his legs with Chris’.  He felt Chris’ legs shift as he stretched, and then something icy cold touched his hand.  He smiled, taking the glass of Prosecco, opening his eyes as he felt Chris lean back.

“How many times have we actually done this?” Chris asked, reaching back to turn off the water.  

Zach hadn’t realized how loud the rushing water had been until the sound was gone.  The air almost shifted as the prevalent sounds became the much softer hum of the jets and atmospheric groove of the music. 

“Done what?  Relaxed?”

“No.”  Chris took a sip, thinking.  “Just, our entire friendship, before we got together, I always thought of you as this really sensual guy.”

“Hedonistic, you mean.”

Chris laughed.  “No.  I wasn’t going to say that.  Just… enjoyed your senses.  I mean, we’ve had great meals together, and great sex, and I know I can get pretty tactile at times—”

“You?” 

Chris kicked at him, and Zach caught at his foot under the water with a laugh and held it, stroking Chris’ ankle with his thumb. Chris’ eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed against the tub again.  “Hmmm.  But we don’t seem to do this very often.”

Zach knew what he meant.  “We’re dads,” he said simply.  “With careers.  We’re lucky if we stay awake through a movie on the sofa after Nathan’s gone to bed. And, in our defense, we do an almost embarrassing amount of snuggling on those nights.”  And it didn’t always stay innocent.  Zach thought back to a particular night when the mood shifted unexpectedly during a movie and Chris was suddenly needy and responsive and deliciously demanding, asking Zach to take him for the first time.  A shiver ran through Zach.  That had been ages ago: before they’d learned each others bodies.  Before they’d gotten so bogged down in work they’d forgotten to enjoy them. 

“We are dads,” Chris answered.  “And that’s important.  And so is the work, for as long as we can keep at it.  But this is important, too.  I don’t want to forget about this anymore,” he said, running a hand along Zach’s calf.  “Even after the next three days are over.”

FWW, a bit late

From the last chapter of Cleaving (and the last chapter of Bleary!verse ever):

The car wove through the neighborhood of Oakland and headed downtown, trees and parks giving way to highrises.  Zach had been so focused on the ceremony, he honestly had no idea what came next.  A few days alone with Chris holed up in a hotel, followed by a few days back at his mom’s.  Then he was back to LA and Chris was off to do press for Hours and then he had to clear his schedule and pack for the cottage in Cornwall.  And that was exciting, but the idea of flying transcontinental alone with Nathan was a little terrifying.  He’d have to call—

“You’re thinking too loud,” Chris said, dropping a kiss on his head.

“I just feel like I’m forgetting something.  I haven’t really thought through what happens next, and — oh shit.  Our bag.  We forgot our clothes.”

“Relax.  The room’s actually in Dad’s name.  We checked in and dropped everything off on the way in this morning.  I’ve got the key cards.  We don’t have to worry about the front desk or being recognized.”

Zach sat up, surprised.  

“I had a few things to set up.  And it was basically on the way.  It didn’t make me late for the ceremony,” Chris added.

“What did you have to set up?” Zach asked as the car pulled into a semi-circular drive of a very familiar hotel.  “You got us a room here?”

Chris just squeezed his hand and moved to get out of the car, thanking their driver.  Zach collected the picnic basket and followed, letting Chris lead him through the doors to the elevator, and then up to the twenty-second floor, and down the hall to a very familiar door.

Chris let them in, and Zach felt a little like he was coming home.

It was the same suite they’d shared the first two weeks of Nathan’s
life, but instead of the common room being covered in bottles and baby
gear and books on what to expect in the first year, every horizontal
surface was scattered with collections of vases holding flowers like those from their
wedding.  In the middle of the room, on the round glass dining table
that they had never eaten at when they were here with Nathan, a bottle of Prosecco sat chilling in a silver bucket.