Page 62 of The New Place

“More?”

“Yes. No.” Ned turns and kisses him, his face too close, his movements a little clumsy now, Abbot’s glasses wedged between them. Abbot frees them with his other hand and Ned puts them on the nightstand. Abbot quickly takes off his watch, too.

Abbot wraps his arm low over Ned’s waist as they kiss, keeping him pinned as his own body reacts. It’s good. It’s always good, this eagerness building between them. Ned, who is so fully in the moment when they’re together and Abbot finds he can meet him there. He doesn’t worry whether Ned’s enjoying himself when he so clearly is, or what Ned wants when he’s so plain in his words, so keen in whatever they try. They fit together. Work together, and the forceful, overwhelming attraction Abbot’s always felt for Ned shifts into just plain fun. Other men were worry and anxiety and fretting over what he was doing wrong, but it’s Ned in bed with him now, and Abbot smiles at him.

“You have to take your socks off too,” Abbot whispers.

“C’mon,” Ned says, rubbing eagerly into his hand.

“I have standards.”

“I couldn’t think about anything else all through dinner.”

“A warm grain salad wasn’t riveting enough?”

“No and neither are damn socks.” Ned struggles with the blankets as he twists and turns to reach his feet.

Abbot strips off the shorts he wears to bed here, the T-shirt he kept on. It’s one of Ned’s, worn and threadbare and it smells of him, but Abbot happily trades it for Ned himself, the press of bare skin and the air beneath the blankets growing warm and humid as they kiss.

Baxter whines.

“You’re fine,” Ned says to him, barely pausing in their kiss. “Stay over there.”

Abbot spreads his legs, letting Ned settle between them. Yes, perfect, that anticipation building, the ridge of Ned’s cock between them and Abbot’s too. This is what he wants, Ned’s weight, their focus on each other.

Ned jerks.

“Are you alright?” Abbot asks.

“Cold wet dog nose,” Ned says, rubbing at his arm. “Baxter, c’mon, man.”

But Baxter whines, a high, thready pitch, and shifts his weight back and forth, his paws tapping the floor.

“You can’t have to go out right now. I just took you out,” Ned says.

Baxter jogs the few short steps to the bedroom door and then looks back, clearly wanting Ned to follow.

“I love you, but seriously,” Ned mutters.

The dog paws at the door, his entire body squirming, and Ned swears as he kicks the blankets back.

No, Abbot nearly says, but what is Ned going to do? Ignore the dog? He won’t, and Abbot wouldn’t either, but he still misses Ned’s body against his as Ned hops on one foot, shoving his legs into his jeans, wincing as he fastens them.

Abbot lays back, staring at the ceiling as the door opens and closes, Ned’s footfalls descending the stairs and Baxter’s steps a clatter of paws.

Abbot picks up the lube, then sets it back down. He’s too familiar with a lonely bed, a plastic bottle, and his hand. The fun is in Ned being here, so he waits instead of bothering to tease himself, listening for the back door to open and then close, and open and close again. He can feel moments ticking past, these short visits together always ending too soon.

And too many days between them. Abbot is flushed and chilled at the same time, his blood still pumping but the bed cold without Ned in it.

“Pissed like a fire hydrant and then came in and wanted an entire bowl of water,” Ned says as he comes back in. “Hi, okay, where were we?”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, just bad timing.”

“Pat had asked if he’s doing okay.”

“The only thing I want to think about in bed less than Baxter’s bladder is Pat. Turn over? Or you wanna get on top?”