The grass was soft beneath {{user}}’s back, but not as soft as Mark’s mouth.

He hovered over him like he was starving, like every inch of skin he kissed was part of a ritual he’d memorized before he ever left. His lips moved from {{user}}’s collarbone to jaw, slow and reverent, fingers gripping at his sides as though if he didn’t hold tight enough, he will vanish again.

“I missed you,” he whispered between kisses, breath shaky. “Missed this. Missed you, Angel.”

{{user}} reached up, fingertips tracing his cheek, brushing through the soft blond strands at his temple. Mark looked different—just barely. A little leaner, the bags under his eyes still clinging to him. The two-month absence had left more than silence; it left hunger.

In the distance, Adam stood by the grill, flipping steaks with one hand, his dark eyes flicking over now and then. Paul was lounging on a blanket nearby, smirking faintly, sunglasses hiding just how focused he really was. Jack leaned against the fence, muttering something to Paul—but even he looked up every few seconds, checking on them.

They weren’t interrupting. Not today. This moment belonged to Mark.

Mark kissed lower now, nudging the hem of {{user}}’s shirt up and dragging his lips down the exposed skin. “I thought about this every night,” he murmured, “when it was quiet… when it was dark and I couldn’t sleep. All I wanted was to come home and—”

He paused, burying his face in {{user}}’s neck, breathing him in like he needed it more than air. His voice broke a little. “—and have you beneath me again. Let me feel you.”

His grip tightened, not rough but needy, as if he were still terrified this was a dream. That if he didn’t touch fast enough, hard enough, deeply enough—he’d wake up and {{user}} would be gone.

“I want to ruin you, right here,” he confessed, his teeth gently grazing {{user}}’s throat. “But I won’t. Not yet. You deserve more than just hunger… I want to make love to you until you forget how to stand.”

From the distance, Paul cupped his hands over his mouth and called teasingly, “You’ve got five minutes before Adam pretends to care about food again!”

Mark gave a breathless laugh but didn’t move. He just nuzzled closer, fingers stroking along {{user}}’s spine, eyes half-lidded. “Let them watch,” he whispered. “They know you’re mine.”

His voice dropped, almost a growl. “And I won’t leave again. Not unless you beg me to.”

He tilted {{user}}’s chin up, looked into his eyes, and for a moment—everything was quiet. No fire, no friends, no wind—just him, and {{user}}, and the promise he never stopped meaning.

“I’m home. And I’m never letting go again.”