Forever Yours

by David Horne

  Dylan’s voice had gotten louder. There were people staring, but he was long past caring.

  “I think you’re the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, Evan von Belle!”

  Dylan stood up, slapped his napkin on the table, and left.

  Outside, he leaned back against the wall. His breathing was quick and panicked. What had he just done?

  He needed to get home.

  Chapter Nine

  When he collapsed onto his plush mattress at home, Dylan screamed into the pillow. In hindsight, what he’d just done was potentially damning to their relationship. On the other hand, it had felt good to finally let go of his fear, his inhibitions, and just speak his damn mind instead of dancing around his own emotions.

  Dylan screamed again.

  Had he just fucked it all up? Because there was no denying that he loved Evan, and there was no denying that Evan was worth everything in the whole world, even if Dylan sometimes acted to the contrary. But maybe his one, stupid little lapse in patience had cost him dearly.

  His phone was in his back pocket. He dialed Carly first, then remembered that she had gone out of town for a bit and wouldn’t be reached on her phone. Without even thinking about it, he called Luke.

  Luke picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” he said,

  “Luke,” Dylan greeted. “Look, I don’t wanna involve you in my bullshit but…I did something stupid and I feel kinda shitty so…”

  “You want me to come over?” Luke asked knowingly. Dylan could hear footsteps and the jangling of keys, telling him that Luke was already on his way over.

  “Yes, please,” Dylan answered anyway.

  Luke was apparently very diligent. It only took Luke twenty minutes to arrive despite living all the way across town. He showed up panting and with the collar of his shirt a little damp.

  “Did you run here?” Dylan asked him.

  “Well, duh,” Luke replied, pushing past him. “I figured you’d need me over ASAP.”

  Dylan smiled gratefully, awed that he’d found a friend who was as considerate as Luke, Luke who had dropped whatever it was he’d been doing to sprint all the way across town just because Dylan needed him. “Thanks for coming.”

  “So, what happened?” Luke asked. “If you wanna tell me.”

  “No, I’ll tell you.” Dylan paused, gathering his thoughts and steeling himself a little. He did not want to be crying right now, but if it happened, he was glad it would be in front of Luke and not someone else. “I kind of blew up at Evan.”

  Luke quirked an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” Dylan continued. “I called him my worst mistake. A little harsh, right? Because I love him so, so much, and I’m pretty sure he loves me, or he did, anyway. But he refuses to talk to me, consider my feelings, and I haven’t been able to say shit to him because he keeps avoiding it. I mean…am I being fair?”

  “I think you let it out all at once instead of gradually,” Luke speculated. “So, it came out worse than you meant it.”

  “But am I being fair?”

  “Fair? Yeah. I mean, you can’t claim to love someone but not even listen to them.”

  “It’s just…this is all one big mix-up. I hate dragging this on. It should have been dealt with months ago.”

  “True.”

  “But then, if I’d said something earlier, I’d have scared him off.”

  “Also true.”

  “So, what do you think?”

  “Not really my business.”

  “But I’m asking you.” Dylan caught his eye and held it.

  Luke sighed and looked away. “Dylan, I don’t wanna tell you not to pursue him, okay? Partly because I know you wouldn’t listen.”

  “But?” Dylan implored.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what. You talk to him one last time. You get everything out in the open—both of you. Make sure of it. And then you decide what to do. Fair?”

  “Fair,” Dylan agreed.

  It was at that exact moment that Dylan heard a frantic knock on the door. Luke was the one who got up and answered it. Dylan heard a brief, quiet conversation at the door before Luke came back in, a faint scowl on his face, with Evan right behind him, still in his outfit from earlier.

  “Sorry I took so long,” he told Dylan from behind Luke. He held up a small, badly wrapped box. “I was hoping you’d come to my place after dinner, but you didn’t so…I had to pick this up before I came here.”

  Dylan’s mouth tightened, but he offered Luke a smile. “I think I’ll talk to Evan alone, now,” he told him.

  Luke didn’t look terribly happy. He left quietly after a short goodbye and a dirty look cast in Evan’s direction, who pointedly ignored him and kept his eyes trained on Dylan.

  Dylan was the first to speak. “I don’t understand you,” he said truthfully. “I don’t think I will until you explain.”

  Evan walked over slowly and planted himself on the couch. Dylan stayed standing, feeling like he had at least some kind of control over the situation as long as he stood taller than Evan did.

  “That was Luke, right?” Evan asked in lieu of starting to explain himself.

  Dylan was going to be patient this time around, unlike what had happened during his episode in the restaurant. “Yes,” he replied.

  “He looks like me,” Evan noted.

  “A bit, yeah.”

  “Any reason for that?”

  “Genetics?” Dylan suggested.

  Evan dropped that line of questioning. After a long pause, he whispered, “What did you mean back at the restaurant?”

  Dylan breathed in. This was it. For real this time. “Which part?”

  Evan didn’t meet his eyes. “‘You’re the biggest mistake I’ve ever made’?”

  Dylan sighed, ashamed that in the heat of the moment, he’d managed to hurt Evan. “I didn’t mean it,” he explained. “I was mad.”

  “People are always more honest when they’re mad,” Evan quipped.

  Dylan shook his head even though Evan wasn’t looking. “Not this time.” He paused. “I swear I didn’t mean it.”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Evan said, his voice choked. “It struck a nerve. It was…well, that’s what I thought you thought. Back when we broke up.”

  “You mean when you broke up with me.”

  “Yes…that.”

  “I’ve waited so long for an explanation.”

  Evan finally looked up. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. “You sure as hell deserve one.”

  Dylan looked around. He wanted to remember this. This was monumental. This was closure after months of waiting, this was when he was gonna find out their past and their future. Everything depended on this.

  The sky outside was dark. There was silvery moonlight coming through the window, shining through the translucent curtains. There was a draft coming from somewhere. The room was lit only by a tall lamp stationed at the side of the sofa. Its bulbs were incandescent, and they cast a deep yellow light over the TV, the floor, Evan’s golden hair and golden skin.

  Evan’s shirt was more wrinkled than it had been at the restaurant. The stain on his shirt had faded into a dull orange. Evan’s face was tight and vulnerable, more so than Dylan had ever seen it.

  “Explain, then,” Dylan demanded softly.

  Evan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. In, out, in, out, in, out. He seemed to be bracing himself. Finally, he opened his eyes, his pretty, icy blue eyes, and looked dead into Dylan’s own. “I love you,” he confessed roughly. “I love you.”

  Dylan didn’t dare interrupt in spite of the many, many questions swirling inside his mind. Like if Evan loved him, then how could Evan do this? When had Evan started loving him? Why hadn’t he said so before? All in good time Dylan reminded himself.

  “When I was drunk, I told you that I didn’t think you were happy,” Evan continued. So, he did remember. “I needed to tell you something, get you off my back. Make you stop asking why I’d left and just accept it.” He sighed and dropped his eye
s, but Dylan’s didn’t leave Evan’s face. “You’ve probably figured out the truth by now.”

  Dylan had made many guesses so far. There was someone else. Evan had realized he’d made a mistake in dating him. Evan had realized there was much more out there for him, things he couldn’t do when he was tied down; things like going to school in France.

  “Truth is…” Evan laughed. It was a sad, self-deprecating sound that grated against Dylan’s ears and heart. “Truth is I’m a fuckin’ coward. I couldn’t handle jack shit and I didn’t wanna tell you. So, I made up some bullshit excuse about wanting to go back to being friends and I ran. I ran so far fuckin’ away. I was so proud of myself that I’d done the right thing for once, that I’d managed to let you go, that I wouldn’t be dragging you down anymore.

  “I was so fuckin’ scared of disappointing you. You had such high expectations of me. Two days before I left, you told me you’d been in love with me for eight years. You know how scary that was? Realizing that I had to live up to what you thought I’d be, realizing that I couldn’t let you down or I’d fuckin’ ruin you? No, I had to go. Before things got too far, before I fucked something up and drove you away.

  Dylan didn’t even know if he was breathing anymore. Evan was so sad. It was so sad to hear him talk, to hear him spill his heart out to him.

  “I know you cried,” Evan admitted. “And I know it wasn’t out of shock. I knew I hurt you. But I thought I was doing some sort of preemptive thing, you know? Ripping off the band-aid, I guess.” He laughed again. “Only flaw in my plan was that I couldn’t fuckin’ stay away from you. I was too selfish. I had to come back to you and your magic asshole. All I was thinking was that if I couldn’t have you for myself without risking disappointing you, at least I could have you in another way.”

  Evan finally looked back up, meeting Dylan’s eyes with red, teary ones of his own.

  “Make sense?” he asked weakly.

  Dylan shook his head, moisture gathering in his own eyes, on the brink of spilling over his own eyelashes. “You’re so stupid,” he sniffed. “So stupid.”

  Evan cracked a watery grin. “So, nothing’s changed there, then.”

  “Don’t think I’m not still mad at you because I am,” Dylan scolded shakily. “We’ll deal with it later.”

  “What are we doing now?”

  Dylan didn’t bother answering him. He stooped down and caught Evan’s lips in his own. He bent down, seating himself next to Evan on the couch, both hands coming up to cup Evan’s face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones.

  For once, Dylan didn’t feel the urge to go quickly, to chase his own climax and be done with it. He wanted to go slowly, to make them both feel good. He left like he had all the time in the world.

  “Tell me you’re not going to France,” Dylan murmured.

  “I’m not going to France,” Evan said obediently.

  Dylan sighed, a knot loosening his chest. He felt he could breathe for the first time in months.

  Slowly, he moved his hands to the back of Evan’s neck, carding his fingers through the soft blond hairs at his napes. Evan’s hands had traveled to Dylan’s face. His fingers traced light patterns on his jaw.

  Dylan coaxed open the seam of Evan’s mouth with his tongue. Evan’s own tongue was velvety and warm and wet, and it swirled and danced skillfully around his own, teasing and playing, feeling its way into Dylan’s mouth, running along the flats of Dylan’s teeth and sweeping over his lips.

  When they parted, Evan’s lips were swollen and red and shiny with spit. His pupils were blown wide with arousal. His cheeks were slightly flushed.

  Dylan couldn’t suppress a shy smile at the sight of him. Evan grinned in return.

  Dylan leaned in again, resuming their slow kiss. It felt so nice to be free of worry, to not have to wonder how Evan felt about this, if this time would be their last because Evan would be leaving.

  Evan wasn’t leaving. He was staying. Staying for him. For the first time in a long time, there was nothing misunderstood between them. No misconceptions, no miscommunications—nothing. It made Dylan giggle into their kiss. The giggle turned into a laugh, and Dylan broke away from Evan, tipping his head back.

  The laughter shook his body. There were tears coming down his cheeks. They weren’t born of sadness; they were born of relief and delight. He felt lips on his throat and his breathing caught.

  Dylan felt teeth scraping his Adam’s apple, teeth biting hard into his skin, then an expert set of lips soothing the ache. Around and around Dylan’s throat they went, marking him up, re-coloring skin that had turned yellowish from old bruises left by those very same teeth.

  He made a sound, half whine and half gurgle. He felt rather than heard the vibrations of Evan’s laughter against his skin.

  Everything was different now. Everything had changed. Dylan finally had something permanent with Evan, something more than just best friend status. He could wake up every morning and be assured that Evan wasn’t just going to leave like he had all those months ago. It was such a thrilling thought. It filled him with such joy that he didn’t think he would come down from it for days.

  With gentle, dexterous fingers, Evan began to unbutton Dylan’s shirt, though his mouth kept moving on him. Dylan’s shirt was slid off his shoulders, and he could feel the draft in the room rush against his skin.

  Evan’s mouth wandered down. He first licked Dylan’s clavicle, tongue working into the dip between the two collarbones, then moved further down the center of his chest. He lapped at Dylan’s left nipple, right over his heartbeat, and then his left. Gently, he pushed Dylan backward so that he was lying on the couch, neck on the armrest.

  “Consider this some really good makeup sex,” Evan whispered.

  Dylan was already nodding, hand slipping up Evan’s wrist, urging him forward.

  Evan was in no rush. He leaned over Dylan’s body. His mouth continued its path downward, leaving a path of kisses down Dylan’s chest and stomach, down his happy trail. He mouthed at Dylan’s hard cock through his slacks. Dylan gasped and tangled one hand in Evan’s hair.

  Dylan lifted his hips enough for Evan to tug his slacks and boxers down his thighs. Immediately, there was a mouth on his cock, lapping up the pre-come. Dylan’s eyes squeezed shut, and his hand tightened in Evan’s hair.

  Evan took him in deeper. “Shit, Ev,” he whimpered.

  He could feel Evan’s smirk around his cock. Evan’s tongue was so lovely, so rough and so deft, so warm and so wet. He used it like a virtuoso, laboring at the head of Dylan’s cock for a bit, then switching his focus to where the head met the shaft, that little nook, and then moving down the shaft itself, coating it with the heat and wetness of his saliva.

  Evan took his balls in his mouth, rolling them around in his tongue. All the while, his hand came up and grasped Dylan’s cock, giving it long, firm strokes. His mouth returned to Dylan’s tip, and he lapped up the new beads of pre-come that his hand had just milked out.

  Dylan slapped a hand to his mouth and moaned, inadvertently pulling hard on Evan’s hair. Evan groaned loudly and Dylan felt the vibrations run down his cock. “Do that again,” Dylan commanded shakily, and Evan made a quieter humming sound. “God, yes.”

  Evan opened his mouth wide and took Dylan wholly into his mouth. What he couldn’t fit into his throat, he covered with a spit-slicked hand, twisting it in chorus with his mouth.

  Dylan was chanting now, chanting Evan’s name. His eyes were closed, and he was shallowly rocking his hips up, not that Evan seemed to mind. There were tingles running down his spine and legs, telltale signs that he was about to climax.

  Dylan shouted once, and his orgasm ripped through him, shaking him.

  When his vision returned, Dylan looked down at Evan. His tongue was out and dipped, holding Dylan’s come, rolling it around. God, that was hot. Evan let some spill down his chin. Some of it dripped off, landing hot and wet on Dylan’s cock.

  Evan gave Dylan’s cock a few pumps. It
returned to hardness quickly, though it was incredibly sensitive. “I wanna try something,” Evan said. His voice was so hoarse, evidence of what they’d just done. If Dylan hadn’t been hard already, that would’ve done it.

  “What?” Dylan asked.

  Evan bit his lip. “Bottoming?”

  Dylan’s eyebrows shot up.

  “As long as you’re okay with it,” Evan clarified. “I just wanna try.”

  “And if you don’t like it?”

  Evan shrugged. “Then I don’t like it. At least I’ll know. So?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan blurted. “Grab the lube and a condom from the bedside drawer.”

  Evan left and returned in barely ten seconds. He handed the condom and a small bottle of lube to Dylan.

  “Okay, get on me and turn around so I can see your ass,” Dylan instructed.

  Evan did so, probably both out of nervousness and eagerness.

  “Oh, and probably jerk yourself off a bit,” Dylan recommended. “This’ll probably be kind of uncomfortable. He heard Evan let out a shaky sigh, then saw the movement of his right arm indicating that Evan had indeed taken his advice.

  He started very slowly. Probably a quarter of the lube went directly on Evan’s hole, who twitched at the cold. Another large amount went onto Dylan’s finger. The first finger was always the one that met the most resistance.

  He circled Evan’s hole with the tip of his index. “Try to relax,” he suggested in a whisper. “Just keep touching yourself.

  Dylan pressed gently, then a little harder, and the tip of his finger made it past Evan’s pucker. He grinned triumphantly and pushed deeper, down to his first knuckle and then his second, then all the way to the base of his finger. He drizzled a little more lube and began to pump in and out. In front of him, Evan squeaked.

  When Evan’s hole had relaxed sufficiently enough for Dylan to smoothly pump his finger in and out, Dylan lubed up his middle finger and pressed it in alongside the first. He heard Evan hiss and lifted his hand to rub Evan’s back. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Just keep stroking yourself. That’s it.”