by Nicky James
Once he complied, I shuffled down between his legs and entertained myself sucking his dick. When he was moaning and rocking his hips, forcing himself deeper into my throat, I coated a few fingers in lube and encouraged him to lift his legs.
Before I plunged in, I swiped my tongue over his entrance, and he almost came off the bed.
“Holy fucking shit!” His fist clasped the bedding like a lifeline. “Are you kidding me?”
I did it again, and the cry that left him was music to my ears. “I take it no one’s ever done this to you before.”
“I think I’d remember,” he said through gritted teeth with his eyes pinched so tightly closed I nearly laughed. “By all means, don’t fucking stop.”
I chuckled and kept up the assault until the threat of him coming was real. Returning my attention to his dick, I pressed a finger inside him. He clenched instinctively but then relaxed.
Impressively, he took two fingers without flinching. I took my time, monitoring his reactions and aching to take him.
Three fingers made him cringe and suck air between teeth, but with coaxing, he blew out a breath and found a rhythm with me.
When I thought he’d had enough, I climbed up his body and kissed him raw while I blindly coated myself with lube. My dick hurt it was so strained. I needed inside him. But I also needed to keep control and not fuck him so hard and ruthlessly he never wanted this again.
“How you doing?” I asked, breaking from his mouth. His lips were red and slightly swollen.
“Never been better. How about you quit coddling me and fuck me already.”
“Mouthy bastard.”
I lined up, leaning heavily on one of his raised legs for balance and stared into his eyes.
“Bear down. It will hurt, but it will pass. Try not to clench.”
“Fuck, just do it.”
So I did. Monitoring his reactions, I entered him. Slowly, pausing every few seconds to let him adjust, but I didn’t stop until I bottomed out. His fingers dug painfully into my glutes, and his eyes were wild, but he didn’t move or breathe for a good minute.
“You okay?”
He opened his mouth, and I waited for the smart-ass comment, but he snapped it closed again and nodded.
Distracting him, keeping my hips still—even though it went against every urge burning inside me—I kissed along his collarbone and up over the thrashing pulse in his neck. When I got to his ear, I whispered, “I’m gonna move. Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
Carefully, I rocked my hips, pulling out a fraction and gliding back in again. After a few shallow thrusts, I withdrew farther, plunging in with a little more force. Beck groaned and cursed against my ear.
“Fuck, Gray. This is… fuck…”
I sucked his lobe into my mouth and flicked it with my tongue. The more I moved, the more he relaxed. Within a few minutes, he was encouraging me on, driving me back into his body each time I left it.
I propped myself on an arm and changed our angle which was all it took for Beck’s eyes to bug out of his head. “Oh my… fuuuuck! Oh shit, that’s really fucking good. Keep doing that. Right there.”
It was my intent.
From that point on, everything outside Beck and me slipped away. As one, we moved, taking and giving pleasure. Sharing gasps, pants, and moans. His thick curls stuck to his forehead when he arched his back and extended his neck. I licked over his Adam’s apple and drove my tongue into his mouth, stealing the sweet noises spilling out one on top of another.
“Gray… Oh… I need to come…”
“Touch yourself. Let me feel you come on my dick, then I’m gonna fill your ass. You like that?”
“Yeeess….” His words jarred with our movements.
He moved a hand to stroke himself. Lips parted, no longer able to kiss, we raced together to that frantic, mind-numbing end. I was close and craved that sensation of his orgasm squeezing around me.
He didn’t deprive me long. Within a second, he was there. It was explosive. Beck’s voice cracked on a cry as he spilled between us. His ass grabbed me so hard I thought I’d black out from the pleasure as my own orgasm took me soaring a minute later.
When everything had been feeling so wrong in my life, that moment couldn’t have felt more right. It was everything I’d dreamed it would be and more.
I didn’t want to leave his body. Collapsing on top of him, we lay still for a long time, our pounding hearts beating as one.
“You okay?” I asked, barely able to form words.
“You really should have told me about your little crush when we were fifteen. We could have been doing this for years.”
I chuckled and hugged him closer.
Later, after we’d cleaned up, we snuggled together in bed. Against his wishes, I made him the little spoon, crushing him against me as I brushed my nose along his hairline, letting his curls tickle my face. I breathed him in and nuzzled into his neck.
Beck had tried to turn off the bedside light, but I’d stilled his hand. Darkness was still too uncomfortable and threatening. Maybe that would never change, but I held onto hope that it would.
“Move in with me,” I said, tracing the curve of his neck with my tongue.
He shifted, trying to look over his shoulder. “Move in with you?”
“Yeah. Why not?”
He settled back in my arms, pressing his ass snug against my groin. “I’d drive you crazy.”
“You’ve always driven me crazy. That’s why I’m asking.”
He chuckled. “What about my apartment? I come with four pets and a shit load of stuff. I’m practically a hoarder, you know.”
“Admitting it is the first step toward recovery.”
He pinched my thigh, and I yelped, laughing. “I’m serious. You could use the extra storage room at the shop, and I could get used to this.”
I wedged my semi-hard dick against his crack, locking my arms around his chest.
“You realize, if I move in here, you’re stuck with me forever. That’s a long time.”
“I’ve loved you for a long time already, and I want to love you for a long time more.”
“Well, since you put it like that…”
I chuckled and tipped his head around so I could kiss him. My Beckett. The boy I’d always loved. My best friend. It was nothing short of perfect.
Even forever wouldn’t be enough.
Epilogue
Beckett- Three months later
I pulled onto the long driveway leading to what was now Gray’s and my house. Construction had been completed a month and a half ago. Just in time for fall to move in. The leaves reflected various hues of orange, red, and brown in the setting sun. They crunched under the car’s tires and floated on the breeze as the trees shed. In the sky hung clouds, heavy with the coming rain.
They were calling for thunderstorms, and I’d prepared for a rocky evening. Gray didn’t do well with bad weather. Watching the weather report that morning was enough to trigger all kinds of reactions, and I’d almost stayed home.
Most days, he did well. He’d returned to work on a part-time basis and was teaching a class at the gym once a week for people looking to regain strength after an amputation. It was a small class, but it gave him a sense of pride and accomplishment in being able to help other people who were struggling.
I parked beside his truck and killed the engine. As I approached the house, I studied the sky, imagining what it must have been like on that night almost eight months ago when Gray had suffered his accident.
I shuddered, hating how the mere thought was enough to make me nauseous. A few more hours under that house and Gray may not have survived. If he hadn’t survived, I’d be paddling on with life without my best friend, oblivious to what we could have had.
I enter the front door and shed my coat and shoes before dropping my keys in a bowl. The house was quiet when I strained, listening for any indication of where Gray might be at.
“Gray?” I called, wandering toward the kitchen.
&
nbsp; It was nearing dinner, so I thought he might be cooking. He wasn’t there. I found him in the dining room, hunched over the table, scribbling on papers. My chest constricted when his fingers flew to his phone and punched the power button, lighting up the screen. His wristwatch sat beside him.
It’d been over a month since I’d caught him recording time like this. It was a form of obsessive-compulsive behavior Dr. Kelby explained was Gray’s way of holding onto control when he felt it slipping. However, the action in itself was unhealthy and something we were trying to break him of.
“Gray?”
His head jerked up, and his expression changed from surprise to shame to embarrassment as he swept the papers into a pile and began balling them up.
“Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You shouldn’t be doing that.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Gray’s gaze flashed to the window. His fingers inched toward his phone, and he drew it nearer.
“I’m not doing so hot today.” His gaze flitted back to me a second before refocusing on the window.
“I see that. It’s the storm. I know.”
“I’ve just… all day I keep thinking… what if the power goes out? What if my phone dies? Or my watch breaks.”
I approached the table cautiously and pulled out a seat beside him. “The passage of time doesn’t change just because we don’t have a means of checking it, remember? Time is constant. It won’t speed up, and it won’t slow down.”
“And it won’t stop. I know. Tell that to my head. Tell that to my heart because it’s been pounding out of control all day.”
“Can I have your watch and phone?” I asked.
He sometimes needed intervention when it came to his obsessive behavior. He couldn’t always talk himself into logically stopping. It was my job to intervene if that happened—something he’d agreed to go along with at a session we’d attended together.
“I’ll put them both in my pocket. They will be safe.”
“I’ll put them in my pocket. I’ll be okay. I just… need them on me in case…” His gaze turned back to the window.
In case a tree fell and trapped him again. In case he got stuck somehow and couldn’t get free. His struggles were ongoing, and might never go away completely, but he fought, and he tried, and he listened—even if it wasn’t always easy.
He pushed the wadded ball of papers at me before stuffing his phone and watch in his pants pocket.
“I was only writing for about forty minutes. Not all day. That’s not bad, right?”
“That’s not bad. Better than last time.” I didn’t bother mentioning that the only reason he’d probably stopped was because I’d interrupted. “Besides this, how was your day?”
Gray cracked his neck and shrugged. “I thought more about that group therapy thing Dr. Kelby wanted me to try.”
“And?”
Apparently, Dr. Kelby had started running a group session one night a week for all her phobia patients who signed up to attend a seminar she was putting on in the spring. It was a large group. Sixteen patients in total if Gray decided to attend. He’d been unsure how he felt about it. Although he’d agreed to take part in her study, talking about his struggles with strangers didn’t appeal to him.
“I think I’ll try it. The odd session can’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I have to talk. I can listen until I feel more comfortable.”
“That’s true.”
“I just wish you could go with me.”
“It’d be good for you to meet a few other people who will be at this seminar next year. And I’ll come to the seminar with you. Then you can introduce me.”
“Maybe.”
I thought it would do him a world of good knowing he wasn’t alone out there. Plenty of people struggled with anxiety disorders and phobias. Gray just needed to see it for himself. He was beginning to, and I was so proud of him.
I took his hand and leaned in to kiss him, but I paused when something on the other side of the table caught my eye. Before our lips connected, I changed trajectory and leaned over the table farther to try and comprehend what I was seeing.
“Um… Why is Ringo leashed and tied to the table?”
The cat was shooting lasers between us. His fur bristled with his anger. I wasn’t sure I’d seen him look that pissed off before in all the years I’d had him.
“Oh! George got free, and I couldn’t catch him. It was a circus in here. That fucker is faster than you think. Ringo chased him everywhere while I tried to stop the mutiny. I don’t have the nimble abilities of cat or bird, and George had a death wish, teasing and taunting him. I got my hands on Ringo first, so I tied him up and figured you could chase the damn bird down and get him back in his cage.”
I glared at Ringo. “Seriously, dude? Did you try to eat George?”
Ringo hissed and tried to launch at me, but the necktie Gray had used to restrain him pulled tight and stopped him, choking off his warning.
“Okay then. Where did you last see the bird?”
“Upstairs.”
“Wish me luck.” That time, I took the kiss and patted Gray’s cheek before heading into the house in search of George. For as smart as that damn bird was, he could be pretty stupid sometimes.
I scanned the living room as I went, keeping my eyes peeled for flashes of green feathers. Nothing. As I passed the fish tank, I noted John and Paul swimming about innocently.
“You guys seen George?” I asked, tapping their glass and peeking behind the tank at the dark space beyond.
The filtration system hummed and gurgled, but there was no bird in sight.
I took the stairs two at a time and slinked into our bedroom, checking under the bed, the dresser, and inside the closet. Nothing. I flicked the light on in the bathroom. I checked behind the toilet, inside the cabinet, in the shower stall and in every crevice a bird could fit.
Nothing.
I wandered toward the guest room, checking behind the furniture that sat in the hallway. With my antiques, Gray’s house had filled up, and George had any number of places he could hide.
“George?” I called before whistling a few bars of his favorite song. “You are taking a huge risk running free like this. Cats loved to eat birds, and Ringo has had it out for you for years. He’s plotted this day. Waited patiently for you to get too cocky. This will not end well for you buddy, and you know it.”
Lightning flashed outside the windows. The sky had darkened, and the storm was closer. Thunder boomed overhead a few seconds later, and Gray called out.
“Beck?”
“One more room to check. Be right back.”
I flattened myself on the floor to peek under the spare bed in the smaller bedroom but couldn’t see anything. I cocked an ear and listened.
“I see him!” Gray yelled from downstairs. “He’s down here. Come quick!”
I darted from the bedroom and flew to the stairs just as the sky brightened again with a series of strobing flashes. The sky opened up, and the rain fell in sheets, battering the window pane. In the next second, a crack of thunder filled the air, and the lights went out.
All hell broke loose. It was Armageddon.
Gray hollered a cry from downstairs, it was shrill and laced with something I couldn’t pinpoint. Pain? Surprise? Fear? Then a cat hissed, meowed and shrieked nearly as loudly. In my mind, I envisaged bird feathers flying through the air like in the cartoons.
I ran, tripping and stumbling down the stairs in the dark, almost breaking my neck. I made it to the ground floor and blinked into the dark living room, wishing my eyes would adjust so I could see what the fuck was happening.
“Gray?” I yelled.
There was a scuffle going on, but I couldn’t see it. Cat and human cries filled the air. A battle was taking place, but I didn’t know who was where or how. A flash of something small moved by my foot, and I knew it was George. I lunged, landed on my stomach, and scrambled after him as he darted toward the dining room.
“You fucker! Get back here!”
Something crashed ahead of me. My foot caught on a cord near the wall, and when I tugged it free, another something crashed behind me. I barreled on in the dark, crawling on hands and knees, following the hint of green feathers hopping away.
In the dining room, a blur of action confused the moment, and my gaze darted from a scuttle under the dining room table to the damn bird hightailing it directly into the fray.
I didn’t think. I didn’t know what was happening with Gray or Ringo, or anything for that matter. All I knew was that George would be dinner if he made it anywhere near where Ringo was restrained.
I reached blindly to the top of the wall unit nearby. There was a planter on top which contained some special indoor plant that Gray had been growing and grooming meticulously for years. But this was an emergency, and it was the closest container on hand. I upended it, shaking the dirt and plant debris onto the floor, and in one swift motion, slammed it over the darting flash of green bird the second it was lit up with the next flash of lightning.
Thunder boomed, and in the next second, something flew over my head in the dark, and I ducked, feeling the breeze of whatever it was brush my hair. I listened as nails skittered across the hardwood floor and up the stairs to the second level.
Silence. Nothing but the rain pelting the roof.
“Gray?”
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck just happened?”
“Um… The thunder scared the cat. He flipped out and tried to climb me like a tree. We battled. I lost. He broke free. I tried to hold him. I lost again. You?”
“I caught the bird, but your plant didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”
Lightning flashed again and highlighted Gray’s face. He was lying on his back under the table next to me. There were multiple bleeding gashes across his cheek from where the cat got him, but his chest bounced as he laughed.
“That was the most fucked up thing I’ve ever experienced in my life,” he said when he caught his breath.
“Yeah. What the fuck?!”
We didn’t move. George scratched under the planter and squawked, blaming Ringo as always.
“Dude,” Gray said, tapping the overturned plastic container. “You are not innocent this time. You can stay under there and think about what you did.”