Hawaiian Wedding

by J. M. Snyder

  Remy kissed along Lane’s shoulder, making his way up to find Lane’s lips again. “Bedroom,” he sighed into his lover.

  “Yes,” Lane said, grasping Remy tight, but he didn’t move, and didn’t make any effort to push away from the door.

  Remy stepped back and laced his fingers into the belt loops of Lane’s shorts. With a tug, he pulled his lover towards him. “Come on, sexy. I’m not going to be able to last long if you insist on standing up.”

  “I’m not going to last long period,” Lane admitted, stifling a yawn.

  “Don’t bail on me now,” Remy warned.

  Lane unzipped his shorts and let Remy pull them down as they entered the hotel room. Remy pushed his own pants and briefs down, stepping out of them, and left them where they fell on the floor. Lane’s shorts joined them, and Remy’s shirt quickly followed suit. By the time they reached the bedroom, they were falling together again, kissing and touching and holding each other, eager for more.

  But it had been a long day, and the moment they stretched out on the bed, desire dulled and lust turned sleepy. Lane backed up against the mattress and sat down, pulling Remy onto him. They rolled into the sheets, bodies pressed together, but kisses softened, passions cooled, and touches grew indistinct. Remy lay his head on the pillow beside Lane and rested his brow against his lover’s temple. “Hey,” he whispered.

  Lane sort of turned toward him, eyes shut. “Hmm?”

  Remy snuggled closer, and felt Lane’s arms come up around his shoulders to hold him tight. “Love you,” he murmured.

  Lane’s lips touched Remy’s in a half-formed kiss, then the world fell away as the wine and food conspired against them, and they both fell asleep.

  * * * *

  The first thing Lane became aware of when he woke was a painful throbbing behind his right eye. It pulsed in time with the beat of his heart, and no way he held his head seemed to ease it. He remembered rich food and too much wine, and Remy leading him, naked, to the bedroom. But everything after that was a black blur. Now he could feel Remy’s arms around him, his lover’s nude body held close against his own, both of them burrowed beneath the covers of the bed, but thin morning light streamed through the blinds, washing the room in shades of gray, and around them, the world was silent, still asleep.

  It was early, he knew, but how early? What time was it? Hell, for that matter, what day was it?

  He yawned, and instantly regretted it. The pain in his temples flared, and his mouth tasted cottony and thick. Rolling over, he snuggled closer to Remy, hiding his face in the blessedly dark space between his lover’s chin and the pillow. As much as he could have used an aspirin or three, and a trip to the bathroom while he was up, he was too comfortable beside Remy to even think of moving. Besides, where did he have to go anyway?

  The wedding, he thought lazily.

  A moment later, anxiety jolted through him, spiking the pain in his head to a whole new level. Oh shit.

  Gently, he eased a hand under his lover’s side and ran his fingers along Remy’s ribs. “Hey, Rem?”

  His voice sounded as cracked and burned out as he thought it would. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Rem, babe. You up?”

  Remy moaned and hugged Lane closer. “Shh. No.”

  Well, if Remy wasn’t in a hurry to get married, Lane didn’t see any reason why he should be, either. They were the ones who were the stars of the show, after all. Everyone else would just have to wait until they decided to arrive before getting on with the ceremony, and if they both felt like shit, then who could blame them for sleeping in a little? He closed his eyes and sighed, relaxing against Remy, letting his lover’s warmth and the quiet of the morning draw him back to sleep.

  * * * *

  Sometime later, Lane woke again when his phone rang.

  His head still hurt, but not as badly as it had before. The light had shifted; the room was no longer gray and indistinct but bright and sunny, the blinds awash with morning sun. He rolled onto his back and squinted blearily as he fumbled for his iPhone on the bedside table. In reaching for it, though, he somehow hit the wrong button, and declined the call instead of answering it. “Fuck,” he muttered, falling back to the pillow, phone in hand.

  Beside him, Remy stirred. “Who was it?” his lover asked sleepily.

  Lane fiddled with the phone, trying to ignore the headache that was threatening to flare back to full intensity as he looked at his missed calls. Before he got to them, though, the phone rang again. “It’s Ange. Calling to bitch us out for running late, I bet.”

  “We can’t both be late.” Remy yawned and stretched as he kicked the covers away. “It’s our wedding. It starts when we get there.”

  Lane laughed and made sure he hit accept this time, but somehow between that and raising the phone to his ear, he accidentally hit the speaker button, too. Suddenly Angie’s voice boomed into their bedroom, shattering the early morning stillness. “Lane Anders, you better have a damn good reason for hanging up on me!” she cried shrilly. “Your wedding starts in two hours and everybody is already here—the caterers, the photographer, the flowers, the tables and chairs, everyone. And you know the big kahuna’s already sniffing around looking for something to eat. The only thing missing are the grooms! You aren’t getting cold feet again, are you? I told you, that’s nor—”

  He hit the speaker button again to silence her, but Remy had heard enough and was giving him a strange look. Lane smiled weakly at his lover as he sat up. The pain behind his eye started to pound again, but he pressed a hand to his forehead to try to tamp it down. “Ange, listen,” he hissed. “We overslept, okay? What time is it anyway?”

  “Time for you to get out of bed, lazy ass!” she snapped. “I hope you aren’t making us do all the work down here while you two are up there fooling around. Didn’t you get enough of each other last night?”

  Lane sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We didn’t—not that it’s any of your business, but no, okay? Last night we were too tired to do much of anything. We just came back to the room after the reception and fell asleep.”

  “Uh-huh.” The tone of her voice told him she wasn’t buying it.

  “Ange, please,” Lane tried. “I drank a little too much with dinner and my head is killing me. I need to take a shower and get dressed and—what time is it again?”

  She said, “Time for you both to get down here, ASAP. Kate’s at the front desk trying to get a copy of your key card. If you’re not here in a half hour so we can finalize everything before you two walk down the aisle, we’re going to bust up in there and pull you out ourselves, kicking and screaming if we have to.”

  Lane shook his head, bemused. “It won’t come to that, I promise.”

  But Angie didn’t sound like she was kidding. “Yeah? I hope not. Because you dragged us halfway across the world at Christmastime for a wedding, and damn it the hell, someone is getting married today!”

  “Okay, okay,” Lane conceded. “Give us a half hour. We’ll be right down.”

  He hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed, then smiled over at Remy, who had pulled up the blinds and now stood naked in front of the window, staring down at the beach far below. “She says we have to be down there in thirty minutes,” Lane told him.

  Remy’s hands were propped up on his hips, and his firm buttocks were taut and dimpled in the morning light. Lane enjoyed the view, and if his sister hadn’t given him a time limit, he would’ve patted the bed and invited his lover to join him for a little loving between the sheets before they exchanged their vows. But he knew Angie was true to her word, and she and Kate would be knocking down their door if he and Remy didn’t show up in twenty-nine minutes and counting.

  Still, there was a tenseness in Remy’s stance that worried him. “Babe?”

  Remy half-turned, and Lane could see the tip of his limp penis peeking out from a cloud of dark curls between his muscled thighs. “What did she mean by you getting cold feet again?” Remy wante
d to know.

  Damn it. Lane had hoped he hadn’t heard that. He smoothed out the sheets and patted the bed anyway. “Rem, come here.”

  Remy stood where he was, unmoving, watching Lane. Waiting for an answer.

  “Please?” Lane asked softly.

  After a long moment, Remy sighed and crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. Lane stretched across the covers and ran a hand down Remy’s leg. “I love you,” he said, taking his lover’s hand in his. “Remy, you know I do.”

  “But you don’t want to marry me, is that it?” Remy asked. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “No, I do,” Lane assured him. He scooted closer and eased an arm around Remy’s waist. Resting his head on Remy’s shoulder, he hugged his lover tight and sighed. “I want you, and only you, for the rest of my life. But you have to admit all…all this is a little daunting.”

  Remy forced a laugh. “All what? People get married every day. Look at me. This is my second time at the altar.”

  “That’s just it,” Lane admitted. “I want this to last forever, and not be something we can walk away from if it doesn’t work out. But I’m sort of afraid if we pin down what we have and put a name on it, write it out on paper, make it real, then we’ll doom it somehow, and things will sour between us, and we won’t be able to stay together.”

  Tucking a finger under Lane’s chin, Remy turned Lane’s face up towards his. “Why do you say that? What do you mean?”

  Lane fisted his hands in the small of Remy’s back. “I love you,” he whispered, “and I don’t need a ring, or a license, or some fat guy in a Hawaiian shirt to prove it, because I know it, I feel it. And I know you feel the same way—”

  “I do,” Remy assured him. “God, I do.”

  “I know,” Lane said, “because I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. But I’m scared that making it legal will ruin what we already have, and if that happens—”

  Remy silenced him with a tender kiss. His lips lingered on Lane’s a moment, then parted slightly to let his tongue slip inside Lane’s mouth, just a hint, a promise of things to come. Later, it said. All this and more. Forever.

  Yes, forever.

  When he pulled back, he touched his forehead to Lane’s and opened his eyes to stare at his lover. This close, Lane could count every one of Remy’s dark lashes, and see the golden sparkles in his hazel eyes. And there, in the dark depths, Lane could see everything he felt swirling around inside of him mirrored back, all the love one man could possibly feel for another. His heart swelled and he knew this, this was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. This man beside him, his, for all time.

  “I love you,” Remy murmured, his breath ticklish on Lane’s cheek. “You know it, and I know it, and today is only a way for us to show the rest of the world just how much love we share. But if you don’t want to go through with it—”

  “I do.” Once the words were spoken, Lane knew they were true, so he said them again, his voice stronger now, more sure. “I do, yes.”

  He leaned in to claim another kiss, and Remy’s hand dropped to his lap, to cup his stiffening erection. Lane moaned with delight and let his lover lay him back against the pillow. Maybe they could spare a few minutes after all…

  From out in the living room, a series of heavy knocks rattled the door to their hotel room. Remy sighed, exasperated. “We just can’t catch a break.”

  Lane dug his phone out from under him and glanced at the time. “What the hell?” he muttered. “We still have like twenty minutes!”

  The knocks came again. A moment later, Lane’s phone rang, followed by Remy’s. With one final kiss, Remy said, “Looks like time’s up.”

  “It’s our wedding,” Lane groused. “We can run a little late if we want to.” Climbing out of bed, he answered the phone. “We’re coming already! Jesus!”

  His sister muttered, “Fine, God. Don’t bite my head off. I’m just making sure.”

  Hanging up, he tossed the phone onto the bed and grimaced. “Don’t forget where we were. The moment our honeymoon starts, I want to pick up right where we left off.”

  Remy laughed. “I’m thinking as soon as the reception is over, we come back up here and hide out until all of them go back home.”

  “Or we can skip the reception altogether,” Lane suggested.

  Remy crawled across the bed to kiss Lane’s shoulder. “I like the way you think. We’ll just ask Paavo to keep the ceremony short—”

  “We’ll tell him the food is getting cold,” Lane joked, draping an arm around Remy’s neck to kiss his lover’s temple.

  “We’ll just mention food,” Remy said, “and we’ll be married before you know it.”

  Lane’s next kiss landed squarely on Remy’s lips. “Then I’ll be all yours, and you’ll be mine.”

  “Forever,” Remy promised.

  THE END

  ABOUT J.M. SNYDER

  A multi-published author of gay erotic/romantic fiction, J.M. Snyder began writing boyband slash before turning to self-publishing. She has worked with several different e-publishers, including Amber Allure Press, Aspen Mountain Press, eXcessica Publishing, and Torquere Press, and has short stories published in anthologies by Alyson Books, Aspen Mountain Press, Cleis Press, eXcessica Publishing, Lethe Press, and Ravenous Romance. For more information, including excerpts, free stories, and monthly contests, please visit jmsnyder.net.

  ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

  JMS Books LLC is a small electronic press specializing in gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender fiction (including erotica, romance, and young adult), as well as popular and literary fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. While our preference is for GLBT stories, we accept stories containing any and all sexualities, as well as general fiction without a romantic subplot. Visit our site at jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!