Ethan's private jet pierced through the deep orange hues of the Los Angeles sunset, its descent mirroring the heavy drop in his chest. The city sprawled below him, glittering with fame and ambition, but its allure felt hollow. No red carpet, no adoring fan, no million-dollar contract could replace the ache that had burrowed into his chest since he left James.
James.
The memory of their last night together refused to let him rest. Their fight had been volatile, cutting deep on both sides, but it hadn't ended in bitter silence. No, that night had turned into something entirely different. Ethan could still taste the desperation in James's kiss, feel the heat of their tangled bodies, and hear the soft, broken sounds that escaped James's lips as Ethan poured every ounce of himself into that moment. It hadn't been just about sex. It had been about anchoring them both—about holding on when everything else felt like it was slipping away.
But now, thousands of miles apart, Ethan felt unmoored. Each day was a blur of obligations—interviews, appearances, photoshoots. His face smiled for the cameras, his words charmed the public, but his heart wasn't in it. Every free moment was consumed by thoughts of James: the way he laughed, the way his green eyes sparkled when he was happy, the way his breath hitched when Ethan touched him in just the right way. In London, James was falling apart.
The flat felt like a mausoleum. Every corner held traces of Ethan—his jacket still draped over a chair, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the sheets, a forgotten book on the coffee table. James tried to distract himself with work, with friends, with endless cups of tea, but nothing could fill the void Ethan had left.
The nights were unbearable. James would lie awake, staring at the empty side of the bed, his mind torturing him with memories. He could still feel Ethan's hands on him, the way they'd roamed his body with a mixture of tenderness and urgency. He could still hear the low, gravelly whisper of Ethan's voice murmuring, "You're everything to me," as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. But now, that voice was distant, replaced by the hollow echo of silence.
Ethan called every night without fail, and though hearing his voice was a balm, it also reignited the longing that had taken root in James's chest.
"I miss you," James admitted during one of their late-night calls, his voice thick with emotion.
"I miss you too," Ethan replied. "It's killing me to be away from you. But I need to finish this, James. I promise, as soon as I can, I'll be back."
James swallowed the lump in his throat. "Just… don't forget about me, okay?"
Ethan's voice softened. "Forget you? I think about you every second of every day. You're the only thing keeping me sane."But sanity was slipping through Ethan's fingers.
He couldn't focus. Every meeting felt like a chore. Every camera flash felt like an interrogation. At night, he lay in his penthouse bed, the sheets cold and empty, and replayed every touch, every kiss, every moan that James had gifted him. His mind conjured images so vivid, his body reacted instinctively—his breaths quickening, his hands gripping the sheets, his need for James spiraling into something unbearable.
By the third week, Ethan couldn't take it anymore. He'd tried to push through, to be professional, to put his career first. But the thought of James, alone in their flat, waiting for him, drove him to the edge. He didn't just miss James—he craved him, body and soul.
Ethan didn't bother calling his manager. He booked a flight to London on impulse, his mind clouded with thoughts of James. The press would speculate, the studio would rage, but none of it mattered. He needed James. James was curled up on the couch when Ethan arrived.
The rain had been falling steadily all day, casting a gray haze over the city. James was flipping aimlessly through channels, his mind elsewhere, when the sound of a key turning in the lock froze him.
The door swung open, and there stood Ethan, rain-soaked and breathless, his piercing blue eyes locking onto James as if he were a man dying of thirst and James was water.
"What—what are you doing here?" James stammered, rising to his feet.
"I couldn't stay away," Ethan said, his voice rough, his eyes roaming hungrily over James. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I need you, James."
Before James could respond, Ethan closed the distance between them in three quick strides. His hands cupped James's face, and he crashed their mouths together in a kiss that was all-consuming. James gasped against Ethan's lips, his hands gripping Ethan's rain-damp coat as Ethan's tongue demanded entrance, the kiss deepening, searing.
"Ethan," James breathed as they broke apart, his voice trembling with both surprise and desire.
"I mean it," Ethan said, his voice low and urgent. "I can't be without you. I've tried, but I can't. I need to feel you. Right now."
Ethan's hands slid to James's waist, pulling him flush against his body. James could feel the heat of Ethan's need pressing against him, and a shiver of anticipation ran down his spine.
Their clothes were shed with a frantic urgency, trailing from the living room to the bedroom. Ethan pushed James onto the bed, his eyes dark and devouring as he climbed over him. He took his time, tasting every inch of James's skin, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.
"Ethan," James moaned, his fingers threading through Ethan's hair.
Ethan's response was a low growl as he positioned himself above James, their bodies aligning perfectly. He leaned down to whisper in James's ear, his voice heavy with need. "I've been dreaming of this. Of you."
The night was a blur of passion and intensity, their bodies moving together with a desperation that bordered on primal. Ethan didn't just make love to James—he claimed him, over and over, until neither could tell where one ended and the other began.
When they finally collapsed into each other's arms, their bodies slick with sweat, Ethan pressed a kiss to James's temple.
"I'll go back to L.A. tomorrow," he murmured, his voice soft but resolute. "I'll finish what I need to. But when it's done, I'm coming back to you. For good."
James looked up at him, his green eyes shimmering with emotion. "Promise me."
Ethan cupped James's face, his thumb brushing over his cheek. "I promise."
And in that moment, James knew that no matter how far apart they were, Ethan was his. Always.