by River Jaymes
Dylan seemed to notice Alec hadn’t moved.
“Do you want me to go away?” Dylan said.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Not what I asked. Do you want me to leave?”
Alec wanted lots of things, like Dylan’s lips opening beneath his in a real kiss. To trace that scar on Dylan’s shoulder with his tongue. To feel Dylan come in his mouth without the dulling effects of alcohol. Dylan on all fours, with Alec behind him. Yeah, he wanted a lot of things.
Dylan leaving wasn’t one of them.
“I want you to stay,” Alec said.
Dylan released a breath and rolled onto his stomach, spreading his legs. He folded his arms and planted his forehead on his wrists.
The beautiful sight of Dylan splayed before him in such a vulnerable position made Alec’s fingers clumsy. After two tries, Alec finally flipped the lid to the lube open. Mindful of Dylan’s relative inexperience, Alec applied a generous-to-the-point-of-messy amount of liquid on his fingers. Alec brushed his hole, and Dylan tensed.
Alec leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the scar, tracing the ridge of purple flesh with his lips. “Easy,” he murmured against Dylan’s skin.
And as Alec ran his mouth along the corded muscles of Dylan’s back and stroked the puckered hole with his thumb, Dylan slowly melted, his body going lax. A few minutes passed, and Alec felt confident enough in Dylan’s state to take the next step. He breached the ring of muscle with his finger, and a light shudder ran through Dylan’s body, as malleable in Alec’s arms as he was hard-nosed out of them. Humbling Alec with his trust. Empowering him with such complete submission.
For two years Alec had been happy letting Tyler take control in bed. But this…
Alec knew sex with Dylan didn’t line up with his long-term plans. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. For once Alec wanted everything, wanted to be greedy and careless and rash, despite the fact the need was equal parts scary and exhilarating.
Letting Dylan grow accustomed to the feel, Alec spent more minutes than necessary with just one finger, fucking him slowly. He watched as Dylan’s breathing grew more labored, his arousal obvious. The view left Alec feeling invincible, which only made him more determined to make this good for Dylan.
Alec advanced to two fingers, encouraged when Dylan remained silent, no protest in sight. In fact, Dylan began to thrust his hips against the bed, and the occasional whimper escaped, the sounds barely audible. All that changed when Alec brushed his prostate.
Dylan hissed, and his hands shot forward to grab the headboard. “Jesus,” Dylan groaned, arching his back.
“Feeling okay?”
Dylan’s answer came in the form of a moan, and he tipped his ass up in a silent beg, pushing against Alec’s fingers. Alec smiled. The man might not be much for talking during sex, but the noises that rumbled from his throat were sexier than all the explicit words in the world.
God, too bad last night’s memories were veiled by the buzz of alcohol.
“You’re description didn’t do it justice,” Dylan murmured.
“Description?”
“Prostate.”
Alec had no idea what he’d said last night. But he knew exactly what Dylan was talking about.
“You mean this?” he said, and brushed the sensitive bundle again.
Dylan stiffened and dropped his forehead to the mattress. “God, yes,” he said. “Just…yes.”
With the addition of a third digit, Dylan grew impatient. So Alec increased the pace, and Dylan seemed satisfied. But not for long. Soon the rock of his hips was as much about taking more of Alec’s fingers as seeking friction against the bed.
“Alec,” Dylan whispered hoarsely, his fingers gripping the headboard. “What the hell are you waiting for?”
Need and anticipation pounded through him, and Alec briefly pressed his lids closed. Struggling to rein in his emotions, he applied the condom and some more lube. With one hand he lined up his cock at Dylan’s asshole and, as gently as he could, eased inside.
The taut muscles gripped his cock, remained tight, and then Alec breached the ring, sinking deeper. His eyes nearly crossed from the pleasurable pressure and the heat and damn, damn, damn he needed to get his act together before he completely lost control.
He settled for low, shallow thrusts to get Dylan used to the sensation of being filled beyond capacity, gradually taking more as he increased the pace. Sweat glistened along Dylan’s back. Drawn by the sight, Alec tasted the salt-sweat of his shoulder. He couldn’t see Dylan’s face to gauge whether or not he was hurting. But the silence from Dylan was a change from before.
“Are you in pain?” Alec asked.
“No,” Dylan said, his voice tight. “It’s just not….”
Alec lifted Dylan’s hips, pulling the man to all fours. “On your elbows, Dylan,” Alec said, hand gently pressing on Dylan’s back.
Dylan complied, placing his elbows on the bed, ass high in the air. And, Christ, the sight nearly did Alec in. Once Alec controlled his breathing again, he pulled back, palm pressed between Dylan shoulder blades, and thrust deep.
“There,” Dylan yelped. “Right goddamn there.”
The new angle allowed Alec to hit Dylan’s prostate with almost every stroke. At least Alec thought so because the mewling sounds now escaping Dylan’s mouth with every thrust had the high-pitched, keening sound of one about to blow his load.
“Oh God,” Dylan said with a shaky breath, lowering his face to the bed. “I can’t…”
Everything about Dylan’s position—forehead pressed against the sheets, legs spread—screamed for more. The sight almost pushed Alec over the brink. But the words coming in pants from Dylan’s mouth now left Alec concerned.
“Can’t what?” Alec continued to pump his hips.
Over his shoulder, Dylan looked up at Alec. Eyes wild, cheeks flushed, mouth parted and gasping, Dylan looked like a man on edge. And the vision, the very fact that Alec was the one who could bring Dylan to such a state, thrilled Alec to the core. But the word can’t slipped from Dylan again, bringing Alec back to reality.
Alec pulled back until his erection almost popped free but couldn’t bring himself to withdraw completely. He hated the thought of disappointing Dylan as much as he hated the thought of bringing this to an end.
“Do you want me to stop?” Alec asked.
Sweet Jesus let him say no.
Chapter Seven
Too far gone to mutter a hell no, Dylan reached back and pulled on Alec’s hip until his cock was buried to the hilt. The small bundle of hungry nerves went haywire again, as if they’d been waiting forever for this particular meal, and Dylan’s lids fluttered closed.
God, this was worth the initial discomfort. So friggin’ worth it.
Chest heaving, he kept his hand clamped on Alec, their bodies pressed tight as Dylan fought off the orgasm that threatened to come too soon.
Last night during their grinding session, Alec’s teasing fingers on Dylan’s hole had been a revelation. Between the sensation and Alec’s words, a picture of them in this very position had popped into Dylan’s brain, and he’d instantly shot his load. The fantasy had surprised the hell out of him.
Through the years, he’d enjoyed more than his fair share of blowjobs and rubbing one out with a woman. His past experiences made it easy to write off last night’s pleasurable activities as understandable, even familiar.
But this? Dylan dug his fingertips into Alec’s hip, holding him close. This he’d never considered before.
Dylan finally felt in control enough to groan out the words. “Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”
A breath whooshed from Alec, his hand steadying Dylan at his back.
“Thank God,” Alec rasped out.
And then he began to fuck Dylan in earnest, Alec’s lean hips digging deep, deep, deep.
Dylan’s eyes rolled back. Ditching any pretense of holding it together, he let out a long, low moan of appreciation. Or thanks. Or a ple
a for more. He didn’t know which. And he sure as heck didn’t care. Knuckles tight, Dylan fisted the sheets, now feeling so wide, so open he began to literally beg, blubbering out an embarrassing string of half-formed words.
He liked having Alec surrounding him. On top of him. Pinning him to the bed.
Holding him down.
“I…” Dylan let out a gasp.
Sweat slid down his temple. The intensity threatened to topple him, bigger than anything he’d ever experienced before. His knees grew shaky, his back straining to maintain a position that provided just the right angle for the maximum of pleasure. His muscles screamed for relief. His body screamed for release.
Alec gripped Dylan’s back tight, his hips driving forward with a forceful snap.
And the orgasm hit with a blindsiding blast, stripping Dylan of the last of his strength, and he collapsed. Alec followed him down, pushing up on his arms and ramming Dylan’s ass as he came too. Dylan pulsed and pulsed until he thought his brains had been liquefied and ejected from his body. Gone. Absorbed into the sheets.
Never to be found again.
He couldn’t have blanked out for more than a second or so, but it might as well have been a lifetime. When Dylan came back to his senses, he felt as if he he’d moved away years ago and then tried to return home… a home he’d left behind for so long that everything looked different when he got back.
Alec’s chest pressed against Dylan’s back, their sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other as they both struggled to suck in enough oxygen.
“Jesus, Alec,” Dylan croaked, “you forget to mention the part where I’d feel like I got hit by a speeding semi. A very big speeding semi.” He bit his cheek, hoping he wasn’t about to sound like a total slut. “When can we do that again?”
He felt Alec smile against his neck. “When do you think you’ll recover?”
Dylan gave a tired scoff. “Next week, if—”
The clink of glass on glass came from the living room, and they both froze. Before Dylan could process what the sound meant, Alec had vaulted from the bed, his cock making an impressive exit from Dylan’s ass and causing his muscles to spasm painfully.
Dylan hissed in protest.
“Christ, I’m sorry,” Alec said before crossing to look out the window toward the street. “Noah’s car is here.”
With a groan, Dylan buried his head in his arms. All he wanted was to enjoy the feeling of having the shit kicked out of him sexually before he had to deal with what this meant to his and Alec’s friendship. And now he had to deal with Noah?
The man who’d become Dylan’s foxhole buddy during the battle to keep Rick alive and then during Rick’s slow slip toward death. During those dark days, Dylan would have lost his friggin’ mind without Noah. But Dylan knew their shared history wouldn’t save him from his friend’s opinions.
Dylan reluctantly rolled over and pushed up from the bed, glancing at Alec. For some reason, he didn’t want Alec hearing what Noah was bound to say.
“You go take a shower,” Dylan said, looking around for his clothes. When that failed, he crossed the floor, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and ran it under the tap to clean himself up. “I’ll handle Noah until you get done.”
Dylan knotted a second towel around his waist and waited for Alec to disappear into the shower. Tense, but determined, Dylan padded down the hallway, planning his defense in anticipation of facing his opinionated friend.
After Alec had passed out on the bed last night, Dylan had spent all of thirty minutes on the computer Googling bisexuality before giving up. He’d started out curious. Twenty-five minutes later, he’d been struggling not to freak the fuck out. He’d gone from a small sliver of self-doubt to a super-sized serving of batshit-crazy confusion.
What was with all the labels? Homosexual and heterosexual, great. Bi-curious and bisexual, fine. But then came pansexual, omnisexual, polysexual, and…fluid. Fluid. What the heck did that even mean?
Seriously, how had a fairly simple concept become so complex? Only one thing Dylan knew for sure. He wasn’t transgender or transsexual. He liked boobs and appreciated their aesthetic qualities, but he sure as hell didn’t want to wear any.
Unfortunately the single discovery hardly helped. So he’d shut down Alec’s computer and resorted to his life-long motto: fate liked to kick the shit out of people, which meant when you found something that felt good, go for it.
Up until that point, everything with Alec had definitely felt great. So Dylan had wisely crawled back into Alec’s bed, anticipating this morning, and in return had experienced the oh-holy-shit-gasm of a lifetime. Yes, returning to Alec’s bed had been a very wise decision.
Except for the part where he’d forgotten to bolt the front door…
With a resigned sigh, Dylan reached the living room and leaned against the doorway. Beyond the leather furniture centered around a glass coffee table, Noah was at the minibar pouring tomato juice into a glass. Noah wore jeans and a form-fitting sweater that hugged his lean frame, and his shoulders looked tense.
“How long have you been here?” Dylan asked.
Noah whirled to face him, blinked, and slowly set his glass on the counter. “Long enough to catch the sound of the final act.”
Dylan remembered how he’d gone nuclear there at the end, picturing his brains leaking out onto the bed. And Noah was staring at Dylan as if he’d lost his mind.
Uh, yeah. About that…
“What the hell were you thinking, Dylan?”
Dylan’s face burned, and he secured the towel tight around his waist as several sarcastic replies came to mind.
I was tired of playing for the same team.
I suddenly had the urge to experience life as the little spoon.
I wanted to be able to wear the You Suck, And I Like That In A Man T-shirt you gave me.
But Dylan knew a flippant answer would only make matters worse. Instead, he simply stared at Noah and waited for him to go on.
“Wait, scratch that.” Noah picked up his tomato juice. “Obviously you weren’t thinking.”
“No need to get your silk panties in a wad, man,” Dylan said. “Ease up a little.”
“I do not wear silk panties,” he said. “And, no, I will not ease up. You’re taking the substitute-boyfriend gig way beyond what any rational human being would consider reasonable. I might have heard the two of you, but Tyler was too far away to appreciate how loud Alec groaned when you. Fucked. Him!”
That last sentence started out as a statement and ended up an accusation.
Hating that he felt defensive, Dylan crossed his arms. “I didn’t fuck Alec. He fucked me.”
Noah’s face went positively goldfish, bulging eyes, gaping mouth, and all. Apparently not only had he heard the finale, he’d assumed a lot about their position as well.
Noah finally blinked, coming back to life and crossing the thick rug on the way to the couch. “Have you been drinking?”
“No.”
“Taking poppers?”
“No.”
“Abducted by queer aliens?”
The bark of laughter almost hurt. “No. I asked him to fuck me.”
Noah’s legs appeared to give way, and he dropped onto the leather couch with enough force to trigger a swish of air from the cushion. For the first time since Rick had introduced them oh so many years ago, Noah remained speechless for a full five seconds. Dylan hadn’t thought the man capable. The sight was almost worthy of the mess Dylan now found himself in.
Almost.
“I don’t understand,” Dylan said. “Technically I should be the one freaking out here. But, honestly, I don’t think there’s any reason to make a big deal of the whole thing.” Besides, wigging out now was sorta pointless. Dylan entered the room and sat down, proud of his awesome reasoning skills and his nonchalant tone. “Sleeping with men is normal enough for the two of you.”
“Yes, but we sleep with men who are gay,” Noah said.
“That’s not
what you’ve told me in the past.”
“Nice try,” Noah said. “But we’re not talking about me right now.”
“Yeah.” Dylan’s lips twisted wryly. “Funny how we never talk about you. Why is that, Noah?”
Noah offered nothing more than a blank stare, which changed when Alec appeared in the doorway. Good, Dylan could use a little help here. Dark hair damp, and in jeans and a T-shirt, Alec took one look at Noah’s now frowning face and grimaced.
“I need coffee,” Alec said and pivoted to head for the kitchen.
“Get back here, girlfriend,” Noah said and Alec slowly turned around, clearly preparing for battle. Noah went on. “We need to set a few things straight.”
After a two second pause, Alec entered the living room. And suddenly Dylan wasn’t up for dealing with Noah anymore, especially with Alec so clean and smelling so good and looking as though he needed Dylan to get him all sweaty again. Dylan let out a sigh.
Jesus, he really was a slut.
~~~***~~~
Alec had learned long ago that humoring Noah made things easier in the long run, so he settled against the wall. Although he wanted to get this confrontation over with, he desperately needed some caffeine. Retreat sounded rather appealing too.
Retreat from Dylan’s hot, knowing gaze. From the confusion twisting Alec’s gut in knots. And nothing good ever came from a Noah that called him girlfriend.
“I suggested you start dating again,” Noah said, frowning at Alec. “Not jump into bed with a straight man.”
“You sleep with straight men all the time,” Alec said.
A bark of laughter shot from Dylan, and Noah tossed the man a look. Dylan pressed his lips together, clearly struggling to smother the rest of his amusement.
“We’re not talking about me,” Noah said. “We’re talking about you, Alec.”
“This conversation is sounding very familiar,” Dylan murmured.
Noah ignored him. “I’m very aware of Dylan’s tendency to fuck anything that moves.”