by A. M. Arthur
A chorus of agreements and cheers went up. I contemplated bolting out the door. Ryan retrieved me before I could, dragging me by the elbow to stand near the laptop. His amusement at doing this to me was nothing compared to my sudden case of knee-shaking stage fright. Rehearsals were one thing, and maybe these were a bunch of high school kids, but they were strangers. My brain blanked out, and I couldn’t think of a single song.
“Any preferences?” Ryan asked. “Broadway? Pop music? Tribal chants?”
I gave him a withering glare, then hip-checked him away from the laptop. Someone behind me giggled. I searched until I found what I wanted. I’d always loved Miss Saigon, and I thought the song was fitting after Ryan’s performance. I hoped he got it.
The soft strains of “Why, God, Why?” began to play over the speakers on an orchestral arrangement, and I put the churning, mixed-up feelings I had for Ryan into my voice. The lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but they were sung by a man who’d found love he didn’t expect in a war-torn place he was preparing to leave behind. My voice broke a little on the final few notes, because I’d reached without warming up.
The students cheered anyway, and I blushed bright red, a little out of breath from the performance. Ryan slammed the laptop shut with surprising force, his face bizarrely blank. I hadn’t expected hugs and kisses, but I’d hoped for more than the neutral look he turned onto the cluster of students.
“Okay, guys, pair up with your fundraiser partner and start brainstorming songs,” he said. “I want your final decisions next week, so we can start getting music and costumes together.”
“Are you going to have a duet prepared too, Mr. Sanders?” one of the few boys in the class asked. “You and Mr. Langley?”
It sounded strange for a kid maybe five years younger than me to call me Mr. Langley. Ryan glanced at me, then nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“Excellent.”
I stifled a groan.
They broke apart and scattered around the room. Some left completely, so I guess class was officially over. I hung back while Ryan packed the laptop and speakers into a black bag, which he slung over his shoulder—his stuff, apparently. For a split second, I thought he was going to walk right past me, and I panicked. I didn’t know what I’d done to bring out this silent, stoic side of him, and I didn’t like it.
He stopped, thank God, and he smiled. “You wanna grab some hoagies for lunch, then go back to my place and pick out a song for our duet?”
Hope hit me hard in the chest. “Is Ellie home?”
“Working all night.”
“Then definitely.”
“Okay.”
We left my car in front of his building, then took his a few miles to my favorite deli. His, too, since the man behind the counter greeted Ryan by name. He ordered “the usual,” which turned out to be chicken salad with provolone, on a wheat roll with sweet peppers and black olives. I ordered a boring turkey and mustard, with lettuce and tomato. My stomach was still weird from singing earlier, and I wasn’t entirely calm about Ryan, either. Something was still off.
I let him get away with the brooding until we were safely inside his apartment, packing away the sandwiches, sodas, and bags of chips we’d bought. I managed three-quarters of my hoagie, and then had to stop before I made myself sick. Ryan was almost finished with his when I ambushed him. “What did I do?”
He put down the last bite of his hoagie and looked right at me from across the kitchen island. “Why’d you pick that song?”
“Because I knew it, and I wanted to sing something with meaning. I had to follow up to ‘Santa Fe,’ remember?”
“But a song about sleeping with a girl who changes your life? About being confused?”
I blinked hard as my mind went racing. No wonder he was hurt. “Wait, that’s not what I meant, Ryan, not even close. For me, that song is about finding something you didn’t expect to ever have and not wanting to lose it because of your circumstances.”
The wall Ryan had put between us an hour ago dissolved with my words, and he visibly relaxed. His shoulders slumped, and his jaw loosened, allowing him to smile more easily. “Well, good,” he said. “I like that interpretation a sight better.”
“And I like you smiling and at ease better. I’m sorry you got the wrong idea.”
He lifted one shoulder. “Habit, I guess.”
“Then let me make sure you don’t have any other wrong ideas. I don’t regret a single thing we did the other night, Ryan Sanders. Not a thing, and I’d like to do all of them with you again. Repeatedly.”
Heat flared in his eyes, and his expression went fierce, predatory. My insides flipped. Arousal surged in my blood, and blood surged into my dick. He’d held back before and let me lead. He hadn’t wanted to spook me, and in hindsight I’d appreciated the self-control. I didn’t want him to censor himself, though, not with me. Not ever with me.
“Sucking your cock was the fucking hottest thing I’ve done in my life,” I said.
His reaction didn’t disappoint—flaring nostrils, tense shoulders, fingers gripping the countertop like he’d fly over it if he let go. Ryan kept his emotions bottled up around me. He’d done it for years, probably because he’d loved me longer than I’d loved him—romantically, at least. He wasn’t getting away with it anymore.
“You done eating?” I asked.
“Done eating lunch.”
The idea that he’d be eating something else made my knees tremble with want. I knew what he meant. I might have stayed firmly in the closet, but I knew how to use the Internet.
You can’t go back from this.
I pivoted on my heel and stripped off my T-shirt as I walked across the living room. I had no idea which bedroom door belonged to Ryan, but he lived with a girl so I aimed for the door farthest from the bathroom. Ryan growled something, and then I was being spun around and crowded into the wall between the two doors. He braced his hands on either side of my shoulders and leaned close enough that I felt his body heat. Hot breath feathered over my cheek an instant before he captured my mouth in a burning kiss.
I may not remember our first kiss, but I’ve remembered every kiss since, and they got better, more intense, each time. His whole body got into the act, pressing me into the wall while his tongue swept into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, threaded my hands in his hair. He worked his right thigh between my legs, pressed against my erection, and I whimpered. Felt so good.
He lifted my left leg up around his hip, then raised me up off the damned floor, pinning me to the wall with his hands under my thighs, and his hips grinding into my groin. Cock to cock, mouths sealed, and it was fantastic. I locked my ankles above his ass, tightened my fingers in his hair. He kissed me harder, thrust his hips more brutally.
God, I could come like this, from dry humping against the damned wall.
Shocking me with his strength, Ryan stepped back from the wall and carried me into his room. He deposited us both onto his messy bed, in the same position, and he ground his jeans-clad cock into mine, like he was fucking me with his clothes on. I bit on his earlobe, because he’d liked that the first time, and he made that fantastic noise—something softer than a growl, but more than a simple moan. A needy noise I loved hearing.
“Need you,” Ryan said, his voice a harsh whisper.
“You’ve got me, always.”
“Then get your fucking clothes off, hoss.”
Shit, I felt that order in my balls. He sat up and began to strip. I got lost in watching him expose long swaths of smooth, tanned skin stretched over hard, developed abs and pecs. His arms were amazing, strong without being overly muscled. He got naked while I watched, thrilled that he was mine, like he always should have been.
Like he always had been, even while we were apart.
He wasn’t happy standing by the bed in his full, nude glory, while I still had my jeans and sneakers on. And I didn’t give a damn.
I slid off the bed, to my knees, and I took his dick i
n my mouth. A sharp, clean flavor burst on my tongue—something I would forever associate with Ryan—as I licked and sucked the satin skin, while my right hand worked his shaft. Fingers tangled in my hair, tight enough to feel it, but not enough to hurt. Never in my life had I imagined I would like sucking cock this much, or that I’d get on my knees for someone so easily. But this was Ryan and everything we did together was great. Right. Perfect.
I took him as deeply as I could manage before gagging. One day I’d figure out the deep-throat thing, but not tonight. Tonight I wanted Ryan to lose it, and me gagging all over him was just not sexy. I got my other hand in on the action by massaging his nuts, which made the fingers in my hair tighten. He was grunting and huffing, and his attempt to be quiet about this was ticking me off. I slid my middle finger back behind his balls, searching for a smooth spot I’d read about.
There. I rubbed his perineum, and he thrust into my mouth hard enough to slam my own fist into my teeth. I kept pressure on that spot, loving the way his thighs were trembling. Every exhale was harsh and strained. I angled my head to look up. He was watching me, eyes half closed, mouth open. When our eyes met, his expression of utter bliss shifted into danger.
He was so damned fast. Ryan had me on my back on the bed and was kissing the shit out of me before I registered that I’d lost control of the situation. He kissed and licked his way down my chest, pausing to briefly bite my nipples, then swirled his tongue into my navel. He tugged at my jeans like they offended him, and he cursed them when my sneakers got tangled. I laughed at the absurdity of it all while he divested me of the rest of my clothes.
Then he was looming over me, nudging my legs apart, and his mouth was on my dick, sucking me down. I shouted at the sheer pleasure of it, hot and wet and tight. He sucked me hard, like he had something to prove, and I let him. I let him hike my knees up over his shoulders and tilt me back, and I knew what was coming even before he parted my cheeks.
The first touch of his mouth on my entrance sent me into orbit. Every touch and lick and press kept me flying. I don’t know what I said, or if it was a lot of nonsense, but something was ripping out of my throat fast enough to get me breathless, and I didn’t want any of it to stop. My cock oozed pre-come onto my abs. I reached for it, needing pressure there, needing something.
Ryan swatted my hand away with a growled, “Mine,” that made my stomach burn with its simple truth.
That didn’t mean I took orders in bed.
I tried again. He clasped my wrist and pressed it to the bed, so I used my left hand. With a snarl, he lunged. This time he dumped me on my stomach and straddled my waist, somehow managing to get both my wrists above my head, planted on the mattress. His hot, hard cock rode the crease of my ass, and something inside me thrilled at the position. His weight kept me from rubbing my own erection on the blanket, or from giving friction to his.
He leaned down until his chest rested on my back, his face by my left ear. “I told you that was mine.”
“Pretty sure it’s still attached to my body,” I said, because I knew it would annoy him. Shred his control just a little bit more.
He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Maybe so, but you can’t suck your cock nearly as good as I can.” He rocked his hips enough to remind me what was riding my ass. “Can’t do a lot of things without me. I wanna go so many places with you, Adam.”
“I want to go there too, Rye. Only with you.”
“Then you gotta let me lead.”
“I’m not much of a follower.”
He chuffed laughter, his breath warm and moist on my cheek. “I’m getting that.”
“You want control in bed?” I yanked my wrists free of his hold. “Fucking take it.”
I wriggled beneath him, halfway turned over before he got in on the game. He squashed his weight down on me, trapping my legs. I didn’t relent, though. I thrashed and jerked, and it became a wrestling match without any real rules or order. Only bodies moving, rubbing, kissing, touching, and thrusting in an un-choreographed dance that left me exhausted, sweating, and a few good, rough strokes from coming. I didn’t give in, though. Ryan had to take this.
Ryan
I’d grown up with cousins all around me, and we’d been wrestling in the yard since I was three. I got beat up by the bigger kids enough to know how to move and when to give. Adam didn’t seem to know either. I didn’t know what to do with the rebellious streak coming out of Adam tonight, so I figured on wrestling the beast into submission—only he wasn’t giving up easily. I thought sucking his cock and eating his ass would loosen him up, make him relax. Did the goddamn opposite, is what it did, and made him all kinds of defiant.
I didn’t want to break him like a spirited horse, but I needed him to let me lead.
Adam twisted to try and get me on my back. I caught him with an arm around his chest, got another under his leg, and flipped him solidly onto his stomach. I flattened him with my whole body, still holding tight with both hands. The position put the leg I was clutching higher up, opening him to me. I nudged my own leg up to trap his there. He thrashed, but I had a solid grip this time.
“You give up?” I asked, wonderfully breathless.
“Make me.”
The childish response got my blood burning with adrenaline and arousal. He couldn’t move now, and I wanted him begging again. I sucked on my middle finger, getting as much spit on it as I could, then pressed the pad against his entrance. Adam went completely still for three solid heartbeats, and then he bucked—toward me or away, I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me to stop, so I pressed that finger harder against him until it broke through that tight ring of muscle and slid inside.
“Oh, fuck,” Adam panted. “Oh, shit, Rye.”
I worked my finger in to the second knuckle, fueled by his panted curses. Wiggled the finger. Adam’s whole body jerked, so hard he almost bucked me off. I thrust it in and out, moving my body with his so he didn’t get out from under me. Lord, he was tight.
Virgin.
The word should have penetrated more, made me slow down, be gentler. All it did was stoke my need to be his first, his only, to claim him in every way I could. I yanked my finger out, and he jabbered a protest that I shut up by spitting on my fingers again and thrusting two deep into his ass. Adam hollered, an arm flying around to clutch my thigh, my waist, whatever he could grab. I felt it then, the swell of his prostate, and he felt it too when I rubbed. Adam trembled and shook, all his defiance melting into a puddle of need. I kept him flying a while longer, working those fingers in his body until he was out of his mind.
My cock was rock hard, the skin stretched tight and hot, and I needed so badly to know what it felt like to be inside of Adam’s body. He was real close to completely gone, and I wanted to get him there. I wanted to fuck him so much I was blind with it.
I pulled my fingers out and wiped them on the blanket. Turned his head so I could kiss him. It was sloppy and sideways, but also kinda perfect. I shifted my lower body so my cock slid in his crease, down until the head bumped into the back of his balls. We kissed more, harder, tongues and teeth clashing. Adam remained pliant beneath me, tremors still running off him like tiny aftershocks. He hadn’t come, but he’d been damned close.
And he’d finally stopped fighting me.
Everything telescoped in, focusing on a few key things, leaving the rest of the world out. His body under mine, willing and waiting. Our mouths together, giving and taking. I wasn’t holding him down. We were simply there, existing in a perfect moment, caught between intention and reaction.
My body moved, needing something so primal I didn’t understand it. Didn’t try to fight it. I loved Adam. I wanted Adam. I sought a way to show him how much, needing to be part of him in every way, terrified that if I didn’t prove my love now I’d lose him. I couldn’t lose him again.
Adam made a noise in his throat, different from the others. He squeezed my hip, my leg, then wrenched away from our kiss. “Ryan?”
I sought h
is mouth again, needing that connection while my cock pressed against flesh. Flesh that started giving way.
Adam
I got what I’d wanted: Ryan Sanders, broken down, a tangled ball of want and desire that had ceased censoring himself. He’d taken me higher than I ever thought possible, until I couldn’t stand the pleasure searing my skin and brain and nerve endings. We were both on the edge, about to fall, and in the middle of a mind-melting kiss, I pried my eyelids apart far enough to look at Ryan.
He was gone, so lost in passion and lust that I wasn’t entirely sure he still saw me. I couldn’t stop the sound I made, as much from amazement as alarm. And alarm was winning the race. Ryan was moving like a man possessed, driven by instinct, and I didn’t recognize him.
“Ryan?”
He didn’t hear me. His hips moved, the angle changed, and his cockhead pressed against my hole. My stomach clenched. He tried to kiss me again. I turned my head away and twisted my hips. God, I wanted him inside me, but not like this. Not when he was so far gone he didn’t know he was trying to fuck me without lube or a condom.
“Ryan, stop a minute.”
Nothing.
“Ryan, no.”
He froze, muscles bunching, not even breathing for several seconds. Then he was gone, scrambling for the other side of the bed. I twisted around to face him, hunched up by the headboard, understanding widening his eyes. He was coiled tight, one good tap from shattering.
You did that.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Oh my God, Adam, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, babe, I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”
“I almost did. Shit.” He covered his face with both hands, his shoulders trembling.
“But you didn’t.” I crawled up the bed and pulled him into my arms, holding tighter when he tried to pull away. Guilt gnawed at my chest. “You didn’t hurt me. Everything just got kind of intense.”
He stopped fighting my hug and collapsed against me. I wanted to be bigger, so I could hold him and protect him the way he deserved. All I could do was rock him and soothe him while he mumbled a chorus of “I’m sorrys“ against my chest. I kissed his hair, his temple, anyplace I could reach.