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Paul,
If you’re reading this, then you must feel lonely - and particularly so.
I don’t know how long it’s been since you received the original letter to which this was attached to... A year, a month, a week, a day… a minute, perhaps? For the last one of those options, I wouldn’t even blame you if you hadn’t waited.
I want you to know, that no matter the distance of time that it has been, no matter how far away from each other we are right now, or at any given point…. each and every single thing that I detail in this passage of text will remain wholly truthful. From this letter, until the next and beyond. (Yes, I will only send the next one of these once I know you have read this one. As I said in the previous letter - this one is special. You’ll see.)
Paul, what I want you to know is this;
When it comes to you, the desire in my heart will always remain the same. It always has, it always will. I have said this before, I know, but it is the truth. No matter how large or small the space and time between us, it will always be you who I want. You. And only you.
All I want is you. As I write this, I am imagining all the things in which we could be doing at home - all the things that I want to do to you. Distance has only amplified and revealed to me the depths of my desires for you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess, something like that old-time phrase, but I know this is only half true. Because when you’re laying beside me, on top of me, underneath me that fondness - that desire - for you... it burns just as desperately as I am feeling right now.
And Paul, how I wish that you were laying under me right at this very moment, with your skin pressed to mine. Now, let me tell you of all the things I would do to you…
Their separation had been long, and terrible.
It’s been a couple months since Hugh returned from a mission Paul thought he would never return from. The ship that Hugh was stationed on had been stranded in a remote and isolated part of the galaxy, far from anywhere, and their ships systems - all but the life support - had gone down. Paul thought that he had lost him forever, as all communication had ceased suddenly - and it was sudden, as they talked every single day without fail.
Then a letter arrived on his PADD, marked from Hugh. He was trembling when he opened it, it was just a simple letter, with a separate secondary one attached to it too, marked ‘Do not read until you’ve decided to. - See first letter.’ So he read through the first and it detailed everything that had been going on, what went wrong, and how they didn’t know how long it would be until help would arrive. It could be years. But Hugh reassured him that he was okay, he missed Paul, he loves him. He said that they were limited to two simple letters - no videos, no audio - and hoped that communication could improve, but for now it was one way only.
Before Hugh closed the letter he told Paul that he should save the second letter for a time that he was feeling particularly lonely, and wanted to feel close to him again.
Paul honoured that.
Eventually, months later - nearly a year - Hugh's ship had been pulled out of the trouble they were in, were assisted with repairs, and finally set a course for home. Because of the distressing nature of the failed mission, he was granted several months off, or as long as he needed to recover.
After a quick trip home to Earth, to see his family and finalise some affairs with the Starfleed H.Q in San Fansisco, Hugh had then made his way to Deneva, where he has now been for the past week, spending the remainder of his recovery time with Paul.
On this breezy, lazy afternoon they lay together on the bed in Paul's apartment, dipping in and out of comfortable silences and soft words.
A breeze sweeps through the room, rustling something on Paul's shelf. It makes a small noise that disturbs him from his relaxed thoughts. He glances over to look at what made the noise; a small handmade paperbark ornament that Hugh had picked up for him their the beginning of when they first started dating, but his attention is drawn to what lays beside it - one of his data PADDs.
“Do you remember those letters you sent me, Hugh?” He asks quietly, half in a daze as his mind replays his own memories of those letters.
He hears the rustle of sheets beside him as Hugh props himself up on his elbow, now looking at Paul as he lounges on his side. “Of course,” Hugh laughs softly - oh, how blessed he was to hear that sound again. “Sending them really helped me through that time," he reaches out and touches the side of Paul's face "- and helped me to stay feeling connected to you.”
“Me too.” Paul says as he looks back down at Hugh, leaning absently into his touch, his smile is soft, although he can't help the tinge of sadness that always lingers when thinking about that time. He pushes that thought aside, his smile gaining mirth as recalls something else about those letters. “What about those letters.” Putting emphasis on what he really means by that with a raised eyebrow.
“I do.” Hugh laughs softly at him. “Did you like them?”
“I did.” Hugh doesn't need to ask this, and Paul doesn't need to answer as he's told him that he has before - but they both love to acknowledge it anyway. “I loved hearing it, and I thought the same, too. I imagined you touching me again, holding me, kissing me and … Well, they helped me so much, too..” Paul grinning wickedly at Hugh now, divulging more than usual. “They helped to make me moan, and cry out for you, and sometimes I thought you would be able to hear me all the way across the stars.”
That makes Hugh smile. “Really?” He asks. Of course he already knows that it’s true, but Paul hasn’t told him this much before. At least, Hugh hasn’t heard about it so directly like this, and Paul knows that there’s a huge difference in reading between the lines and hearing it spoken aloud to you. Something of which they have been rediscovering about all kinds of things since they had reunited.
So he simply says “Yes,” in response and at the confirmation and suddenly Paul is overcome by a shy feeling, knowing he would even look a little bashful for a just a moment under Hugh’s curious gaze, as if he were admitting some dirty secret. He composes himself after a moment, feeling a bit foolish at reacting like that to the man that he has been open and intimate with for many years now. “Of course.” He said more cockily, sitting up taller.
“Did you cry out my name ?” Hugh asks, not missing a beat and brushes his hand down along the length of Paul's thigh. He was phishing now, and he knows exactly how to extract answers from him, but Paul loves it anyway.
“Every time.”
“Every time?” His finger falling over the curves of his body as if they remained as every bit familiar and known to him as they always had been. His touch truly was something that Paul coveted inordinately.
“...Yes.” Paul sighs blissfully, giving in to him.
Before everything Paul usually would have closed his eyes to let his senses take over as he concentrated on touch Hugh's alone. But now, after all that has happened, and after his imagination was all that he had for all those long months between them, over a year in total. So he no longer wants to close his eyes, instead he now always watches Hugh, and watches as Hugh’s hands and fingers explore him - just as he is doing right now. Paul loves to be able to match his touch to the reality that is before him - that Hugh is with him and they are together again. It’s something that he is deeply grateful for in every possible way, he sends silent ‘thank yous’ every day for the blessing that they are now blessed to share time together, just like this, once again. It’s nothing short of a miracle. A painful and hard-won miracle.
He smiles as he watches Hugh, who smiles in return - those beautiful immensely deep, dark eyes glittering with delight that holds an undercurrent of want - a want for him.
Paul watches as a thought flashes across Hugh's features which causes him to suddenly remove his hands from Paul and adjusts his position next to Paul so that they're no longer touching. The absence of his touch is already torture.
“Show me. I’d like to see what you looked like when you thought of me.”
“What?” Paul has to just blink, despite laying there fully dressed in his lazy afternoon attire, he suddenly feels very exposed under the intensity of Hugh’s gaze.
Hugh licks and catches his bottom lip on his teeth in that way that he does when he wants something. It’s never a conscious action, and that makes it all the more telling. And shit did Paul find it hot.
“I wish I could have seen you after you read that first letter of mine. Do you remember it? What it said?”
“Of course.” How could Paul forget it? He smiles, a little wistfully at the memory of it. “I can’t tell you how many hundred times I read and re-read it until the next one arrived. In the end, I knew it off by heart.”
“And every time you read it.. would you...?” Hugh’s eyes flicked over Paul’s body. It dawns on him that he - and his body - is laying there in wait of Hugh - and, oh, he really is.
“Every time.” Paul confesses.
“Show me.” He repeats, softly. It wasn’t a demand, rather it is a declaration of want.
A declaration of want of which Paul now wants indulge in, to return in favour, determined to show him just how much he wants him too, how much he needs him. Then, now, and always.
“You want me to…?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll…?”
“Watch you.”
“Oh.” Paul draws in a long breath breath and swallows with a touch of novel nervosity, but he likes the idea. He does not like the idea of having to close his eyes however. “I don’t want to pretend like you’re not here again.”
Hugh’s smile at him is kind, loving and knowing. Oh, how he missed that, how he survived without it for all that time that they were apart, he’ll never know. “You won’t be. The whole premise was to imagine that I am there with you and doing those things to you.” Hugh shifts closer to Paul again, still not quite touching him, but he can feel the heat emanating of his body and he finds that reassuring. Hugh leans in close to the crook of his neck and speaks his next words low, and hot against his skin “...and it’s by no stretch of the imagination that I am right here right now, with you, watching you and wanting you. I want to do all these things to you.”
As he speaks, his voice is that velvety dulcet whisper that is reserved for Paul alone, and he loves like nothing else. Hugh's lips are barely grazing the surface of his skin. It wasn’t just heat that he emanates, but electricity that sparks between their skin - positively lighting Paul’s receptive body up, over all of his skin.
Yes, he does want this. Although he wants Hugh to touch him more than ever, and for him to touch Hugh, too. But the thought of Hugh watching over him as he displays his lust for him, openly, truly does thrill him. So he closes his eyes and allows himself to become the navigator of Hugh’s narrative, surrendering to his lead.
“What would be the first thing you’d imagine?” Hugh asks him, somehow his voice, although quieter than before, had become so clear and intense, as he focuses on each and every note.
“Your voice.” His second confession.
“What would I tell you?” And Paul didn’t need to have his eyes open to hear that Hugh was now smiling as he asks the question to shape his narrative.
“Mmh. Everything you wanted, everything you said in the letters. You’d ...steer me.”
There’s a moment of pause and Paul waits for Hugh to begin. “Hey beautiful, I've been waiting so long to have you back in my arms -“
“You didn’t sound like that.” Paul interrupts laughing, cracking an eye open to peer at Hugh, which earns him a small shove and a frown.
“Oi. No cheating.” He scolds him lightly.
Paul scrunches his face and closes his eyes again. “Tell me what you want. Not what you have.”
"Okay.” There’s a slight pause again and Paul can hear Hugh wetting lips. He doesn't need to have his eyes open to feel Hugh's wandering eyes over every inch of his body.
"You. I want you. It’s been a long day and I’d come home only wanting to see you. I have no interest in anything else but you. I find you laying in our bed and you’re ... reading a book. You don’t look up -“ Paul smirks, that sounds about right. “ - so you can’t see how much I want you. Not yet. Oh, but I do.”
Paul can’t help but reflect that in this moment, as he lays next to Hugh baring everything he has - that Hugh would be taking in the sight of his body responding to how much that Paul wants him. He knows that he could surely see this clearly through the flimsy fabrics of his light shorts, and the thought of this alone only exhilarates him even more. So he spirals deeper into the fantasy, pushing past the desire to quickly rid himself of his clothes.
Paul slows his breathing down to both calm himself and to will himself into a trance like state he liked to be in when he was alone like this. The memory of Hugh’s voice was gentle, but meditative. The real thing was no different, however it carried a certain irreplicable intensity in his earnest declarations that no memory could hold.
It’s what he did with the letters anyway; memorise the words and have Hugh’s voice dictate him. Guide him. It would be a show for Hugh so whatever Hugh said to him, he was to act on it, and right now is no different.
“I want you to notice me. So I lay down next to you and slide my arm over your waist -“ Paul imitates the story and does so, as if his hands belonged to Hugh. “- slowly, intentionally -” Hugh corrects him, and Paul slows his movement to match. “I want to press you against you, pressing so close, so you can feel how much I want you already.” Paul's first test of resolve, as he resists the urge to reach only inches away to where Hugh rests, wanting to run his hand over his shorts, tracing the shape of his erection though the fabric telling him exactly how much it is that he wants Paul, under his hand, for himself. He resists wanting to pull on their hips together, and urge him to press against him, feel him, grind out their wants against each other. In the fantasy he’s supposed to be barely aware of Hugh’s desire for him, yet right now he’s so intensely aware of it - he’s struggling to separate himself from the overwhelming reality of Hugh’s desire that is so perceptively physically close to him right now.
To that thought, he involuntarily let’s out a small frustrated groan. He focuses on his breathing again, relaxing his body and mind to open up to Hugh’s voice, Hugh’s words, Hugh’s wants.
“I undo the buttons on your shirt at first -” and Paul does so for him , “- I want to see you lounging with it half falling off your body - I like that - and I kiss up your torso. I think you get the message then -“ Even though Paul’s eyes remain closed, he’s unable to suppress an eye roll at the dig lets out a small laugh at it too. What he couldn’t see was how Hugh also rolls his eyes at him at that moment, but he knows that this is exactly what he would do anyway.
“- you put your book away and you allow me to do whatever I want to you. I have you now, and that’s the first thing I wanted; to have your entire undivided attention. So I’d want to reward you with kissing you over your chest, down over your abdomen, lower, lower...”
Paul continued to run his fingers over own chest and body, but no matter how vividly he imagined, it would never be equate to the real thing. Certainly never could equate to the warm sweetness of Hugh's lips against his skin.
“I’m impatient. I want you.” Hugh tells him with a soft growl around his words. “So I don’t want to waste any more time in ridding you of those inconvenient pieces of cloth that stand between me and what I want.” Hugh says this more forcefully, and Paul smiles. He couldn’t argue there and with that tone - how it made him want to only indulge him.
“I want to rip your pants from you -“ Paul hurriedly begins to unfasten his pants “ - but I don’t. I’ll take my time prying you from them.” Paul groans in protest. Hugh seems determined to drag this out as long as possible.
“I’d want to pop the buttons open, -” Paul does so obediently “- I’d watch to see how you arch to my touch, as slide my hand under the fabric to feel how hard you are for me .”
Paul does just this, slipping his hand into the parted opening of his shorts, running his hand firmly over his erection. It feels so good. Hugh feels so good. If he applies just the right pressure, and focuses on Hugh's voice, it’s not hard at all to imagine that it’s Hugh’s hand.
He loves it. He hates it. Just wants to feel Hugh for real, and hurry up and “- cock.”
“What? I.. again?” He realises that he has missed a string of instructions after getting too caught up in his own head, and thanks to the only word he caught he realised they were very important instructions. It was oddly much more distracting doing this for Hugh in person than it had been whilst he was alone.
“You. Pants. Down.” He orders sharply, without bothering with pretty prose.
Paul eagerly strips them from himself, laying back flat on his back and idly coursing his hand over himself, waiting for his next instructions. But when Hugh doesn’t say anything, it takes him an agonising long moment to realise that Hugh has left him in silence to fill in the blanks for himself - yet another torturous tactic.
What would he imagine Hugh doing? He would mouth over the material of my underwear. His breath hot through the fabric. Hugh would pull out my cock, and slide his underwear the rest of the way down discarding them thoughtlessly, he’d dance his fingers over my balls, squeeze the base of my cock ...and so Paul follows his own imagination as to what Hugh would do. Swirl his tongue around the base, Paul wets his fingers to emulates that. He’d flick his tongue over my tip and kiss it with those beautiful soft, full lips. Then. He’d put those full lips around me and…
Paul’s breath shudders and falters as he began stroking himself with his - no - Hugh’s hand. His soft breaths and moans filled the air.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Hugh asks after some time of just watching him.
“Yes.” Paul hisses insistently, he opens his legs and continues to work himself, slowly, as if waiting for Hugh to act. It is an open invitation and one he desperately wants him to accept.
But he didn’t accept it, after all, he is just an observer. Paul wants to curse with frustration and Hugh's admirable commitment to the fantasy.
“I want you to.” Paul repeats, with more urgency. Still, there’s no movement on the bed. He groans impatiently.
“Show me.” Hugh taunts - wishes - asks - of him.
“You can clearly see that I do.”
“I can’t.” Hugh was smiling again, he could hear it in his voice. “Show me , Paul. I want you to show me how much you want me to fuck you...”
Although he’s mildly frustrated at the denial of his wants, he can’t hold back the shiver that courses through him as Hugh’s words wash over him. So Paul settles back into rhythmically stroking himself, slipping back into the meditative state, determined to how Hugh just how much that was.
His own hands took the place of Hugh's, and within his mind he is able to convince himself enough that they truly belong Hugh - that his hands are Hugh's hands. He explores his body just like his dear doctor loves to do so much, moaning and sighing as he arches into the touch that he fiercely craves.
“I want you to stop.” Hugh’s stern voice cutting through his building up hedonistic meditations.
Stop? What? No. Why? He was getting close, he could feel it mounting. He doesn’t want to stop. He’s showing Hugh how much he wants him, wasn’t he? Hugh’s command is cruel and unfair.
But it isn't up to Paul, he had long surrendered to that already. Everything is governed by Hugh and his wants. Paul wants what Hugh wants, and what he wants of him. He complies, letting go of his cock with a pitiful whimper.
“I’d push your wrists up above your head - both of them -“ Paul obeys “ - pry your legs apart.” only Paul's legs don’t need to be pried apart, he willingly spreads for Hugh. “Further.” He says again, sternly, and so Paul spreads them apart even more.
Paul feels the bed shift as the body next to him, Hugh’s body lifts free from the bed and the soft plods of his feet let him know that he was slowly circling around him, no doubt admiring and surveying his flushed body that was so unabashedly and completely on display for him.
He lays like this, his chest heaving with ragged breaths from his exertion and the cool air that has began to settle in the absence of Hugh’s presence next to him, making him shiver and skin taught with a flush of goosebumps. He misses the warmth of Hugh's body with an overwhelming intensity.
“Hugh…Keep going. Please.” He whimpers out between breaths.
“I’d want nothing more.” Paul took in a sharp breath in surprise of how close he suddenly is, and it takes all of his will power not to open his eyes to see him there, or writhe under the heat of Hugh’s mouth that is now trailing along the length of his body. He wants to surge up and meet him, but it would break this fragile fantasy. So he stays still.
“I want to kiss every -“ his delicate hot breath is torture “- part -“ he hovers so masterfully close to his skin that every hair on his body reaches out to him in his place, while he was bound only by his will, “ - of -“ a will that was being tested “- your -” to the edge of its limits. “- body.”
As Hugh reaches the space between his spread legs, his will-power grew thinner with every millimetre that Hugh passes over. His lips so close as they trace above the length of his begging cock, that even the slightest betrayal of an involuntary twitch would ruin his resolve completely, and cause his resolve cave in completely.
“I want you to Hugh. Please, just do it.” Although he doesn’t exactly know what he was begging more for, the continued agonising slow torture of his senses - or the release from it.
“I want to.” Is all the answer he gets in response as the heat of his mouth pulls away, and he’s left trembling in its absence. “But what would you want me to do?”
Huh? What? Everything. Anything. Please. I want you. Fuck. I need you. I’d do anything. You can do anything. Just, please, please for the love of everything sacred in the cosmos just - “ - fuck me.” Is all that he manages to blurt out, but with the up most unwavering conviction. He wants it. He spreads his legs just inches more to make his point.
He hears Hugh take a very deep breath, and an even longer exhale that faintly and barely audible ends on a note that resembles a faint ‘ fuck.’ The strain on his self-discipline in his answer is more than audible “I’d love to. I want to.” He says just above a whisper. “I want to. ”
But still there is no movement from him. Paul is lays, open, waiting, wanting.
“I want to press up against you, push your thighs apart, and watch as I drizzle you with lube, watch the way your body reacts to the cold.” Hugh simply continues his narrative without taking the bait. Fuck . “I like to watch how it drips down the curves of your body, I love that.”
Now he wants him to do this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He scrambles to blindly reach for the bedside table, but before he can make it his hand lands on a cool tube laid out beside him. Sneak.
Hugh lets out a small laugh when Paul shudders under the cool substance as foretold, something that Paul had forgotten that Hugh takes so much delight in. He rarely shows it in the moment or perhaps he rarely notices because they’re usually too caught up in the moment. Right now he remains hyper-aware of every single sensation and moment between them, the fact that his eyes remain closed only heightening every other sense.
So he lets the cold substance run down the curve of his body, to where he needs it, and allows it to warm between his fingers and flesh as he works it in.
“I want to push your thighs down as slowly I push into you.” And Paul moans freely as he works his own finger inside of himself, wishing all the more it was Hugh’s cock instead. He rolls his hips so slightly back and forth - as he did with his finger, too - and takes his himself in his other hand to slowly, slowly, slowly begin working himself to the rhythm Hugh set with his breathing.
“I want you to feel me, all of me, inside of you.” Hugh’s voice taking on a husky whisper, his own breathing faltering ever so slightly.
He loves it. Fuck does he love that voice.
He angles another finger into himself, to try and replicate that fullness of Hugh’s cock was when he was inside of him. His moans becoming deeper and more broken has glides fingers in and out of himself just like Hugh would.
“...to feel you around me.”
Habitually he clenches in the way that he knows drives Hugh insane, and drives his hips down onto himself, whimpering in want of Hugh’s words.
“... to be so deep within you..”
Yes, please.
“I want to see you come, Paul.”
Because of you.
Through his mounting climax, his short sharp moans that accompany become more desperate with every that breath he takes. His sense of what is real and what was now is rapidly spiralling away from him, and his hand oh his cock moves so fast that it no longer feels apart of him anymore. It isn’t - it was Hugh’s, isn’t it? Inside him, too, that’s Hugh, isn’t it? How could it be Hugh? He is an impossible distance away. No, he is with him, isn’t he? Filling him, pumping himself inside of him. He isn’t though. Oh, how he wishes he was, he yearns for it, longs to have him fill him so completely like no one else could. Hugh . But who else can make him feel this good . Hugh, only Hugh can.
“Come for me baby.” Next to him Hugh’s voice washes over him, and affirms his presence. When did he become so close again? His voice enveloping him whole, just like his hand on his cock was. His -no - Hugh’s hand - no - his mouth. That’s what he wants.
He was desperate for it. Desperate for Hugh
Please.
“...Hugh,” he begins ask -no beg - him for, but words beyond his name fell away from his parted lips and were lost.
"Eres divino, mi cielito y estrellas ... ” Hugh said in a whisper against his ear, practically singing to his soul and those words, charged with an electric sincerity, dance over Paul’s skin. “I want you to come.”
Hugh's words envelope him entirely and all perceptible things that weren’t Hugh disappear entirely as his body reaches its pique of worship, arching towards his reason of devotion. He cries out, he cries out to him, for him, unable to form any other syllables than his name.
"Hugh..! ” His body shakes and writhes through his orgasm, and feels himself spill between them, on Hugh’s hand. His hand? Isn’t it his hand? In a haze of confusion that was his interwoven realities, he isn’t sure anymore.
He lays panting in the aftermath with his eyes still shut, tight, trying to regain control over his breathing. This was always the quietest time. The time in which Hugh’s voice would fade away into silence, and he would remember that he was truly alone. He always screwed his eyes tighter still, unwilling to them open and face the reality of his loneliness, but his body would betray him every time - perhaps it always remained more hopeful than his mind ever did, but it didn’t change the heartbreak that came with gazing onto an empty bed.
Unwillingly his head rolls to the side, and he braces himself for the fall of his heart as his eyes begin to open.
Instead he is met by a sight that was truly divine.
Hugh.
Hugh, laying next to him, his eyes drinking him in as he gazes lovingly at him - and by looking at how his beautiful deep skin is bathed in the gold hues of their bedroom lamps, and the late afternoon sun that broke through the leaves of the trees in the courtyard beyond the window, he knew he is no fever dream.
Paul tentatively reaches out, and relief floods his heart his hand lands on his smooth warm flesh. He pulls him into a slow, tender and deep kiss, pouring the release of that relief past Hugh’s parted lips. The reality of the contact alone is enough to send shivering waves through him as Hugh’s adept hands - finally - allow themselves to explore and rest on his body.
He doesn’t hold back anything, offering small noises of his surrender and relief, all muffled by Hugh’s mouth, as he openly and willingly submitted to this existence; to being held by Hugh, being close to him, being safe within his arms. The only thing that melts away now is his sense of time itself, as they lay there exchanging long, tender, ardent kisses.
When Paul draws back, brushing his thumb over Hugh’s flushed cheeks, he opens his eyes to look over Hugh and his whole body and he is stuck by a complete awe. Just bathing in the mere presence of him being there with him, whole, solid and very much real. He can’t help but notice, however, how Hugh’s breathing is careful and measured, how his eyes have not subdued with intensity by one iota. Marvelling in his divinity, tracing over his body with both his hands and eyes, he pauses curiously on his cock, still bound behind cloth even though Hugh had undone and loosened his own pants... and it all makes sense.
“You didn’t...?”
“I wanted to watch you.” Hugh confesses.
Oh. He hadn’t touched himself once, and now as Paul looks over he can tell that his composure was barely holding together.
“Then tell me one more thing you want, Hugh,” he asks, meeting Hugh's eyes.
“You .” Hugh growls as he surges forward with a renewed ferocity to finally claim what he has wanted this entire time, to claim what was his; Paul; his lips, his body and his very being.
They hold each other so close that their bodies fuse together in defiance of the universe that had once conspired against them to tear them apart. Now they’re interwoven so tightly so no amount of space could ever come between them again.
Paul relishes every moment of contact between them, how real and complete it feels - never again will he take this for granted, savouring this now and forever more
It’s no secret how eager Hugh is, so Paul rises to his needs by rolling on top of him, after he quickly and without ceremony disposes of Hugh's pants for him and settles himself back on top of him so that he’s straddling him, kissing him hungrily. All measure of any of Hugh’s remaining resolve crumbles completely under Paul's touch when Paul takes both of them in his hand and begins to stroke both of their cocks together. While Paul doesn’t feel the urge for himself to go all the way, the contact feels good, and from the accompaniment noises that Hugh surrenders under him, he has no doubt that he is enjoying every stroke of it, too.
But he wants to give more.
He leans forward, and still slick from his earlier exploration, he re-positions himself to guide Hugh’s cock inside of him. He slowly lowers himself down onto Hugh, and Paul is intoxicated as he watches the cascade of extacy fall over Hugh’s face, as he takes him in completely. Paul considers for a moment to tease Hugh to the brink of his sanity, just like he had done to him. It only seems fair after all, but is conflicted over the fact he also wants him all at once, right now.
“I missed looking at you like this.” Paul adds to the list of his confessions.
“Just from up there?” He teases breathlessly, brushing the tips of his fingers up the length of Paul's inner thighs on either side of him before taking him in his hand stroking him, smiling at him ever so sweetly.
“No, both.” He said decidedly, then sighing to his touch and rolls his hips in just a way that he knows that Hugh loves, humming in reverence at the sight of Hugh giving in to Paul’s movement before him. “Would you think about this?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Paul rolls his hips again, steadily keeping that pace and reaches behind him, to playfully and lightly tease Hugh’s entrance as he does so. “What about me, inside of you ?”
“Yes, fuck, yes Paul. Yes.” he hisses and pulls Paul back down into a messy kiss, done with his teasing. Hugh holds him steady as he thrust into him with fervency that matches the desperation of his kiss.
They work together, grinding in a fever, completely lost in each other, and all ideals of prolonging Hugh’s pleasure - as he masterfully did for his own - are washed away in their shared mounting urgency.
He is all too familiar with the very particular noises that Hugh had begun to make, he was close, and Paul soaks in his pronounced moans capturing this to memory.
“Now, I want you to come for me , Hugh.” Paul breathes into his ear, all too delighted at the turn of roles. Hugh shivers underneath him and answers him by forcing his mouth back to Paul's in a quick, frenzied, tangled kiss. Hugh grips him tight, his strong bruising hands, and cries out to Paul - for Paul - as he finally comes inside of him.
Overcome by the potency of Hugh’s touch on, in and all around him, Paul is swept away from being enveloped with Hugh once more. Hugh stays inside him sliding slowly and intently and it doesn’t take him much longer to reach his climax again, from the dutiful, ardent strokes that drew it out of him.
At his release, he collapses against Hugh and both of them lay entwined in each other, heaving long, shuddering, exhausted breaths. Breathing each other in, soaking each others very real, very corporeal body.
Lying quietly together in each other's arms, basking in the glow of each other and the late afternoon light that streams through the windows, they languidly trace the familiar shapes of each others body. Remapping details that they had once committed to memory and once had to rely on memory alone that to feel that familiar presence - but now were fortunate enough to indulge in once more.
It’s a long while before either of them spoke. The silence is so peaceful and sanctified that Paul feels that it’s necessary to bless Hugh’s body with soft kiss before he breaks the silence to speak again. “What was the one thing you wanted, above everything?” He doesn’t need to specify, he knows without a doubt that their minds are in sync - wandering through these same thoughts.
“That’s easy,” Hugh says with a smile, brushing a stray lock from Paul's forehead. Paul can stare at his brilliance forever. “I wanted you to hold me in your arms, like this, and I would want to whisper against your skin that I love you.” and so because there is no longer any amount of distance between them that could stop him, Hugh does just that.
//end