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With a weary sigh, Pierce set down his suitcase on the door stoop. He had been on tour non-stop for two weeks, and although he was enjoying performing, it had felt more like a month. He began to fish around in his pockets for the house key, but no sooner had he curled his fingers around the fob than he saw the doorknob turn and the front door swing wide open.
Alair was standing in the entranceway, leaning enticingly against the wall, not wearing a single stitch of clothing. Pierce’s jaw dropped, and he felt the breath rush out of him as Alair grabbed his lapels, yanked him inside, then closed the door behind them.
"Welcome home," Alair said, not waiting for a response before covering Pierce’s mouth with his own. Pierce sank immediately into the kiss, reveling in the familiar comfort of Alair’s warm, eager lips.
They stayed like that for several moments, lost in one another, until Pierce laid his palms against Alair’s bare chest and gently pushed him back, pinning him to the wall. Alair groaned, and their lips parted, allowing them both to come up for air.
"Hey," Pierce said, breathlessly. "You’re, uh… not wearing any clothes.
"You noticed." Alair smirked. He was still gripping Pierce’s lapels tightly, not letting go. "Figured I’d bypass the part where I have to wear something uncomfortable and fancy to impress you, or where you bitch about the holes in my t-shirt and jeans."
Pierce gazed fondly into Alair’s face. His chest tightened with the full impact of how much he’d missed him. Unable to resist, he dove in for another kiss—deep and slow—as he pressed their bodies closer together. Something hard brushed against his thigh. When they broke apart again, he raised an eyebrow. “Are you, uh…?”
"Happy to see you?" Alair murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips softly against Pierce’s again. "Yeah."
"Already, huh?" Pierce traced his fingertips in a circle against Alair’s chest. "I gotta admit, I was kinda looking forward to seeing what shirt you’d be wearing. Pictured it on the ride over here. I even had a guess, based on how long I’ve been away."
Alair leaned back against the wall. He let go over Pierce’s lapels and smoothed them, then brought his hands down to rest on Pierce’s waist. “What was your guess?”
"The faded gray Spelunker’s t-shirt… the one with the sleeves torn off that you wrote ‘Ass’ at the top of with a purple fabric marker.”
Alair nodded. “Fuck. That is uncanny.”
Pierce’s fingertips traveled to Alair’s left nipple, circling it lightly. “That’s the shirt that’s got a hole right here, ain’t it? I mean, it’s got a bunch of holes, but that one’s memorable.”
There was a hitch in Alair’s breath, and his eyelids fluttered shut. When he opened them again to speak, a hint of his smirk managed to return. “So… haven’t seen each other in two weeks, and you’re telling me you want me to put my clothes back on?”
Pierce chuckled and shook his head . “Nah, definitely not,” he said, cupping Alair’s face between both his hands and resting their foreheads together. “I just wanted you to know that… like… I missed you. Raggedy ass t-shirts and all.”
Alair leaned into Pierce’s touch. “I missed you, too.” He reached down and popped open the top button on Pierce’s shirt. “And if you bring in your bag and let me get you out of these, I’ll show you how much.”