A/N: A two part short

Long distance relationships suck. It's the simple but cruel truth. There may be the exception, the one couple that actually thrives on the challenge of keeping up a relationship over a distance. For the rest of us? It sucks.

Yes, with today's range of technological possibilities, you can be in touch at any point in time, by text, phone call, or video call. Heck, you can even get sex toys that can be controlled remotely via an app.

But the bitter truth is: none of these things replace physical nearness, touch. The reality of a long distance relationship is a lot of waiting - for a text, a call, the train/bus/plane to arrive to bring you and your love close again.

It is full of counting. Counting weeks/days/hours till you see them again. Days/hours you have together. Days/hours until you have to part again.

It is full of plans, things you have to or want to cram into the small amount of time you get together. Making up for lost time, accumulating memories to get you through the tough times ahead when you're apart again.

It is full of knots in the stomach, the dread of the goodbye. The last time to make love, to hug, to kiss, the last smile before you have to go, or let go.

It may seem romantic, but in reality... well, like I said. It sucks. Big time.

I'm currently waiting for the doors to open so I can get off this plane. So I can finally see him again. It's getting harder and harder.

I'm a bundle of nerves, super excited and impatient. The flight was too long, the taxiing takes too long, the doors don't open fast enough, the people in front of me don't move quickly enough. I just want to elbow them all out of the way. But of course I don't. I've waited ten weeks, four days and seventeen hours for this. The longest we've ever been apart. I'm sure I can manage another ten minutes.

I travel light these days, just a carry-on suitcase. You learn to save as much time as you can. Carry-on luggage only means you don't have to wait around at baggage claim. It also means half an hour more time before you say goodbye, because you don't have to check in luggage on the way back.

I make my way through the throng of people flocking round the baggage claim and make a quick exit. Knowing the route by heart now, I make a quick right and see the familiar car after a few steps.

As if on cue, the driver's door opens and then he stands before me, in cargo trousers, a t-shirt, his hat and the sunglasses, flashing me that gorgeous smile.

Shannon. The man of my dreams, keeper of my heart, the sun to my moon. God, I missed him.

Usually, he gives me a quick hug, maybe a kiss on the cheek, then we're in the car in a flash. He doesn't want to attract the attention of the paparazzi that hang out here, waiting for celebrities.

Today, however, he pulls me into his arms and presses his lips onto mine in a long, passionate kiss that leaves my head spinning. The taste of his lips, his mouth is so amazing, I can feel wetness pool between my legs already.

"Move your car, sir!" a man in a high vis vest yells and makes us pull apart.

Shannon laughs, then murmurs: "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi, love."

He grabs my suitcase, puts it in the back and we both get in the car. He pulls away, his hand immediately on my thigh, palm up. I intertwine our fingers. He rubs his thumb over the skin of the back of my hand as he finds his way out of the airport and onto the highway.

I'm floating on a cloud of happiness as he asks me the usual questions. How are you? How was the flight? How's work? How's the family? Anything new?

Even though we communicate every day, several times sometimes, there are still things we miss out on. You fill the chats with important things, not mundane stuff.

We drive the now familiar route to his house. Traffic is not too bad today, so we make it in good time. Usually, we stop at his favourite place to get some take away.

Today he drives past it. I quirk an eyebrow at him, he smirks.

"I've got something planned," he explains briefly, then tells me about a new project he's looking into and wants my thoughts on. He's sweet like that, making me feel included in his life and decisions.

We arrive at his house. He parks the car, gets my suitcase and holds his hand out to me. I've got flutters in my stomach. We walk up the steps and he unlocks the door.

We both step in. The suitcase lands somewhere on the floor with a loud bang and I'm pushed up against the now closed door, his hot lips on mine, his body pressing into me. I can feel he's ready and it makes me moan.

Usually, he would fuck me frantically right against this door, because we both can't wait and are pent up with desire.

Today, however, his hands slip under my ass and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he makes his way up the stairs, carrying me to his bedroom.

We both fall onto the bed, him on top of me. The clothes are off within seconds and then his hot mouth is on my lips, my neck, my breasts, sucking, licking, nipping. He takes his time, which he never does the first time. The first time we just fuck. Get rid of all the sexual frustration we've been feeling over the weeks apart. Then we make love.

But this, what he's doing right now, this is making love. He's slow, gentle, his touches tender, as if he wants to imprint my body into his mind. I cast the thought aside and let myself just feel him.

His hands roam over my body, my skin is covered in goosebumps wherever he touches me. I can feel him smile against my tummy as he works his way lower. He sits back, locking his heated gaze with me as he pushes my legs apart. Then he looks at my most intimate part.

He licks his lips and looks back up at me, before he lowers himself down onto the bed, head diving between my thighs. He hasn't shaved. He knows I like to feel his stubble scratch my sensitive skin. A smirk tugs on his lips as he hears me sharply take in a breath.

I'm up on my elbows, watching him, licking my lips. His normally hazel eyes are dark pools of desire and I know he's as turned on as I am. I watch his tongue flick against my clit. A low moan escapes my lips and when he starts to suck on my nub, my head falls back, my fingers fist in his soft, dark hair, pulling him closer.

He pushes two fingers inside me at once.

"Mmmh, so wet for me, baby, always so wet," he hums in appreciation.

I can feel the vibration against my clit and it drives me crazy. He works his fingers in and out of me at a maddening rhythm. He knows my body so well, knows exactly how deep to go, how much to curl his fingers to hit that special spot that has my legs shaking and my body quivering within minutes.

"Look at me, I want to see you cum," he murmurs against me.

I manage to lift myself back up onto my elbows, looking down at him. I am so close and he knows it. He angles his fingers ever so slightly and sucks my clit a little harder. Something passes between us, it hits me right in the heart. I fall over the edge, my hip thrusting into his face, but his strong hands hold me still. He looks at me in awe, letting me ride out my high, before he slides his hard body over my soft one and nestles between my legs that are still shaking.

He kisses me deeply, I can taste myself on his tongue. It's hot and erotic. I shift slightly, so we're lined up and he bucks his hips forward. He fills me completely in one thrust. We both gasp. It's such an exquisite feeling.

I try to memorise every detail. The feeling of his hips rolling into mine in long, hard strokes. The muscles on his back rippling under my touch, the taste of his skin as I lean up and lick and kiss his throat. He loses control if I suck in the right spot. Sure enough, his hips move more frantically, more sloppily and he moans into my ear. I know he's close.

My legs are wound tightly around him, heels digging into his ass, bringing him in closer, deeper inside of me. I can feel another orgasm building. He reaches between our bodies, finding my engorged and very sensitive clit. He only strokes it a few times and I come hard around him, my muscles clenching around him as I moan his name.

He bucks his hips and I can feel him spasming, shooting his hot release deep inside me. He's so beautiful like this, brows furrowed, eyes closed, jaw slack, perspiration on his forehead, hair dishevelled. I stroke his face gently.

His eyes open and they're full of love, warm, happy. They mirror what I feel.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispers.

"I love you, too."

It's true. This right here makes everything worthwhile. All the strain, the frustration, the lonely nights.

He pulls out of me as he kisses me. Then he gets up and disappears in the bathroom. A moment later he's back with a wet cloth and a hand towel. He cleans me up tenderly. His fingers caressing me.

He takes the cloth and towel back into the bathroom then climbs into bed with me, pulling me into his arms.

For a long moment we just lay there, basking in the afterglow. I listen to his heart beating. It's calming me down, assuring me this is real. His fingers run through my hair, draw circles on my shoulder and back.

My stomach takes that moment to make itself heard. He laughs. It rumbles through his chest and I love feeling it.

"Let's get you fed, sweetheart, you must be starving," he says, kissing my hair.

I am actually very hungry. Though there's food on the plane, I am not a big fan. I'm usually too nervous to eat anyways and he knows it.

He gets up and holds his hand out for me. He goes to his wardrobe, pulls out a t-shirt for me. I grab the top and go to the bathroom. The best advice my mother has ever given me was to wee after sex - oral, fingering or penetration - to avoid a bladder infection. I follow it religiously and - so far - have never had one.

I wash my hands and face and pull on his t-shirt. It is so big it nearly comes down to my knees. It smells of Shannon. He knows I love that. Sometimes, when I have a particularly hard time, he'll send me one of the tops he's worn. He'll put it in a zip bag to preserve the smell. It calms me down like nothing else when I can't have the man himself.

Making my way down the stairs, I see Shannon busy in the kitchen. I sneak my arms around his waist and place a kiss on his naked back. His joggers hang low on his hips.

"Smells fantastic. Did you make that?"

He turns and pulls me around so I'm in front of him at the cooker. His lips brush my neck. "I did. Wanted to treat you to a home cooked meal."

He is a very busy man. For him to cook for me is a big thing for me. I'm touched.

"Shannon," my voice sounds a bit croaky. "Thank you so much, babe."

His arms tighten around my waist and he breathes in deeply just beside my ear. "You're welcome, my love. I cooked it this morning so it just needs heating up."

"I'll set the table," I open the cutlery drawer.

He shakes his head. "Already done."

I look to the left. Usually, we eat at the kitchen island. But he's set the dining table, a few candles are lit.

I turn in his arms. "You spoil me. Thank you."

He kisses me softly. "You're welcome. Go sit down, I'll bring it over."

I sit down and watch him as he pulls a hot dish out of the oven. He serves up on two plates, then carries them over. Then he goes back to the kitchen and comes back with a bowl of fresh salad and a bottle of dressing.

We eat in silence. He keeps looking at me, his hand is on my leg, rubbing it or his leg twines around mine. I love the first day. After the frantic first few hours, we fall into a comfortable routine. The first day is when there's no counting.

After dinner we clean up the dishes. Shannon pulls me out onto the patio and onto a lounger that easily accommodates two people. But Shannon wants me close, so he pulls me between his legs and against his chest. It's a warm evening, we sit and enjoy the silence, watching as the sky changes colours and the first stars come out.

"I missed you," he whispers against my ear.

I shiver against his chest and he pulls me back into him. "I missed you, too."

I tilt my head back and to the side to find his lips in a kiss. It gets heated quite quickly, his hands are under my shirt, cupping my breasts, fingers playing with my nipples. I arch my back and press my bum back into him. And I can feel his hot length. My hand reaches back, slides into his joggers and wraps around him. He's rock solid, pre-come weeping out of his slit. I move my hand up and down, his his move up into my hand in time.

"Fuck, baby," he hisses.

He pulls a throw off the side of the lounger and covers me, before his hands slide up my thighs. He sucks in a breath when he realises I'm not wearing any underpants. And also that I am soaking wet.

"You were sat like this next to me the whole time?" he asks, pupils so dilated they make his eyes look darker.

"I like to be prepared," I flirt and bat my eyelashes at him playfully.

He makes a noise that sounds a bit like a growl. He pushes my legs apart so they fall either side of him and up, so I'm kneeling up. One hand holds onto my waist, whilst his other pulls down his joggers to his thighs. His cock bobs against my ass as he moves his legs between mine. He pulls me back and down onto his throbbing length.

We both moan at the sensation. With both of us sat up like this the angle hits a different spot. My head falls back onto his shoulder. His lips kiss my neck, licking, sucking on my sweet spot. His hands run up my sides and come around to cup my breasts, nipples between his fingers. I move my hips up and slide back down onto him, circling my hips. He moans, biting my neck a little harder as his hips start thrusting up into me each time mine come down.

His hands squeeze my boobs. My hand shoots in his hair, holding his head in place. His hot breath is puffing into the shell of my ear, sending tingles down my spine and right to my core. He feels so fucking good inside me, stretching me, filling me up with his cock. My other hand slides down to my clit. I start to rub it.

"Yes, baby, fuck, just like that," he rasps, voice gravelly.

I can feel my orgasm approaching fast. His hands and lips on me, his cock inside me, I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

"Let go," he pants into my ear.

My body complies and I arch my back, pushing down onto him as I come hard around his length. I moan as I ride my orgasm out. He pushes me forward gently and I fall onto my hands, legs spread for him. I can hear fabric rustle and then I feel him kneeling behind me. His hands come to my waist, holding on in a tight grip. He thrusts into me hard and fast, pulling me back onto him as he's pounding into me.

One hand leaves my hip, to find my boobs. He gives them a squeeze, before his hand slides between my legs, finding my engorged clit. He rubs, sending little shocks through my body and I can feel another orgasm build.

He moves to lift one of his legs, so his foot is now on the lounger. It's a deeper angle and I'm starting to see stars.

"O god...," I moan throatily as I tumble over the edge, Shannon following me in seconds with a string of expletives.

His arms snake around my torso, his lips pressing hot, open mouthed kisses onto my back. We're both out of breath. After a few minutes, he pulls out, puts his joggers back on and places the throw over me before disappearing in the house. He comes back with some tissues to clean up the sticky mess he left between my legs. He's always so careful and gentle with me after he's been a little rougher with me.

We decide to go back inside and call it a night. I'm shattered from travelling. We lie on our sides in his bed, legs entwined, fingers interlocked, kissing, gazing at each other. It doesn't take long and I'm asleep.