James finishes his cigarette and stubs it out. Guy’ll probably go postal if he drops food inside his precious car so he rests his butt on the hood taking the bagel out of the bag and biting into it. It is good. He has to admit that.
“I can think of one thing I prefer in my mouth,” he says with a wicked grin, replacing the hot sandwich back in its wrapper and getting the usual motherly look he’s come to expect. It’s not worth the fucking argument so he finishes his food and wipes his fingers on the paper serviette then screws it up and shoves it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
Cullen’s busy eating but he’s keeping an eye on him all the time which is pretty fucking funny seeing as James has no money and nowhere to run to if he had. The big guy’s still not answered him but he’s smiling a lot and the tension’s easing back down to a point where normal service might be resumed soon. James hopes so; he’s aching a good hard fuck even though he’s exhausted.
Taking a swig of his mineral water, James look around him at the dirt and the
traffic and it’s like he’s never left New York.
It’s good seeing Jim eat. Stopping here was a damn good idea and’s got nothing whatsoever to do with the feeling in Cullen’s belly that’s been fluttering ever since the boy went off on one. It can’t be that ‘cause Cullen’s not nervous about letting Jim into his apartment. He’s got no reason to be nervous. So, yeah, it’s a place that pretty much fits the description Jim gave but…
Grinding his teeth, Cullen shoves his own wrapper in his pocket and gets back in the Audi. It takes them five minutes to get to the complex and, when the gates swing open in front of them, the feeling just gets worse. What if Jim laughs? Don’t take a genius to see the boy was right about the place. It ain’t Cullen’s kind of space. He fits in it like an RPG into an M16; too big, too loud, too clumsy.
When he turns off the engine the deafening silence just makes it worse. First time he’d come here the agent thought he was applying for a job, not looking for somewhere to live. Was only when they ran a credit check they took him serious. Three years later he still don’t know anyone else in the block, exceot Friar and that’s business. There’s nods exchanged with familiar faces but he don’t know names.
In the elevator, Cullen has to stop himself from shuffling his feet, thinking about coming back from leave when he was one of Uncle Sam’s boys, people who’d have missed him. Shouted welcomes, promises of a drink later, always one of the guys slapping him on the back. Here? He ain’t even got a neighbour looking after a plant, ‘cause he ain’t got no plant to look after.
Place was fully furnished when he bought it; designer stuff that looked right in the space. Walking slowly up the hallway, Cullen tries to remember if he’s ever moved any of it. Not that he remembers. Didn’t seem right when someone had gone to all the trouble making it look good.
The locks slam open, well oiled, but loud even so, and he pushes the door open.
Taking a step back to let Jim go in first, he mutters, “Guess this is
it.
Holy fucking hell. Big hotel suite’s one thing, that goes with working abroad, but this!
James looks around him in awe. One of the reasons he became an actor was that he wanted the good things life had to offer. Guess he’s fucking found them right here. The place is sleek more than stark; all stainless steel and wood, whiteness and spot lighting and acres of glass. It’s gadget heaven, full of boys’ toys, and as Cullen leads him shyly around showing off the master bedroom with it’s so fucking cool bathroom and the kitchen with its gleaming worktops and huge range of appliances, James has this feeling that hardly anyone has ever set foot in the place.
He’s just about resisting the urge to bounce up and down. “I’m having a Pretty Woman moment here,” he says, then laughs at the look on Cullen’s face. “And I’m guessing that you have no freaking clue what I’m talking about.”
Pushing up close, he locks his fingers around Cullen’s neck and reaches up for a kiss.
“I’m getting a hard on for you. Or maybe it’s for your money.”
If the Pretty Woman line didn’t break him, then Jim’s reaction to the apartment damn well did. Cullen had thought being laughed at was gonna be the worst. He was wrong. Did Jim really think that of him? Just some goddamned sugar daddy he could fuck ‘til he found his feet? It hurt in a way Cullen hadn’t expected. He’d gotten genuinely fond of Jim over the last few days, started thinking maybe they could be friends. Now, with Jim’s arms round his neck, getting yanked down into a kiss he isn’t sure he wants, Cullen’s head reels, full of Jim’s face grinning when he’s given things and scowling when things don’t go the way he wants.
Dumb, that’s what he is, thinking it’s anything more.
With a snarl Cullen grabs Jim by the shoulders and kisses him deeper, backing them over into the cupboard. Jim yelps into his mouth when they bounce off it, but Cullen just reaches down under Jim’s thighs, hauling him up ‘til his ass rests on the worktop. Feeling Jim latch his ankles together, tugging him closer, grinding them off against each other, Cullen goes with it, biting at Jim’s mouth. He’s fucking furious. Feels like a jerk, like Jim’s made him a fucking pussy and a bitch all rolled into one. Made him think that this is more than just using but it ain’t and if that’s what Jim wants then that’s what he’ll get.
“Bedroom. Now,” he says. “And get those goddamned clothes off, ‘fore I rip ‘em off.”
For a minute there James thinks everything’s okay, more than okay, and
he wraps himself tight around Cullen, hard cocks pressed together, arms draped
over broad shoulders, taking all of those bruising kisses and giving more in
return. But then Cullen pulls back, splays a hand across James’ chest
and the look in his eyes is all wrong.
“Clothes off,” he says, dragging James off the counter top, a fist jabbing into the small of his back directing him into the bedroom.
James replays everything in his head. No fighting. No bitching. Just that one dumb throwaway comment about money. Jesus Christ, it was just a freaking joke.
“I said clothes off.” Cullen’s voice is quieter now, husky and dry from pent-up aggression and sex and he’s standing so close behind him that James can feel the soft quick pants of breath against his neck. The man’s as turned-on as he’s angry and James is as turned-on as he is scared. He has no idea how to make this right.
Turning slowly to face Cullen, he pops open the first few buttons of his jeans until they’re hanging low on his hips, running a finger over his erection that’s prominently displayed in the tight jersey boxers. Circling the darker grey damp patch that’s sticky with pre-come, James slowly lifts the finger up to his lips and licks away the wetness. “Want this, don’t you? Want it so bad you can taste it. Want to fuck me through the mattress and into the apartment below.”
Cullen runs a tongue over his lips never breaking eye contact with James. His arms hang loosely by his sides and anyone who didn’t know him well would think he was ice cool, but James can see differently. He’s learnt the signs, he can see by the lift of his shoulders, by the pulse in his temple and the slight twitch of his jaw just how tense Cullen is.
James takes off his leather then skins out of his sweatshirt, rubbing away at the itch in his veins that always gets worse when he’s frightened. He can’t screw this up. “You want this bad enough it hurts? Well so the fuck do I.”
Cullen’s silent and James gulps down his fear as he removes the man’s jacket and shirt and finally unfastens the suit pants gripping Cullen’s erection through the loose cotton boxers.
“Think I’m in this for the money, do you?” he asks, sliding
his hand up and down the thick shaft slow as he can manage. “Think it’s
got nothing to do with the way you make me feel?”
Hand round his dick and Cullen throws his head back panting, hips snapping forwards. His brain’s long gone, lost in rage and lust. Words dribble out, hot and sharp, the way he’s feeling. “Told you to get in the goddamned bedroom.”
Jim staggers back when Cullen shoves him, keeps going when Cullen keeps coming, reversing him past the pretty furniture and through the door of that room that’s not seen no action in the past three years.
Gonna see some now.
It’s practically the last thing through Cullen’s mind before he spins Jim round and tosses him onto the bed. Registers that the boy makes a noise but he’s not sure what it is. Wouldn’t care that much even if he’d heard it. Follows him down, grabbing hips that try and wriggle away, using his weight to hold Jim still.
There’s still cloth between them and it ain’t good enough, damn it. Cullen wants skin, wants to feel Jim sweating under him, wants to feel the heat of him. Denim rasps over his palm as he snatches at Jim’s hips, yanking his pants down, damn near turning the boy upside down so’s he can get them clear. Shimmy’s out of his own, leaving them heaped next to the bed as he heads back in to the fray. ‘Cause that’s what it feels like. Fighting, wrestling, sex. Ain’t no fucking difference right now. Just needs to be buried balls deep in his boy’s ass.
Jams his knee between Jim’s legs, prising them apart. Uses his teeth on Jim’s back and shoulders, grinding down against his ass.
“Wanna know how you make me feel?” he growls and spits on his hand. It’s not much by way of lube and his fingers cling when they push home. Jim’s gone flat under him. Flat and still. And it’s like fucking a goddamned corpse.
The thought smacks him round the face. He’s seen guys get like this. Shot ‘em for it too. Never thought to be pushed this far himself.
Suddenly the only thing hard is his landing as he comes back down to earth.
“Just do it,” snarls James after minutes of silence have passed
by and the absence of everything is way more frightening than the pain.
Just do it. Get it over with. It’s not like it hasn’t happened before.
It’s not as if James doesn’t need it this way sometimes. He likes
it rough; likes to feel his insides rubbed raw and his cock shredded by uncut
fingernails. He likes it that way. Sometimes.
Nothing. He lies still, waiting, remembering the surrender of control that gave him more power than he’s ever had. He thinks of how good it can be with Cullen - better than any drug high.
Nothing. Arching his back he curves upward trying to find the heat of Cullen’s body but all he can feel is a hand on his backside, tensing, relaxing, tensing, relaxing and that constant rhythm makes James’ stomach tangle into knots.
“Do it,” he says louder. “I want it. I want you.”
James’ll do whatever he has to, to make things right - take away what’s wrong. It was just a fucking joke. He’s sorry. He can’t take the words back and the only way he can prove he didn’t mean anything is by walking away. And he can't.
All tied up in a twist of jeans, sneakers and boxer shorts he pulls himself up to kneeling, then turns and makes contact with hard muscles, burying himself in Cullen’s crotch as he mouths at the semi-erect penis which gets softer with every sweep of his tongue.
Don’t fucking leave me.
Seeing Jim’s head buried in his crotch, feeling the frantic way he’s
mouthing, suckling, makes the world buzz in Cullen’s ears. It’s
not right. He near as damn it raped the boy and now Jim’s the one on his
knees. Should be him down there not Jim. Him begging forgiveness with his body.
He pushes Jim away and clambers off the bed. Makes for the window, pulls back the sliding door and steps out onto the balcony. It’s dark. October wind whips around him, cuts through him. But he’s not feeling it. Just Jim’s body at that moment when he knew he’d overstepped the mark.
“’M sorry. It was just a joke, ‘kay?”
James looks out over the river as he stands behind Cullen on the balcony, fastening his jeans and pulling on his sweatshirt as quickly as possible to cover the fucking scars on his arm. He hates them so much. Sometimes he thinks they spell out the word loser.
Patting at his pockets he feels the comforting rectangular shape of a packet of smokes and fuck there’s a disposable lighter too - luck’s really on his side tonight. Lighting two Marlboro, he coughs when the double dose of smoke hits the back of his throat then taps Cullen on the shoulder, passing him one of the cigarettes.
The man takes it but won’t look at James. It’s almost as if he isn’t there.
Say something else you freak, says that annoying internal Jimmy voice that talks to him way too much.
“You have a nice place but that’s not why-” Don’t fucking throw me away. “It hurts, okay? I don’t know what else to say.”
The nicotine’s calming, helps clear Cullen’s head, enough that he
feels the cold and shivers. Jim vanishes for a second and then he’s back
draping something round Cullen’s shoulders. It’s a bathrobe and
Cullen pulls it on mumbling his thanks.
Hurts the boy says. Cullen dies a bit more inside. He still can’t get his head round the fact that Jim hasn’t done a runner. If someone had done to him what he’d just done to Jim, he’d’a been out of the fucking door so damn fast… And gone where? Fuck. He’s brought Jim to a strange city and the first thing he does is try and rape him. Not surprising he’s not gone. Got nowhere to go.
Turning round so he can look his guilt in the eye, he says, “Got money,
cash, if you wanna go stay in a hotel. Not gonna make you stay if you don’t
wanna. Can buy another ticket an’all. Send you back to the States…”
He’s dead. And the pain from that death hurts a whole lot more than he thought it would.
He’s got these words in his throat and they’re choking him and he looks down at the water and thinks over every sentence that Cullen’s just said to him. Then he sits down cross-legged and thinks it through again.
“You want me out then you gotta tell me straight. Don’t go putting it on me because you haven’t got the balls to say it.”
James traces his finger along the edge of the decking boards.
“You shoulda let me go before when it was easier. You’re a fucking cruel bastard doing it this way,” he says, shivering then hunching over to protect himself. As if there could be any worse hurt.
“You gotta tell me you want me to go, Malcolm, cause I’m not giving you the fucking satisfaction of walking away that easy. I fucking said I was sorry. What more do you want? I can’t do anymore.”
He’s rocking now, can feel himself doing it but he can no more stop it than he can stop breathing.
“And I don’t want your money. Never did.”
James pulls himself up by the handrail and stumbles inside blindly. Needs a
drink. Needs a hit. Needs to cry.
Cullen follows Jim’s exit with his eyes, his brain kicking their words over and over like a stalled bike. He doesn’t want Jim to go, would do anything to get him to stay. Anything. With that realisation comes action.
Near on running, he heads back inside, past the master bedroom and into the second one, stopping outside the closed and locked bathroom door. He can hear water running inside and knows that Jim’s in there tearing himself up, crying most likely, over Cullen being a jerk.
He knocks and when he gets no response, he takes his shoulder to the door. It’s his own. It’ll fix. Unlike Jim if he doesn’t get in there and quick. The wood gives round the lock and he slams into again, bouncing off for all his weight. Third times the charm, or woulda been if Jim hadn’t have opened the door just as Cullen hit it, bowling them both over so they end on the floor in a sprawl of arms and legs. Arms and legs that turn into mouths and lips and sorries and hands in hair and round waists. That turn into deeper hotter kisses and rubbing off against each other as the tension that’d driven them apart vanishes in a flurry of want and need.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Cullen thinks that this can’t keep
happening. This fighting and not talking and getting the wrong end of the fucking
stick. If they don’t learn to buy a fucking clue between them then one
of these times one of them’s gonna walk out and it’ll be too late.
And the thought of that makes him push Jim down and kiss him harder.
If Cullen’s not gonna give up on ‘em and he’s not gonna give up on ‘em, then they’ve got a chance. Not a big one seeing as they’re both so crazy screwed up but enough to give James hope.
Cullen’s on his knees now, pulling James up from the floor and they’re kissing and crawling trying to make it out of the bathroom together. Can’t let go of him. Not yet. There’s these mumbled words that mean everything and nothing and James’ hands are inside Cullen’s robe and it’s more to do with the touching than anything else. James runs his hands all over Cullen’s skin; shoulders, chest, thighs, cock, belly – it’s all Cullen and it’s all real and, Christ, James is coming back to life, sucking in a shuddering breath that hurts. He’s not dead, far from it, but the pain is still real.
On their feet now and James is crushed against the wall, classy chrome radiator burning ladder rung stripes into his back even through the sweatshirt and Malcolm is pulling at his clothes and trying to make him naked with hands that are trembling with urgency.
Fuck, he’s got to feel Cullen inside him now. He forces him away with a push to the chest and strips off his sweatshirt, dragging the other man out the doorway and pulling him onto the bed where they fall in this jumble of bodies, fingers fighting against each other to get James out of his pants, lips still doing that kissing-talking thing.
James finally gets one leg free from his clothing and wraps his legs around the bigger man in this constricting death grip.
“Fuck,” he breathes, biting and pulling at Cullen’s lower
lip with his teeth.
“Yeah. No. Shit!”
“No?” Jim stares up at him, hurt writ large when Cullen calls a halt.
“Rubbers,” Cullen says, reaching for his pants that aren’t there ‘cause they’re in the other bedroom with the lube and fuck! His dick’s about to fucking explode if he doesn’t get to come soon. He’s been up and down for freaking hours and Jim’s probably in a worse state goddamn it…
Jim’s wriggling out from under him. “Where you goin’?” Cullen says, eyeing up that pert tush he was planning on doing less than a minute ago. Jim just smirks back over his shoulder and sprints out of the room leaving Cullen to pick up their discarded clothing and follow.
Maybe he got it wrong? Maybe even now Jim was picking up his bags and…
A rock hard skinny body smacks him in the ribs halfway across the living room and Cullen, taken totally by surprise looses his footing and ends up on the floor again. This time he lands right on top of Jim, who oofs dramatically, before holding up his prize. A foil packet and small tube.
Cullen grins. That’s his boy.
Dammit, this is painful. James is hard and itching to get laid and feeling so much more secure but he’s also old and the floor is harder than his dick. Please god, if Cullen’s gonna pound into him let it be in…
Oh yeah. He’s being manhandled through to the bedroom just the way he likes it and Cullen’s throwing him down on the mattress, landing on top of him and their dicks are rubbing and grinding. Then everything comes to a halt again and James is about to scream out his frustration when just for a second he sees this look of horror ghost over Cullen’s face and he knows exactly what vicious little thoughts are crawling around inside the man’s head.
“You didn’t do anything, Malcolm,” he says, his fingers digging into tensed up shoulder muscles as their lips make contact. “I trust you. More than anyone.”
The words turn into a kiss that’s as hot as fuck and James knows that Cullen needs this just as much as he does. Face to face though. Not the other way. Too soon for that.
Grabbing the lube he squeezes some out onto his palm, worming his hand down between damp skin and lifting his legs. The gel is cold and he hisses as he eases his fingers inside, making himself ready.
Kneeling up Cullen strokes his cock, mouth open, eyes dark as he watches James stretch himself then he reaches for the condom, rips open the foil and slides the rubber over his erection.
Damn, if there’s prettier sight the world over, Cullen’s not sure what it is. The muscles all up Jim’s back and thighs and belly work as he fingers himself, his eyes glowing, and that darn pretty cock’s bouncing up just begging for a hand round it.
And Jim trusts him. Not just the words either. Cullen can see it in the way Jim’s looking at him, the way he’s opening up, relaxed and ready. Don’t do that if you don’t trust someone.
It makes him smile, grin even. Probably a bit lopsided and totally dumb looking, but he doesn’t care, ‘cause his boy’s tugging him down and wriggling round ‘til suddenly Cullen’s sinking home, wrapped in tight flesh and tighter arms. And it feels damn good. Not just the fucking, though he ain’t the type of man not to give credit where credit’s due and when Jim bucks up into him and flexes muscles no normal guy should have, Cullen’s all but ready to come there and then. Instead he burrows into Jim’s shoulder, bites back a moan and worms a hand between them. Jim’s dick near on leaps at him and heels thump against his ass.
A few hard jacks and Jim’s whining, desperate to get fucked. Cullen keeps it slow. Wants to see the boy squirm, but looks like Jim’s not having any of it, not this time. Cullen suddenly finds himself nose to nose with the most demanding sub he’s ever had the pleasure to fuck through a mattress.
Not gonna keep this slow, he needs it too much - both of ‘em do.
James hangs on tight with an elbow hooked around Cullen’s neck, scratching up and down the man’s back then gripping his ass and digging his nails in firmly but it’s still not hard enough or fast enough. Frowning, he bucks up into that clenched fist which loosens off immediately and he’s left with nothing but a smug grin of satisfaction from Cullen. Bastard.
Lifting his head he reaches up for a kiss using both arms now to hang on tight then, with a sudden twist of his hips, he rolls out from underneath the heavier body. Cullen yelps, sounding as though he almost lost his cock during that little manoeuvre. He lunges at James but it’s all playful and they wrestle and kiss, tongues sliding against each other, teeth nipping hard. James grabs for the lube, easing his wet fist over Cullen’s condom covered cock and when the man collapses onto his back with a sigh, passive as he’s ever seen him, James knows he’s winning.
Straddling Cullen’s hips, he's reminded of their day long sex session back at the studio, remembers how good Cullen made him feel back then even when they were total strangers. Sinking down onto that big fat cock he rests his hands on Cullen’s shoulders, fucking him hard, feeling the burn, feeling the spark, feeling so goddamn much.
If Jim wants it hard and fast, Cullen’s not gonna complain. He’ll
let the boy take his pleasure, then work on getting his own. Gets the best view
from here anyhow, plus it gives his back a rest.
Jim’s stroking himself, putting on a show even if he doesn’t know it. Eyes screwed shut, lips tight with just a tip of tongue showing. It’s… Goddamn it, he ain’t gonna think cute. Jim’s not cute. Not even when he’s letting out those little sounds and his hand’s working over his cock and he’s fucking back on Cullen like this is the best time he’s had in forever.
Cullen reaches out, his hand joining Jim’s, and together they set about bringing him off. Shouldn’t take long. Jim’s got that look on his face that says he’s close to spilling. His fingers dig into Cullen’s pec as he sits more upright, thighs going like fucking pistons, skin flushed, panting now in those last few seconds before he comes so damn hard that Cullen ends up with spatters of jizz on his face and hair. He’d like to taste. Craves it. But it’s too dangerous.
Instead Cullen takes advantage of Jim collapsing boneless on top of him and
rolls them over again, shoves Jim’s legs up as high as he can get them
and gives him the fast hard fucking he was wanting.
Limp as a rag and well fucked as they come James lies there, legs around his ears, watching as Cullen powers into him, sweat pouring as he works himself up to coming. The man’s all animal, eyes wide open as he stares at James knowing exactly who he’s fucking. It’s a good feeling that is – for someone to care enough to be thinking about you.
James lets himself drift a few steps outside his body and wonders how the hell they’ve got this far in such a short time. It’s a miracle and that might sound like some whack cliché but sometimes James thinks he wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for Cullen. That’s another thing that’s private. He’ll never tell anyone how close he was to ODing his worthless fuck of a life away. One more beating is all it woulda took.
He’s back now, the slapping sound of skin colliding with skin enough to bring him to his senses and he lifts a hand and curls his fingers round Cullen’s neck stroking his thumb into soft dark hair that’s damp with sweat. Wants to say something but he’s too afraid of driving Cullen away. Guys that fuck, remember Jimmy, just guys that fuck.
Cullen arches, every muscle rippling, his tendons corded as he pumps his hips harder. His face contorts with the effort and then he’s shuddering and thrusting, falling onto James, lips moving against his neck as he comes down from his high.
James grimaces as he straightens up slowly, his thigh muscles crying out in agony and telling him exactly how old he is. It’s worth it though. There’s nothing better than a crippling hard fuck that leaves you so exhausted you can’t move if you want to. He manages to move his arms enough to wrap them ‘round Cullen’s back - just to get comfortable.
Comfortable, lying half on top of Jim, half on the mattress. The sleepies wanna
take over and it’d be so damn easy to just stay here with Jim’s
arms around him, breath warming the little space between his mouth and Jim’s
shoulder. Too damn easy. Too…
“Hey.”
Cullen wakes when Jim pokes him in the shoulder, and glances over at the clock. Nine p.m. Didn’t go out for long then. Rolling over, he scrubs at his face, stretching and going though what he has to do before he can call it a day. Something tweaks against his foreskin and he reaches down to readjust then stares in horror at the used condom sticking to his leg. He must’ve dropped off before he put it in the trash and, fuck that’s gross.
It obviously shows on his face, ‘cause Jim’s sniggering as Cullen peels the latex away from his skin and tosses into the bin.
“Laugh it up, boy,” Cullen grumbles. “Reckon you’ll be the one emptying the trash.”
That shuts Jim up nice and quick, and without looking back, Cullen heads for
the bathroom and a shower. There’s unpacking to do and calls to make before
bed.
Once Cullen has disappeared into the bathroom, James throws on his clothes and ventures out onto the balcony. It’s a beautiful clear night and the water looks so still and quiet with the lights reflecting off it. He sits down on the decking, smoking, thinking.
The scars are gaping open again, calling his name and he remembers how hard it was for him to kick the coke. Didn’t have a choice then; he couldn’t steal enough and wasn’t able to earn enough to keep that habit going. This time he’s doing it by choice.
Has Cullen remembered? God, he doesn’t want to ask.
James stubs out his cigarette and tries to think about other stuff. He’s alive enough now to want to do things. He wants to visit places all those places he’s read about, Tower of London, Hampton Court Palace. He wants to go to Brighton Pavilion because his grandma never stopped talking about it after she went there. He wants to go to Stratford. Longs to be part of Stratford - a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company. He hasn’t day dreamed for so long.
There are other more simple things he’s looking forward to, walking down by the Thames, talking, eating at Burger King, talking. He wants to see Malcolm smile more.
Wants to know if there’s any methadone.
Cullen’s out of the shower now and James twists around and watches him pad naked around the room. He carries his scars with pride and has every right to. Whatever Cullen’s done in his past it could never be as bad as the ghosts he carries with him.
He smiles as he watches the man make the bed and unpack both bags, folding everything up into orderly piles then opening drawers, choosing a new home for all James’ clothes.
It’s too much; he swallows back the tears, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and looking away. Is he ever going to feel like he deserves this? He wants to go back inside, put his arms around Cullen and tell him thank you.
So he does.