by Riley Knight
Just as well, really. He should tell his boss first, he assumed. Or was it just that he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet? Because once it was goodbye, it was for good, wasn’t it? Seattle was not particularly close to Atwood, Kansas. In some ways, maybe even most ways, they may as well have been in different universes.
“Do you do that often? Drink that much?” Malcolm asked, and the question might have made Kyle bristle except that he actually saw something in Malcolm’s eyes that he never would have expected, something that took his breath away. Concern. No one had ever been concerned about Kyle’s drinking before, no matter how drunk he got.
“Less when I’m here,” Kyle admitted, and he even let his head rest briefly on Malcolm’s shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. Odd how someone that he had known for such a short time could have a scent that was familiar to him, but he did. And it even seemed to have some sort of magical properties that helped his hangover recede, at least a little.
“Okay. I think you need to get to bed. You still smell like a brewery,” Malcolm announced. And Kyle didn’t fight it, because honestly, his head was spinning and his stomach clenched as he protested the movement.
Without Malcolm, Kyle was pretty sure that he never would have made it to his bedroom. He collapsed onto his bed, and Malcolm even tucked him in before quietly leaving.
Just as he was starting to doze off again, his phone, miraculously still holding a little bit of charge, chirped cheerfully at him and buzzed against his leg. Groaning softly, he reluctantly pushed his hand into his pocket and tugged out his phone, taking just a second to peer at the call display to make sure that it wasn’t Wyatt calling. He was going to call the man, and he was going to do it today, but he wasn’t doing it until he had some more sleep.
“Skyler. Hey.” Kyle greeted his best friend after accepting the call and then fell back down into a prone position on the bed, his free arm across his eyes to protect them from the light, his other hand holding the phone to his ear. He couldn’t say that he really wanted to speak to anyone, but if he did, it would be his best friend, who could at least be counted on not to yell too much. That wasn’t Skyler’s way.
It wasn’t very much after that that Kyle found himself wishing that he hadn’t answered the phone at all.
FOURTEEN
So Derrick was back. Derrick who had gone off to make something of himself. Derrick who had always thought that he was better than everyone around him because he was smart, smart enough to get a scholarship to any school that he chose. Derrick of the intellectual superiority, Derrick who was heading to the top, and fast, and didn’t seem to care who he trampled on the way up.
Malcolm had never considered what would happen if Kyle met Derrick. He had assumed that Kyle would be long gone before it ever came up. But Derrick had made no secret to anyone that he was in favor of selling the ranch. He would be done with med school in a couple of years and he could doubtless use the money from the sale to fund the startup for his own practice.
Now, to his credit, Derrick had never been the pain in the ass about it that Wyatt had been. He had seemed like he would more or less be good either way, although his preferences were clear. But now that Kyle was around, the lawyer who had made no secret of his intentions, wasn’t it possible that Malcolm was going to rapidly come to regret not driving Kyle away sooner? They would team up on him, and though they couldn’t force him to do anything, they could make themselves obnoxious.
When had his life become such a mess?
He had no idea what would happen, though, even he had to admit that. Kyle hadn’t actually been nearly as annoying as Malcolm would have assumed. In fact, he was starting to get the idea that maybe Kyle was coming around. It was just an idea, of course, and he wasn’t going to base anything off of it, but he couldn’t help but think, what if?
Going to the kitchen, Malcolm got lost in a fantasy that he would have outright denied if anyone had accused him of having. Kyle, living in this house officially. Kyle, in his bed. For the first time in his life, Malcolm could actually consider coming out. For Kyle. It would be scary, but he had the idea that he could do it.
Of course, Kyle would just go back to Seattle, to the big city, even if he did decide to back off on trying to get Malcolm to sell. Maybe it was safe to fantasize about coming out, about openly being with Kyle, because he knew that it would never happen.
Still, he found himself, without commenting to anyone, pouring coffee into a mug. He had noticed that Kyle took it black, so that was easy, and he got him a bowl of the thick oatmeal that Anna had made for breakfast that morning. When Malcolm was hung over, at least, he found that the bland food went down easier, and oatmeal was also nutritious.
With his hands full, he went back to Kyle’s bedroom. The other man was probably sleeping, he figured, but he could leave the food for him, anyway. As to why he was doing this, he found that he wasn’t quite sure. He had been avoiding Kyle so much, but now that they’d been together, he found that he wanted to be around him, no matter how difficult the situation was.
He had left the door slightly open when he left, and he heard a voice as he walked down the hall toward the guest room which had become Kyle’s room. It seemed that Kyle was not asleep after all.
“He did what?” Kyle’s voice was sharp, and Malcolm knew very well that he shouldn’t be listening, but he paused just outside the door and did just that. Something was distressing Kyle, and a fierce surge of protectiveness rose in Malcolm.
“No, of course not, I don’t need you to come. I’ve got it under control. I’ll call Wyatt myself and call the whole thing off.”
Malcolm frowned, and all of a sudden, all of the denial that had built up when he thought of Kyle was washed away. It was hard for him to remember, for whatever reason, but Kyle was here to ruin Malcolm’s life. No matter how good in bed the guy was, it had been stupid for Malcolm to sleep with him.
It was stupid for him to be standing outside the man’s door holding food and coffee for him, too. How pathetic was he to have fallen this hard for someone like Kyle?
“I’ll call him myself. I have some things to say to him. I have to be honest with you, I’m not even sure that …”
The floorboard, old and worn, creaked under Malcolm’s foot as he leaned forward to try to hear more. Instant karma, he supposed, for eavesdropping in the first place. But there was something, some hesitant quality, to Kyle’s voice that Malcolm had never heard before and he found himself very much wanting to know what Kyle was telling this Skyler.
“I have to go. Don’t come. I’ll deal with Mr. Hart.”
Malcolm took a deep breath and sidled back a few steps, and just in time, too. The door opened, and Kyle peeked out, but it would hopefully look to him like Malcolm had just walked up.
He would have given anything to find out what Kyle had meant by that. He would deal with Mr. Hart? And what, exactly, was that supposed to entail? He could only assume that Kyle meant him, but he hadn’t exactly been thrilled to hear himself spoken about in that cold, steely tone of voice.
“Malcolm.” Kyle’s voice sounded relieved that it was him, glad to see him, maybe. Malcolm looked at him, trying to see the faintest hint of duplicity, but he didn’t see any. Then again, Kyle had never lied about his intention, so it wasn’t like he actually had anything to hide. “Is that coffee? For me?”
Malcolm nodded, following Kyle into the room as Kyle got back into bed, and he didn’t ask any of the questions that were in his head. Who is Skyler? How are you going to take care of Mr. Hart? How can you still be trying to force me to sell after that incredible sex?
And that was just the tip of the iceberg. He could go on and on for days if he let himself get started. There wasn’t any better argument for not getting involved with Kyle than the fact that Malcolm’s own heart had gotten involved in a situation that he just plain couldn’t win.
He put down the coffee and oatmeal on the nightstand, and just when he was fortifying his heart and stra
ightening his shoulders in preparation to go, Kyle spoke up again.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I ran off before I even checked how your dad was doing. How is he?”
Damn it.
Like it wasn’t bad enough that he fell for Kyle a little more with every second that they spent together. Like it wasn’t bad enough that he found him arousing like no one else he had ever met, but did he have to be likable, too? It wasn’t fair. It had been a long time since Malcolm had whined that to himself as much as he was with Kyle, but it felt true, too.
“They have him under observation,” Malcolm said quietly, and as he did, a rush of pure hopelessness came over him. He had been trying his best not to think about the fact that his father was sick, that his father, as much as he might be in denial about it, probably didn’t have that great of a chance at survival. “I don’t know much more than that.”
Only that wasn’t true. He knew plenty. He just didn’t dare to say what he had learned out loud. With cancer like his father’s, the chances were incredibly low that he would still be alive in five years. It was just that putting words to that made it more real, and he couldn’t make himself do it.
“I’m sorry.”
The way Kyle said it, it wasn’t just a meaningless platitude. He didn’t go on and on about how some higher power had a plan, or anything like that, which would have made Malcolm speak. And more than that, there was sympathy in his voice, but no pity. None of that fake I’m-so-sorry bullshit that people paraded out when they weren’t sure what else to say. Or maybe when they were even delighted by the tragedy. There was nothing that some people liked more than sadness and suffering.
But Kyle said it as a simple fact, and Malcolm felt the blurring of tears in his eyes as his knees went weak and he sat down on the side of the bed. He had intended to get out of there, away from Kyle’s dangerous presence, away from the affection that he was starting to have for the man, but all of a sudden leaving was the last thing on his mind.
He wasn’t sure he could make his knees work, anyway.
“Malcolm,” Kyle murmured, but there was no demand in the tone of his voice. Most people would sound helpless and hopeless like all they wanted was for him to snap out of it, but Kyle just offered that one word before he sat up in bed and rested his head against Malcolm’s shoulder.
It was all too much. Wanting Kyle sexually had messed him up, the very intensity of his desire confusing him, but this was a whole other thing. Actually liking Kyle? Caring about him? And now, on top of that, feeling like Kyle actually cared about him in return?
Things had been so much more simple, uncomplicated, when Malcolm had had nothing to worry about other than keeping the ranch going day to day.
His eyes were still blurry, but he could see well enough to reach for Kyle and pull the smaller man onto his lap. The door was still a little bit open, but he barely thought about that at all. What did it matter, anyway? On top of everything else, it didn’t seem that relevant, although that was a pretty big change for him.
“I thought I was straight,” he said, gazing up into those gorgeous dark eyes, no wall behind them now. Or not much of one, anyway. Malcolm got the idea that it took a lot for Kyle to let those walls down completely. Maybe he would never be able to do it.
“Me, too.” Kyle frowned, straddling Malcolm’s lap and gazing into his eyes thoughtfully. “Or I wanted to think that I was. My parents would freak if they knew …”
Malcolm knew that he should let Kyle finish that statement, but all of a sudden, it was just all too much for him to take. He seized Kyle’s lips in a fierce kiss, and it was an act of fear as much as of desire. He and Kyle had already shared a lot in this short time, with Kyle vulnerable from his hangover and Malcolm from his father’s health.
He didn’t need more of a connection. He didn’t need to hear about Kyle’s parents, whom he had never mentioned before. He didn’t need any of this to be more complicated than it already was.
So he kissed Kyle, and Kyle gasped, clearly surprised, but then kissed him back. There was no more talking, no ability to and no need, anyway. The caress of their tongues together, the sweet press of his body against Kyle’s, that was enough.
Once pure, hot desire started to flow through his body, making him feel like he was melting from the inside out, but in the best way possible, it was easier. He had been scared to sleep with another man, scared of what it would mean, but as it turned out it was actually a lot less scary to want to be sexual with a man than to want to be romantic with him. Especially a man like Kyle, who was just going to end up leaving him anyway.
Kyle tilted his hips forward, and Malcolm felt the press of the other man’s cock through his jeans. Kyle was hardening just as fast as Malcolm was, and Malcolm thrust his hands up into Kyle’s t-shirt, stroking over the smooth, silken planes and angles of his body, then outright slipping the garment off.
They shimmied together over the bed, stripping each other, Kyle still in Malcolm’s lap until his back was up against the headboard. As they went, their clothing seemed to fall off, and Malcolm knew that Kyle needed rest and fluids to deal with his hangover, but he still couldn’t make himself keep his hands off of the other man.
He wanted to try everything with him. After so many years of trying to deny who he was, his attraction to men, after so many years contenting himself with nothing more than dry humping and hand jobs, now that he was finally being honest with himself, he wanted more than that. He wanted Kyle in every way that Kyle would allow, and he tried to show him that with his kisses, the desperate clasp of his hands on Kyle’s slender, bare body.
Once his back was against the headboard, Kyle clambered out of his lap, and Malcolm got to catch a glimpse of his entire naked body, broad shoulders and slender waist and subtle little hips. Not to mention the cock swollen against his flat stomach, already fully hard, just as Malcolm was.
Kyle dipped down, his lips and tongue and even the faintest caress of teeth against Malcolm’s chest, pausing for a moment to tease at Malcolm’s nipples. But Kyle seemed to have even less patience than Malcolm did, just one more thing that they had in common. On the surface of it, there was nothing, but in reality, there was a surprising amount.
Like their mutual desire. And that was probably the safest thing for him to focus on at the moment, which was sort of ironic, given how hard he had fought this.
Kyle shifted down, over Malcolm’s torso and stomach, and he didn’t exactly take it slow, but he somehow managed to make Malcolm feel adored, almost worshipped, by the attention he was paying his body. He moaned, Kyle’s lips seemingly spreading sparks in their wake, and that was even before Kyle dipped down the last little bit and wrapped his mouth around Malcolm’s straining erection.
It wasn’t like Malcolm hadn’t had blowjobs before. He had. Never from a man, though. Never from Kyle, which seemed somehow more to the point. And he cried out, probably too loudly, in surprise, but who was going to be around to hear? It was the middle of the morning and people were doing what Malcolm should be doing after eating breakfast, working hard or going to school, in Mary Ann’s case.
For once, he didn’t feel guilty about that. Maybe he would later, but with that hot, eager, talented mouth around him, it just didn’t seem to matter that much. Reaching down, he slid his fingers into Kyle’s soft hair and groaned as he fucked up into him.
Everything with Kyle was about a thousand percent more intense than it would be with anyone else. Malcolm felt his body tensing up, felt the first tendrils of his orgasm creeping through him, far too quickly, but then Kyle always had that effect on him.
Malcolm glanced down, saw that Kyle was looking up at him, those enormous, soft brown eyes intent on Malcolm’s face as though it was the most important thing in the world to him. It was a dangerous fantasy to think that, but he almost couldn’t help it.
“Fuck. Fuck, Kyle, baby,” Malcolm moaned, finding that he couldn’t keep himself silent. He would have loved to say that this meant nothing to
him, but it did, and he could only hope that that wasn’t too clear on his face. What would Kyle say if he knew?
If he knew that Malcolm was falling in love with him?
He rejected the thought the moment that he had it, but it had been there, and he couldn’t claim otherwise. He might try, and he would certainly never, not in a million years, admit it out loud, but it was there. It was still there, lingering in the very edges of his mind, tantalizing him with things that were impossible.
It was so much easier for him to just focus on Kyle’s soft lips and dancing tongue, and he closed his own eyes before he could lose himself in Kyle’s. He thrust up between Kyle’s lips almost angrily, searching out his own release.
Sex. This was about sex. Desire. Lust. That was it, that was all, that was all it was ever going to be. And if he could just keep that in mind, he would be fine. He was sure that Kyle was having no problem at all keeping it that way himself.
Kyle’s fingers slid down over Malcolm’s balls, over his taint, pressing on the sensitive skin there and heading back. Malcolm let out a sound embarrassingly close to a whimper as he spread his legs wide, sprawling out over the bed and completely unconcerned about how undignified he must look.
He gave access to his body to Kyle without hesitation, and when he felt the sweet caress of fingertips on his sensitive hole, he groaned and arched his hips up off of the bed, pressing against them, trying to get them inside of him.
It was all over, or so he thought, at first, the moment that Kyle did breach him, the moment that his fingertip pressed inside of Malcolm. He had been fighting off his release for what felt like forever now, even though objectively it hadn’t been very long, but he lost it then, with Kyle’s finger just barely inside of him and his mouth on his cock.
And then, that mouth was gone, leaving Malcolm trembling on the very brink of orgasm but denied it at the last second.