Make it Last

by Suzuran

another round of Make It Worse

Jamie was still fast asleep when the doorbell rang.

Waking up was usually a slow process when the kids were away. Jamie liked to enjoy the quiet, when there was any, and usually, without Zack and Alex making any early-morning mayhem, there was plenty of quiet — but apparently this morning, somebody had decided that Jamie’s sleep-in was less important than whatever was prompting them to lean so hard on the stupid doorbell, which would have been unfair at the best of times, but was doubly unfair considering how late he’d been up last night because of—

The recollection hit him like a shot of espresso, and left him just as jittery. Jamie stared unseeingly at the cluttered end table as his brain scrambled to catch up with the sudden burst of adrenaline.

Last night. Cameron.

The clock on the end table read ten to eight, but Jamie barely saw it as he bolted out of bed and raced to answer the door. Cameron was still leaning on the doorbell, but that was understandable, frankly, and with the kids gone, at least there wasn’t anyone else for him to wake up.

Jamie threw the deadbolt and tugged open the door. Cameron slipped inside like a secret and pushed the door shut behind him. His golden skin was flushed from the early-morning chill, his big brown eyes sparkling. The dark hair he’d once described as “disastrously curly” was piled up in a messy bun atop his head; a few errant curls spilled down his temples. His lips were parted, breathless; he was wearing a cozy-looking burgundy sweater and a short brown skirt. Below that stretched bare leg all the way down to his knees, where a pair of tall white socks covered the rest of the way to his muddy Chelsea boots.

Christ, he was cute.

“I need to brush my teeth,” Jamie croaked in greeting.

Cameron’s face broke out in a giddy, dazzling smile. “Okay.”

The effort it took to drag himself away was enormous, but Jamie did it anyways. As he went, Cameron called down the hall after him: “What time do your kids get home?”

“Six-thirty.”

His ensuite bathroom felt like it must have been whole continents away; the maybe two minutes he spent there felt like an eon. For a fraction of a second, he considered putting actual clothes on, or at least a shirt, but that would take another millennium, and he doubted Cameron would care.

He had to force himself not to sprint back to the front door. Cameron was waiting right there where Jamie had left him, with his back against the door and his stockinged toes curling against the edge where the rug met the tile. His muddy boots were in their usual place on the rack, his backpack on the floor beside it.

For three endless seconds, Jamie just looked. His heart felt so loud in his chest, but the house was quiet and empty. For once, it was just the two of them, alone. Nobody was there to interrupt; nobody was around to see. For once, Jamie didn’t have to pretend not to want him. Nobody was there but Cameron… and Cameron already knew.

Cameron was watching him back, those sparkly brown eyes wide with anticipation. Jamie stepped forward, well past the professional distance he always tried to keep and right into Cameron’s personal space. “Hi,” said Cameron, and Jamie dropped to his knees.

Cameron swore under his breath. The soft, bare inches of his thighs between his socks and his skirt were icy cold under Jamie’s hands as he pried them impatiently apart. In the shadow under the skirt, Jamie spotted plain blue cotton and the telltale glisten of wet skin.

“I would’ve worn something cuter,” Cameron admitted, “but I didn’t wanna drip all over the bus, and I couldn’t stop thinking about y—ooh.” He tasted good, even through his underwear; Jamie rolled his tongue against the soaked cotton, felt the hot, swollen flesh underneath, and listened to Cameron swear breathlessly above him. “Oh my god, Jamie.”

Jamie’s hands slipped higher up those soft, cold thighs, sliding up the sides of Cameron’s skirt to find the waistband of his underwear. It was torturous to pull himself away, it really was, but he could spare a few seconds if it meant he could peel Cameron’s panties down to his thighs and taste him for real. His tongue slid between Cameron’s drenched folds.

Cameron swore again and grabbed a fistful of Jamie’s hair. “I brought condoms,” he added hastily, “in case you didn’t have any — they’re in my bag, oh fuck.”

Jamie hummed. Cameron whimpered. “Fuck, Daddy.”

The word was like lightning. Jamie smothered his helpless moan in the dripping folds of Cameron’s pussy. God, he’d known he liked it a little too much, but it was filthy to hear it like this — out loud, in context, spilling helplessly from Cameron’s pretty mouth, sharp-edged with need. He was never going to be able to be normal about this ever again.

“God, that feels so good,” Cameron babbled. “You feel so good, fuck, I was thinking about this all the way here, wanted to sit on your face so bad.” He was already breathless, legs already trembling a little where they were spread around Jamie’s head, but with his underwear trapping them, they couldn’t get very far. Jamie dragged his panties down his legs, flung them blindly backwards the second they came free, and Cameron curled one leg around Jamie’s bare shoulder and angled his hips against Jamie’s mouth. “Fuck, that’s so good.” The top of his socked foot slid along Jamie’s ribs. “Don’t stop, please, Daddy, please don’t stop, I’m— fuck, I’m gonna—”

And just like that, he came, hot and easy on Jamie’s tongue, with a series of airy sounds so sweet they made Jamie feel dizzy. He could feel Cameron’s muscles flexing against his tongue as Jamie worked it against him to carry him through. As the tremors subsided, Cameron melted bonelessly against the door, and Jamie backed away, easing Cameron’s leg down from his shoulder.

“Fuck,” Cameron repeated, very breathlessly.

Jamie cleared his throat, swallowed hard. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

Cameron’s answer was as boneless as the rest of him. “No.”

“Come on.” Jamie dragged himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen, tugging Cameron after him by the wrist. “I’m not having marathon sex on an empty stomach, and neither are you.”

That got an incredulous giggle as Cameron stumbled after him. “Yes, sir!”

If Jamie stopped to think, he’d get distracted; so he didn’t stop, and he didn’t think. He simply moved, one step at a time. His mouth and chin were a mess, so when they reached the kitchen, he dropped Cameron’s wrist, crossed to the sink, and rinsed his face. There; that was the first step. What was the second?

He turned, and the slightly grubby Keurig on the counter beckoned him like a siren. “Coffee?”

Please.”

Water, pod, mug, on. Next: food. “You good with toast?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Four slices went into the toaster, and two plates came out of the cupboard. His months of wrangling the kids through their morning routine in time to catch the bus were taking over, keeping Jamie moving on autopilot. “You want jam, or peanut butter, or both?”

“Both, please.”

Jam came out of the fridge, peanut butter from the cupboard; a knife and spoon from the drawer. The toast popped, right on time; peanut butter first, then jam, then slide one plate of toast in Cameron’s direction and take a bite of his own.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Cameron piped up, and Jamie’s impatience evaporated.

Cameron’s voice was sweet, and tender like a bruise. The hesitance in it stuck in Jamie’s throat. He set down his toast. The bite he’d taken was a big one; he finished chewing it, swallowed, and turned.

Cameron was watching him with those big brown eyes. Jamie raised one careful hand to cradle Cameron’s face. Jamie was not a short man, but then, neither was Cameron; like this, with both of them shoeless on even ground, his forehead rested around the level of Jamie’s mouth. Jamie tilted Cameron’s face upward, leaned down to meet him, and carefully pressed their lips together.

He didn’t mean to be so hesitant — he only wanted to make their first kiss as close to perfect as it could get. Cameron sighed quietly against his mouth as Jamie lingered, indulging for a few decadent seconds in the warm, sweet softness of Cameron’s lips against his.

Eventually, Jamie pulled away — or tried to. The second he did, Cameron grabbed him with both hands around the back of the neck and pulled him back in.

Jamie’s startled noise came out muffled against Cameron’s mouth. This kiss was a lot less chaste; Cameron’s lips parted eagerly beneath Jamie’s, and Jamie tilted his head, coaxed Cameron’s into just the right angle, and pressed deeper.

Cameron bumped against the counter, and their mouths broke apart. “You taste like me,” he whispered, hoisting himself up, and then Cameron’s knees were parted around Jamie’s hips and Cameron’s feet were urging him closer with gentle nudges against the backs of his legs and Cameron’s mouth was on his again and that was far more important than talking.

Gradually, belatedly, Jamie realized the coffee maker had stopped making noise, and remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He pulled away, slow and sticky-sweet. The kiss stretched out like a strand of honey before finally breaking; Cameron drifted after him, seemingly without meaning to.

Jamie picked up a piece of toast from Cameron’s plate and raised it to Cameron’s mouth. One browned corner tapped against Cameron’s lip, leaving a tiny dab of peanut butter.

“Eat, baby.”

He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they came out soft and intimate. They felt unlike him, but so good to say. Cameron obediently took a bite, then raised a hand to take the rest from Jamie’s hand. Jamie watched as he chewed, swallowed, and looked up.

The toast had left a smear of strawberry jam at the corner of Cameron’s mouth. With one careful fingertip, Jamie wiped it up and pressed it between Cameron’s lips. Cameron’s tongue flickered across the pad of Jamie’s finger, and then was gone.

Jamie took a step back, retrieving his finger from Cameron’s troublesome mouth before it could do any worse. Cameron let him go, and turned his attention to his breakfast while Jamie retrieved the first cup of coffee from the machine and started another. By the time it was ready, he was swallowing the last of his toast and brushing the crumbs off his fingers. He crossed to the fridge. “Cream?”

“From you?” Cameron replied around his last mouthful of toast. “Always.” He slipped off the counter, bounced once on his toes, plucked the carton of cream from Jamie’s outstretched hand, and turned to his coffee.

Jamie crossed to his own coffee, reclaiming the cream when Cameron offered it. As he poured, he watched Cameron stretch up on his toes to grab the sugar from the cabinet. His skirt rode up a little from the movement — not enough to be indecent, but enough to expose another few inches of his thighs. They were wetter than before. Jamie’s mouth watered.

He tore his eyes away to return the cream to the fridge, then glanced over the state of his fingers. No crumbs, no hangnails, no rough spots. Good. Cameron was leaning one hand on the counter while he stirred sugar into his coffee with the other.

“Bend over for me?” said Jamie.

Cameron hummed and leaned down on his elbows, arching his back. His skirt was barely long enough to keep him modest; his thighs glistened. “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

Delicately, almost politely, Jamie reached out and folded the back of Cameron’s skirt up. Cameron hummed. Goosebumps prickled the backs of his thighs as Jamie admired the soft, dimpled swells of his ass and the slick, flushed folds of his pussy below.

Cameron arched his back. The way his ass and thighs framed his pussy was making Jamie’s mouth water; as his hips shifted, Jamie felt his dick twitch heavily in his pyjama pants.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, very much.”

The first touch startled a squeak out of Cameron. Jamie trailed two fingertips through his folds, feeling the way all that wetness clung to his skin. Cameron moaned. “Ohh,” he whispered, sweet and just a little surprised. He seemed to have cooled off a little, but as Jamie teased his entrance, he was warming back up quickly enough.

Jamie pressed a finger into him, and Cameron melted against the counter. “Ohh, Daddy.” His elbow nudged his coffee cup on the way by, and it teetered ominously; Jamie slid it safely out of harm’s way, then picked up his own and took a sip.

“Daddy,” Cameron moaned again, squirming against Jamie’s hand. He was burning hot inside, snug and wet around Jamie’s finger. Jamie thrust it idly, savoured the way Cameron moaned for it. It had been a very long time since he’d last been in a position like this one, but Jamie made an educated guess and slid the pad of his thumb down to where he expected Cameron’s clit to be, and when he found it, Cameron muffled a moan into his sleeve. His pussy squeezed around Jamie’s finger.

“There you go,” Jamie murmured, half to himself, and took another sip of coffee. The way his thumb circled Cameron’s clit was nowhere near as fevered as the way he’d worked it over with his tongue at the door, but as he thrust his finger in idle sync, Cameron’s legs were already starting to tremble.

He didn’t warn Jamie this time; he just came, moaning low and sweet into his sleeve as his pussy twitched and throbbed around Jamie’s finger. Jamie worked him through it until he twitched away from the feeling and Jamie fell still.

Cameron took a couple seconds to catch his breath. The aftershocks pulsing through him made him flutter tantalizingly around Jamie’s finger. Jamie’s cock twitched again. He knew better than to do it, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted to shove his pyjama pants out of the way and take Cameron right there and then. It would be only too easy.

Judging by the way he squeezed around Jamie’s finger, Cameron was thinking the same thing. “You gonna keep teasing me all day?” he griped, still the slightest bit breathless. “Or are you going to fuck me?”

Jamie withdrew his hand with an audible squelch and set down his coffee. He took his time crossing to the kitchen sink, washing his hands, then drying them on the nearest towel. When he turned, Cameron was still bent over the counter, waiting for an answer as he eyed Jamie impatiently over his burgundy sleeve.

Jamie returned to his mug, lifted it to his mouth, then paused.

“Finish your coffee first.”

Instantly, Cameron snapped upright, grabbed his coffee, and started gulping it down. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Jamie.

Cameron swallowed the last of his coffee, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and set down his mug with a triumphant click. “You should know me better by now.”

Jamie gave him a wry look. “Didn’t think that through, did you? ‘Cause now you’ve got to wait while I finish mine.”

Cameron didn’t reply, just shifted on his feet. After a moment, he screwed up his mouth and looked away.

Jamie didn’t bother trying to hide his laughter. He took a slow sip of coffee, watching the look on Cameron’s face go from stubbornness to regret to comically exaggerated fury.

“Did you want something?” Jamie asked, before taking another long, slow, and this time noisy sip.

Oh my god,” Cameron replied, rolling his eyes so hard his whole head followed the movement. “Could you drink any slower.”

“Oh, probably.” Jamie swirled his mug. “Want to find out?”

No.”

Jamie’s laughter echoed in his mug. It was still about half-full; he finished it in slow, but generous mouthfuls, too eager to really tease. When he swallowed the last sip, he waited for a moment before lowering his mug, enjoying the impatient expression on Cameron’s face.

“Rinse your mug,” he said, and Cameron snatched it up off the counter, grabbed Jamie’s from his hand, and darted to the sink to rinse them both. He even put them in the dishwasher before darting back to Jamie’s side.

“You gonna take me to bed now?” He was trembling. His shaky fingers trailed down Jamie’s bare stomach, and Jamie’s skin shivered at the touch.

Jamie kissed him, short and innocent. When he pulled back, Cameron trailed after him.

“That what you want to do?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes. I am.”

Cameron was on him in an instant, looping his arms around Jamie’s neck to hold him close and kissing him thoroughly. Jamie kissed back as best he could, reflexively settling a hand into the curve of Cameron’s waist to steer him out into the hallway without having to pull away. The bedroom wasn’t that far, but it felt like it was as they stumbled step by barely-coordinated step.

Jamie’s foot brushed past Cameron’s discarded panties, and between kisses, he ducked to pick them up. “What should I do with these?”

“Laundry. I brought more.”

The bedroom door was only a few steps further. The second they got through it, Jamie kicked it shut behind them, tossed Cameron’s underwear in the direction of the laundry hamper, and hoisted Cameron up by both thighs. Their mouths slid apart.

“Oh my god,” Cameron gasped. “Oh my fucking god, Jamie.”

He likely would have said more, but by then they’d reached the bed, and Jamie tossed him onto it. Cameron landed on his back on top of the undisturbed blankets; before Jamie could suggest it, Cameron was rolling to the side and stripping the bedding down to the foot of the bed, where it slithered to the floor.

“Strip,” he demanded, rolling back to where Jamie had dropped him, and as soon as Jamie shucked off his pyjama pants, Cameron was reaching out to drag him into bed. His legs cradled Jamie’s waist; his fingers combed distractedly through Jamie’s hair.

“How about you?” Jamie slid his hand up Cameron’s leg, past sock and skin to tug at the hem of his skirt. “How about we get you out of all this?”

“How about you put your fucking dick in me before I die from waiting?”

That startled a snort out of Jamie. “So that’s a no to getting naked?”

“It’s a later, you can get me naked later, please just fuck me I’m so horny.”

“All right, all right.” He reached toward the end table. “Give me a second.”

He hadn’t had need of a condom since long before he and Leanne finalized their divorce, but he did still have some, even if he had to dig to the bottom of the box to find them. It only occurred to him to check the expiry date once he had the thing in hand; worst case, Cameron had said he’d brought some, but Jamie was pretty sure neither of them wanted to have to run out to the front hall to grab one.

“Hurry up,” Cameron demanded, snatching the condom out of Jamie’s grip, but Jamie had already seen the year printed on the foil wrapper and been appeased by the time Cameron was tearing it open.

They both heard the quiet snap of rubber breaking. Cameron swore under his breath.

Jamie huffed and plucked the condom from Cameron’s grip. Cameron’s wrists were soft, and Jamie’s hands fit around them easily; he pried them above Cameron’s head and pressed them down into the pillow. “Hold still,” he scolded, exasperated but not impatient. Cameron whimpered.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he whispered. “Just need you so bad.”

Jamie ignored the flood of arousal the words sent through him. He left Cameron’s hands where they were and leaned up to drop the broken condom on the end table and rummage for another. There weren’t many left; good thing Cameron had brought some, because they might need them. Jamie sat back on his heels, opened the condom with careful fingers, and rolled it down his length.

The second it was on, Cameron’s hands were grabbing at his shoulders to drag him down into a kiss. Jamie went where he was pulled, met Cameron’s mouth patiently, and gently pried his hands away to pin them back down. Cameron shivered.

“I said hold still,” Jamie reminded him. “Are you going to behave?”

“What do you think?”

Jamie pulled back far enough to give Cameron a look. Cameron met his gaze with a smirk on his lips and a challenge in his eyes, utterly unrepentant.

“Brat,” Jamie decided, and rocked his hips.

Cameron’s reply — no doubt as bratty as everything else — vanished into a wordless gasp as Jamie’s cock slid through his wet folds and across his entrance. “Oh, please—”

Jamie shifted his grip, sparing one hand from Cameron’s wrists to cage them both against the pillow with the other. Cameron gave his wrists one experimental pull, but he must have realized how fragile Jamie’s hold was, because that was all. Jamie lowered his free hand to his cock, steadied it against Cameron’s entrance, and pressed in.

By the time he got the head in, he had to stop and catch his breath. Cameron was a mess already — whining with every breath, thighs flexing around Jamie’s waist and fingers curling against the empty air — but Jamie wasn’t much better off. As he started to press in deeper, he bit back a curse. “Didn’t you spend all that time fucking yourself open last night? How are you still this tight?”

“I can’t help it,” Cameron whined, clearly faking it but still hot as hell. “Daddy got me all wound up.”

Even with how tight it was, Cameron’s pussy took him easily. Jamie kept his pace slow, to let Cameron adjust, but Cameron’s noises were all pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all before Jamie bottomed out. He dropped to his elbows. Cameron’s chest rose and fell rapidly against his, soft and warm even through his sweater. Jamie’s breath filled the space between them, hot and damp. He could hear Cameron’s shaky breathing, could feel it stirring the hair behind his ear. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Cameron’s voice confessing what he’d confessed over text late last night: I haven’t gotten to be a slutty boy before. He tilted his head, brushed his lips against Cameron’s ear.

“Good boy,” he murmured.

Cameron’s next breath sounded like a sob. “Oh fuck Daddy—

There was no artifice in his voice now, only pure, honest desperation. Jamie moaned quietly. He wanted to ask how it felt, if it was everything Cameron wanted it to be, but he didn’t have the time or the words. “That’s it,” he said instead. “Let me hear you.”

Jamie.

“Cameron.”

Cameron clutched at him with both hands. Jamie hadn’t realized his grip had fallen away from Cameron’s wrists, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. “Jamie, fuck, Daddy, please fuck me, Daddy, I’m so close.”

“Already?! I haven’t even started.”

“Daddy, please.”

Obediently, Jamie thrust into him — slow and gentle at first, but the way Cameron pawed at him told him that caution wasn’t needed here. He picked up the pace, put a little more force into his thrusts, and that was all it took to send Cameron over the edge. He came with a cry, face twisting with pleasure as his whole body tensed. His pussy squeezed rhythmically around Jamie’s cock, pulsing as though to coax him deeper. Jamie bit back a groan, blinked his eyes back into focus as Cameron’s cry faded and the tension seeped from his body.

It took Jamie a bit to find his voice. “Didn’t know you could do that,” he croaked eventually.

Cameron’s eyelids fluttered. “Yeah.”

“Should I pull out—?”

No.” Cameron’s legs closed around him instantly, heels kicking at Jamie’s ass to drive him back in. “Don’t you dare.”

Jamie swallowed a gasp. “Okay,” he choked. “What do you want me to—”

Cameron’s fingers curled against his shoulderblades. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck me, please, I want it so badly, please fuck me, Daddy.”

Well, it wasn’t like Jamie was going to say no to a request like that. He rocked his hips shallowly — more of a grind than a thrust, really.

“Oh my god,” Cameron whispered, eyelids fluttering again. His teeth sank into his lip.

“You feel so good,” Jamie admitted. He felt a little awkward saying it, but he knew how much Cameron liked praise, and it was worth it for the way Cameron whined.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t have the brainpower to say anything more, so he made his point with his body instead, picking up speed and force until Cameron was gasping with every thrust.

His legs tightened around Jamie’s waist. “Daddy,” he gasped, high and delirious.

He didn’t seem to be able to say much after that. Jamie didn’t say much either, just panted against Cameron’s temple as Cameron’s cries climbed higher and higher. This wasn’t going to last long. Cameron was throbbing around him, still pulsing with the aftershocks of his last orgasm as Jamie fucked into him; Cameron was gasping with every thrust, as though the sounds were forced out of him; and God, how long had it been since Jamie last fucked anyone? The slick cling of Cameron’s pussy felt like coming home, like heaven, like something Jamie didn’t have the words to describe, better than anything he’d felt in longer than he could remember. He really wasn’t going to last, but that was all right. That was okay. They had time.

Cameron’s nails bit into Jamie’s shoulder; his legs spasmed around Jamie’s hips. “Daddy—” he choked, and then he was coming a second time, from nothing but Jamie’s cock inside him, and Jamie’s arms shook as he buried himself deep in that pulsing heat and let go. Past the thud of his own pulse, he could hear Cameron’s choked-off noises, sweet and dirty beside his ear, and his own ragged breaths.

Cameron shuddered all over and went limp. Jamie dropped his head to the pillow beside Cameron’s to catch his breath, but the space between them was sweltering; after a moment, he pulled back. The air of his bedroom was cold and fresh by comparison.

Once he had his breath back, Jamie pulled out. Cameron bit back a whine at the feeling, and as soon as Jamie rolled out of the way, Cameron’s legs snapped shut.

He hadn’t done any of it in a very long time, but again, Jamie’s muscle memory knew the routine. He could hear the quiet, sticky sounds of Cameron’s thighs shifting against each other as he stripped off the condom, tied it off with slightly clumsy fingers, and rolled away to kick the trash bin out from under the bed. The condom made an unpleasantly wet noise when it landed in the bin. His fingers were slick with Cameron’s juices. Jamie rolled back over.

Cameron had his legs squeezed together under his skirt, shifting back and forth, as if the emptiness where Jamie’s cock had been could be soothed that way. It was all too easy to pry his legs open with one hand and give him something better.

Two fingers slipped into him so easily it felt like an accident. Cameron didn’t offer him any words at that; he just moaned, open and wanting, as Jamie’s fingers sank into his slick flesh. With his fingers, bare inside Cameron’s heat, Jamie could feel much more clearly the way Cameron’s muscles twitched at every touch, the way he squeezed around the intrusion. Jamie curled his fingers towards the front of Cameron’s body, angled his strokes to drag along Cameron’s inner walls, and Cameron yelped. His heels thumped against the bed. “Yes,” he gasped, “yes, please—!” His entrance squeezed again, as though begging for more; Jamie pressed in a third finger, dragged all three across Cameron’s g-spot, and Cameron came again, muffling his wail in his throat.

He’d already heard the sounds Cameron made as he came, and seen the way his expression twisted; he’d felt the way Cameron’s pussy squeezed around him; but all three together was almost too much to take in. Jamie absorbed as much as he could — the arch of Cameron’s neck as he tossed his head back; the feeling of his muscles fluttering around Jamie’s fingers; the way he whimpered as the pleasure faded and his legs twitched with the aftershocks. He let his fingers fall still, still buried in Cameron’s pussy. They both took a moment to breathe.

Cameron lowered one leg, stretched it towards the foot of the bed. The movement shifted his skirt, and his phone slipped out of his pocket; he picked it up, and the screen lit up with the movement.

“Oh, I have an email.” He tapped at his phone. “…Oh, shit. This is important, d’you mind if I…?”

“Go ahead.” Jamie had an important email of his own he’d been putting off, anyways. He eased his fingers out of Cameron, who winced but didn’t protest, and eyed them critically. No way in hell was he touching his phone with those, but there wasn’t much around to wipe them with.

Ah, fuck it. The sheets needed a wash anyways. He wiped the worst of the mess onto the fitted sheet, then slid over to the edge of the bed and sat up to grab his phone.

After a minute or two, Cameron broke the silence. “This is it,” he declared. “I’ve reached peak adulting: post-coital email-answering.”

Jamie huffed a breath of laughter but didn’t reply. His own email was still half-written; Cameron fell quiet to let him finish it.

Jamie waited until the email had officially left his phone before setting it back down on the end table. When he looked back, Cameron was just dropping his own on the opposite side. There was a lot more space for it over there; where Jamie’s end table was cluttered with chapstick, old shopping lists, odds and ends, the opposite table was bare and gathering dust.

Cameron leaned back on his elbows and blew a breath up into his hair. His sweaty bangs stayed firmly plastered to his forehead. Cameron grumbled under his breath. “I should go pee.”

“Not a bad idea.” Jamie had heard tales of the dreaded UTI before, and it did not sound fun. “You should have some water, too. There’s a glass beside the sink in my bathroom.”

Cameron sighed and, after a bit of clambering, crawled across the bed. As he passed, he ducked in to give Jamie a kiss. “Hey, big guy.”

“Hi,” said Jamie, and Cameron kissed him again, and then again, and again, each one slower than the last. His lips were so soft and so warm; Jamie felt the bed shift, felt Cameron swing a leg over his lap, but he was busy stealing kiss after kiss from Cameron’s sweet mouth, until those kisses had turned deep and dirty and Jamie’s cock was hard enough to nudge against the joint of Cameron’s thigh.

Cameron hummed into the kiss, wickedly amused. He pressed forward, pressed Jamie back, toppling them both over in slow motion. Jamie’s elbow landed in a puddle of moisture; he pulled it away. The drawer of the bedside table slid open. The kiss broke.

“Thought you were going to the bathroom,” Jamie murmured.

“It can wait.”

Cameron’s fingers were careful this time as he opened the condom, and worryingly confident as he unrolled it down Jamie’s cock. When it was on, he shuffled his way back into Jamie’s lap, braced a hand on Jamie’s chest, and angled Jamie into him.

He lowered himself so slowly, teasing the head back and forth past his entrance again and again as his expression melted with pleasure. God, he was gorgeous.

“Christ, Cam,” Jamie managed. “Thought you didn’t want me to tease.”

“S’more fun when I do it,” Cameron panted, but he lowered himself a little further, until the head was buried inside him and his entrance clutched tightly around the sensitive spot just beneath it when he tightened up. Jamie moaned. His hands landed on Cameron’s bare thighs; the hem of Cameron’s skirt brushed his thumbs as Cameron rocked his hips, fucking himself shallowly on just the first few inches of Jamie’s cock. His legs were already trembling. Jamie’s fingers dug into his thighs.

Abruptly, Cameron’s legs gave out, dropping him down on Jamie’s cock all at once. They both swore breathlessly; Jamie forcibly loosened his grip, sure he’d be leaving bruises otherwise. Cameron rocked his hips, but the motion was shaky, and his legs were still trembling; Jamie braced his heel against the bedframe and thrust up into him, and Cameron cried out and fell forward against Jamie’s chest. “Fuck, Jamie—”

He didn’t talk after that, just buried his mouth in Jamie’s shoulder and moaned as Jamie fucked him, even as his moans turned higher and more desperate. The rhythmic sounds of skin slapping against skin and Jamie’s panting filled the air underneath Cameron’s moaning, like some sort of filthy backing track. Cameron’s skirt brushed Jamie’s thighs with every thrust.

He didn’t stop when Cameron clenched tight around him and wailed into his shoulder; he kept going, fucking him through it until Cameron’s legs were spasming around his hips and Cameron’s moans cracked to pieces as they spilled from his mouth. His own orgasm seemed horribly far away, until Cameron shuddered heavily, whimpered against Jamie’s skin, and suddenly it was right there, crashing over him like a wave. He dragged Cameron down, buried himself once more in that heat, and Cameron fluttered around him and went quiet. His toes curled against Jamie’s thighs. Jamie heard himself groan deep in his throat, heard Cameron’s breath hitch in reply.

Jamie was the first to catch his breath. He pried his hands away from Cameron’s thighs and gave his clothed hip a muffled swat. “Up.”

With a put-upon groan, Cameron hauled himself up and off Jamie’s dick. Jamie pried himself upright, discarded the condom, and flopped back down. As soon as he was horizontal again, Cameron rolled over towards him and scooted closer.

Jamie jerked his chin towards the ensuite. “Go on. Bathroom.”

Cameron rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Not one for afterglow, are you?”

“The afterglow will still be here when you get back. Go on. If you get a UTI you’ll be so mad at yourself.”

Cameron groaned again. “You’re such a dad.”

“I know.” 

Cameron leaned in for another kiss, but Jamie fended him off, very tactfully, with a whole hand over his pretty face. “Bathroom. Now.”

Cameron licked his palm. Jamie recoiled, and Cameron snickered.

Eugh. Go on, get lost.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Cameron laughed. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Jamie let his head drop back to the bed, closed his eyes, and breathed. He heard Cameron’s sock feet padding across the floor, the click of the light switch, the sound of the bathroom door as Cameron closed and locked it — and then, for the first time since they’d started, Jamie was alone with his thoughts.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

He just had sex again. He just had sex with Cameron. And it was good — had sex always been that good? Or had it just been that long since Jamie had actually had any? It had been — how long had it been? It had to have been two years, at least, if not three; maybe he was just biased. After that long, pretty much any sex would probably be good, like how any food tasted good when someone was hungry — although, he hadn’t really been feeling that deprived until Cameron had started being flirty with him. Three years was a long time, sure, but only if you were paying attention to it, and Jamie had had more important things to worry about than sex, right up until Cameron happened.

Now that the adrenaline high had worn off, his body was already starting to ache. He’d forgotten the way sex wormed its way into every muscle he always forgot existed — he still had more in him, definitely, but he was going to have to pace himself. He was going to be in rough shape tomorrow; what they’d done so far was the best workout he’d had in…. Hmm. He should probably cancel that gym membership.

Cameron’s voice interrupted his thoughts from the bathroom doorway. “Should I bring a towel?”

Jamie dragged his head off the bed to look at him. Cameron was leaning on the doorjamb. He was still dressed; he almost looked presentable, except for the way his hair was starting to fall out of its bun, and the wetness on his thighs that Jamie could see from halfway across the room. He looked so pretty. Jamie was so screwed. “What for?”

“To protect the sheets.”

“…I think they’re already a lost cause.”

“Ah,” said Cameron. “…Sorry.”

Jamie snorted. “No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, not really. —Well, I’ll bring one to wipe our hands on, then,” he decided, and ducked back into the bathroom briefly. “So we can pretend we’re sensible adults who think things through, at least.”

Now, there was a thought that prickled uncomfortably at Jamie’s conscience. He put it aside and tried his best not to think about it.

Cameron’s return saved him having to avoid it for long. “Your turn,” he said, dropping the still-cupboard-tidy yellow hand towel on Jamie’s end table.

“Did you have some water?”

“Yup,” said Cameron, and as Jamie levered himself off the bed, Cameron flopped down in his place.

Jamie took his time in the bathroom, enjoying some of the quiet he hadn’t gotten to take in when he woke up. When he was done, he washed his hands and face well, picked up the glass from beside the sink, and downed several glasses of water from the tap. When he got back, Cameron was on his belly on the bed with his feet kicked up behind him, squirming, still dressed.

Jamie needed a break before he’d be able to go again, but clearly Cameron had no such requirements. Jamie climbed onto the bed to kneel between Cameron’s legs, and Cameron spread them for him eagerly.

“Still horny, huh?”

Cameron whined an affirmative. His feet kicked idly against the open air. “You gonna fuck me again?”

“Not yet. I need to take it easy for a bit.” He put his hands on Cameron’s shins, stroked them idly with his thumbs. The warmth of Cameron’s skin radiated through his knee socks. “But I’d like to get you naked, if you want.”

“Please.”

Jamie ran his hands down Cameron’s upturned shins. The cuffs of his socks were stretched snugly around his legs, just below his knees; Jamie slipped the edge of his hands under those edges and slowly dragged upwards. There was a sensual ease to the smooth slide of the fabric over Cameron’s skin. As Jamie’s hands reached his ankles, Cameron pointed his toes, easing the way for Jamie to slip his socks off over the elegant curves of his feet. Jamie tossed them towards the foot of the bed without looking. Cameron’s legs were warm and soft, and just a bit sticky from sweat, as Jamie smoothed his hands back down. The cuffs of his socks had left rings of red creases below his knees.

Cameron shifted against the bed. “Let me up? I wanna kiss you.”

Jamie leaned back out of the way, and Cameron squirmed his way onto his back and sat up to kiss him. He was a damn good kisser, or maybe Jamie was just easy to please; either way, it was all too easy to lose himself in it. By the time Cameron came up for air, Jamie’s hands were sneaking up the sides of his sweater.

“Go on,” said Cameron, raising his arms, and Jamie stripped the sweater off him.

He emerged with a charming little wriggle and a shake of his head, but Jamie’s attention had been caught a little lower. He could tell from having his hands up under it that Cameron’s sweater hadn’t been hiding a shirt, but he’d been expecting at least a bra of some kind. But no; Cameron’s breasts were shamelessly bare, nipples hardening in the open air. They were even more gorgeous in person, and the mid-morning light filtering through the curtains was more flattering than any camera.

“So you’re a fan of the ‘no bra’ thing, then,” Cameron observed, but Jamie barely heard him. He planted a hand on Cameron’s breastbone and pushed; Cameron spilled backwards, and Jamie descended on him.

The first brush of his lips against Cameron’s breast made Cameron gasp, but that was nothing compared to the way he moaned as Jamie dragged his tongue across his nipple. Jamie licked at him again, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to bite, the way he’d wanted to so badly when he first saw them last night. Cameron’s skin tasted faintly of salt.

Cameron gasped again and grabbed at Jamie’s hair. “Hey, hey, I’m not naked yet.”

Jamie was very occupied with licking and kissing and nipping at every part of Cameron’s breast he could get his mouth on, but he pawed Cameron’s skirt down his legs and flung it blindly backwards. Cameron laughed breathlessly. “Fuck, you really like th—nn, haah, shit, don’t stop.”

Jamie released Cameron’s breast reluctantly. Cameron was panting; his breast was wet and flushed where Jamie had been abusing it, but the other was still untouched. He lowered his mouth to the other breast, cupped one hand around the first one and rolled Cameron’s wet nipple between his fingertips, and Cameron’s voice rose sharply. “Harder,” he begged, desperation turning it high and frantic, “harder, please, don’t stop— oh, god— ah, ah, ah—!

For a second, Jamie wasn’t entirely sure whether he understood what was happening, but the way Cameron’s body tensed under his hands was pretty unmistakable. When he subsided, shivering, Jamie pulled back.

“What the hell?!”

“Oh, god, do it again,” Cameron gasped in reply. “Please do it again, it’s so good.”

Jamie could follow instructions. He dove back in, and as his mouth returned to Cameron’s skin, Cameron shoved a hand between his legs. It felt like no time at all before he was coming again, wailing even louder than before and clawing at Jamie’s hair with his free hand as Jamie suckled at one breast and squeezed the other.

When he was finished, Jamie released him, and worked his aching jaw. “Didn’t know you could do that, either.”

“Not always.” Cameron’s voice turned flirty again, that same exaggerated tone he’d used earlier. “It’s ’cause you fuck me so good, Daddy.”

Jamie bit him again. Cameron yelped. “Oh, fuck. You going to mark me up?”

Jamie cocked an eyebrow. “You want me to?”

Cameron scoffed, grinning down at him. “What are you, crazy? ‘Course I do.”

Jamie took a minute to look him over, considering the best place to start. Cameron’s nipples were hard and flushed, and ringed by the faint, fading imprints of Jamie’s teeth. Jamie leaned down. He hadn’t left a hickey in probably ten years, by now, but muscle memory had gotten him this far.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he said, and then started to suck.

Cameron moaned. Jamie could feel his arm shifting against Jamie’s stomach as he rubbed his clit. The last traces of salt faded quickly, leaving only the nothing-taste of plain skin, but Jamie kept going, working Cameron’s skin with teeth and tongue. By the time he pulled back, he’d left a blotch of vivid red just below Cameron’s hardened nipple.

“More,” Cameron demanded, but Jamie was already leaning back in.

He left marks all across Cameron’s chest, one after the other, tracing an agonizingly slow trail. Cameron was moaning nonstop, fingers still working at his clit.

“Fuck, I’m so empty, Daddy,” he whined. “Want your fingers in my cunt so bad. Please?”

Jamie didn’t even answer, just pressed three fingers into him — with his off hand, because the other was busy with Cameron’s tits. As promised, they were bruising like a dream, red-black against his golden skin. Cameron swore fluently, and not entirely in English. Against his palm, Jamie could feel Cameron’s fingers working feverishly at his clit; he rocked his hips against Jamie’s hand, riding Jamie’s fingers with shaky motions, and then he was coming again with a wail. His pussy squeezed around Jamie’s fingers, practically massaging them.

Jamie released the patch of skin he’d been worrying at, now a messy, violent red. Cameron whimpered, but as Jamie closed his teeth around his pebbled nipple, that whimper broke open into another cry. “Oh, fuck—” His hand resumed its frantic pace, Jamie gave his fingers a couple shallow thrusts, and Cameron came again, even louder than before.

“How are you still going,” Jamie blurted against a mural of blossoming bruises.

Cameron laughed breathlessly. “Told you, I can go for hours.”

Jamie shifted his fingers again, and Cameron whined and rocked his hips. “Think we’ve beaten your record yet?” Jamie wondered. “How many times have you—”

“It’s about to be one more,” Cameron gasped. “Can you angle your fingers forward— oh god,” and then he was coming yet again, this time with Jamie’s fingers pressing into his g-spot and another, slightly quieter wail. Jamie watched his face contort with pleasure again. He didn’t think he’d ever get sick of the way Cameron’s mouth spilled open, or the way his eyebrows furrowed, or the way his eyelids fluttered.

Cameron fell back against the bed, panting. His eyebrows furrowed again, this time contemplatively; he cracked one eye open. “…Eleven, I think.”

Jesus.”

Cameron just giggled.

For now, at least, he seemed sated, and Jamie’s wrist was starting to hurt, so he freed his hand from its extremely wet prison and grabbed that towel from his end table to dry it off. His dick had started to pay some attention again by the end there, but not enough to prevent him collapsing face-down on the bed. He felt the mattress shift as Cameron propped himself up on his elbows, but he stayed firmly horizontal, like his spine demanded.

And of course, his phone chose that moment to go off.

“What’s that?”

Jamie groaned into his pillow. The phone buzzed insistently; some cheerful preset ringtone bubbled from the tinny speakers. “Dinner. I have to cook.”

Cameron hummed interestedly. “What are you making?”

“Taco soup. It’s got chicken and tomatoes and beans and stuff — it’s kind of like Tex-Mex chili. I just throw it in the crock pot, and try and remember to stir it at least once before the kids get home.”

“That sounds really good. Want some help?”

Jamie rolled onto his back. His head bumped against Cameron’s elbow. He peered up at Cameron, and Cameron peered down at him. When was the last time he’d had help making dinner? He couldn’t remember. Even when Leanne still lived with him, cooking had been more of a tag-team endeavour than a collaborative one. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Cameron’s face split into that beautiful smile. “Okay. Need a minute?”

“…Yeah, maybe.”

“Okay.” Cameron tipped his chin in the direction of the end table. “Turn the alarm off.”

“Yeah.”

Jamie fumbled his phone off the end table and silenced the alarm. When he looked up, Cameron was still smiling quietly. Jamie turned and pressed a kiss on Cameron’s bicep. His skin was cool to the touch.

“We should put clothes on,” said Cameron.

“Yes. We should.”

Cameron stood up, and Jamie watched as he fetched his sweater from the foot of the bed, turned it right-side-out, and pulled it on. His skirt was tucked under Jamie’s foot; he tugged it out and stepped into it. When he’d settled it around his hips, fluffed the hem, and settled his sweater overtop, he looked up.

“Come on.” He jerked his head. “Get up and put some pants on, before I jump you again.”

“Terrifying,” Jamie deadpanned, but he rolled out of bed and crossed to the chair in the corner, where a pair of old sweatpants and a well-worn Henley sat draped over the back.

“You wouldn’t survive,” Cameron informed him with an audible smile.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” Jamie finished pulling on his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. “All right, let’s go.”

Cameron followed him out to the kitchen, and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink to scrub their hands. Jamie finished first, and handed over the towel when he was done with it. “What can I do?” Cameron asked as Jamie turned away.

“Can you clear the counter?” The dishes from breakfast were still strewn haphazardly around; he’d even forgotten to put the jam away. “I need somewhere to put this.” He hauled the slow cooker out of the cupboard and held it up. It was a big one, too; a wedding gift from Leanne’s brother. Technically, it should have left with her, but she’d considered it pointlessly pedantic to make Jamie buy another one, and she’d never used it much anyways.

Cameron had a space cleared in an instant, and got to putting things away while Jamie set up the slow cooker and dug out the ingredients for dinner. When he was finished, Jamie turned, only to find Cameron right there behind him. “What’s next?”

“Can you cut the onion? Little pieces, no bigger than a dime.”

“I dunno, I might get all emotional,” Cameron joked. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll need a knife and a cutting board.”

Jamie pointed him in the right direction, then opened the fridge. The strawberry jam was exactly where it belonged, nestled into place on the middle shelf of the door; Jamie stared at it for a long moment before he remembered what he was doing and grabbed the chicken. While he lined the bottom of the crock with boneless chicken thighs, he heard Cameron start in on the onion beside him, and smelled the crisp onion-y smell wafting up. Cameron was good with a knife; by the time Jamie was finished his task, Cameron was holding up a cutting board piled with neatly diced onion. “Where do you want this?”

“Just throw it in, thanks. And can you open the tomatoes?”

“Sure.”

Jamie left the empty styrofoam tray in the garbage and turned on the sink with his clean hand. When he turned the water off again, he noticed Cameron was humming under his breath as he opened the can of tomatoes. Jamie unscrewed the lid of the Tex-Mex seasoning and poured about a quarter of the bottle into the pot. The smell of tacos rose up.

“What are you singing?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Cameron handed him the open can, and Jamie emptied it into the slow cooker. “Just something my mom likes to sing while she’s cooking.”

“It’s nice. I like your voice.”

“Thanks.” And as Jamie rinsed the last of the tomatoes into the pot, Cameron started singing properly. It wasn’t in English. Jamie didn’t know much about Cameron’s mother — he knew she was the Singh in Singh-Miller, but that pretty much covered it. The language Cameron was singing in sounded like something from India, but Jamie didn’t know enough about what languages there were in India to have any clue what it was. He wished he did, because it sounded lovely. It reminded him of the old Irish lullabies his Gran used to sing him as a kid. He’d never been a great singer, so he’d never really learned them, but now he wished he had. He wondered if his mother knew them. He’d have liked to hear Cameron sing them.

(And he knew, he knew, how deep in it he was, to be having thoughts like that. He knew he was in way over his head. He just… didn’t want to think about it.)

Jamie gave the slow cooker a stir. While he was finishing up, Cameron had cleared away the mess and gotten out a little plate to put the spoon on. The empty cans were lined up beside the sink, rinsed and ready to go in the recycling.

Jamie set down the spoon and put the lid on the slow cooker. The singing stopped. “So,” Cameron said, bright with enthusiasm. “Back to bed?”

“Lunch first.” All the food prep had Jamie’s stomach rumbling. “What do you want?”

“Something fast.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at him, but Cameron was unrepentant, as always. Jamie sighed, but he was smiling. “Sandwiches, then?”

“Sounds good.”

They tossed together a couple of sandwiches from ingredients Jamie had in the fridge, and ate them standing at the counter. Cameron wolfed his down in about thirty seconds, and then he was leaning against Jamie’s side with all the subtlety of a glowing billboard. “So… can we go back to the sex now?”

Jamie couldn’t help laughing. “You’re such a brat.”

“Isn’t that what you like about me?”

For that, Jamie gave him a swat on the ass. Cameron yipped. He was right, of course, but still.

“I’m still eating,” Jamie told him. “Go on ahead. If you’re naked when I get there, I’ll let you sit on my face.”

Cameron was gone in an instant. Jamie huffed a laugh into the empty room, and turned back to his lunch.

He finished his sandwich at a much more reasonable pace, and washed it down carefully with a long drink of water; he didn’t want to taste anything but Cameron. When he was finished, he took the opportunity to load the lunch dishes into the dishwasher, then gave dinner one more gentle stir. Between the rest, the food, and the water, he was feeling a lot more up to the task at hand, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to pace himself. At most, he had probably two erections left in him before they stopped being fun, and judging by Cameron’s… everything, he was going to need them.

He brought two glasses of water with him to the bedroom. Cameron was stretched out on the bed, naked as instructed. When Jamie walked in, he shot up onto his knees.

Jamie didn’t acknowledge him until the door was shut and he’d set down both glasses on Cameron’s end table. Only then did he turn to Cameron, still up on his knees and waiting patiently, and say, “See? You can be good.”

Cameron moaned, and Jamie kissed him, sweet and dirty. When they parted, Cameron gasped, “Yes, Daddy, I want to be so good.”

“Back up for me,” Jamie requested, and Cameron scrambled to obey.

Jamie settled into place in the warm spot Cameron left behind, knees dangling off the foot of the bed so the headboard wouldn’t get in the way. The pillow was askew; Jamie reached up and tossed it aside, then beckoned Cameron over. “Come on.”

Cameron shuffled carefully across the bed and slung one leg over Jamie’s head. Jamie could smell him, rich and wet; his mouth watered.

“I’ve been daydreaming about this for ages,” said Cameron.

“So have I,” Jamie admitted, and pulled him down.

As Cameron’s weight settled onto him, Cameron’s legs closed around his head, shutting out the world beyond. Jamie left his eyes open at first, to watch the way Cameron braced himself against the headboard, and admire him from the new angle, but as Cameron started to rock his hips, Jamie’s eyes fluttered shut. All he could hear were his own breaths, the wet sounds his mouth made as he met Cameron’s rhythm with his tongue, and the creaking of the bedsprings below his head; all he could smell was Cameron’s body, intoxicatingly musky. He could taste a hint of rubber from the condoms, but mostly he could taste Cameron, dripping with arousal. One of Jamie’s hands palmed his cock idly through his sweatpants; the other curled around Cameron’s thigh. The noises Cameron made were muffled by his body; Jamie could faintly hear gasps and moans, but they sounded so far away.

It felt good to let himself sink into the feeling, to let Cameron take control. Cameron’s hand curled into Jamie’s hair, angling his head where he wanted it, and Jamie went where he was directed. It felt good to be of use, contributing to Cameron’s pleasure without worrying about his own. His neck and jaw were starting to ache, but even that felt good, or at least satisfying.

Cameron’s legs started to shake as he approached orgasm. Past the muffling effect of his thighs, Jamie heard his cries start to take on a desperate edge. He focused his attention on Cameron’s clit, licking and sucking harder to compensate for the way Cameron’s legs locked up, and less than a minute later, he felt pleasure wracking Cameron’s body. Jamie slowed his pace, coaxing him through until Cameron twitched away.

Cameron toppled to the side, and the world opened up around Jamie’s head again. The hum of the house around them felt weirdly loud.

“God, you’re good at that,” Cameron moaned, sliding his thighs against each other. “Fucking hard on the legs, though.”

Without a word, Jamie rolled towards him, pried his legs back open, and slid his head between them.

Cameron moaned and grabbed Jamie’s head, urging him in, as though Jamie needed the encouragement. “God, yes, more,” he gasped. His thigh made the perfect pillow; Jamie inched closer, guided Cameron’s leg over his shoulder, and Cameron moaned again. His voice was starting to go a little hoarse.

“I love your mouth,” he rasped. “You know that? I’d let you eat me out for hours if you could.” His fingers sank back into Jamie’s hair, petting idly. “Feels so good. I’d love to wake up like this, with your head between my legs.” Jamie let out a startled moan, and Cameron echoed it. Jamie had always been a fan of lazy mornings, but he missed having someone to spend them with, trading sleepy kisses and a round or two of sex before breakfast.

“Would you like that?” Cameron was saying. “Getting me off in my sleep, feeling me wake up around your tongue, hearing the noises I’d make when I realized what was happening.” His voice was rising; that familiar note of desperation was starting to creep in. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Best way to wake up, right here in your bed, with your mouth on my clit. Mmh— oh, god, just like that, don’t stop— haah, ahh, ah—!

His legs flexed around Jamie’s head as he came, squeezing him for a long few seconds before releasing him. As Jamie slowed his attention, Cameron’s hand tightened in his hair, tugging him up the bed. Jamie went where Cameron pulled him, let Cameron lick the mess out of his mouth and pry him impatiently out of his clothes.

“Fuck me,” Cameron begged between kisses. “Give me your cock.”

Jamie tugged open the end table and fumbled for a condom, but his questing fingers came up empty. Between kisses, he managed to get out, “The condoms—”

“It’s fine,” said Cameron. “We don’t need one.”

Jamie flinched. The kiss broke like fine china, snapped right down the middle in a sharp, jagged line. He could hear Leanne’s voice in his ear, saying those exact words, and God, had it really been five years ago already? Christ, Cameron would have been thirteen, not even in high school yet, what the hell had made Jamie think this was a good idea? He hadn’t even lost his virginity until he was in his twenties, and here he was sleeping with a teenager, like some sort of—

“Wait, come back,” Cameron protested, reaching for him, but when he saw just how far Jamie had pulled away, he hesitated. “Jamie? You okay?”

“We shouldn’t.” His voice was harsh with panic.

“You’re right,” Cameron agreed instantly. “Sorry.” He ducked back in with an apologetic kiss, and Jamie didn’t stop him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He offered Jamie another kiss, and Jamie took it, then pulled away.

“You okay?” Cameron asked again.

“Yeah.” The panic wasn’t gone yet, but it was fading. “You said you brought some?”

“In my bag.”

The look Cameron was giving him was wide-eyed with concern in a way Jamie couldn’t bear. He kissed him again before he went, just to make him stop, but it still haunted him all the way out to the front hall where Cameron’s bag was.

When he got back, Cameron was fingering himself idly. His fingers made a wet noise every time they moved. His eyes were shut, hair spilling free of its elastic across Jamie’s pillow. His face was serene.

He looked disturbingly young and disturbingly at home in Jamie’s bed. Guilt twisted Jamie’s stomach like a wet sponge. He faltered.

Cameron must have heard him come in, because when Jamie stopped, so did he. He sat up. “Jamie? What’s wrong?”

Jamie crossed to the bed and leaned down to kiss him, hoping for a distraction, but it didn’t help. When he pulled away, Cameron had that worried look on his face again.

“Talk to me,” said Cameron, and Jamie sat down heavily between his splayed legs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Jamie murmured, like a secret. “You know that, right? This isn’t… it’s not right.” Cameron was watching him silently. Jamie looked away. He couldn’t stand those big brown eyes right now. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “But we’re going to have to stop.”

“Then we’ll stop.”

A sickening bolt of panic pierced through Jamie’s chest. “Now?”

“No, no. Well, unless you’re ready to stop now.”

“No.”

“Good. Because I’m still really fucking horny.” Jamie chuckled halfheartedly at that, and Cameron cracked a fraction of a smile. “But after today, then we can stop.”

He said it so calmly, so rationally, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Jamie stared. Was this the same Cameron who’d been flirting with him for months? The same Cameron who’d begged to send him a shirtless photo last night? The same Cameron who’d bussed over before eight a.m. on a Sunday just to sleep with him? Jamie would have thought he’d be trying everything in his power to talk him out of it, but he was just… agreeing.

“You’re okay with that?”

Cameron met his gaze. His wide brown eyes were cool and unreadable; he looked away again, down at the foot of the bed. “As long as it’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. If anything, it was the opposite of what he wanted. But Jamie knew it was the right thing to do. “Yeah.”

“Then yeah.” Cameron nodded once, a single short jerk of his head. “It’ll be a one-time thing. Just one big birthday present.”

God — it was still his birthday. Cameron had been legally an adult for less than twenty-four hours, and they’d been fucking for nearly half of them. More, if he counted the conversation last night — and shit, he’d really wanted it so badly that all it took was Cameron turning eighteen for all his self-control to fly out the window. He’d really offered to drive Cameron to his house at nearly two in the morning just to fuck him. Jamie didn’t want to know what he might have done if Cameron had said yes to that. He’d always considered himself a fairly trustworthy man, but after that, he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure he could ever trust himself again.

Cameron was still looking at him, with that same canny, concerned look. He was gorgeous, Jamie had always thought so, but much more than that, Jamie was learning — and much too late, but better late than never — he was clever. He knew what he wanted, and he knew how to get it, and if it took bending the rules, then he’d bend them as far as he could get away with. No matter how guilty Jamie might have felt, he knew Cameron was far from innocent.

Jamie dredged up a smile. It felt wry and resigned; a perfect offering for such a wonderfully wicked little brat. If they were doing this, then they’d better damn well do it right.

“Well then,” he said. “Let’s make it last.”

Cameron grinned. “Kiss me.”

The kiss was frantic and desperate. Jamie pressed forward, buried his guilt in Cameron’s mouth, and Cameron swallowed it willingly, even eagerly, but it wasn’t enough. Jamie could feel himself slowing down; it felt like dragging himself through mud to try and keep going.

He went for another kiss, but Cameron stopped him. “What’s the matter?”

Jamie chewed on his answer. He didn’t want to stop, but guilt was gnawing at the back of his skull, weighing down his limbs. He knew Cameron didn’t want to stop yet, either, but somehow, the knowledge wasn’t comforting.

“Do you need to stop?”

Jamie couldn’t look at him. “You said you still wanted it.”

“Yeah, but not if you don’t.”

“But you’re still horny.”

Cameron raised one unimpressed eyebrow. “Jamie, I’m always horny.”

…Okay, fair.

“If you want to stop, we should stop,” Cameron went on. “Don’t feel obligated to keep going just because I want it.”

He didn’t want to stop, though, really. He just wanted that awful feeling at the back of his head to shut its awful mouth and leave him be. He just wanted to stop thinking. “Can we just… kiss for a bit?” Maybe slowing things down would help, let him lose himself in it the way he wanted.

“Yeah, of course,” Cameron murmured, and this time, when Jamie kissed him, it was softer. Cameron took the lead, but he kept the pace slow and sweet as he curled his tongue through Jamie’s mouth, sucked Jamie’s lower lip between his teeth and worried it gently. He was a damn good kisser, Jamie would give him that; gradually, the horrid, nagging feeling in the back of Jamie’s head faded away, until all he could feel was Cameron’s mouth against his, patiently but insistently coaxing him back into wanting.

After an infinite few minutes, Cameron’s hand dropped to Jamie’s lap, swept up his thigh. Jamie hadn’t noticed himself getting hard, but hard he was; Cameron trailed his fingers up Jamie’s dick, and Jamie gasped.

“Still want to fuck me?”

Jamie wasn’t thinking — was very pointedly not thinking. He didn’t even hear his response until it came out of his mouth: “Always.”

At any other moment, that would have concerned him, but Cameron proved an excellent distraction with the way he leaned in, biblically close, to whisper in Jamie’s ear. “Then, how about you put me on my knees and rail me from behind like an animal?”

Jamie’s cock throbbed. He swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in his throat. “You’re so dirty.”

“S’not my fault, how badly I want you,” Cameron complained, lilting and pouty.

“Get on your knees,” said Jamie, and Cameron scrambled to obey.

Without the warmth of Cameron’s body to distract him, the guilt loomed around the edges of Jamie’s mind again. He dealt with the condom as quickly as he could, then leaned forward and draped himself across Cameron’s naked back. Cameron hummed. He felt warm and so alive against Jamie’s chest; Jamie moaned quietly and buried his face in Cameron’s hair.

“Come on, big guy,” Cameron teased, wriggling backwards into Jamie’s embrace so Jamie’s cock slid against him. “Want you inside me.”

“Needy,” Jamie muttered, reaching down to angle himself in.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Cameron pressed back, utterly destroying Jamie’s attempts to go slowly. “I love your cock so much, come on, give it to me.”

“I don’t need you to flatter me, you know,” Jamie told him.

“But it’s true.” As Jamie bottomed out, Cameron whined and squeezed around him. “You feel so good.”

Jamie rocked his hips, and a moan dripped from Cameron’s mouth. His face was so close it was hard to see, but Jamie caught the way his eyelids fluttered.

“Oh, Daddy,” Cameron breathed.

Jamie settled his hands around Cameron’s hips and gave him a proper thrust. The next moan burst out of him, shocked and eager.

“Daddy,” Cameron gasped, “oh, god, harder, please, harder.”

“Needy boy,” Jamie whispered, right into Cameron’s ear, and Cameron whined.

“Yes, Daddy, need it so bad, please.”

Sore as he was, Jamie somehow managed to dredge up enough energy to settle into a brutal, pounding rhythm. Cameron melted immediately against the bed, taking every thrust with an eager moan against the mattress. Jamie leaned back, adjusted his grip, savoured the fluid arch of Cameron’s spine and the way Cameron’s ass bounced with every impact. He could see his cock sliding in and out, the way Cameron’s entrance stretched around it. The view satisfied something feral in him, some primal instinct Jamie hadn’t realized he had. Cameron was beyond words, clawing at the sheets, moaning loud enough to make Jamie’s ears ring; Jamie used his grip on Cameron’s hips to tug him into every thrust, and Cameron howled.

If asked, Jamie couldn’t name what came over him then. Whatever it was, he succumbed to it completely, chasing his pleasure into Cameron’s eager body until finally he came, long and hard. As his hips stilled, Cameron shuddered, cries giving way to whimpers. Jamie slumped forward, catching himself on the bed before he could fully fall. Sweat rolled down his spine.

“Fuck,” he declared roughly, and Cameron whimpered in agreement.

It wasn’t until he’d pulled out to deal with the condom that Jamie noticed Cameron’s phone was going off. Cameron groaned hoarsely and swatted at it until it stopped, then dragged himself upright to grab some water.

“What was that?”

Cameron cleared his throat. “It’s five-thirty. We’ve got an hour.”

Recognition spread slowly, like food dye through water. Five-thirty; an hour. The kids. Right. The dream had to end sometime. It didn’t hurt as much as it could have, but maybe it just didn’t feel real yet.

Jamie toppled backwards onto his own side of the bed and blew out a heavy breath. “All worn out?” said Cameron.

“Something like that.”

“Aww.” Cameron flopped down on his side, facing Jamie. The bed bounced under him. “Does that mean we have to stop?”

“We should stop anyways, if it’s five-thirty.”

Cameron pouted. Unthinkingly, Jamie stuck out his tongue, and Cameron responded in kind.

Sensible adults. Jamie put his tongue away. “You should, uh.” He waved a vague hand in the general direction of the ensuite. “Bathroom. There’s clean towels under the sink, if you want a shower.”

“Yeah…. Good idea.” Cameron sighed, and once again, he hauled himself out of bed. Jamie watched him go. His legs were visibly unsteady. Jamie tried not to be too proud of himself for it, and only mostly succeeded.

As soon as he heard the water running, Jamie picked up his phone.

JamieMcKenzie [17:36:05]
Can you do me a big favour?

Leanne0410 [17:38:44]
Depends on the favour

JamieMcKenzie [17:39:38]
When you drop the kids off, can you stop by somewhere and pick up a birthday card and one of those $50 restaurant gift cards? I’ll pay you back.

Leanne0410 [17:39:49]
Why

JamieMcKenzie [17:39:57]
I’ll explain later

He was just setting his phone back down when he heard the water shut off. A minute later, the lock on the bathroom door clicked open and Cameron emerged — messy bun freshly re-tied, wet washcloth in hand; still stark naked, and still so beautiful it made Jamie’s chest ache.

“Welcome back,” said Jamie, and Cameron smiled. The ache in Jamie’s chest sharpened.

“Hi.”

“What’s that for?”

Cameron sat down on the edge of the bed. His naked hip brushed against Jamie’s thigh. His skin was cool and a little damp. “For you, old man.” He raised the cloth to Jamie’s face; it was warm and soft with water. Jamie held still, propped up on his elbows, as Cameron wiped his face gently; the wet terrycloth rasped against Jamie’s stubble. A bead of water rolled down Jamie’s neck to pool in the hollow of his throat.

“There.” Cameron pulled the cloth away. The air was cool on Jamie’s wet skin. “Can’t have you smelling like pussy for the next decade.”

“There are worse things.”

Cameron snickered and flicked the tip of Jamie’s nose. “You’re so gross.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Jamie, as Cameron lowered the cloth to hover over Jamie’s dick.

“Mind if I…?”

“Sure.”

The cloth was a little rough, but not uncomfortably so, and Cameron was delicate with it. The sensation was a bit odd, but there was something nice about being taken care of.

“You have such a nice dick,” Cameron murmured.

Jamie felt his cheeks heat. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I don’t know,” he said, “I think you might be a little biased.”

“Oh, I’m very biased,” Cameron agreed. “And I think you have a very nice dick.” Then, before Jamie could protest, Cameron gave him a quick peck on the lips and disappeared back into the bathroom.

He was only gone for a few seconds. When he returned, he was rubbing moisturizer into his hands and up his arms; when he looked up and caught Jamie staring, he smiled. He really was too damn pretty. Jamie had never stood a chance.

“Come here,” Jamie requested.

Cameron’s hands slowed. “Thought you were all worn out,” he said, wry with innuendo.

“Not that,” said Jamie. “Just — come here. Please.”

Cameron crossed the room slowly, climbed up on the bed. He smelled like Jamie’s soap and a moisturizer he didn’t recognize, probably something left over from one of those gift baskets Leanne always got from work. It smelled nice — mildly perfumed, floral but not too sweet; Jamie rolled onto his side, reached out, and Cameron curled up in his embrace, back nestled against Jamie’s chest.

Cameron’s skin was cool, but warmed quickly against Jamie’s as they lay there, curled up in each other. It was nice. It was really nice. Jamie hadn’t realized how badly he needed a moment just to breathe, and to feel Cameron breathing against him. Since the moment Cameron arrived that morning, they’d been moving, moving, moving, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of the time they had, and it was good, it was so good, but God, Jamie was tired. He was loving every second, but he needed to catch his breath.

(Besides, if this would be the last chance he got to feel Cameron’s naked body against his, he wanted it like this, too. But he didn’t want to think about that.)

Cameron shifted in his grip. His hair brushed Jamie’s nose; his ass brushed Jamie’s dick, but it stayed exactly as soft as it was.

Jamie heard Cameron swallow and wet his lips. “Hey, Jamie?” he started, very quietly.

“Mm?”

“Think you can get it up again?”

“Man, I do not miss being eighteen.”

Cameron giggled, light and airy. “Is that a yes, or…?”

Jamie sighed against the back of Cameron’s neck. “I don’t know. I don’t think I have another round in me. Sorry.”

“Can I try? I’ll blow you.”

Well, if anything could get him back up, that would be it. “Sure. Go ahead.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Cameron squirmed out of his grip and wriggled down the bed. His hand on Jamie’s hip nudged him over onto his back, and then he was leaning in to mouth at his dick. Jamie closed his eyes, cradled the back of Cameron’s head in one hand, and let himself dissolve in the feeling, warm and wet and welcoming. The inside of Cameron’s mouth felt so different from his pussy; his tongue worked over the surface of Jamie’s dick, shifting fluidly and deliberately. His fingers wrapped around the base, stroking in counterpoint. Jamie felt a moan rumble low in his chest, felt Cameron swallow around him.

Too quickly, Cameron was pulling away. “Hello again.”

Jamie looked down. Cameron was smiling, and pretending not to. Jamie cleared his throat drily. “You’re very good at that.”

Cameron’s eyes sparkled up at him. “Thanks. Too much practice.” He dragged the flat of his tongue across the head, and Jamie moaned. “You wanna fuck me again?”

Persistent little shit. Jamie really was screwed, in every sense. “Yes.”

Cameron’s smile split into a grin.

“Condom,” Jamie remembered, and went to sit up, but Cameron pushed him back down.

“I’ll get it,” he said, “you just relax.” And he slid off the foot of the bed, leaving Jamie alone.

The chill had just started to set in when Cameron returned, shutting the door behind him with one hand and dropping his backpack just inside with the other. When he saw Jamie sitting up to look, he held up a little foil square between two fingers. “Tadaa.”

Jamie scoffed a single syllable of laughter. “Get back here.”

Cameron slithered eagerly back onto the bed, condom in hand. Jamie let him handle it, and kissed him when he tilted his face up in wordless request. Cameron’s hands were warm and sure; he tossed the empty wrapper aside, and Jamie heard it bounce off the wall and skitter to the floor somewhere. Jamie’s hands curled around Cameron’s hips, guided Cameron into his lap, and Cameron shifted closer, until his breasts were squished against Jamie’s chest. Their mouths parted, panting into each other; Cameron’s hand closed around the base of Jamie’s cock, and Jamie angled Cameron’s hips down to meet it.

After the day they’d been having, Cameron’s cunt was wet and easy. Jamie couldn’t get enough of the way it parted around his cock, the utter lack of resistance as he sank inside, the sweet, filthy sensation of flesh entering flesh. Cameron’s arms curled limply around Jamie’s ribs; the tiny, pleasured sounds that slipped out of him with every breath poured straight from his lips into Jamie’s ear. Despite his arousal, Jamie’s whole body ached, from neck to knees; Cameron’s hips shifted weakly. He had to be so damn sore, by now, but somehow he was still going. He squeezed weakly around Jamie’s dick, but Jamie could feel his muscles trembling with the effort.

“Easy, baby,” Jamie murmured. “Take it easy. It’s okay.”

Cameron whined. His hips shifted again, and Jamie’s shifted to meet him; not properly thrusting, just grinding, deep and filthy. It was all Jamie really had energy for, and it seemed like Cameron was about the same.

Rhythm came to them so easily. Now that the insanity from earlier had subsided, Jamie couldn’t help the comparisons from springing to mind. He didn’t have much to compare to, other than his ex-wife, and it really shouldn’t have been a contest in the first place, but either way, the winner was pretty clear. Cameron’s body fit against his so perfectly. He’d never fucked anyone like this before, this slow, intimate grind; he’d never been so eager just to hold someone close. He’d never been quite so enraptured with the way someone felt around him.

(And shit, how much of a creep did that make him, to like fucking Cameron, of all people, so much more than anyone else he’d ever had? He pushed the thought aside.)

Cameron breathed a quiet sound into Jamie’s hair. “I love your cock,” he crooned.

Jamie felt his voice dipping, matching Cameron’s soft, sultry tone as best he could. “I know, baby.”

“You feel so good inside me. Wish we could stay like this for days.”

“I think we’d get sick of it pretty quick if we did.”

“Hey, a girl can dream.”

“Don’t you mean, a boy can dream?” Jamie corrected teasingly, and Cameron shivered.

“Whatever.”

Jamie nudged their heads together. Cameron was so easy to please, once you had him figured out. “Good boy.”

Cameron moaned. His mouth dropped to the hollow of Jamie’s shoulder. His legs trembled as he rocked his hips. “C—” He cut himself off with a whimper. “Can you play with my tits? Please, Daddy.”

He moaned so prettily when Jamie wormed a hand up between them to rub gentle fingertips across his nipple. “You going to try and come like this?”

“Yeah.”

“My good boy.”

Oh, he definitely shouldn’t have said that, but he couldn’t quite regret it when Cameron’s response was to let out a sweet, desperate gasp and flutter around him. Jamie moaned. “Daddy—” Cameron gasped, in that high, delirious voice Jamie was coming to know so well.

“That’s it,” he urged, “come on, baby.”

Jamie.

He’d never heard anyone say his name like that before — so rich with feeling Jamie felt like it would get him drunk. His grip tightened on Cameron’s ass. “Come on, baby, Cameron, my pretty thing,” he rambled; “just like that, come for me.”

His nails dug into Jamie’s back when he came, head falling back with a long, low, open moan. When the pleasure subsided, he fell slack, but Jamie was right there to catch him.

Cameron nuzzled drunkenly into Jamie’s hair. “Daddy,” he purred.

“Yes, baby?”

“Keep going, Daddy.”

“You sure?”

Cameron nodded. “Want you to come inside me,” he breathed. “Use me, Daddy, please.” He shifted his hips weakly, and Jamie instinctively shifted his grip to help him. “Yes.”

Jamie rocked him again, and Cameron moaned. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Cameron said, “like that, wanna make you feel good, Daddy.”

“You do, baby,” Jamie assured him. “You feel so good.”

Cameron whined. “Please…”

However good it felt, Jamie wasn’t quite there yet. “Give me a minute.”

Cameron just nodded again and fell quiet. Even without his voice to emphasize it, the shakiness of his breath gave away how turned on he was. The quiet intimacy of it was dizzying. Jamie fucked Cameron gently on his cock, let the sweet, filthy feeling and Cameron’s unsteady breath in his ear ease him up and over the edge.

His orgasm brought him right up to the edge of comfort — gentle and sweet, but just a little achy. When the pleasure faded, he felt hollowed out, like he’d been scoured clean. It was a good feeling, but he got the sense that any more of it would change that quickly.

Gently as he could, he rolled them over to lay Cameron out on the bed and pull out. Cameron whined at the feeling, clenched weakly around him, but it wasn’t nearly enough to stop him. He pressed a kiss at the corner of Cameron’s mouth, gently pried Cameron’s hands away, and Cameron subsided against the bed.

Standing up made every muscle in Jamie’s body groan in protest. Jamie let out a groan of his own, then disposed of the condom, wiped his hands, and stretched his arms above his head. His back popped ominously; he arched one way, then the other, then rolled out his shoulders and turned. Cameron was lying on his side, watching Jamie move. His face was filled with such a private sort of fondness that Jamie felt a little embarrassed at having seen it.

“We should check on dinner,” he said.

“Okay,” Cameron murmured.

Jamie leaned across the bed to grab his water glass off Cameron’s end table and drained it without stopping for air. He brought the empty glass with him into the bathroom, and set it on the counter; once he’d washed his hands, he refilled it to bring back out. Cameron had left the wet washcloth on the edge of the sink; Jamie rinsed it thoroughly, wiped himself clean, and returned.

Cameron was exactly where Jamie had left him, curled up on the bed. His eyes were shut. Jamie set his glass on his own end table, and Cameron’s eyelids fluttered.

“You awake?”

Cameron’s eyes slid open. “Yeah.”

“Did I finally wear you out?”

Cameron cracked a devious smile. “Never.”

Jamie felt himself smile back. “Figures.”

Cameron rolled onto his back and stretched. His knuckles bumped the headboard. His breasts were mottled with bruises, the soft curves of his stomach and thighs golden and gorgeous in the early evening light. His hair was falling out of its elastic again.

Jamie tore his eyes away, and turned to get dressed. His old shirt and sweatpants needed a wash, and he wasn’t planning to get naked again, so he supposed it was time for actual clothes: a shirt without holes in it, and jeans with underwear under them. It made him feel a little more grounded, a little more awake.

He turned back, and Cameron was openly staring at him. Jamie raised an eyebrow, and Cameron raised one right back.

Jamie didn’t say a word. He just waited until Cameron groaned and rolled off the bed. “Fine, I’m up,” he groused, swiping his skirt and sweater off the floor and dragging them on. “Happy now?”

Jamie didn’t say a word to that, either. When Cameron emerged from his sweater and saw the tiny smile Jamie couldn’t hide, his grumpiness melted away. He bounced across the floor and leaned up to give Jamie a kiss.

“So, dinner?”

Jamie ducked in to sneak another kiss. “Dinner. Let’s see if it worked.”

He had his answer the second he left his room. The whole house smelled like soup, and the smell only got stronger as they reached the kitchen.

“I think it worked,” said Cameron.

Jamie took the lid off the slow cooker and hummed contentedly as the smell wafted up. It smelled fantastic. His stomach grumbled in agreement.

Cameron leaned against his side, exactly as subtle as last time. “Hey, Daddy…” he cooed. There was no mistaking that tone, but Jamie knew better than to say yes. His sex drive was running on fumes; theoretically, he could get it up again, but it wouldn’t be worth the effort. He’d much rather stop while he was still enjoying it.

“Sorry, baby.” Jamie picked up the spoon and gave the soup a stir. “I’ve got nothing.”

Cameron squirmed. “Really? Nothing?”

Jamie sized him up for a long moment. He looked nervous about asking, but so very earnest, and those big brown eyes were wide and pleading. Jamie sighed and returned his gaze to the soup. “Go sit down. On the table.”

He wasn’t looking any more, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cameron light up. “On?

Jamie tapped the spoon against the edge of the slow cooker with a muffled sound. “On.” All that kneeling was hard on the knees. …He felt old.

Once he’d set down the spoon and put the lid back on the pot, Jamie turned. Cameron was sitting on the table, just as instructed, with his feet on Jamie’s chair, peering coquettishly over his shoulder. God, he was pretty. Jamie wandered over, trailed one finger up Cameron’s thigh, and Cameron shivered as his skirt rode up.

“That’s very sweet of you, to bring me an appetizer,” Jamie deadpanned. “Very generous.”

“Anything for you, Daddy,” Cameron joked, fluttering his eyelashes.

Jamie pulled out his chair, and Cameron’s feet spilled off it. “Open.”

He spread his legs immediately, and Jamie sat down between them. He still had to lean down, but it was better than kneeling. As he leaned in, he scooped one of Cameron’s legs over his shoulder to pry him open, and Cameron leaned back on one hand.

“Good boy.”

“Thank— ohh, thank you, Daddy, thank you. Ah! Gentle, please, oh god please be gentle, I’m so sore.”

Jamie hummed. Cameron’s hand curled into his hair with a hitched moan. He felt Cameron’s foot land against the back of his chair, felt Cameron’s thigh flex against his shoulder.

Just as Cameron was getting into it, rocking his tired hips against Jamie’s mouth, he froze up. Jamie pulled back, clearing his throat to ask, but he didn’t need to. He heard what Cameron did — the rumble of an engine, the crunch of gravel in the driveway.

“They’re back.”

Cameron burst into motion. He kicked Jamie aside and sprinted into Jamie’s room, slamming the door behind him before Jamie could regain his balance. Jamie stumbled to the kitchen sink, fumbled for the soap to scrub his face. He could see Leanne’s car from the kitchen window, parked behind his; as he ducked to rinse his face, he heard the engine shut off, and the doors open, and voices spill out. He dried his face on the hem of his shirt, then adjusted himself in his jeans. He was only half-hard, and not getting any harder; hopefully his jeans would hide it well enough. There wasn’t much he could do about the smell, which was almost definitely all over him, but— shit, the table needed a wipe after that.

He was just dropping the sponge back in the sink when he heard a key in the lock, and his family piled in the door. Alex was the first one in, raising her four-year-old voice as high as she could. “Daddy! Daddy!”

The shift was a little jarring, but not as much as he’d feared. Jamie combed his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Indoor voices, Leelee,” he heard Leanne say, and then he rounded the corner to greet them.

“Daddy! Look at my hair!” Alex demanded, elbowing past her brother to run up to Jamie without taking her shoes off. Her little brown head came up to just below his waist — the perfect height for him to see the way Leanne had braided her cornrows with a zigzag pattern down the middle.

Jamie puts a hand on her head. “It looks great, kiddo! Can you go take your shoes off, please?”

He looked up, and his eyes met Leanne’s. She raised one impeccably styled eyebrow, but before she could ask, Zack butted in.

“Is Cameron here?” He was frozen halfway through putting his shoes on the rack, staring down at the muddy Chelsea boots beside them.

“Yeah! H— she’s in the bathroom.” After the day he’d had, it was no surprise, but the slip made Jamie’s heart nearly stop. It stung like hell to correct himself, but it always did.

“Cameron’s here?!” Alex gasped. “Cam! Hey, Cam!”

Jamie stepped aside to let the kids past. When he turned back to Leanne, she was holding out a suspiciously large and heavy-looking shopping bag.

“What’s this?”

“Thought you might need cake.”

Jamie hadn’t even thought of that. “You’re a superhero.”

That put a smile on her face, like it always did. “I know. So, what’s this for?”

“Oh, I had a work thing I needed to do, so I asked Cameron to be here when the kids got home, just in case,” he lied, inspecting the contents of the shopping bag so he wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. The cake had plain vanilla icing; tucked in beside it were a narrow card with a generically pleasant birthday message, a matching red envelope, and one of the gift cards he’d requested. “Guess whose birthday it is.”

“Gotcha,” said Leanne. “Well, wish her happy birthday from me.”

Jamie smiled at her, to cover the way he winced. “Will do.”

Any other day, they would have parted with a hug, but Jamie didn’t dare — not with the smell of sex he knew must be clinging to him, that he was half-certain she could smell already from an arm’s length away. “I need to go stash this somewhere and deal with dinner,” he said instead, raising the shopping bag for emphasis. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Jamie gave her a look. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She gestured at the door behind her with a jerk of her head. “I have to head home. Dinner smells great, though. You guys enjoy.”

“Thanks,” said Jamie, and Leanne gave him another friendly smile and was gone.

The kids were bickering outside his bedroom door, oblivious as Jamie snuck the shopping bag into the kitchen, and Jamie thanked God Cameron had locked it behind him. While he had a moment to himself, he grabbed the pen off the grocery list to sign the card. When he caught himself writing ‘love’ as the sign-off, he froze, but there was no time to fret over it, so he just signed it as ‘the McKenzies’ and hoped to hell that wasn’t weird. Then he tucked the gift card into the card, the card into the envelope, and the envelope back into the bag, before squirreling the whole thing away in the fridge.

He emerged from the kitchen just as Cameron was emerging from his bedroom, freshly dressed in a pair of figure-hugging black jeans and an oversized band hoodie out of Jamie’s closet. Jamie prayed for self-control.

“Why were you in Dad’s room?” Zack demanded.

“I spilled coffee all over my shirt, so your dad said I could borrow his sweater,” he lied smoothly, then glanced up at Jamie. “Did you wipe the table?”

Jamie just nodded. Words were beyond him, for the moment.

“If Daddy’s here, why are you here?” Alex piped up. “Is Daddy going somewhere?”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Cameron assured her. “I’m here because, well, where else would I want to have dinner on my birthday?”

This revelation had roughly the impact of a firework going off in the hallway. The kids went ballistic. Jamie heard Cameron laughing delightedly, but it was the honesty in Cameron’s voice that took his breath away. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

He tuned back in to hear Alex insisting that “We have to give you a present! You can’t not get a birthday present on your birthday, Cam, we gotta make you something.”

“I think it’s time for dinner right now, but maybe after!” Cameron told her, and he herded her and her big brother into the bathroom to wash up.

Jamie was still standing in the kitchen when Cameron left the kids to their hand-washing and sidled up to him. “And that’s the end of that, I guess,” he murmured.

Jamie didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, really.

Cameron tossed a glance towards the bathroom. The kids were both out of sight, still audibly bickering over the soap. Cameron spun around, popped up on his toes, and pressed one last lightning-quick kiss against Jamie’s mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispered, soft and warm against Jamie’s lips.

“Not your fault,” Jamie whispered back, and Cameron stepped away.

Jamie heard a cupboard behind him open, the quiet clatter of dishes. “Sorry for inviting myself to dinner,” said Cameron.

Jamie forced himself back into motion, and turned towards him. “It’s fine.” He’d been planning to invite him to stay anyways. He took the bowls from Cameron’s hands and set them beside the slow cooker. “Can you set out spoons? Little spoon for Alex, big spoon for Zack, and a spoon for the sour cream.”

The kids emerged from the bathroom just as Jamie was putting out water glasses for everyone. “All right, everyone come sit,” said Jamie. “Cam, you take Leanne’s spot. What kind of hunger do we have today? Mouse, wolf, or dinosaur?”

“Dinosaur!” the kids chorused.

“Oh, dinosaur for me too, thanks,” Cameron chimed in. “I’m starving.”

Jamie doled out the soup and sat down at the table. “Nachos, cheese, sour cream,” he said, pointing to each condiment as he announced them, “and for the big kids, hot sauce. Now, let’s eat!”

The kids dived for the condiments immediately. Jamie and Cameron moved a little slower, letting Zack and Alex get started. It had been a long time since Jamie had had someone to sit opposite, sharing a fond look while the kids ate. It felt like a family meal, the kind they hadn’t had in years. He tried not to enjoy it too much, and failed.

The meal was over too quickly. As soon as Jamie stood to gather up the dirty dishes, Zack spoke up. “What about cake?”

“Cake?” Alex echoed.

“Cam said it’s her birthday, that means cake,” said Zack.

“You know what, I was so excited about getting to have my birthday dinner with you guys, I forgot about cake!” said Cameron.

“You know who didn’t?” Jamie chimed in quietly.

Cameron gave him a startled look, but Zack wheeled on him instantly. “That’s why mom stopped at the grocery store!” he accused.

Jamie couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He could feel Cameron’s eyes on him as he left the dinner dishes in the sink and fetched the cake and the card out of the fridge.

“Technically, the cake was Leanne’s idea,” he admitted, setting it down on the table in front of Cameron. “But this is from all of us.” He handed over the card. “Happy birthday, Cameron.”

He took the lid off the cake while Cameron was opening the card, and ducked away to set it on the counter. When he came back, Cameron was inspecting the gift card, a look of surprise on his face.

“I wasn’t sure what we could get you on such short notice,” Jamie explained, “but I figured, money always fits, and university students like food, right?”

Cameron just set down the card, stood up from his chair, and hugged him.

It was a perfectly innocent hug — one arm over, one arm under, with Cameron’s chin over Jamie’s shoulder. Cameron was warm and soft; he smelled like Jamie’s laundry detergent, and spices from dinner, and floral hand lotion, and like the last round of sex he hadn’t gotten a chance to wash off. The combination was a little arousing, but mostly, it made affection swell in Jamie’s chest. All else aside, he was so fucking fond of this kid.

That was what he couldn’t give up. He’d realized it before, but never so clearly. As a babysitter, sure, Cameron was invaluable, but that was only part of it. He was Jamie’s friend. Jamie couldn’t bear to lose that, and if holding on to it meant giving up on the rest, so be it.

The kids were chanting for cake. “Come on,” said Jamie, “let’s get some cake into these brats, before they start a riot,” and they parted.

“I’ll grab plates,” Cameron offered, but Jamie shushed him.

“No. Don’t be silly.” Jamie shooed him back into his seat. “You’ll sit right there and cut the cake and let us deafen you with a ‘Happy Birthday’ that’ll make your ears bleed.”

Cameron was laughing. “Okay, okay. Whatever you say, Mr. McKenzie.”

The song was, as promised, terrible, though that was mostly Jamie’s fault. Cameron praised them all to high heaven for it anyways.

As soon as the cake had been eaten and the dishes cleared away, the kids demanded a movie. “It’s a school night,” Jamie reminded them futilely, but birthdays had meant movie nights since forever, so they all piled downstairs. Cameron’s movie of choice was Shrek; he sang along to all the songs, and terribly, to Zack and Alex’s delight. If he hadn’t heard it for himself only a few hours earlier, Jamie might have believed the performance, but he knew Cameron’s voice was better than that.

When the movie was over, Jamie shepherded the unresisting and distinctly sleepy kids into bed. Cameron tagged along, uninvited but not unwelcome; it was nice having an extra pair of hands again, and he picked up on the general shape of the bedtime routine pretty quickly. With his help, it was only a little ways past bedtime by the time Jamie shut Zack’s bedroom door behind him.

The house fell very quiet. Cameron was standing in the hall, watching him in silence. For a second, Jamie just stood there, watching him back.

“Let me drive you home,” he offered finally.

“…Thanks.”

The drive was short and quiet. Soft rock drifted from the speakers; the volume was low, but Jamie didn’t turn it up, and Cameron didn’t ask him to. The streets were dark and mostly still.

The house Cameron shared with his roommates was still bright and lively when Jamie pulled into the driveway. It wasn’t even ten o’clock. It was strange to think that, less than twenty-four hours ago, their relationship had been — well, if not entirely professional, at least respectable. Jamie’s desire had been so carefully contained, even while Cameron was chipping away at his defences; now that it was out in the open, Jamie hardly recognized it.

The silence felt loaded after that, like Cameron had something to say. Jamie put the car in park and waited. It took him a bit to get his words in order, but Jamie could be patient. Eventually, Cameron took a steadying breath and spoke up.

“I understand that this won’t happen again,” he started, low and even. “And I understand why. And logically, I think you’re a smarter man than I’ll ever be, and it’s the right choice. But I want you to know…” He closed his eyes, as though running over his thoughts one last time. When he opened them again, they were cast downward, at the backpack between his feet. “…that today was the best day I’ve ever had, and that was the best sex I’ve ever had, and getting to have dinner with you and the kids was perfect. And I loved every second of it.”

Jamie tried to reply, but the words got caught in his throat, and anyways, he didn’t know what to say. He choked out one unintelligible syllable; Cameron looked up, looked at him, and Jamie kissed him.

Cameron breathed a sound, low and sweet with surprise, and raised one hand to Jamie’s face. The kiss was perfectly innocent — or at least, it was to start with, and Cameron seemed happy enough to leave it that way. It was Jamie who gave in to the need clawing at the inside of his throat, Jamie who pressed forward, and Cameron met him there.

A burst of laughter from inside the house startled them apart. Jamie tried to catch his breath. Cameron’s lips were parted and glistening in the low light. He was breathing evenly. Jamie felt like he’d just run a mile.

“I should get going,” said Cameron.

“Yeah.”

Cameron’s thumb stroked Jamie’s cheek. For a long moment, he only stared. “You’re a good man, Jamie McKenzie,” he said at last. Then he cracked a smile. “Sorry for seducing you.”

It shouldn’t have stung, but oh, it did. It really did. “Don’t apologize,” Jamie begged him, low and ragged. “I don’t want an apology unless you regret it.”

Cameron’s smile widened. “Well, in that case,” he said, leaning in closer, “sorry I’m not sorry for seducing you.”

His smile made it hard to kiss him, but Jamie did it anyways. He couldn’t help himself. Cameron sighed softly through his nose, lips melting against Jamie’s, but Jamie pulled away. Cameron was watching him quietly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Cameron.

Right. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was a Monday; Monday meant work, and school, and babysitting.

“Yeah,” said Jamie.

Cameron trailed his thumb down, across the corner of Jamie’s mouth. “Back to normal,” he said. “No more of this.”

“Yeah.”

Cameron’s hand settled around the curve of Jamie’s jaw. His lips left an imprint of warmth on Jamie’s cheek, tender like a bruise. His breath was warm, too, the sweetest brush of air across his skin. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Yeah.”

It wasn’t until Cameron had opened the door and stepped out of the car, hauling his bag with him, that Jamie found his words again. He cleared his throat. “Cameron.”

Cameron turned. The dim yellow-white glow of the light above the centre console turned his skin to gold as he leaned down to meet Jamie’s eye.

Jamie swallowed. “Happy birthday.”

Cameron just smiled that quiet, delighted smile Jamie loved so much. “Good night, Jamie.”

The door shut behind him with quiet finality. Jamie watched until the front door had done the same, then slowly put the car back into gear, pulled out of the driveway, and headed home.

 

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2 thoughts on “Make it Last

  1. Great to see where all that sprinting went! And wow, that was a lot of sex, and a mature albeit kind of sad ending.

  2. Seconding appreciation for the ending, both in refusing to be ashamed for an intense day together and also in recognizing that they really aren’t in a position to be a serious *thing* at this time in their lives. “That was fun but we have work and classes tomorrow” is the kind of bittersweet element that helps ground the enthusiastic sex beforehand, and I liked how that played with the contrast between the daddy kink and the reality of Jamie being an actual *dad.* All this and you were able to get it finished in time for publication! Well done!

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