by Max Walker
“Oh no. No, I’m okay.”
I cocked my head, smiling. “Just one dance.”
Beckham never put up a fight with me. “All right, one dance.” He held my hand as we weaved through the crowd, heading toward the empty dance floor. The second we stepped onto the floor, the DJ switched up the song from a Nicki Minaj hit to a slow-dance tune, the energy perceptibly shifting toward us.
Beckham looked at me, terror in his eyes. I grabbed his hands, confidence in my steps, and I started to dance, slowly. I could tell he was nervous at first, all his movements stiffer than a robot cosplaying as a human. He started to loosen up, though, his gaze honing in on me, the rest of Stonewall disappearing.
We danced soft circles around the floor, our bodies pressed together, one of my hands on his shoulder, the other in his hand.
He twirled me, surprising even himself when I was pulled back in. I giggled into his chest, smelling his sweet scent, a mixture of woodsy cologne and musky man. Intoxicating.
The music slowed and the dance slowed with it. When it was all over, I looked around to realize that a crowd had formed to watch us.
And they all started to clap. I blushed, waving it all off. Beckham looked slightly mortified but also wore a grin that stretched from ear to ear.
A loud voice cut through the speakers. “Wow, thank you for that beautiful recreation of Beauty and the Silver-Haired Daddy. Disney would be so proud of you two queers. Only if it’s pride month though, so be considerate of the corporations please.”
We all looked to the DJ booth, a mixture of shock turning into a chorus of laughter.
“Yes, bitches, it’s me, Dee Klein, your fabulous and occasionally alcoholic drag queen host for tonight’s Prom-tivities. I was just sucking off the DJ for the past hour and a half, so sorry if I’m a little late. Well, technically I was here. I came, all right! Jeez.” Dee Klein moved around the booth, pointing over her shoulder at the blushing DJ. “And so did he.” She rubbed the corner of her painted bright blue lip, all of us cracking up.
I couldn’t be happier with how the night was playing out. And it wasn’t even just this night, but the past couple of months, too. Everything felt almost too good to be true, like it couldn’t possibly be real. Like I’d wake up any second and be back to square one, back to before I even went to London, before I’d met Beckham.
Except it was all true. Every single part of it: the good and the bad. The slow dances and the drag queens. The friends and the family.
The unbreakable love that connected us.
None of it was a lie.
BECKHAM
God, I couldn’t fucking wait to get Oliver back home behind closed doors.
Don’t get me wrong, I’d had one of the funnest nights of my entire life after the surprise prom he had organized at Stonewall. It was one of the sweetest gestures and totally Oliver, reflecting how big his heart was and how genuine of a soul he had. The music still thumped in my head, and the drag queen had me in stitches by the end of the night. She even performed a couple of numbers that had her dropping to the floor like a rag doll and then picking herself back up again and jumping straight into her dance routine, not missing a single word to the song that played.
It had been a spectacular night.
And it was about to get better.
I fumbled with the keys as Oliver held me from behind, his hands gliding up and down my chest. The key slid into the lock of my door. I pushed it open, a fresh blast of air escaping out into the night. Oliver’s hands were lower now, rubbing over my crotch as he kissed my back.
Like I said, the night was about to get better.
My entire body vibrated with desire. We stepped into my living room and shut the door. Mason and Jar both came to greet us but quickly turned around and fled back to their perches once clothes started flying off.
“Fuck,” I said in a hiss, sucking in Oliver’s breath as he kissed me, both of our clothes lying in a heap on the floor. We were completely naked, our hard cocks pressed together as I walked us toward the couch.
“How’s it feel?” Oliver asked. Now that we weren’t in earshot of a stranger, I could be more honest.
“Like I’ve had something stuck in my ass for the past three hours.” I licked my lips as I pushed Oliver down onto the couch. “And I’ve fucking loved it.”
“Oh yeah?” Oliver, the cheeky little bastard, spit in his hand and started to stroke himself off, slow and wet.
The plug in my ass filled me up. I reached around and moved it around in a swirl, feeling it push against me. Oliver continued to stroke, a drunken haze floating through his sky-blue eyes.
“Turn around for me.”
I loved this side of Oliver. It had been coming out more and more recently. An assertiveness to ask for what he wanted and the confidence to get it. I turned for him and bent over, showing my ass. He leaned forward and grabbed the rim of the silicone plug. He started to move in, in and out. I heard him spit, feeling the wetness lather me up.
Soon, the plug was sliding in and out, my entire body feeling like I’d been placed on a tightrope above the Grand Canyon.
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Play with my ass.” The words fell out of me like gravel. Oliver was taking me to new heights. “That’s it.”
I started pushing back, feeling the plug sliding in and out of me. Oliver moaned, pulling the plug completely out of me, making me gasp loud and cry out for more.
More than the plug—I cried out for Oliver.
“Fuck me, Oliver.”
More spit. I bent over, putting my hands down on the coffee table. I couldn’t wait to get to the bed. I had to have Oliver here and now. It was a desire that spanned eons and couldn’t wait any longer.
Oliver pressed himself against my hole, the pressure different from the plug. It was softer, warmer. I needed to feel the rest of him; I had to feel him slide into me.
“Do it, Olly. Fuck me.”
He needed no more encouragement. He thrust, his dick sinking into me, flooding my vision with ecstasy-fueled explosions. I cried out, harder and louder. My words mumbled and merged. Oliver fucked me hard, holding nothing back, slamming into me with the sole goal to make us one being.
“Sit down,” I said between thrusts. Oliver pulled out of me, making me spasm with pleasure and a hungry need.
A hunger I was about to feed.
Oliver sat down on the couch, legs spread and cock hard, standing up and glistening wet. I smiled, spitting on my fingers and rubbing it over my hole, getting myself soaked before I climbed onto Oliver, straddling him on the couch. My hard dick rubbed against his chest, smearing a trail of precome across the pale, flushed skin.
Oliver craned his head down and flicked his tongue across my slit, driving me wild.
I reached around and grabbed Oliver’s hard length in my hand. I lined him up with my hole and sat back, slowly, taking him in inch by inch, relishing in the feeling of him stretching me open, filling me up.
I sat all the way down, impaling myself on him. My balls were tight against me, my cock bouncing as I started to fuck Oliver, sliding up and down, both of us sounding like animals. I had both hands on the couch, on either side of Oliver’s head.
“Oh God, Beck, that feels so good. Oh God.”
“Yeah? You like fucking me?”
“Mhmm. Yes. I do. I do.”
Our lips met in a lust-filled kiss as Oliver thrust up into me, fucking me harder. He hit me deep, pushing against my swollen P-spot, sending a new set of explosions across my vision. Sweat beaded on my forehead, dripped down my lip.
“Keep going,” I said. “I’m so fucking close.”
“Yeah? Do it. Blow your load all over my chest, Beck.”
“Fuck, keep fucking me.” My hole clenched around him. My cock twitched in the air, come starting to shoot.
“Oh, Beck, you’re gonna make me come.”
Neither of us could get any more words out. Our bodies let loose, our orgasms ripping through us with the force of a
n earthquake strong enough to tear California from the States. I could barely see straight, the orgasm lasting longer than any other, my entire body convulsing as I continued to shoot.
Oliver looked up at me, drenched in come, some of it dripping off his chin, more dripping from his eyebrow. He laughed, breaking down into a red-cheeked fit.
I followed suit. I laughed, too, leaning down and kissing him through chuckles, licking up some of my mess, feeling him grow soft inside me.
We laughed and we kissed and we took our time before getting in the shower. We enjoyed each other in our flushed and brain-fogged states. It felt pure. It felt right.
“I love you, Olly.” I looked into those glowing blue eyes of his, feeling a connection unlike any other. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, Olly. I really love you.”
“I really love you, too.”
I believed his every word. It felt like a true blessing, to have someone I could unconditionally believe. To have someone who I could trust with my entire being. That was Oliver, and I would never let him go.
“You’re a special one,” I said, the glow of our love shining through me. “My only one.”
I kissed my soul mate then, excited to see what the future had planned for us now that the past wouldn’t come to haunt us any longer.
“Deadass?” Oliver asked with a cheeky grin.
“Deadass,” I repeated, both of us laughing as we got up from the couch and went to the shower, Oliver playfully slapping my ass along the way.
THE END.
Thank You
Thank you for reading LIE WITH ME. If you enjoyed the conclusion to Olly and Beckham’s story then consider leaving a review!
Looking for more great books? Keep reading for a sneak peak at ENDLESS STRETCH OF BLUE, by Riley Hart! I absolutely fell in love with this book and have no doubts you will too.
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Max Walker
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Endless Stretch of Blue by Riley Hart
Lorenzo Moretti and Damon Blackwell have never met, but they're tied together by the same tragedy. They were both there that night. They each lost someone they loved. They've been living as shells of their former selves ever since. Running into each other and realizing their shared pasts? Pure serendipity.
Being together is a tingle at the base of Enzo's spine, a comfort that settles into Damon's bones. No one understands what they went through the night the club caught fire--until now. For the first time, they have someone to lean on, someone who knows all the right things to say and when to say nothing at all. Neither of them has been with another man before, but their shared connection grows from friendship and explodes into something more, something raw and desperate and real. Now, they're dealing not only with their pasts, but their new relationship, the one thing that calms their internal storms.
Enzo and Damon might not know much else, but with every touch, with every word, and every night spent exploring each other's bodies, they know they're in love. They keep each other going, show each other what happiness really is.
But love alone can't get them through. Damon and Enzo must decide if they really have what it takes to work through their trauma and fight for the happily ever after that's waiting just on the horizon.
PROLOGUE
Enzo
“How are things going, fratello?” Enzo’s brother, Ricky, asked as they sat at the restaurant together having dinner. Outside of sauce every Sunday at their parents’ house, Enzo rarely saw Ricky. It had been about two months since they had one-on-one time together. To some that wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was to Ricky. He liked to keep an eye on Enzo, check in with him, as though Enzo didn’t know how to run his own life. He wasn’t perfect like Ricky, but he did okay. Yeah, he hadn’t always made the right decisions, mostly in his teen years, and yeah, he was a little wilder than his older brother, but it pissed Enzo off that Ricky felt like it was his job to keep him on track.
Because he was automatically off track since he hadn’t gone into the Marines after college the way Ricky and their dad had, and at twenty-nine he hadn’t married and had no fucking plans to settle down anytime soon.
Finally, Enzo shrugged. “Good. How are things supposed to be? I work, hang out, hook up. That’s about it. Is there supposed to be something wrong?”
Ricky chuckled. “No, but you know it’s my job as your older brother to check in with you.”
No, no, it wasn’t, but as soon as that thought hit him, he felt guilty about it. Ricky was a good brother, even if he was perfect and everyone knew it. He’d always been there for Enzo, and there wasn’t really anyone he depended on the way he did Ricky. He was close with his sister Isabella too, but it was different with Izzy, and he didn’t know why. He figured Ricky judged him more than Izzy did. He’d never been close with his sister Sophia, although they loved each other; they had nothing in common. She was close with Ricky though.
“Have you found another job yet?” he asked before taking a bite of his steak.
That right there was the whole point of this dinner, and Enzo knew it. He was a carpenter and worked for several contractors. One in particular that he often had jobs with had just moved out of the area. He found small jobs here and there on his own, but none of the other contractors he worked with had anything for him at the moment, so of course Ricky would worry.
“Nah, but it’s okay. I’m looking, and I’ve picked up some small gigs on my own. I’ll be okay.”
“I was thinking I could talk to my buddy—”
“No.” Enzo cut Ricky off before the conversation could go any further. He was a grown-ass man. He was good at what he did. He liked what he did. He didn’t need Ricky swooping in to try and save him. “I got this. I can figure it out on my own.”
“Well, Ma was thinking you might want to get into something else… something a little more stable? There’s this program where—”
“I said no,” Enzo replied, more sharply that time. Jesus, couldn’t they let him be? He didn’t want another career. What he did was good enough for him. He wasn’t a suit like Ricky was. He couldn’t imagine going into an office every day; it wasn’t his thing and never would be. What he couldn’t figure out was, why wasn’t that ever enough?
The truth was, he wasn’t sure Ricky cared that much. He didn’t know if they would be having this conversation if his mom hadn’t mentioned it, because no matter what Enzo did, it was never enough for her. He would never live up to the example Ricky set for him.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything at all. You know what you’re doing, and you know where to go if you need my advice.”
“Thanks, fratello.” It wasn’t often that Enzo called him brother in Italian the way Ricky did, and the fact that he did made Ricky smile.
“You know it’s just because we love you, right?”
He believed that, believed his brother loved him. “Yeah, I know.”
“We want you to be happy.”
Enzo frowned. “I’m happy.” But even as he said it, the word was bitter on his tongue. He was happy, wasn’t he? There was no reason for him not to be. Sure, the job thing, but Enzo knew he would find something. He had his own house and friends and family. He liked to have fun, maybe spent too many nights in bars or going home with women, but he was young and single, so why shouldn’t he?
“Are you?” Ricky asked as if he could read Enzo’s thoughts. “Sometimes I think you are… and sometimes it feels like you only think you are. You’re restless. Like you’re looking for something.”
He scoffed, while feeling something strange twitch in his chest. “Are you all-knowing now or what? You can
read my mind? I’m fine, Ricky. Just because I didn’t make the same choices in life you did, doesn’t mean I’m restless or looking for something.” But he had always felt a sort of emptiness, this piece of himself that never felt like he fit in, especially with his own family. Ricky had followed in their dad’s footsteps. Sophia was just like their mom. Izzy found her own way, but she seemed much more settled in it than Enzo did.
There was a part of him that didn’t quite feel complete, but he didn’t know what else he could be missing.
“Okay,” Ricky replied, but Enzo could tell he didn’t believe him. Still, he wanted to be done with this conversation.
“How’re Ellie and the kids doing?”
Ricky went off about his wife and children, just like Enzo knew he would. Still, he couldn’t keep his mind off what Ricky had said to him.
When their meal was finished, they paid and began walking down the street toward their vehicles. It was a cooler April night in Oceanside, the wind off the water giving a chill to the air.
There was music up ahead of them—Ultra, a club Enzo had been to from time to time. “Hey, let’s go have some fun.” He nodded toward the old warehouse where the club was.
“You know that’s not really my scene. Hell, I don’t remember the last time I went to a club or a bar—probably when Ellie and I first started dating.”
“Come on, Ricky, let’s do it.”
“I should probably get home to Ellie and the kids,” his brother replied. He looked just like their father—tawny skin, black hair, a slender nose.
“You can still have fun. Being married doesn’t mean you can’t go out with your brother. We never do something like this.” He didn’t know why he was pushing so much. Ricky could just go home, and Enzo could go out. He’d probably have more fun that way. And if he did happen to meet someone he wanted to go home with, he wouldn’t feel as guilty about it, wouldn’t feel like he was fucking up because he didn’t want to be married with kids like his brother.