Don’t Be Late

Don’t Be Late by J.M. Snyder
Who says marriage is bliss? Blake and Jeremy had more time to spend together when they were dating than they do now as man and husband.

Working long hours keep them apart, and their schedules rarely sync during the week. They can't even make love except on the weekends -- no time.

When did life get so damn busy?

One hectic day follows another. Will the two men ever get a moment alone?



When the alarm clock rings at ten minutes to five in the morning, Jeremy Pollick doesn’t want to get up. He doesn’t want to roll over, and he doesn’t want to turn off the alarm, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to get out of the warm bed he shares with his lover. He can feel the strong body alongside his and he burrows beneath the covers, telling himself if he just ignores the buzz, the clock will shut off eventually. If he just pretends it’s not trying to tear him awake, then he doesn’t have to get up --

The bed shifts beneath him as his lover, Blake Tarrington, reaches across him and turns off the clock.

Thank you, Jeremy thinks. He sighs in the sudden stillness and tells himself he’s still asleep. Maybe if he thinks it hard enough, his body will believe it, too.

Blake’s arm wraps around Jeremy, hugging him back against the firm warmth of Blake’s chest. Into Jeremy’s ear, he breathes, “Time to get up, hon.”

Jeremy sort of mumbles something noncommittal and snuggles closer to his lover.

A quick kiss on Jeremy’s temple and Blake’s already getting out of bed, stretching in the darkness of their room, yawning and shaking himself awake. “Jeremy ...”

“I’m up,” he mutters into pillows that still smell like Blake. He doesn’t want to get out of bed -- has he mentioned this yet today? Because no one seems to be listening.

As Blake leaves the bedroom, he slaps Jeremy’s legs playfully through the covers, a barely-there touch buffered through the thick comforter. Come back, Jeremy wants to say, but when he hears the water running in the bathroom, he knows it’s too late.

He glances at the clock -- it’s now eight minutes to five. Too early. He fists the blankets beneath his chin, stubborn. He’ll close his eyes for a few minutes more, just until Blake gets out of the shower, and then he’ll get up, even though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to get dressed, either, or fight the morning rush hour traffic, or spend the day at the office in meeting after meeting.

Let’s just skip all that, he thinks. It’s a wonderful idea -- he wishes he could really do it. Skip everything between here and coming home tonight. Then Blake could snuggle back beneath these covers with him, and they could make love until they fall asleep even though it isn’t Friday yet and they usually don’t have time for sex during the week. Maybe he’ll suggest a quick morning tryst when his lover comes back into the bedroom, still damp from the shower. Maybe Blake will agree that, for today at least, they can forget everything else but each other.