꧁ h o m e ꧂

𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 (𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕)

It had been one month.

It never failed to make his heart stutter when Shayne would pull him up the stairs, looking back at him with a grin that made his fingers shake. Every time his head hit the pillow, his back would arch, his body searching for Shayne's touch in the dark and he was always granted small fleeting kisses against his skin.

They didn't talk much those nights. Not when all they wanted was to feel each other. The rush of breath filling the air were conversation enough. Their hands pressed those three words into each other's skin as they moved together in the night, sometimes the day, sometimes on the kitchen floor.

But then there were the nights when Damien looked at Shayne and he couldn't stop the curling of his toes when his blue eyes started undressing him, making their way down his long body. He always knew what Shayne was doing and Shayne always knew that Damien couldn't bear it, being in a public place, digging his nails into his palms to keep his erection under control. Shayne loved it. He loved the way Damien would twist and turn in his seat at dinner with Courtney and Ian, or when they were at the movies, or even at his parents. He loved the desperate wet kiss that was on his lips as soon as they got home, as soon as they shut the front door.

God, Shayne loved it, every hot and messy second of it.

Those nights, they didn't take their time. They whispered obscene things it each other's ear, stole each other's breath, broke each other's skin. Sometimes the bed wasn't even the main event, because sometimes Shayne couldn't wait that long. He couldn't wait to get up the stairs, so the couch would have to do, or the hardwood floor, but his favorite was the wall. It was the hottest thing pinning him against the drywall as soon as they shut the front door, making a mess of the clothes they couldn't get off all the way. He'd never had so many holes in his shirts.

꧁𒊹︎꧂

It had been one year and he finally worked up the courage to let Shayne cut his hair.

"Calm down, bitch. I've got this!" Shayne slapped his head and made him be still. "It's going to be so sexy you won't be able to look at your self in the mirror."

"If you fuck it up, we're both buzzing our heads."

"Deal."

He didn't disappoint. Shayne stood back and admired his work. He'd shaped Damien's unruly hair into the most attractive quiff he'd ever laid eyes on and he congratulated himself by dragging Damien up the the stairs for a round in the sheets. From that day forward Shayne was his hairdresser and he always paid him with sex.

꧁𒊹︎꧂

It had been five years. Shayne was thirty-six and he felt that they had reached that point where they could finally live their dream.

"Hey, babe?"

"Yeah, sugar-lips?" Damien said, sticking his head around the corner from the kitchen and grinning stupidly at him.

"It's ours." Shayne said, and his face split into a huge smile when Damien's face went from confused to realization in less than two seconds.

"Oh my God... I can't... I... really?! It's fucking ours?"

Shayne laughed. "Yes, it's ours! We can move down there whenever we're ready."

He picked him up in a hug when he ran into his arms laughing happily. They had been saving up for years to be able to buy and move into that beach house, and still have plenty of money to be more than comfortable. It was their dream and they were finally getting to live it, and even though their morning commute was going to triple in length, it was worth it, all of it.