Traveling was hard on both the soles of one’s feet as well as one’s soul. Lute knew this well, as he’d gone through his third pair of shoes that year and it was only early fall, and also because when he saw Trampoli on the horizon something in him sagged, like a seam giving way.
Home to where his most valuable friends were, where he knew everyone by name, where his inspiration struck him most often, and most importantly, where Erik was. Years of pining had only recently revealed themselves to be unneeded as his feelings had been enthusiastically returned. Coming back was coming home to his heart, and despite the hole in his left toe, he picked up pace.
He got into town shortly before sunset. The town was awash in orange light, the runeys dancing sleepily in the air. From the town square he could smell Rita’s cooking and the subtle scent of drying flowers outside of Rosetta’s shop. He was almost home.
Erik was dressing for bed when Lute knocked at the door. He’d been told explicitly that he didn’t need to knock before entering, but their new relationship still in its awkward shaky stage, he didn’t quite feel comfortable with that. The other man answered with one arm stuck in his nightshirt and Lute had to laugh at the way Erik nearly fell in excitement.
“I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow?” he asked, pulling Lute close. Lute chuckled into the chaste kiss he placed on Erik’s lips.
“Took a shortcut home,” he said. and oh, how good it felt to say that. Home.
Before Lute could fully process, Erik was pulling him into hungry kisses. Lute barely had a mind to shut the front door before acquiescing, meeting the heat of the embrace like for like, until they tumbled down the hall into Erik’s room, into Erik’s bed. His blankets smelled of soap and fall air, undoubtedly just washed. Lute fell into them, breathing in the comforting scent, mingled with Erik’s own.
His hat had somehow not made it to the room, along with Erik’s nightshirt that had never quite made it onto his torso in the first place. Lute played kisses across Erik’s exposed collar bone and reveled in the way it made him shiver.
“Miss me?” he asked before nipping at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Erik nodded, taking a deep breath.
“More than you know,” he replied. Lute ran a hand down his thigh, brushing against his hard length.
“Oh, I think I know,” he joked, playing a thumb across the dampness at the tip. Erik sucked a breath in between his teeth.
“Please,” he breathed. His hips rocked forward, but Lute held him steady.
“Easy now,” he mumbled, tracing kisses up Erik’s neck. “We have time.”
Lute flipped their positions, knew Erik preferred it this way, and straddled him, flipping his long hair out of the way as he sucked a nipple between his lips, canting his hips just enough. Erik squirmed, breathing quick. Lute knew he was already gone, and truth be told, he didn’t have as much patience as he pretended he did. It had been so long. His own erection was tight in his pants, and there was way too much cloth between him and Erik. He paused his administrations only long enough to pull off his shirt, stretching over the other man to press their chests together and kiss Erik proper. Erik whined into it, and the sound went straight to Lute’s dick. No waiting tonight, he thought. They could do this again, the right way. And maybe again after that. But right now, he wanted, wanted, wanted, the word kept in time to his hips rocking with Erik’s. Neither were going to last long like this, but that was okay.
Erik was close. Lute could tell by the way his vocabulary had descended into nothing but his name and the words: yes, please, faster. Lute wasn’t one to deny him, chasing their orgasm messily, rutting against each other like they were desperate young lovers, which, in a way, they were.
Erik came first, arching up into him, dampness soiling his sleep pants, and Lute couldn’t feel guily about that when Erik’s face looked like that and god, he was coming hard right along with him, the intensity knocking the breath out of him. He chased the last few moments before he verged on over sensitivity, then slumped on top of his lover, placing his head on Erik’s chest. As soon as they caught their breath Erik chuckled into his ear.
“What happened to ‘we have time?’” he asked. Lute nudged him away bonelessly.
“Yeah, well, it’s been a bit for me too,” he said, unsticking himself from his messed pants. He rose and returned with a damp cloth, cleaning himself and Erik, before redepositing himself in bed. They curled together under the covers, the chill from the impending fall brushing gooseflesh on their shoulders.
Within moments, Erik was asleep, and Lute watched him as his eyelashes fluttered.