Caleb

Attendere Sole di Domani (One)

Wed, 07 Sep 2005 19:38:41 GMT

Title: Attendere Sole di Domani
Author: csummersgo
Rating: PG, part one.
Pairing: Clohn
Summary: John's having nightmares.
Notes: Part one of six. This was originally written and posted (up to the 4th part) as Clyan. But... Since I never finished it, I decided I could rewrite it as Clohn, because as the author, I'm allowed to do that. (Yes, this part is short. Cut me a break, it's like a prologue. But not.)

As another loud crash of thunder rang through John's small L.A. apartment, he tossed and turned in the agony of his nightmare. He called out Clay's name in his sleep, feeling helpless as he clutched to the blankets unconciously.

"CLAY!" He shounted, sitting up quickly in his bed, his head throbbing as all the blood drained from his face, pulsing through his veins and making him lightheaded.

The bedroom door burst open, and Clay rushed in, clad in his night robe and a pair of sweatpants that covered the slippers he donned on his feet.

Clay's arms were around him at once, a hand stroking at his hair as John sobbed loudly into his partner's shoulder, trying to breathe as he clung to Clay as though it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"John... Shhhhhhh... Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Clay asked, shocked at the choked sobs that were escaping John in loud cries, and knowing that his back would be bruised from the amount of force that John was using to keep him held in place.

Clay held him tenderly, rocking slowly and stroking his back lovingly. When John had calmed just a bit, he pulled back and kissed his forehead, looking into John's tear-filled eyes and his running nose.

He reached to the bedside desk, pulling a tissue from the box and holding it to John's nose.

"Blow," he said, and John complied, blowing his nose and then sniffling softly when Clay crumpled the tissue and tossed it across the room to the wastebasket.

Another loud crash of thunder made John cry out and grab for Clay again, pulling the tired popstar against him so hard that Clay found it hard to breathe.

"John," he choked out, "Honey, it's okay. It's just a storm."

John shook his head violently, holding Clay to him as the rain and wind whipped against the windows, harshly sounding as though someone were outside trying to get in as the screen door was blown open and sounded loudly as it tried to escape its hinges.

"Did you have another nightmare?"

John's reaction was holding Clay tighter at the mere memory of it, and Clay didn't need further answer. He pulled back and looked at John, placing his hands on either side of John's face and looking into his eyes again.

"I'm right here, John," Clay said, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to John's. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Clay breathed a sigh and slowly leaned back against the pillows, taking John with him. Facing his partner, he kept an arm around him as he pulled the sheets and blankets up and around them.

John pressed his face against Clay, his body fitting against him perfectly, and realized that Clay hadn't taken off the robe or slippers. He pulled back hesitantly, as though he expected Clay to suddenly disappear into thin air, "Do... Do you want to take off your robe and... my slippers?"

"Shh.. I'm alright. Just go back to sleep," Clay said, stroking John's side calmingly.

And slowly, John drifted back into sleep and slept peacefully for a while, until he started to thrash violently within Clay's arms.

Clay woke with a start as John began to convulse against him, and he pulled back slightly as John's hands began punching.

"John! JOHN!" Clay exclaimed, grabbing for John's fists and failing. "John, wake up, it's alright!"

John's eyes shot open and he gasped loudly, his eyes wide. He stared at Clay for a moment and then closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching for Clay and pulling him close, clinging to him like a life line.

"It's alright.. It was just a dream."

"It felt... it felt so real, Clay," John said, his face pressed against the cotton robe.

"But I'm here, and so are you, and everything is okay. And it's going to be okay." Clay stroked John's hair slowly, willing him to fall back asleep. Over John's shoulder Clay could see the red light of his alarm clock, telling him that it was nearly four in the morning.

The rain could still be heard from outside, but the thunder wasn't crashing down around them as violently, and the house no longer shook from the ferocity of the wind.

John was sure that because of that, he was no longer a sobbing heap in Clay's arms. If the thunder had still been there, he didn't think he could keep himself together.

His nightmares were so violent, always involving Clay out in the storm, being caught in the wind and rain and not being able to get out. It was his fear to lose him, and he didn't know what he could possibly do to keep him close at all times.

The dreams never involved himself, but Dream Clay always seemed to know he was standing just out of reach and would be angry at him for not helping him when he needed him most, when is life was on the line.

John closed his eyes as Clay's fingers massaged his back soflty, and he could see him driving over and over and the car skidding, over and over again. He saw a flash of light as a truck slammed into it, and he could hear himself screaming.

He didn't know he'd been asleep for that brief moment until Clay was saying his name, bringing him back to reality. When he opened his eyes, he saw Clay next to him, a look of tired worry spread across his pale, freckled face.

"John.. That's the third time tonight," Clay said, pulling John closer to him. "Are you alright?"

John trembled slightly, happy to hear Clay's voice and know that he was still alright. He nodded, though he knew that he was lying. Three nightmares in one night couldn't have been a good thing.

"I.. I think it's the storm. I've never liked them," John admitted, hearing the rain sliding down the windows. "And it hasn't stopped raining in over a week."

"I know," Clay said, kissing John's forehead. "We'll just have to wait for tomorrow's sun."

"It's supposed to rain longer," John replied, looking at Clay, wondering what he meant.

"But sometimes, if you just pretend that you can see the sun, you'll dream about it." He smiled reassuringly, and John could see what he meant.

The earth revolved around the sun the way John's life revolved around Clay. Clay was his light, his sun. And as John closed his eyes, he saw Clay's smile, like the sunshine that was shining through the storm. The sunshine that had come into his life and cut through the storm like something out of a terrible romance novel, something that John would have laughed at, had he been reading it.

But now, he was living it, and it helped him to sleep peacefully.

My December

Wed, 07 Sep 2005 18:35:11 GMT

Title: My December
Author: csummersgo
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Clay Aiken / Josh Groban
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? We all know that I don't own them.
Summary: Oh, just read it. This story has the lowest amount of dialogue that I've ever written. And I wrote this forever ago, but, as with some of the other entries, is coming to this journal just so I have it.

This is my December
This is my time of the year

A body pins another body like his own against the door of his New York apartment.

This is my December
This is all so clear

Two pairs of pale lips, soon to be full, rose petal red from the passion, pressed together in a long-awaited reunion. The taller of the two tried for the dominant position, but lost, being overpowered by the younger man, his lips being probed open by a moist tongue. Quickly, their dominance was lost as their passion grew, both of them forgetting about dominance.

This is my December
This is my snow covered home

Long, elegant fingers tangle in the midnight curls atop the younger man's head, tilting his head and bringing their mouths closer, allowing for another angle from which their mouths could meet. As their passion grows, their bodies become more and more heated. Both needing the air, and both needing the feeling of skin against skin.

This is my December
This is me alone

The passionate embrace never breaks as the ugly green sweater is pulled up and over the younger man's head, their lips only parting for nano seconds, and then their mouths continue to make love to one another. The sweater drops to the floor and the older man's hands quickly find the dark curls of the chest that is now presented to him.

And I
Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I'd missed

He leans his head down, planting butterfly kisses over the other man's chest, his fingers finding his nipples and feeling them stiffen under his touch. He captures one in his lips, and he gently grazes it with his teeth before moving to the other.

And I
Take back all the things that I said to make you feel like this

Two fingers are placed under his chin, bringing him back up to where he had previously been, the warm mouth of his lover capturing his own once again. A soft sigh escapes one of the pair's lips, though who it was, neither knew.

And I
Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I'd missed

The heavy, designer winter jacket was reduced to a blob of black suede on the floor and the pale-pink striped shirt that the older man was wearing was suddenly being unbuttoned frantically, the small buttons making it difficult for the shirt to be removed without damaging its frail fabric. Dark brown eyes looked questioningly into emerald ones, and they held the answer. In one fluid motion, the shirt was ripped in two, buttons scattering to the plush carpet.

And I
Take back all the things that I said to you

Their kiss began again, after the short fit of giggles from the ferocity of removing the poor shirt, which was now in tatters on the floor. It'd make a good wash rag. Not something that every designer shirt was meant to do. But, apparently, that one had had more of a purpose in life than to be worn by a pop superstar.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to

The younger man's fingers caressed various spots on the other's chest and stomach, tracing trails from his adam's apple to the small trail of hair where it disappeared below, his fingers dipping slighlty below the line of the black pants he met. Slowly, his fingers came back to the back of his lover's neck, kissing him more deeply and taking control of the moment.

Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

His fingers, knowing their way across the freckled body before him, came down to the belt of his pants, teasingly. He slowly slid the extra bit of the belt from the loop, and then proceded to unbuckle the belt and then remove it from the slim hips on which it rested. It hit the carpet, silently.

This is my December
These are my snow covered dreams

Seconds later, his own belt had been removed and his pants, unbuttoned and unzipped. As fingers trailed along the line of his boxers beneath his pants, he felt as though his skin were smoldering beneath his lover's touch. When the angelic fingers slipped completetly beneath, finding the skin of his lower back, his hips pressed forward, their desire for each other now completely obvious.

This is me pretending
This is all I need

Soon, the pants met the floor, where he stepped out of them and shivered as a blast of cool air encircled his legs, making him press farther against his lover, pressing his lover harder against the door.

And I
Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I'd missed

His fingers fumbled again with his lover's pants, this time to unbutton them and then push them down, careful not to catch onto any sensitive areas, but wanting them out of the way as quickly as humanly possible. He traced the small trail of red hairs that disappeared below the short's elastic, and his fingers followed down, gently stroking in all the right places, but not there.

And I
Take back all the things that I said to make you feel like this

A groan escaped the taller man's lips, his hips pushing upwards into his partner's hands, willing him to continue with his ministrations. But he removed his hand, taking his lover's hands and guiding them to his own hips. He understand, and locked his thumbs inside the elastic, slowly pulling the offending garment down. It joined the rest of their clothing on the floor. Now, all there was left was his own shorts.

And I
Just wish that I didn't feel like there was something I'd missed

And soon, those were being slid to the floor, and skin met skin for only the second time since the duo had been together. Now, they kissed again, their passion feuled by the heat that each radiated into the other through their contact. They didn't need words to know what each wanted, and together they stumbled backwards toward the bed, their final destination.

And I
Take back all the things that I said to you

The older of the two pulled the younger on top of him, both of them moaning softly as their erections met, one against another, and they worked into a rythm, moving in sync with each other to cause the perfect friction between them. But that wasn't all they needed. They needed to be complete.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to

They switched places, the light haired man rolling the dark haired man onto his back, pressing down into him to show him just how much he needed him. How much he knew he needed to be inside of him, being one with him in the most intimate way. He reached to the bed side table, pulling a little tube from it, squeezing the contents into his palms.

Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

He worked a single finger into his lover's body, knowing that since it had been so long, his body would need to adjust to the invasion, and so he wanted him to be prepared. Even if it kept him waiting, it was worth it if he could spare an instant of pain and add that to the eternal pleasure that they both recieved.

This is my December
This is my time of the year

Within moments, his lover was moaning underneath him, begging him to fill him, to make him whole. To complete him. And he did. Slowly, excruciatingly slow, he moved himself into his lover, stopping for instances in order to let his lover's body adjust to being stretched and invaded in such a way. But soon, he wasn't just moving on his own. The body beneath him had adjusted, and soon the hips were thrusting with his own, forcing him to be pulled in deeper.

This is my December
This is all so clear

He was trying to find that perfect spot, which would throw his lover into ecstasy, knowing full well where it was, but almost purposely avoiding it to prolong both of their pleasure. He leaned down, kissing him full on the mouth, their tongues meeting instantly as they both neared that moment of sheer pleasure, the climax that weeks of waiting had built up to. He pulled back, wanting to see him.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to

His hips were still in his own control, which was a good thing because he knew if he lost control, he may hurt his lover. And he never wanted to do that in any way. Never again. His hands gripped his lover's hips, trying to keep him steady and in rythm with his own thrusts. His lover's hands were gripping the silk sheets, knuckles white.

And I'd
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

He looked at his partner's face, knowing full well that his face must mirror the one before him, the only difference being that his eyes were open. But the face before him was flushed a light pink, just as the rest of his body from the heat of the moment combined with the warmth of the room now that the heater had kicked in. He continued his movements, knowing that soon that one moment would come.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to

His fingers dug into the pale hips, leaving red marks, and he was sure that they would bruise, he was gripping down that hard. He tried to loosen the grip, but he couldn't pry his fingers away. He pulled out of his lover's body, leaving only the tip of his weeping erection inside of his lover's body.

And I'd
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

And then he pushed home, finding that exact spot and causing his lover to scream his name, the wonderful note sounding as if it had come from one of his songs. And that caused his own body to find it's release, and his entire being tensed as he did, pushing as far into his lover as he could as both of them flew to that cloud together, both whispering each other's names into the darkness.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to

Once they were down from that cloud, they curled up together among the silk sheets, holding each other close, as if each was the other's life line. There was nothing that could have torn them apart at that exact moment, because it was to each other that they belonged.

And I'd
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

It was the younger man who broke the silence. “You know, Clay, I recorded that song for you. I can’t fight with you anymore.”

Clay sighed softly into Josh’s hair. “I didn’t want to fight with you in the first place.”

“I know. Let’s just never do it again.” Josh pulled the comforter up to cover them both, his arms wrapping themselves around Clay’s waist. “I love you too much to get the cold shoulder for eight weeks at a time.”

“I love you, too.” Clay leaned his head against the pillow, thankful to be back where he belonged.

He looked out the window, and his last sights before sleep pulled him within it’s grasps, were of the snow that was falling down through the cold December night.

Remeber When It Rained

Wed, 07 Sep 2005 18:19:32 GMT

Title: Remember When It Rained
Author: csummersgo
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Clay Aiken / Josh Groban
Disclaimer: I didn't write the song, I don't own Clay, I don't own Josh, and I just wrote this for fun. Well, just because of my boyfriend but that's another story.
Notes: So I posed this on Idolslash a long time ago, and now I'm posting it here, because it was posted in my old journal, which I deleted. Plus, I edited it, in case anyone new finds it.
Summary: Um. It's sad.

Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you

Nothing could pull him away from the seat. Not his brother, his mother, his father... Not a nuclear threat, nor a tornado would get him out of the sterile white seat that he was currently seated on, staring lifelessly at the white swinging doors. He could hear voices, but to him, it was all a foreign language. Doctors and nurses going in and out, and one would soon bring the inevitable.

No more love and no more pride.
The thoughts are all I have to do.

It had started out fine. Their evening the usual hustle and bustle. Reporters trying to question them as they would walk into the restaurant where they had reservations to eat dinner. Together. No matter what anyone said about them. They'd eaten they're meals, and then slipped out the back, giggling all the while, into the car that was waiting for them. Not a limo, because they didn't want to be seen leaving. They just wanted a night to themselves.

It hadn't seemed like a bad idea, at the time, to go to a quiet little park about 20 miles away from the heart of the city. They knew that no one would be there at that hour, nearly eleven at night, so it was a plan, right?

Ohhhohhh...Remember when it rained
Felt the ground and looked up high and called your name

Wrong. So very, very wrong. His head falls into his hands and he stares through his fingers at the floor. There wasn't anything he could do. He just wanted to put his fists through the wall. He wanted to knock out the reporter that had somehow made his way past the security and who was snapping away at his camera incessantly as security guards pulled him out the doors. He wanted... Clay.

Ohhhohhh...Remember when it rained
In the darkness I remain

It was all perfect, at first. Laughing and running as the rain started to pour down, cool water running down both of them as their warm lips met. It had seemed like a scene from a classic movie as they'd run for someplace dry. Their clothes were sticking to their shivering bodies and the car was long forgotten. Parked, lights off, and the driver probably sleeping until they decided they were ready to go back to the hotel. He ran a hand through Clay's hair, laughing at the wet wanna-be spikes. And Clay looked him in the eye, laughter shimmering in the emerald orbs, and ran a hand through the watered-down curls that were plastered to his forehead.

And then they were kissing again, and everything was perfect. No reporters, no crazy teenaged girls asking either for their autographs or giving them trouble. They were together, and since that was all they wanted at that moment in time, who would have thought to care if there were people on the other side of the park watching them in disgust as they kissed? Who would have thought to look at the people? Obviously, their security wasn't them. They were just two men who were soaked, cold, and in love. Who would have thought anything would happen? Can no one let people be themselves anymore?

Tears of hope run down my skin
Tears for you that will not dry

He looked up when he was approached, a nurse with gauze among other things on a tray, telling him he had to have the cut in his forehead stitched. He shook his head, though it made his head throb with pain. He must have had a concussion. He wanted to slam his head against a wall. Here he was, thinking about himself when Clay could be…. Could be… He didn’t even want to think about it. He wanted to trade places with him. Wanted to be the one who was going to… Fresh tears started to form in his eyes, though he hadn’t thought he had any left in him.

His mother approached him. “Josh, you have to drink something. Here…” She handed him a small cup of water, and he sat, staring into the water. It was the last thing he wanted. Water. It was because of the rain that they’d had to share the space with those people. Those people… The cup fell to the floor, water splashing out and forming a small puddle on the floor.

They magnify the one within
And let the outside slowly die….

They were alone, for quite some time, and the rain continued to pour down. So they spoke of their futures, both looking bright as the morning sun. Only, they didn’t know that the sun would be blocked by dark clouds in the morning.

Three men walked into their area of refuge, soaked, and stared at them. They didn’t notice they’d come in until one cleared his throat. “Hey,” one of them said, his voice gruff “You two care if the three of us sit in here until the rain slows down?”

Josh looked at Clay, and then back at the three. “Nah, no problem.” And he went back to his and Clay’s conversation. Clay giggled at something he said, and Josh took his hands in his. “You’re freezing.” He whispered, rubbing the hands in his own.

“Its raining.. Do you expect me to be warm? Maybe I need something around me.” He smiled, and Josh put and arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

There were mutters from the three men, and then they stood, causing Josh and Clay to both look up at them. “Hey, how about the two of you go get a room and stop being so public.”

“You asked to sit here. We were already here,” Clay said, and Josh whispered, “Maybe we should just go back to the car…”

But Clay was stubborn. He always was when it came to his rights. “I’m not going anywhere,” He said, remaining where he was sitting.

“You wanna make something of this?”

“We don’t want any trouble,” Josh said, holding Clay’s hand tightly in his own. “Clay, let’s just go,” He said in a hushed tone.

“Or maybe you need help.” One of the guys went over and pulled Clay up by the collar of his striped shirt, lifting him easily and throwing him out into the rain.
“Hey!” Josh shouted, jumping up, but they grabbed him, punching him in the side and then pushing him into the rain, falling to the ground next to Clay, smacking his head against the wet concrete, and he grimmaced with the pain of the blow.

Ohhhohhh...Remember when it rained
Felt the ground and looked up high and called your name

The doctor came out of the doors, but went over to another family, who broke down in tears as the doctor shook his head. The patient who had gone in after Clay had been an elderly man who had been in a car accident. The cause of the accident had been a heart attack. Josh had heard it, but he hadn’t comprehended it until that moment.

Death was real.

Ohhhohhh...Remember when it rained
In the water I remain

He didn’t know how it started, and he didn’t know why they didn’t just run as fast as they could, but somehow… Somehow he was now being held back by one man while the other two beat Clay to the ground. He had to close his eyes and he could feel the agony of every blow that hit his lover.

He tried to get away, tried to shout to their driver or their security who were in the car. He tried. He didn’t win.

He could hear the sound of fists meeting flesh as they hit Clay and he could no longer hear the cries Clay had been letting out.

Oh God… No… No… And then he felt as though something had been ripped from him as he thought about what life would be without Clay, what life would be like without the warm love that he had felt over the past two years of their relationship. He closed his eyes, rain pouring down his face and his tears unseen.

And then they moved on to him. Now he was being beaten fiercely, but he couldn’t feel it. He was numb. He thought Clay was dead. And then the men were ripped away and restrained, and a siren could be heard in the distance, moving closer with every whistle. But would it come in time?

Running down… Running down…
Running down… Running down…
Running down… Running down…
Running down…

His eyes were closed as the doors opened again, and he knew that since there wasn’t a hospital bed following the doctor…. It was over. He walked over to Faye, who was sitting with Clay’s siblings surrounding her and he knelt down in front of her. He took her hand and shook his head slowly.

Josh could hear everyone in the room break down at the same moment, but he didn’t. He sat there. His life was over. He’d never find that passion that he’d had with Clay. He’d never find any kind of love. He’d never fall out of love. He’d never meet anyone like Clay and he knew he never would again.

His brother’s hand was on his shoulder, he couldn’t feel it, but he could see it. He’d never felt so numb in his life. But he knew he had to leave.. To go home to an empty L.A. apartment where everything would remind him of Clay. Every square inch of it was filled with memories. Kisses, laughs, soft touches that would lead to more, stacks of videos from their careers, and so much more. And their bed would be empty, and eventually Clay’s scent would leave the soft sheets, and he’d be reminded that he was alone now.

Alone.

But, he was accompanied out of the hospital by security who would push away reporters who were shoving microphones and cameras in his face in the parking garage.

“Mr. Groban, how does it feel to have lost the man you claimed to love?”

“Mr. Groban, can we get a comment on the death of popstar Clay Aiken?”

“Josh! Josh! Look over here!” Flashes as he continued to stare at the ground.

“Mr. Groban! MR. GROBAN! How does it feel to know that you were the reason Clay Aiken died?”

The reason Clay Aiken died? Josh wondered as he was helped into the car. It was Clay who had wanted to come out.. But he wasn’t going to think about that. He wasn’t going to play the blame game.

It was still raining when they pulled out onto the road.

Ooooooh ooooooh no
No no no no no
Ooooooh ooooooh no
Running downnnnnnnnnnn….

He sang the last words in the recording booth, his heart pounding as he took off the headphones. He opened the door and walked out, listening as the whole thing was played through.

“Work for you?” David Foster, his producer, asked him slowly.

“I’d be much happier if I had never written this song.” Josh said, looking down at the cover of his album. “But I had to do something.” He took a deep breath. “So many songs on this album would have been perfect for us. We never did have a song. I guess this will have to be it.”

His eyes were watering as the song echoed in his ears as he walked out of the studio. The sun was shining brightly, and he looked up at the sky.

He knew that Clay was up there somewhere… Looking down at him with one of his goofy lopsided grins, telling him how much he loved him in the gentle breeze.

“I love you.” He whispered, walking toward his car.

Stay.

Sat, 03 Sep 2005 03:48:25 GMT

Title: Stay
Author: csummersgo (formerly known as being_clucked)
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: Clohn. It's basically all I write, now. Blame hotlen.
Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Clay or John or anyone/anything relating to them. Otherwise, I'd be recording it, not writing it.
Notes: Dictionary.com is my friend. The end.
Summary: First time. Yeah, that's pretty much it. Read on.

They did this every night, and every night it got harder for John to be pushed away and forced to leave.

Alright, so that was a lie. He wasn't forced to leave, but Clay never asked him to stay. It was always as though he was saying "Thanks for that, now get going back to your room." But he knew that Clay needed time. He wasn't used to the feelings he was having. He couldn't be rushed, and John didn't want to rush him. But he was starting to need him.

As John trailed his lips from Clay's temples to his eyelids to his nose, he could feel Clay breathing against him, and it always made him happy to be alive when their lips met and Clay released a soft gasp. It happened every time, every night. He parted his lips and gently ran his tongue over his lover's bottom lip, seeking entrance to the warm mouth that produced the most amazing sounds ears could hear.

When their tongues met, John was rewarded with a sound that was reserved just for him. It was a distinguished soft moan that sent a wave of pleasure directly down his spine and to his groin. It was all he could do to keep himself from thrusting against Clay, but he knew that it wouldn't be well recepted, so he fought the urge.

He let himself explore Clay's mouth, and he felt one of Clay's hands shyly roam up his arm, cup his neck, and then slowly began to travel down his back. When Clay's fingers found that place where his back melded into his hips, he slowly moved his fingers in a gentle circle.

His lips trailed away and found Clay's neck, nipping and sucking softly at the freckled skin just below his ear, eliciting a low moan that reverberated from next to his ear, through the room, and back into his body again, sending a deep sudder through him.

We need to stop now, John thought. If we don't, I won't be able to leave. I have to stop this before he stops me. Reluctantly, he pulled back, making Clay look up with him with worried eyes.

"What's wrong?" Clay asked, looking concerned.

"We should stop." It took every ounce of will power he had to say the words, because it was the first time he had ever uttered them to Clay. It felt so different to be on the other side of the phrase, and John couldn't help but wish he was willing to stay and wait for Clay to say them. But tonight, he knew he couldn't. In the morning, Clay would be gone again. The tour was over. He was going back to his hectic schedule, where nothing was ever certain.

"You..." Clay was looking at him again, as though he was hurt that John wanted to leave. "You want to stop?"

"Clay, I should go back to my room. You have an early flight in the morning, you're tired, and it's late," John said, running his fingers through Clay's hair briefly before slowly untangling his legs from Clay's and getting off of the bed, walking over to his bag.

He picked it up, and walked back over to Clay. "Get some rest. If you leave before I get up, call me when you land, okay?" He leaned down to where Clay was still laying, propped against the pillows, and kissed him softly, cupping his neck with his hand and then he pulled away, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking towards the door.

Now you know how it feels, John thought, and he found it to be surprisingly bitter, when you want something and you have to give it up before you want to.

He opened the door, but was stopped when he heard Clay mumble something. He turned back around to see that Clay was now sitting up on the bed, biting his lip. "What?" John asked, his hand on the knob.

"I said I don't want you to go." He was wrining his hands in his lap, his legs folded under his thin frame.

"Clay, we both know that I can't stay," John said, his hand still on the door.

"You can. I... I'm telling you, you can stay. I... I want you to. Stay." Clay's emerald eyes sparkled nervously, illuminated by the light of the hall.

John's heart pounded in his ears at what the words implied, but he couldn't be sure that he was interpreting Clay correctly. He could just need him to stay a little longer. He wasn't saying he wanted him to stay the night, just that he wanted him there, now.

Walked over to the bed and sat down, gently cupping Clay's cheek in his hand. Clay brought his own hand up to hold John's to his face, and he leaned against the touch. He bit his lip again, "I don't want you to go tonight."

"I don't want to go either," John whispered, stroking Clay's cheek with his thumb. "But we both know that I have to. You're not ready yet."

Clay closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, "I know I've said that before, but--" Another deep breath. "But I'm ready now. Please." His eyes opened, and John saw that Clay was keeping in that breath, holding it until his lungs would burn, waiting for an answer.

John felt the skin beneath his fingers grow warm as Clay looked at him, realizing that he was holding his breath, as well. His lungs felt like they were on fire and he swallowed a dry breath, his mouth feeling like he had just played Chubby Bunny with cotton balls.

"Clay.. I--" He locked his eyes with Clay's, pleadingly. "Are you sure?"

Clay nodded nervously, his chapped lips parting as he drew in a breath. "I want to be with you. I want us to do this, but..." He closed his eyes. "I'd be lying to you if I said that I wasn't terrified."

"It's just that, if we do, I don't know if I could bring myself to stop, Clay. As much as I love you, I don't think we could sta--"

Clay shook his head, cutting John off. "I won't stop you."

He reached for John's bag, sliding it off of his shoulder and dropping it to the floor with a thud.

"Stay."

That one word undid John completely, and he leaned forward and kissed Clay, slowly. It took a moment for them to adjust themselves from their sitting positions, and only a few moments later, they were both kneeling in the middle of the bed, their bodies pressed together as they kissed.

Clay cupped John's neck in his hand, gasping softly as John's tongue thrust against his own.

John's hands were on Clay's hips, holding him close as their mouths continued their own work. Only moments before, John had been ready to leave, his arousal repressed, and now he was gently rocking his hips against Clay's, feeling their need for each other growing with every second.

He slowly slid his hands up and under Clay's shirt, feeling the warm skin tingling beneath his fingers. He broke their kiss and looked at Clay briefly, eyes half-lidded and his lips full, before slowly raising the white t-shirt up and over his lover's head.

Clay's chest was practically heaving as he breathed, but when John's eyes fell on him, he held his breath. John took in the pale, freckled skin of Clay's torso, marvelling in the beauty of the man before him. He tossed the shirt to the floor and ran his hand down Clay's chest, making him close his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

John leaned forward and began to kiss Clay's bare shoulder, his hands running up and down his sides. He buried his face in Clay's neck, breathing him deeply, convincing himself that it was real. He bit down softly against the sensitive skin of Clay's throat and sucked the flesh into his mouth, bringing a cry from Clay's lips.

Mine, he thought to himself. You're mine.

He felt Clay's fingers tentatively skirting the bottom of the t-shirt he wore, as though he weren't sure he could go below it.

John pulled away and reached down, quickly taking off his own shirt before closing the distance between their bodies again. He kissed him and felt Clay's smile against his mouth, but it was quickly replaced with a soft cry when their bare chests met for the first time.

God, I feel like I'm in high school. John found that it was getting harder and harder to breathe as his need coursed through his veins.

He felt Clay's hands running up and down his back, making his skin feel as though it were on fire. Clay gripped John's hips carefully, pulling him closer and causing a new kind of friction between them, making each thrust against the other, needing more.

His breath quickened it's pace when he felt shaky fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans.

Oh God. He dared open his eyes and he looked at Clay, who was looking down, biting his lip, as he fiddled with the button, unable to get it undone. John's fingers came to help him, and Clay looked up and met his eyes, a shy smile forming on his lips.

He got the button open, and he let Clay unzip his jeans, pressing his hips against Clay's hand when tentative fingers brushed against the aching bulge concealed within his boxers. Clay blushed and slowly began to lower John's jeans. They had to pull apart so that John could kick them away, and when they had joined their shirts on the floor, John kissed Clay again, laying him down against the floral hotel quilt, happy that Clay was just wearing his after-tour-shower sweatpants.

John slowly trailed kisses down Clay's chest, his cheek tickled by the curly auburn hairs that scattered themselves over his pale form. When he kissed just above Clay's belly button, he had the urge to press his lips down hard and give him a raspberry, and he smiled, knowing how Clay would squeal, but there would be so many other opportunities to do that.

But it would lighten the mood, a voice in the back of his head screamed. It might make him less nervous.

But he forced the thought away and settled for dipping his tongue into Clay's belly button, earning an audible gasp from Clay. Instead of stopping his tongue and continuing to kiss is way to the waistband of Clay's, he dragged his tongue down his naval as Clay's breath began to come in short, ragged puffs.

John untied the drawstring, hooked his fingers in the waistband, and began to slide them down, following them down and then tossing them to the floor. He came back up and kissed Clay again, pressing his open mouth against Clay's, and he could feel him trembling under his weight.

"Mmm.. You're shaking," John said, matter-of-factly.

"Thank you for pointing that out," Clay replied, his cheeks burning.

"It's endearing." He kissed him again, realizing that he could have kissed him forever. Here Clay was, trembling beneath him as their mouths crashed together like waves to the shore.

Wow, John thought as he pressed against Clay, feeling the need being reciprocated, that was cliche.

"John..." Clay gasped, arching up against him.

Oh God, say my name again. Please.

John reached between them and pressed his fingers to Clays lower abdomen, and then below the band of his boxers, running his thumb over the tip of Clay's member, feeling a pearl of liquid under his finger as Clay thrust forward into the touch.

"Oh Lor--" He bit is lip so hard that it turned white as John's fingers trailed down the warm length, and Clay lifted his hips to let John pull down his boxers with his free hand and then Clay, his fingers shaking harder than before, reached up and hooked his fingers to John's boxers, carefully lowering them until John was able to kick them, and Clay's, away from the bed.

When their bodies met, skin to skin, for the very first time, they both clutched to each other and gasped.

"John, I... Please.." Clay moaned and arched upwards, making John gasp at the warmth that spread through him as their erections pressed together, pulsing and tensing and throbbing.

He kissed him warmly and then pulled away, crawling across the bed to the edge and retrieving his bag.

Thank God I didn't get rid of this, John thought, unzipping one of the compartments and groping around for a small tube of lubrication and a condom. And then, as he held them in his hand, he felt his nervousness beginning to grow for the first time. This is really going to happen.

John crawled back up to Clay, reassuring him with a kiss.

"Are you alright?" He asked, stroking his face gently.

Clay nodded, sucking in a breath as one of John's hands reached between them and slowly pushed his legs apart. John unscrewed the cap of the tube and then slowly squeezed a generous into his hand, slicking his fingers and slipping his hand back between Clay's legs, pressing a single finger to his opening.

"Clay, baby, you're going to need to relax, okay?" John said, kissing his forehead. "If you don't, I could hurt you."

Clay nodded, shutting his eyes tightly and gasping loudly as John pushed his finger in up to the first knuckle. He swallowed down air as he tried not to tense around the intruding finger.

"Are you okay?" John asked, feeling Clay clench around his finger. He looked to Clay and he nodded, biting his lip. "I'm going to move it a little bit, alright? Just... relax. Stay calm. If anything is too much, just tell me."

John slowly curled his finger within Clay, hearing the sharp cry that broke free from Clay's throat. He twisted slowly and then began to move the finger carefully, lovingly. He kissed Clay's cheek, praying that he wasn't going to hurt him. He was so vulnerable like this, open and fragile, his body quaking in fear and apprehension and nervousness and passion and need.

"Do you think you're ready for more?" John asked, his finger slipping in and out, slowly, even though he wanted nothing more than to sheathe himself within Clay's body. He was craving the warmth and envying his own fingers, and he carefully pushed a second finger into his lover without pause, only stopping when both fingers where buried inside of him.

"Oh.. Oh God," Clay gasped, biting his lip roughly and clenching hard around John's fingers.

"Relax," John said, stroking Clay's face. "Sweetheart, you need to relax."

"I.. I can't." Clay gasped again and John kissed his forehead, tasting the salty tang of his sweat against his lips.

"Shhh, it's alright. Trust me. I won't hurt you." John wished he could believe his own words, but he couldn't be sure that he wasn't going to hurt him. He was hurting him right now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. John remembered his first time, and he could relate to what Clay was feeling, which was all the more reason for him to be gentler.

He kissed Clay's parted lips slowly and then pulled back and began to slowly move his fingers, curling and twisting and sometimes making Clay cry out in pleasure instead of pain. It was what John needed to hear. He needed to know that this wasn't just hurting him, and that it was pleasing him to. That was what he was here to do: To please him. To make his first time perfect.

Whenever he had imagined it, he hadn't seen it this way. He hadn't seen himself only worrying about Clay, but now that it was really happening, all he wanted was for Clay to feel safe and loved. He didn't care about his own pleasure at the moment, just about his lover's.

John kissed Clay again when he realized that Clay was starting to respond by pushing down against his fingers. He wondered if he should add a third or if he should try to enter him. Though the latter was tempting, he thought maybe he should try just one more.

But, as though reading his mind, Clay spoke up.

"John, please.. I.. I need you," he whispered from next to his ear.

He didn't know that he was ready, and he knew he should have waited a little bit longer, but instead of arguing, he withdrew his fingers carefully and reached for the condom.

Opening the small package carefully, he removed it and was preparing to roll it on when Clay's fingers took it from him.

"Let me," he said, shyly.

His cautious hand stroked the length of John's penis, making John thrust forward into his hand, moaning loudly as Clay grasped the base and then came back up before slowly rolling the condom down with a gentle stroke.

John took a deep breath as Clay's hand left him, wanting it back, and squeezed more of the lube into his palm and then spread it onto himself. He spread Clay's legs farther apart, lifting them up just a little bit, and positioned himself at his lover's opening, mentally preparing for it and feeling as though it was his first time, as well.

He leaned forward, balancing himself on one hand.

"Are you ready?"

Clay closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

"You're sure about this?"

Clay opened his eyes and smiled, nodding nervously.

Carefully, and excruciatingly slowly, John pressed himself into Clay, gasping loudly at the same moment as Clay. But, he knew that while his was all in pleasure, Clay's was not.

"Are you okay?" He looked at Clay's tightly shut eyes with concern.

Clay nodded, but did not open his eyes.

He pushed in a little more, his eyes fluttering shut at the intense heat and tightness surrounding him. He continued so agonizingly slow that he was sure he would reach the end before he was even completely inside of him. John fought himself to hold back, promising himself that Clay would finish with him, and that they would experience this all at the same time.

Clay let out a few gasps as John continued to enter him, but never said anything to stop him, no matter how much it hurt.

And then John stopped, and Clay realized that it was over. At that moment, they were as close as they could physically get.

John looked at Clay when he was completely embedded within him, and he saw a tear escape from one of his closed eyes.

"Clay? Are you okay?" He asked, reaching up with one hand to wipe it away. Clay gasped in a breath and nodded.

"I--It hurts," he admitted, quietly.

"I know, Clay. But... But it'll get better, I promise. I won't move until you're ready," John said, leaning forward and kissing him tenderly.

They stayed still like that for several moments, Clay's breath slowly becoming a little bit more even as he got used to the feeling of being completely filled. And John was patient, stroking Clay's face and side, whispering words of encouragement to help him relax.

"John?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I'm alright now," Clay said, opening his eyes and taking a deeper breath, readying himself.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Without another word, John carefully rocked his hips against Clay, pushing himself deeper than he thought he could go, and then pulled back before pushing deeper and hitting that one spot that made Clay's hips thrust against him, a loud cry tearing from his throat like a music note that wasn't even within range of the best singers. It was a sound that nearly made John lose control, but, again, he fought to keep it.

As John moved, Clay found himself to be a bit more confident, and had begun to move against John's thrusts, meeting him on each long stroke. John groaned as he moved and lifted Clay's legs a bit, helping him to wrap them around his waist to make it just a little more comfortable for the both of them.

He leaned forward and kissed him, immediately pushing his tongue into his lover's mouth, being met just as eagerly.

Their mouths duelled in time with John's thrusts, and their hearts pounded in sync as they got closer and closer to the end.

"John, I--Ooh," Clay gasped, not sure how to word what he was feeling. He knew he was close, but how could he say that, when he wasn't exactly capable of coherent thought?

"I know," John said, pressing his mouth back to Clay's. He could feel it coursing through him, that both of them were about to come crashing down to earth together, only to fly straight off into the sky.

John tried to time it, but he knew he couldn't get it exactly right. One would follow, but he wanted it to be him following Clay, and he knew that all he needed to do was see Clay's face as he came in order to bring himself over the edge.

He angled his body and thrust again, hitting that spot again, and he watched Clay's face. Oh, God, his face.

Clay called out his name, moaning loudly as he came in a stream of warm and sticky fluid between their bodies, and hearing his name and seeing the sheer look of ecstasy on Clay's face as his eyes shut tightly and his breath ebbed in his chest... That was enough.

As Clay's muscles spasmed around him, John let his own orgasm take over his body as he gave one final thrust into Clay and let go.

He collapsed a moment later, laying atop Clay, trying to recall how to breathe.

"I love you," he whispered, gently nipping at his earlobe.

"I love you, too," Clay replied, running his hand up John's back.

"Am I too heavy?" John asked, shifting his weight a bit.

"No. You're fine."

"We should clean up a little bit."

"Just... Later, we can do that later," Clay breathed against him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him in place. He kissed him breathlessly and whispered, "For now, just... Just stay."

----------------------------
Feedback? Yeah, thanks.

Roses, and Spiders, and Pancakes OH MY!

Fri, 02 Sep 2005 07:15:07 GMT

Title: Roses, and spiders, and pancakes OH MY!
Author: csummersgo (formerly known as being_clucked)
Rating: Barely PG-13
Pairing: It's totally Clohn. Aikenstrom. Whatever you want to call it.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own them. So, I don't think this has happened, but if it has, this is completely coincidental. :)
Summary: I was told that I couldn't leave to go to bed until I had something substantial. So... Hopefully this is substantial. John moves in with Clay. John likes flowers. Clay has a fear of spiders. Fluffy as a bunny that I'm deathly allergic to. Comments are very much appreciated :)

I looked over at John as he unpacked a small box and placed some books, in size order, on a shelf against the wall. Smiling, I looked back down and continued to unpack some of his clothes to put them into the drawers. It was exciting, it was, to finally know that I'd be able to wake up with him next to me. But at the same time, it was scary to know that every single one of my fans knew he was here. There was no more hiding. There was no going back.

Would this stop people from throwing thongs on stage, or would it make them start throwing boxers, I mused to myself as I folded one of his vintage tee shirts. He had at least two drawers of them.

I heard him kick the box away on the other side of the room and I looked over and saw him opening another one.

I absolutely did not see how he had this much crammed into that tiny apartment of his before I asked him to move in. With him, he brought silverware and plates and bowls and glasses, and I had a feeling that he might have tried to bring in a table if I hadn't already had one.

And Dudley? Dudley was, at that exact moment, running around his new home enjoying the space and, I prayed to God, not marking his territory.

I looked at Raleigh, who seemed overwhelmed by it all. The very first day John had come over with half of his things in the car, she had seen the boxes as playthings that she could enjoy and play in, but, as all her toys do, they quickly lost their novelty.

"Damnit..." I heard him mutter quietly as I closed the drawer.

"Problem?"

"Little one," He said, fumbling with something on the floor.

I walked over slowly and sat down next to him. It looked like there were dried roses and petals all over the floor, and seeming to pour out of a small book he was holding.

"What's that?" I asked, though I knew what they were. I was just interested in why they were there.

"It's... Kind of a hobby," He said, scooping up some of the petals and shoving them into the pages of the book without looking.

"A hobby? Like collecting stamps or stickers or ticket stubs?"

"I have stampss, and some stickers too, but no, this is different. I like to think of it as a little more romantic than collecting movie tickets."

"And concert tickets. Don't forget those," I added with a smile.

He smiled back and replied, "And concert tickets."

I put my hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

"So you collect flowers?"

"Not just any flowers. These are roses. All sorts. I've been collecting them since I was six. It was probably the first thing I did that said 'Mom! Look at me! I'm queer!' before I asked for the Easy Bake Oven when I was 9."

"Where are they all from?"

"Well, the first ones I had in here were from my grandmother's garden. She died a few months after we planted the bush, so I went back and took the first ones that bloomed, and I think that's how it started. After that, I would take the first rose that bloomed from all the family gardens. My aunt, my other aunt, and I even got my neighbor's, which got me into some trouble. And when my grandfather died not too long after my grandma, I took one of the roses from his funeral. I took one from my cousin's wedding, and other random occasions. I've got one from our first Valentine's Day in here, too, and..." He stopped, as though he was embarrassed to be revealing it to me.

"That's so sentimental," I said, and immediately after I said it, I regretted it. I sounded like I thought it was funny.

I didn't, of course, I thought it was cute.

He made sure that the petals weren't spiiling out anymore and he placed it carefully on the shelf. He reached for the next book in the box, just as a very, very large spider crawled across it.

I jumped up faster than a bolt of lightening and pulled him away with me, hitting his wrist to make him drop the book with a dull thump as Dudley came over to see what was wrong. We had taken several large steps back as Dudley went forward to inspect the book. He sniffed it for a minute and the hugeblackandtotallyscary spider ran up the side of the box.

"Oh, Dudley, don't--" I said clinging to John for dear life as the dog sniffed at the fleeing spider.

And then he did. Dudley barked at it once and then, with a scratch of his paw and a swoosh of his tongue, the spider was gone. And Dudley was chewing.

I burried my face in John's neck as I heard the dogs jaws going to town on the spider.

"I think I'll be sick..."

"You're fine," John said, rubbing my back slightly.

"I. Really. Don't. Like. Spiders," I said, shaking slightly. I'm not a pansy or anything, really. That thing was huge.

"I don't either, Clay, but really, you're at least 50 times bigger than that thing--"

"They have fangs, John. And there's really something creepy about something with eight legs that can shoot silk from it's rear," I said, clutching his shirt.

He laughed slightly and it calmed me down.

"John?"

"Hm?"

I looked down at him slightly and smiled, "If you hadn't been here, I would have stood on my bed and hoped that that spider found its way to the window."

"The window's closed, Clay," he said, tilting his head up towards me.

"Which is why it's even better that you're here. Because if you weren't, Dudley wouldn't be, and... Well.. Then I would have had to subject Raleigh to animal testing to get that spider out of here. Which would not have been easy because, as you say--"

"She's a bigger princess than you are."

"She learned from the best," I said, kissing his forehead. "Come on, let's finish getting you unpacked so we can go get something to eat."

"Mmm.. But I'm fine right here," He replied, wrapping his arms around me slowly.

"Well, while I am too, the sooner you're unpacked, the sooner we can go out and get dinner, which means the sooner we can come back here and sleep... Because it's getting late, after all." I leaned forward and kssed him slowly, and then I pulled back and giggled at the fake annoyance that was spread across his face.

"Fine... Let me just finish getting the books away and then we can go get food," He said, pulling away from me just as reluctantly as I let him go. He walked over to the box of books and arranged them on the shelf, still in size order, before tossing the box to where the others were lined up.

"Do I have time to get changed, or is Princess too famished?"

"You can get changed," I replied, leaving to go get my jacket and keys.

He came out a few minutes later, a fresh tee shirt and a different pair of jeans.

How many pairs of jeans does he have? I asked myself, smiling at him as I opened the door. And a little voice in the back of my mind said, As many pairs as you have shoes. Match point.

I took his hand and we left. We went to dinner, a local diner, and we were swamped by fans to the point where we had to ask the waitress to have our food packed to go. So we ate in the car, because I didn't want to go home yet. I was sure that the pictures that some of the people got would be in the tabloids the following week. "CLAY AIKEN EATS PANCAKES FOR DINNER: CARB SIN OR CARB SENSATION?" I could see it now. Or, better yet, "CLAY AIKEN: SAUSAGE OR BACON? Cover Story: Page 10."

Ah, lovely.

When we got back to my our house, we had to fight through a small mob of people to get to the door before we actually got inside.

I sqealed with laughter as I pulled him through the door.

"I feel like I'm a teenager who just got backstage at a concert," he said, laughing as he shut the door. "All the people asking questions at the same time... I think I actually heard someone ask me if you ate blue frosting on cakes...?"

"There is something weird tasting about the blue kind, but I eat it."

"I get a little more information about you ever day."

I walked over and l closed the window shades so that the people outside weren't tempted to attack my makeshift garden to get a better view.

I plopped down on the couch and John followed a moment later.

"So how does it feel?" I asked, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"How does what feel?" He replied, lacing his fingers with mine.

"Knowing that all those people out there wish they knew me the way that you do."

"Mmm.. That. I like that," He leaned his head over against mine and we both stared at the door frame to the kitchen for a moment.

"Do you think we made the right choice?"

"In moving in together?"

"No..." I paused. "I wanted that no matter what.. But... Do you think that my coming out so soon was a good idea?" I didn't regret it, and even if I did, it was too late now.

"Do you think it was a good idea?" He asked pulling his head away and turning to face me.

"Yes. I just wasn't sure that you've always thought--" He put a finger from his free hand to my lips.

"Clay, any decision you want to make, I'm right there next to you." He leaned forward (and up, just a little bit) and kissed me softly.

I smiled against his mouth and drew back, another fit of giggles overtaking me.

"What now?" He asked, smiling a broad smile.

"I was just wondering what it'll be like in a few years, once the fame thing has worn down. I see us in a house that's a little smaller with a fence to keep out any pestering people who didn't get the memo that I'm not a sex symbol anymore. And a bug zapper on the back porch that'll kill anything that comes near it. And--What are you laughing at?" I asked as he started laughing.

"The fact that you think your fame is going to die down a little bit. And the fact that you think you'll ever stop being a sex symbol. And..."

"And...?" I asked as he paused to stop laughing. He smiled at me, and I smiled at him, unsure of what he was going to say.

"And I'm happy that you still see us in a couple of years."

"I see us in a couple of decades, too," I said, leaning forward and kissing him. We both smiled at the same moment, making our teeth clash together lightly, which made us laugh, which made us pull apart so that we didn't hurt one another. We laughed for a moment and then he laced my fingers together with his again and kissed me a second time.

We continued to kiss, and somehow I ended up lying on top of him slightly on the couch, wanting nothing more than to kiss him for the rest of time. But, there were others in the room who decided to make their presence known.

Raleigh and Dudley both barked, letting us know that they would have preferred not to see where this was going. Upon their barks, I pulled back slightly from John, taking a deep breath and looking at the dogs.

"I think they're telling us they don't want us in here," I said, looking back at him and grinning.

"Then maybe we should do what they say and vacate the room so that the lovepuppies can have some time alone," he said with a suggestive smile.

"You know, there's a room right down the hall that I think is pretty empty right about now," I said, slowly getting up and then extending my hand to him.

"Lead the way, Mr. Aiken," he said, jokingly.

"Lord, never say that again," I said, pulling him up off the couch.

"MisterAikenMisterAikenMisterAiken--" And then he changed his mind. "PrincessAikenPrincessAikenPrincessAiken--"

I took off in a sprint down the hallway squealing when he pinched my bottom, and he followed me.

I couldn't help but wonder, as I reached the bedroom door, if the decades I wanted to spend with him would all be as fun as the first day he officially lived with me. I can only hope, I thought as he tackled me (and as I giggled in hysterics) into the door.