by N. J. Lysk
Carry laughed, carefree and relaxed, his relief like a balm for Keenan’s own nerves. “Yes, something like that,” he said. He sounded almost... shy? The idea alone was fascinating. Carry and timidity seemed like a contradiction in terms—when Carry was scared, he bit, he scratched, he tore you to pieces with a few well-chosen words... Did he have his shields down? Keenan wondered.
“I’m kind of regretting doing this over the phone,” he confessed, a little self-conscious himself.
“No,” Carry objected. “Don’t. I’m glad you did... I mean, not right now. Right now I kind of hate it. But I’m glad; rationally.”
“Rationally,” Keenan muttered. “You are a dick, you know that?”
“Is this your best game?” Carry replied, he sounded more confident already. “Because I’m not really that... inspired.”
He was a dick. Keenan laughed anyway. It was happening. “Maybe you should come over, I can get you some oysters.”
The sassy reply did not come, instead Carry sort of grunted. “Ugh, don’t, I—” He breathed out slowly. “I have to tell you other things.”
More rules? Keenan almost said and then felt like an arsehole. “Okay, you want to tell me now?”
“I want... Fuck, I want to come over and... and do whatever we want. Maybe don’t do anything sexual, just...”
“Whatever we want, but nothing sexual?” Keenan repeated a little hesitantly. Carry had every right to be uncertain, even if he’d just poured his heart out to Keenan and told him he loved him. Five times. Six if you counted the time he’d said he was in love with him.
“No!” Carry snapped, then lowered his voice as in apology. “I just mean... we don’t have to, there’s nothing... it’s up to us, to whatever we feel like.”
“Oh,” Keenan said as he suddenly understood. “Have you never...?”
“What?”
“Have you never slept with anyone outside of heat?”
“What? No, I— I have. But not... I haven’t dated anyone,” he spat that like he was angry at the very idea. Keenan smiled, stupidly charmed by his prickliness. “Not— Well, I guess you know why the one time I kind of did doesn’t count, don’t you?” Carry’s voice was suddenly full of resignation.
It took Keenan a moment to understand what he was talking about. Who he was talking about.
“You can count it,” he offered, trying not to choke on the words. “You... I’m sure you were sincere, whatever you felt.”
Carry snorted, then said, “I think I mostly felt I was eighteen and horny.”
Keenan froze. “You—I thought—”
“What?”
He’d clearly made a mistake, but now that he’d brought it up it’d be impossible to get out of it without fessing up. “Don’t be angry, okay? I thought you’d been in heat when... when you slept with him.”
He waited for Carry’s response with bated breath. If he’d fucked up already...
“No, I... I didn’t use to get so many,” Carry said. He didn’t sound angry, but Keenan needed to hear the rest. “I was... lonely. And he was nice. I was that easy.”
Keenan almost objected, then thought better of it. “Why should you be hard?”
That worked, Carry let out a little laugh. “Man, this rebel shit really suits you, doesn’t it?”
“You suit me,” Keenan said with great relish. His face was kind of burning in shame—if anyone else had heard him say such a sappy thing...
But after a moment, Carry asked, “I do?” He sounded completely serious.
“Yes,” Keenan said at once, like it was yanked from his mouth. “What are you even talking about?”
He heard him swallow. Keenan had said yes already: yes to Carry and yes to no bonding and yes to— Well, everything, as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t think of anything Carry could ask he’d said no to. “I... I’m not easy. I have all these conditions, and... you haven’t—you said you didn’t like guys.”
That he couldn’t deny, but he could at least try and explain, “I almost took a guy home the other day.”
“Oh.” Carry didn’t sound exactly happy and it suddenly occurred to Keenan that a potential partner might not appreciate the image of him with someone else. “What happened?”
It was too late not to explain, and he had a point anyway. “He didn’t recognize me. We talked for a while, then as soon as we kissed, he gets it.”
Carry snorted. “I guess your kisses are a brand now.”
“I want to kiss you,” Keenan whispered, the words so long held back it almost hurt to speak them.
Carry inhaled in shock, then he replied in a choked voice, “I want to kiss you too.”
“But we’d have to hang up so you can come over,” he whispered.
“Why am I coming over?”
Keenan didn’t reply. He’d thought it was generous to offer, because it’d mean Carry could leave. It’d give him the choice.
“Keenan?”
But what choice was it if he didn’t know he had it? “Because then you can leave,” he admitted, voice tight.
“Oh.” Carry was silent for a beat. “I’m not going to.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “I’d rather you didn’t. But you can.”
“We both can,” Carry corrected. “That’s... that’s how it’ll be, right? We are free to leave, and free to stay.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“This is probably the crappiest love declaration of all time,” Carry said apologetically.
“No,” Keenan objected. “It’s not. I’m glad it’s like this. I want you to choose. I want to know you are with me because... because I’m doing it right. Because I make you happy. I want you to be happy. And if I don’t... That’s not love, wanting to keep you close when I can’t. That’s—”
He heard Carry breathing through the line and finally the other man took pity and interrupted him, “Me too. I’ll be there soon.”
He hung up without saying goodbye, and Keenan was grateful for it.
BY THE TIME THE BELL rang, Keenan’s chest hurt a little. The sight of his linemate didn’t help. It had been long enough that he couldn’t help but look. Carry’s hair was a little longer than he kept it during the season, like he couldn’t be bothered to have it cut... Not that Keenan much cared why, he just really wanted to run his fingers through it, to—
“Hey,” he said, voice catching.
Carry’s shields were closed tight, but Keenan didn’t need magic or psychic powers or whatever they had decided it was these days. It only took a look at Carry’s expression, lips pursed and eyes too wide, and his stiff posture. Carry watched him right back, and he probably knew how fast his heart was going and how desperate he was to reach out.
His own shields were firmly in place too—although it’d taken him a good ten minutes of sitting with his eyes closed—but it didn’t matter: he felt exposed, open, raw.
Carry recovered first. “Um, can I come in?”
Keenan stumbled to get out of the doorway, waving a hand around for emphasis. “You want coffee?”
Carry turned a blue-eyed stare on him, then licked his lips and deliberately fixed his eyes on Keenan’s mouth. He shook his head, then closed his eyes for an instant too long. His scent invaded the room, sweeter than it’d ever been and with a hint of something new...
Keenan didn’t have time to put a name to it; his own shields crashed like they’d been struck by an energy weapon out of some fantasy film, and Carry crossed the two steps between them and took him by the neck with both hands. Their mouths bumped, clumsy and uncoordinated, and Carry’s tongue got involved before Keenan even had time to part his lips.
And it didn’t matter because when Keenan caught up, the feeling of Carry’s body pressing close, his mouth so desperate he was half-biting at him, he got hard so fast he had to clutch at Carry’s shoulders for balance.
It was the longest kiss in history and he couldn’t think of how he could ever bear for it to end. When he needed to breathe, he hummed against
Carry’s lips and pulled away to kiss his cheek, then returned and brushed their lips together slowly. A dangerous tease, but Carry made a tiny sound and followed his lead and the fire was banked. Almost like they could finally believe it was happening, they gave themselves into the languorous pleasure, like sensation returning to the body after too long out in the cold. Carry tugged until his back found a wall to lean against and Keenan took advantage and leaned with him, bridging some of the difference in height with the angle.
He didn’t mean to let his mouth wander—the curve of Carry’s jaw was just too perfect to resist; a little scratchy with stubble but soft underneath. He flickered his tongue against the pulse point right under his left ear, and suddenly Carry’s hands on him were digging into his arms hard enough to hurt a little.
He straightened, trying to meet his eyes, but Carry bent his head and hid his face against Keenan’s own throat. He was breathing hard. Keenan had assumed it was for good reasons, but... “Carry?”
“Sorry,” the omega muttered. “I have to say it,” he added. “I have to hear you say it.”
“Okay,” he said at once. He waited, absently rubbing the skin of Carry’s waist where his hands had made their way under the layers of clothing.
Carry exhaled, slow, almost pained. “I don’t want to bond, so you can’t bite me.”
The pained tone gave him pause, but he pushed through it and said, “I know. I won’t bite you.”
“Can you do that?” Carry had never sounded this uncertain before—it didn’t seem right that someone as confident as he was had to feel that way. But of course that was absurd: everyone had weaknesses, even if Keenan’s every cell was screaming at him that he couldn’t allow anything or anyone to touch his... to touch Carry.
“Yes,” Keenan promised him. “I can.”
He didn’t mention a bite would only trigger a bond without knotting in one case in a million—and definitely not without sex. Those were just facts—Carry had the facts, but the fear had hold of him anyway. He didn’t need logic, he needed faith.
In Keenan. In them.
He remembered what Carry had said: that he asked Keenan for a lot. But he’d never have to ask Keenan to bare his throat and trust him this way. It simply wasn’t something Carry could ask or Keenan could offer.
Carry trusted him enough to come here, alone and completely vulnerable. If he needed promises, Keenan would promise. Hades, if he needed to tie Keenan to the bed, he could have that too.
It was the least he could do to bridge that gap.
“Hey.” He pulled back despite Carry’s clinging hands. He could only see his eyelashes, but when Keenan put his hand where his mouth had been and tilted his face up, Carry allowed it.
His blue eyes were eaten up by his overblown pupils.
“I love you,” Keenan told him and felt the words in the shudder that went through the other man. Carry didn’t look away, not even when his cheeks heated up enough to show on his fair skin. It was almost like he couldn’t. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen with us. That’s my job, remember?”
Carry frowned a little, but Keenan shook his head before he could object.
“It’s what I need,” he explained gently. “To take care of you. Not because you aren’t strong enough, because I can’t stand the thought of you being unhappy.”
Carry’s lips trembled like words were about to spill, but he shook himself a little instead and gave a sharp nod into Keenan’s hand before pushing him further back. Not away—he followed right along, never relinquishing his hold on his arms. Then he let go and took Keenan’s hand instead, glancing around the room before tugging him in the direction of what was actually the bathroom.
Keenan laughed. “This way,” he corrected, adjusting their trajectory.
Carry met his eyes, laughter banked in the curve of his lips. “Show me.”
The bedroom was unusually tidy for his standards—although most of the clothes that had been strewn about were now in his laundry basket and the rest were shoved any which way in different sections of his dresser.
But the bed was made up with fresh sheets and all the furniture was straightened, drawers and doors closed tight. He’d had enough time since they’d spoken on the phone and it’d helped to keep busy as he waited, but now he stepped in front of Carry to walk in first just so he could check one more time.
When he turned back, Carry’s expression was wary and his scent had dimmed a little.
“You smell worried,” he told Keenan, shifting in place. “Is it... I dunno, weird?”
“What? Is what weird?”
Carry’s eyes flickered away. “This. Without heat.”
He’d worried about it—it was hard not to. But the idea hadn’t crossed his mind since he’d opened the door. “No. I was—” He paused and rolled his eyes at himself. “I was worried it wasn’t neat enough.”
Carry glanced around like he’d just noticed the room existed at all. “It looks very tidy,” he offered. A minute earlier he’d seemed ready to devour Keenan with little regard for such trivialities as breathing, now he had barely crossed the doorway.
Keenan gave him a nod, then walked back the few steps until the back of his legs found the bed and let himself fall down with a bounce. He looked back at Carry, an invitation he hoped he didn’t need to voice.
After a beat, Carry stepped on his right shoe to get it off. Keenan didn’t move, watching him use his feet to remove his socks like it was a strip-tease of sorts, even when Carry stumbled a little in place. It might be, he thought. Carry had asked to do whatever they felt like, and maybe what he felt like was being naked.
Keenan wasn’t that lucky, though, because his lover stopped after the socks and took a tentative step closer, glancing down as if he was afraid he’d step on something.
Keenan couldn’t hold back anymore, he extended a hand. Carry didn't make him wait, he strode forward, throwing himself forward even as Keenan pulled him closer.
He couldn’t have said who’d kissed whom, only that their mouths had reunited like it’d been months instead of minutes and refused to part again. His neck hurt from tilting his head back to meet Carry as he stood but he remembered to only tug at his shirt instead of dragging him into his lap. Carry went for it, spreading his legs on either side of Keenan’s thighs and humming in satisfaction as he found himself sitting on top of Keenan’s erection. He was burning up in Keenan's arms, his sides soft but firm under Keenan's hands, and his mouth kissing him hard again like he’d remembered there were no limits, nowhere he needed to stop, that he could have every inch of Keenan’s body if he wanted.
He shifted his hips to press his own hard-on to Keenan’s belly and Keenan heard him grunt. The second push was enthusiastic enough to send Keenan falling backwards. He managed to put down a hand and Carry put down his own to keep himself from crushing Keenan. He was panting and red faced on top of him, aroused and beautiful and smelling sweet and spicy. And in control. Keenan could recognize his own lingering hesitation in his blue eyes—maybe it was the bond, even though they'd both dialled it down to a sensible four after their initial revelation.
"Okay," Carry declared and Keenan's heart almost stopped when he started shuffling backwards and off the bed.
He didn't panic for long because when he managed to sit back up Carry was already pulling his shirt over his head. He started to get rid of his own, but forgot about his trousers when Carry lowered his own zip and pulled on the waistband of his underwear.
His cock was visible through the cotton, engorged and leaking, before he just shoved everything off. He glanced up then, probably feeling Keenan's regard—he certainly couldn't be unaware of the effect he was having—and whatever he saw on his face made him stumble a little. His red cheeks were visible even in the low light of the bedroom, curtains half-drawn and light switches forgotten.
"Are you just going to watch?" Carry asked in a half-strangled whisper. He was standing straight, tall and proud, as he should be: because he wa
sn't just beautiful, he was strong. He'd made himself strong.
It took a lot of strength for Keenan to get to his own feet and force his eyes down so he could discard his trousers and boxers without losing his balance. Carry was watching, which was a temptation he could barely resist with the promise of what was to follow.
Carry didn’t resist. His hand closed on Keenan’s hip when he still had one foot trapped in his trousers and he met Keenan’s eyes with eyes that burned. “Step aside,” he demanded and Keenan realised he must have been holding the trousers down with his own feet. He did as he was told and found himself naked with Carry right in front of him.
It barely felt like moving when they finally came together again—lips to lips, hot enough to burn and moving against each other like they could read each other's mind for real. Keenan couldn’t have put words to even his own thoughts, not with the rasp of Carry’s chin against his ear and his hands travelling down his back to cup his arse.
Carry made a sound, which could have equally been frustration or lust if the way he’d just shoved his hard dick against Keenan’s thigh was anything to go by, and pushed him back, stumbling into him. “Bed,” he clarified.
Keenan’s reflexes were barely enough for the task, but the reward was plentiful; Carry’s weight on him and millimetre upon millimetre of their skin sliding together, Carry’s tongue licking a long line across his throat and finally his knee bent between Keenan’s legs, right against his balls. And then, like the cherry to a perfect pie, Carry reached between their bodies and aligned their cocks together before trapping them between the sweaty skin of their bellies—the sensation and the idea of them rutting together almost intense enough to send him over the edge at the first thrust of his hips.
“Carry,” he panted, a plea for he didn’t know what.
Carry didn’t take it seriously, rubbing their cheeks together like he couldn’t resist the feeling of Keenan’s skin against his. “Mmm?”
“I’ll come.”
His lover laughed, the sound travelling through his skin like electricity and a moment later Carry’s foot was sliding under his own, hooking their legs together more securely and increasing the pressure on both their cocks.