For the Love of Flowers

by Kelsey Hodge

  I sit on a stool behind the counter, reach over to the cell on the shelf, and turn it on. I shouldn’t, but I cannot resist. When the bell rings to indicate that someone has come into the shop, I stop breathing for a second, thinking Wyatt has come back. I’m a little disappointed to see that Frank has happened in the shop. I’m about to say ‘hi’ when I remember that Frank never comes into the shop. Oh shit, this won’t be good.

  “Why was Wyatt here?” he asks, and I’m not longer surprised that he knows so much about my life.

  “He missed me and had to see me,” I tell him honestly.

  “You’re lucky no one knows who he is. Thankfully, to anybody looking in, it looked like another walk-in customer.” He’s about to leave when the cell beeps, showing an incoming text. Without thinking, I pick it up to read the message. It takes Frank less than a second to spot that it isn’t my normal cell.

  >Need to see you? Have booked a room at the Village Hotel. Room 306. Will be there from six. Hope to see you there too. Don’t reply and delete message.

  I cannot help but stare at the screen, probably longer than I should have. Frank comes over and sees the message but doesn’t say anything. I delete the message, turn the phone off, and put it back on the shelf. I’m trying to act all nonchalant, pretending that the message hasn’t turned my inside to goo and the address and room number haven’t been burned into my soul. When I look up, I see that my acting skills aren’t as perfect as I hoped.

  “Do you want to see him?” he asks, and I debate whether to lie or tell him the truth.

  “More than anything,” I tell him, deciding to go with the truth.

  “Then go. I can cover for you with your dad. You cannot stay the night, but you can have a few hours together. I’ll only do this once. Do you understand me? Make sure this doesn’t happen again.” With that last statement, he storms out of the shop. Suddenly, I don’t care, and I want today to be over with.

  At six o’clock, I’m standing opposite the hotel. Looking up at the red-brick facade, I wonder which room could be Wyatt’s, pure excitement traveling through my veins. Today has been one of the slowest days ever. Every time I looked at the clock, it had only moved five minutes. I’m finally here, yet I linger on a street corner, giving myself a kick. I walk over to the front of the hotel and pull open a glass door with a steel handle, to find a white marble-effect floor which extends up to the front desk straight in front of me. The modern feel of the reception area is such a contrast to the outside, but it seems to work so well together, and it’s almost comforting. I walk up to the front desk to see a man dressed smartly in a black suit jacket, crisp-white shirt, and a long black tie knotted perfectly with a gold nametag pinned to the lapel of the jacket with the name ‘Darren’ etched on it.

  “Good evening, sir. How can I help you?” he asks.

  “Hi,” I reply “I’m meeting a friend. He’s staying in 306. How do I get there?” I ask.

  “Oh yes. He left a note to say that the second occupant would be arriving later.” He then points me toward the elevators, and I’m on my way to meet Wyatt. I push the call button and wait and wait and wait. It feels like forever since I pushed the button and stop myself from rapidly pushing it again, hoping it will bring the car quicker. It eventually arrives, and the doors open to reveal a three-mirrored-wall car with matching white marble-effect floor. Stepping in, I push the button for the third floor, and while we’re traveling up, I check myself in the mirror. I look tired; even I see that I look drained. There’s the hint of dark circles under my eyes, and I can’t do anything about that. Straightening my shirt as best as I can, as my messenger bag hangs across my body, I run my fingers through my hair as the elevator pings to notify that I’ve arrived at my floor.

  I get out and look around, trying to get my bearings. I’ve already forgotten the directions given to me downstairs. I spot a sign that gives the directions to the room numbers, and I soon find myself outside Room 306. Raising my hand to knock on the door, I pause for a second. I haven’t even brought my hand down before the door flies open, and Wyatt is standing there. He’s wearing grey jogging bottoms and a tight black shirt, so I see every single muscle on his torso. The best thing is the smile on his face. It’s so dazzling, I can’t help but return the smile.

  “You came!” he says.

  “Of course I came,” I reply, and I walk into the room. Wyatt walks backwards to give me room to enter, but we never once break eye contact. When I’m far enough in, I use my foot to kick the door closed. The moment I hear it slam shut, I launch myself into Wyatt’s arms. He catches me by the arm, holding me tight as our lips crash together. My kiss devours him like I’m a starving man, and he’s my last meal. Our tongues taste every each of each other’s mouths, getting reacquainted with each other. Then Wyatt breaks the kiss and places a hand on each side of my face.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” he reverently states.

  “Snap,” I say mischievously.

  “Ever the romantic, Lorenzo.” He chuckles with me.

  “That’s me,” I say, but I must get serious for a second. “Look, Wyatt, I can only stay a few hours before I’ll have to head home.” The smile that had been on his face a second before disappears, and I know he wanted me to stay the night. “Believe me, I want to stay longer, but I can’t.”

  “Don’t go back,” Wyatt says to me, and he’s one hundred present serious.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what the hell he’s thinking.

  “Don’t go back,” he repeats. “Come back home. We can find another way to bring down your dad.”

  I put a hand on each side of his face. “I can’t, and you know that.” He places his hands over mine and brings them down from my face to hold over his heart.

  “But we’re both so miserable,” he states and leans in to kiss my lips.

  “Please, it’ll be worth it. We need to have some patience. Let’s not say anymore tonight; let’s enjoy the time we have.” Using our joined hands, I pull myself closer to him and kiss him passionately. He lets go of my hands, and I feel the strap of my bag moving. I stop kissing him to remove my messenger bag, abandoning it on the floor. With my hands now free, I lift Wyatt’s t-shirt so I can get reacquainted with his body. I run my hands over his stomach, feeling every hard muscle. I travel up to his pecs, twisting the nipples so they get hard. I pull him closer to explore his back; his skin is precisely how I remember it—warm and soft. I need to feel that against me. I take a step back and unbutton my shirt. When Wyatt sees what I’m doing, he takes hold of my hands to stop me.

  “Let me,” he whispers, undoing each button carefully. It makes me feel like he’s unwrapping a treasured present. Once all the buttons are undone, he slides it off my shoulders, pulling it down so I can remove my arms. The moment it’s loose, he drops it on the floor in a heap. I should pick it up and place it somewhere, so it doesn’t get wrinkled, but I have my own present to unwrap, and that’s much more important than the crumbled shirt.

  I undress Wyatt a lot faster than he did me. I grab the bottom of the t-shirt, quickly pulling it over his head, exposing his chest. I think I let out a sigh of appreciation when I hear a chuckle come from Wyatt. “Still like what you see then,” he says, and I have one word.

  “Always.” I pull him into me to feel his chest flush up against my own. It’s incredible. The need to get closer radiates off us. We’re both aware that our time is short, but we don’t want to rush it either.

  “Shall we head to bed, or were you planning on fucking me against the wall?”

  I see desire flash in his eyes at the thought of fucking me against the wall, but tonight, it looks like comfort wins.

  “Bed,” he says. “I want to make the most of you, for as long as I can.” I yelp in surprise when he picks me up. I wasn’t expecting it, but I still wrap my legs around him, which has the bonus of pulling our chests together. Within two strides, he’s at the bed and when I think he’s going to place me on the edge, he climbs up, crawls to t
he middle, and gently deposits me in the center of the bed.

  “Please tell me you have lube,” I ask.

  “Again with the romantic gestures,” he replies before he edges down the bed and walks to a black bag in the corner. I hear the telltale signs of a zipper opening. Wyatt stands at the end of the bed, lube bottle in hand. I thought he would walk around and place it on the nightstand. Instead, he climbs on the bed and puts the bottle beside us before crawling up to kiss me again. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him harder, so our chests touch. I need to feel his body heat against me. That intimacy you can only get with skin-on-skin contact. Wyatt grinds against me in need to get friction. He’s so hard I feel it through all the layers of clothing. He needs a helping hand. I slide my arm down his back, running my nails down his skin, which elicits a groan from Wyatt. Then I push them under the waistband of his sweatpants, where I expect to find boxers. I find the soft skin of his ass.

  “Holy shit, you’re going commando?” I pant, breaking the kiss.

  “Wanted to make sure you had easy access,” he states. With a smile, he adds, “and to save time.” I cannot help but agree with this statement wholeheartedly, especially as my hand travels to his cock where I stroke. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the noises Wyatt makes when he’s enjoying himself.

  I push his sweatpants off with my feet, which seems like a much easier task in my head than it turns out to be. Wyatt soon catches on to what I’m doing and uses his own hands before kicking them off with his feet, leaving him naked in front of me. Seeing him in all his glory distracts me from what I was doing, as I rake my eyes up and down his body, taking in every single inch on display. When Wyatt grinds into my hand, I remember what I had been doing, so I tighten my grip on his cock to give him more resistance, and I’m rewarded with a long sigh.

  “Oh God, that feels so good,” he moans out. At that sound, touching him is no longer enough. I need to taste him, and I’m not in the mood to be polite about it.

  “On your back,” I demand. “Need to taste you.”

  He doesn’t argue but rolls off me to the side and straight onto his back, with his cock all hard and inviting resting on his stomach. I lick my lips in anticipation. I turn onto my side, so I’m facing Wyatt and stroke his cock again. When I look into his face, I notice his eyes tracking down my body and stop at my pants.

  “You’re still dressed—that’s not right,” he says.

  He removes my hand from his cock and rolls onto his side to face me and pulls me in to a kiss. I feel his hand rubbing my cock over my pants, and the sensation is fantastic. I throw my head back and moan, pushing my cock further into his hand. I’m the one trying to get more friction now. He takes his hand off my cock, and I whimper at the sudden emptiness I feel. He unbuckles my belt and unfastens my pants. Just when I think he’ll free my dick, he leaves it in the confines of my boxers and slides his hands inside. Taking hold of my cock with a firm grip, as I like it, he strokes up and down, causing to me leak pre-cum, which he spreads all over my cock.

  After a few more pulls on my cock, he removes his hand and pushes my pants and boxers down at the same time, removing them and throwing them with the rest of our clothes on the floor. My cock is free with a drop of pre-cum glistening at the head. Wyatt picks up the drop with his finger, brings it up to his lips, and licks off the droplet.

  “You always taste so good,” he says as he moves down my body, taking my cock entirely in his mouth in one go. No licking or teasing, and it feels incredible.

  “Your mouth feels amazing,” I groan out then he moves his mouth up and down my cock, and I feel him licking the sensitive head with his tongue. Lapping up the pre-cum I feel dripping out of me. I’m supposed to be doing this to Wyatt, and I’m about to push him off when I hear the distinctive pop of the lube bottle being opened and a squeezing sound. Next time he moves down my cock, I feel the cold, slick fingers slide through the crack of my ass and circle my hole before he slips his finger in. Oh my God, I almost come there and then. He stops waiting for my body to adjust to the intrusion, preventing my orgasm from building too much. I won’t last long tonight. He pushes his finger all the way and pumps in and out, in and out, but I need more.

  “Need more,” I rasp to Wyatt, and he complies by adding a second finger and stretching me even more. Tonight, this is not enough. I must have his cock in me. “Want you inside me now.” Wyatt doesn’t say anything but raises my legs over his shoulders. It’s usually our favorite position, but tonight, I want something else. I shake my head to show that I don’t want to go onto my back. Instead, I lean over and kiss him, plunging my tongue into his mouth, devouring him again. I can taste a hint of me on his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, I flip us around, so Wyatt is on his back, and I straddle his waist, grinding our dicks together. Our pre-cum mixes, sliding down to act as a natural lubricant. I break our kiss and sit back so I’m resting on his thighs. I take hold of our cocks, smearing the cum over us and pumping a few times, making us both moan loudly. Shifting my position backwards slightly, I lean down and take Wyatt’s cock into my mouth, swallowing him whole. I can taste the mixture of our cum in my mouth, and it urges me forward. I caress his cock with my mouth, travelling up and down his length, lapping up the pre-cum that appears at the head. The sounds Wyatt makes are like music to my ears, and I keep going until I feel him tense. His orgasm is close.

  “STOP!” I hear him beg or maybe shout, “Want to cum inside you.”

  At his request, I let go off his cock with a pop, but I blow on the wet head, causing goosebumps to travel all over his skin. He tries to shift position again. I push him back and move up his body, so that when I lean forward, my waiting hole is in line with his cock. I reach behind me, making sure to cover Wyatt’s cock with lube. I raise myself up on my knees and guide his cock to my hole. When I feel his tip at my entrance, I slowly push down. Wyatt grabs my hips to steady me; he knows he hasn’t prepped me entirely, but the pain and following pleasure as his cock stretches me is wonderful. Once I’m seated fully, I grind my hips and groan with joy as I raise myself up. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out is so good. I’ve missed this so much. I plan to make the most of it. Just as I get to the tip of Wyatt’s cock, I slam my body down, and we both scream out in pleasure. Wyatt arches his back and throws his head back onto the pillows. I do this a few more times before I slow the process down to savor the taste and sensations. This will have to keep me going until we can be together for again.

  I alter the angle of my hips, and this new direction means that every time I go down, I hit my prostate, and I can only describe the feeling as delicious.

  “You feel so good, Lorenzo. So tight. I’m so close,” he says the last sentence with a pause between each group of words as the feelings build, and I redo my fast tempo, watching as Wyatt’s breathing increases, and he fists the bed covers. I lean back, placing my hands below his knees. This new angle intensifies the sensations, and a look of pure bliss transforms Wyatt’s face. This angle also increases the pressure on my prostate. Every time I hit it, I feel my orgasm tingling at the base of my balls.

  “I’m so close.” Wyatt’s hand instantly leaves the bedsheet and wraps around my cock, and I clench down on Wyatt’s cock. That’s enough to send him flying over the edge as his orgasm hits. I feel his cum filling me. This feeling triggers my own orgasm, and I shoot cum up his body. There’s so much, I even hit his cheek before I collapse on top of him, breathing like I’ve run a marathon. My heart beats so fast I think it’ll burst out of my chest, like some type of alien. As I get my bearing, I feel Wyatt’s heart beating just as fast as he wraps his arms around me.

  We stay in this embrace for a long time, not caring that the cum is drying between us. We know that when we part, our time together will end.

  “Come shower with me,” Wyatt asks, and I nod.

  I pull myself off Wyatt and wince slightly with the pain. I’ll be feeling it tomorrow, and it’ll be worth every second. We walk sile
ntly to the en-suite bathroom that turns out to be a nice size. There isn’t a bath, but the shower stall almost fills one wall with a washbasin and towel warmer opposite and a toilet in the corner. Wyatt pulls open the glass door to the shower cubicle and turns on the water. It comes out in a torrent that will feel amazing on my skin. When the bathroom fills with steam, we climb in. The water is as amazing as I thought. We proceed to wash each other off and even though it hasn’t been too long since we both came, our cocks get hard. We end up taking turns giving blowjobs before washing ourselves again and stepping out of the shower.

  Once we’re back in the bedroom, wrapped in the complimentary bathrobes, I walk around the bed and retrieve my clothes and bag. My shirt is wrinkled to hell as I thought it would be and lay it on a chair in the corner before climbing back onto the bed with Wyatt.

  “I can’t stay much longer,” I tell him, and he pulls me closer. I thought he would have responded to this, but I think we know what he would say and what my answer would be. So, we hold each other, enjoying these last few moments together. When I notice that Wyatt’s breathing has changed, and sleep has taken him, I very carefully get out of the bed. I place a pillow in his arms, something he has done to me before, and I get dressed fast, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the shirt, which is, of course, useless. I sit at the desk and write a note for Wyatt, folding the paper in half so it can stand on its own. I write ‘WYATT’ in capitals on the side and place it on the bedside table. I pull out my cell and text Frank to pick me up outside in five minutes, I then brush the hair off Wyatt’s face, kiss his forehead, and whisper, ‘ I love you’ before picking up my bag and leaving the room, sure not to look behind me.

  I manage to get to the front of the hotel with none of the staff spotting me, as I know how that would look. I’m relieved to see Frank is roadside, holding a bag for me.

  “What’s in the bag?” I ask.

  “Fresh clothes. I had guessed yours might get wrinkled,” he replies. “You can change in the back of the car on the way home. I’ll get your clothes laundered and give them back to you tomorrow.”