Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  “Not all of you blushes,” he observed. He attempted to sit up, reaching for Patrick’s dick at the same time, but Patrick pushed him back.

  “No. I’ve been wanting to taste you since our very first kiss. May I?”

  “Yes,” Aidan whispered and Patrick descended, opening his mouth and tightening his lips as he slid down, slowly but firmly. “Oh, yes,” Aidan repeated. He lifted his ass off the bed, pushing himself deeper into Patrick’s mouth, then pulling back and thrusting again. Patrick sucked harder, keeping completely still, allowing his lover to control the speed, although Aidan was holding back and that wouldn’t do at all.

  With the next upward thrust, Patrick went down as far as he could, relaxing his throat to take all of him. It was such an incredible turn-on that he had to get up on his knees to avoid the frictional contact, not that Aidan was aware of anything but receiving his first blow job, his face contorting in ecstasy with each and every touch of tongue, lips, teeth… Patrick pulled away for a second to see what would happen. A hand grabbed his head and pulled him back down; he smiled to himself and resumed sucking. What a wonder it was to have his man writhing beneath him, letting go of those fears to give himself over to this pleasure. He could almost have climaxed on the thought alone.

  Patrick withdrew just enough that he could tease Aidan’s slit with his tongue, at the same time wrapping his fingers around the saliva-slicked length and tugging upwards to deliver that tiny delicious bead of precum he had been craving for far too long. He savored it, trying to keep it in his mouth, but he wanted more. He wanted to take it all, could already imagine the feel and the taste of Aidan’s come hitting the back of his throat and filling his mouth. But he also wanted to be inside Aidan. What an incredible dilemma to face.

  “More,” Aidan groaned. Patrick glanced up and studied the rapturous, closed-eyes expression. Aidan opened his eyes slightly and pleaded, “More, please.”

  What could he do but oblige? And with a smile, naturally, because it really was his pleasure. He shifted position so that he could tease more gently; he honestly didn’t think Aidan could take much more, although the thought crossed his mind that he could make Aidan come…twice. How would he feel about that? Would he manage a second helping? He might feel obliged to see it through just for Patrick’s sake. That wouldn’t be fair, or enjoyable, and they were making love to celebrate. Patrick had promised it would be wonderful for both of them. He only hoped he could deliver on that.

  Now that he was farther down the bed, he had a prime view and he paused to drink it in: the tightness of Aidan’s balls in his heightened state of arousal, the dark fuzz of hair, untouched by razors or scissors, as beautiful as nature had intended, the perfect line of his body, nose to chin to Adam’s apple, cast half in shadow, and a hand now smoothing down, down, needy, impatient. Patrick put his own hand on top of it, but didn’t stop it reaching its destination. Aidan was too far gone to be shy and slowly worked his dick, his hand still under Patrick’s.

  “Do you want to come, Aidan?”

  “Yes, I do, so much.” He slid his feet up the bed, his knees flexing, and Patrick moved in again, this time taking one of Aidan’s balls in his mouth, alternating sucking and rolling it around with his tongue. Aidan gave a deep moan. “I want to come with you inside me,” he breathed, lifting his legs in the air. Patrick continued what he was doing with his mouth, but removed his hand from Aidan’s. He was as close to the edge as Aidan was, simply from watching him lose all his inhibitions, and in some respects he was glad that what followed would be a little awkward, or else their first real love-making would be over in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds.

  Reluctantly, Patrick released Aidan and heard him sigh in disappointment, followed by a bed-bouncing thump as his legs hit the mattress. Patrick chuckled.

  “I can’t do that and the other at the same time, now, can I?” he reasoned. He moved away to get the lube they had bought on their way home from the clinic, knowing that if the results hadn’t been what they’d hoped for, they’d have still been making love with protection. But it wasn’t necessary: Patrick knew already he wouldn’t want anyone else for as long as Aidan would have him, and he was fairly certain the feeling was mutual.

  Aidan stopped playing with himself and watched Patrick take the cap off the tube.

  “Are you okay there?”

  Aidan nodded. “I’m waiting for you to show me what to do.”

  “All right, well, I think if we kind of stay in this position, then it will be better for you.” Patrick squeezed a good amount of the gel onto his fingers and spread it around to warm it a little. He set the tube aside and walked up the bed on his knees. Aidan’s attention was fully on Patrick, flitting between watching where his hand was heading and gazing longingly at his cock. It was throbbing so hard, and the attention wasn’t helping. Patrick would have been blushing again if he wasn’t blushing still.

  Before he got as far as prompting, Aidan bent his knees and slid his feet as far apart as they would go. Patrick shuffled closer, his fingertip almost touching Aidan’s tightly closed hole. Should he explain what he was about to do? It seemed kind of ridiculous, but he didn’t want to panic his man. He decided against words and made that first touch. To his surprise, though by now he shouldn’t have been at all surprised, Aidan pushed against him and with the combination of the lube and Aidan’s lack of resistance, Patrick’s finger slid in to the knuckle.

  “Ohhhh.” Aidan gave Patrick the kind of look that told him he’d hit gold. Aidan began to pump against him, but Patrick kept his hand still awhile, then started to push back in time with Aidan’s thrusts. “Ohhhh, my…this…you said it would hurt. This doesn’t hurt.” Aidan’s voice sounded strange, disembodied. “It feels so good. So good.”

  “It’s because you’re so relaxed, my love.” And he was: Aidan was controlling the speed, the depth, and it made Patrick even harder, because it meant Aidan was ready, not just more of his over-eager teen-like enthusiasm, but he truly wanted Patrick inside him. He also realized that maybe a different position would be better, where Aidan could stay in control. “I have an idea, Aidan. I’m going to stop.”

  “No! Don’t stop! Not yet.”

  Aidan increased his speed and Patrick let him continue a few seconds more. It was a real effort to pull out, but it would be worth it, because by now Patrick was aching with need and could gladly have taken Aidan just as he lay there. He resisted the urge to do so, instead clambering clumsily to the top of the bed, where he sat with his back against the headboard.

  “What are you doing?” Aidan asked, puzzled and frustrated.

  “You sit on me.”

  “What?”

  “Sit on me. Then you’re in charge and if it hurts you can stop.”

  “But I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “You know your own body, and if you think about it, this way we’re making love to each other.”

  Aidan considered and smiled broadly. “Okay.” With a bit of fidgeting and nervous laughter, he got himself into position, sitting astride Patrick’s lap. Their dicks collided; the angle was all wrong. Patrick shuffled down the bed.

  “You lift up and I’ll hold myself while you get in the right place. We’ll take it as slow as you…ah, Aidan. My God.” Patrick released a long, slow breath and gave up trying to be “the experienced one,” for Aidan had grabbed him and was already lowering himself. Patrick grasped at the sheets and clung on for dear life, because it felt too damn good. The warmth spread over the tip of his dick and he let his head fall back. “Jeez, Aidan, what’re you doing to me?” The head of his cock was barely inside Aidan, but if that was all he got he wouldn’t care. He lifted his head again and met Aidan’s uncertain gaze.

  “Do you want to stop?” Patrick asked, willing the answer to be no.

  “No. I…should I just go for it?”

  “Slow and smooth I think is the way.”

  Aidan tried to do that—for all of three seconds. Patrick had learned quick
ly that his boyfriend was not so patient when it came to passion, so it was down to his own dwindling self-control, but he was sure they could do this without pain if they just took their time. He placed his hands on Aidan’s hips and held him steady, pushing against the slight resistance as Aidan stretched to accommodate him. In a further attempt at holding out, he focused on interpreting the emotions flickering across Aidan’s face—a little pain, a need for reassurance, a lot of accomplishment—and whatever discomfort he was feeling was being quickly overridden by pleasure.

  “Just hold still a minute, my love.” Patrick closed his eyes.

  “Why are you smiling?” Aidan asked.

  “Because…first time.”

  That made Aidan smile too. Patrick nodded to indicate he was ready to continue. Now fully joined, they began to move together, a gentle push-pull governed less by pain and more by the fact that they were both so close that neither dared risk going any harder or faster.

  “Paddy,” Aidan gasped. “You know you said you were in love with me?”

  “Yeah. It’s true.”

  “How’d you know?”

  Fucking and talking at the same time wasn’t the easiest thing to do, because it required thinking and his brain was offline, but somehow Patrick managed to say, “I want to spend my life with you. That’s how I know.”

  “Oh.” Aidan lowered his eyes. Even in the heat of the moment, Patrick sensed that something was wrong. If he was truthful, he’d expected it before now.

  “Hey,” he said gently. “Are you all right? Do you—” The sound of Aidan inhaling sharply silenced him. Nothing wrong, everything right. That slow steady rhythm was lost to the rapid, erratic jerks of Aidan’s climax taking over. Patrick quickly locked his hand around Aidan’s cock, determined to make this first time the best for him, and in doing so guaranteed it was the best for them both. A series of short grunts accompanied the hot shot of semen that fired into the air and spilled over Patrick’s fingers. He was close, but uncertain he was close enough, and then, in the last gasps of his orgasm, Aidan uttered the magic words.

  “Please do it inside me, Paddy. I want to feel you come inside me.”

  Like a tidal wave that surged through his pelvis, his balls and up his cock, Patrick came, not hard and fast, but riding out that wave for the longest time, every single inch of him burning red hot and he heard the yell before he registered it came from him. He was utterly spent. Aidan fell forward, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s neck and kissing him hard. It was a lip-bruiser, for sure.

  Patrick reached up and smoothed Aidan’s hair, damp from the shower and the exertion of their love-making. Aidan gingerly lifted himself clear, wincing a little at the pain of withdrawal. He smiled, and then he laughed.

  “I’m pretty sure—” He paused, as if to check that he was sure. After a few seconds, he nodded and said, “Yeah. I’m sure, Paddy. I’m in love with you too.”

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  Saving Bryan

  Bryan’s parents rented one of the fifth-floor studio apartments for him. It was the cheapest room The Grand Heights offered—except, of course, Aidan’s efficiency apartment which was never meant to be seen by tenants, anyway. Still, for the “cheapest,” it was a million times nicer than the room Aidan had rented when he was going to school. Large, open living room with hardwood flooring and nine-foot ceilings, marble countertops in his spacious kitchen (whatever happened to college kids only needing a mini fridge and a microwave?), and a bedroom with a view of the entire city. He also had access to all the amenities that the apartments afforded, such as the rooftop pool and bar, club room, demonstration kitchen, full gym, and laundry and grocery service.

  On the days when Aidan was unclogging a toilet that probably cost more than his whole bathroom, he envied the luxurious space. The days when he was sent up by Jill to “threaten Bryan’s life and limb” if he didn’t turn down his music, he realized the kid was lonely and bored.

  The first night they met, Aidan knocked on Bryan’s door and presented him with the short prepared speech he’d only ever had to give once or twice before. “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but you’re going to need to turn down your music. You’re disturbing your neighbors.”

  Bryan had stood in the doorway wearing shorts and an oversized Rumour shirt, the bass thudding heavily behind him. It seemed like he’d gel-spiked his hair earlier in the day, but time or humidity had weighed it down. He was very young, not the usual sort of tenant for The Grand Heights, and Aidan suspected his neighbors’ dislike of Bryan might be as related to his age as to his music.

  “What?” the kid had shouted over the noise.

  “Your music! You’ll have to turn it down!”

  Bryan had stood back and motioned with his head for Aidan to enter. Maybe that was Aidan’s problem. He was always just walking into strange places when invited without thinking about the consequences. That first night, Bryan ended up turning down the music and somehow Aidan ended up staying for a while and helping him study for an American literature exam he had the next morning.

  Now he was back in front of the same door—as he’d been back many times since—banging loudly. There must have been something distinct about Aidan’s knock that differentiated it from his angry neighbors’, because the music was immediately clicked off, leaving only a banging noise from Miss Jenner downstairs. Aidan shifted uncomfortably.

  “Hey, man!” Bryan smiled and stepped back to allow Aidan entry. Aidan hesitated. Maybe he should just hand over the notice and walk away, but Bryan had stood guard while he and Jill had their talk the day Aidan admitted his crimes, and never mind the amount of time they’d spent together just in this apartment, studying for Bryan’s various exams. He was almost a friend. “Get your ass on in here. I got this microbrewed hard root beer. You’ve got to try it.”

  Aidan followed after him, noting the disheveled state of the kitchen as he walked past.

  “You need any help studying?” Aidan offered, feeling more than a slight bit of guilt about what he had to do.

  “Nah, I’m good, actually,” Bryan said. The refrigerator that came with the loft was double-wide with stainless steel doors, ice and water, and some configuration of buttons for programming…something. Aidan had never quite understood why a fridge would need a computer in it, but these had them. Bryan threw open one of the doors and grabbed two of the root beers, tossing one to Aidan who caught it.

  “We should be drinking these out of frosted mugs but…” He motioned toward the overflowing sink. “Parents sort of stopped paying Rosa to come by after I slept with her, so…now I have to do my own dishes and I’m pretty sure I don’t know how to do that.”

  He gave Aidan a pleading look.

  “Sorry, kid. I’ll unclog the drain or fix a leak or do battle with lime build-up in the pipes, but I’m not going to wash your dishes for you.”

  Bryan shrugged as if he’d figured that was going to be the response and pointed toward the living room with the tip of his bottle.

  “Twist top?” Aidan asked.

  “Oh, I just do this.” He walked over to the counter and slammed the cap down on the edge of the marble top. It popped off and a fine fog escaped the now open mouth of the bottle. When Aidan hesitated just a little too long—horrified that one would do that to countertops so expensive without batting an eyelash—Bryan snatched Aidan’s root beer away and popped it open too.

  “C’mon. Let’s go hang out in the living room.”

  Aidan had just taken a seat in the large armchair, readying the words, when he spied something gut-wrenchingly familiar on the tiled side table. A fifty-dollar bill. He took a sip of the root beer, trying to get the crackling noise in his brain to quiet long enough for him to make sense of what he was seeing. It was just money. Tenants in The Grand Heights had money. Bryan could have left it out for any number of reasons, none of which were the same reason Aidan had left the fifty dollars out on his nightstand for so long.

  Maybe he was waiting for piz
za to arrive. A whole lot of pizza. Or gourmet pizza. Or pot—no judgment—the kid was just a kid. Maybe he was so rich he didn’t think about leaving his money lying around. Maybe it was there to remind him to pay someone back, maybe— Oh, screw the excuses! Aidan’s panicked mind cried.

  “You know Ms. Ashmore?” Aidan asked. He thought his voice sounded a bit croaked.

  “Sure,” Bryan said with a shrug. “I’ve run into her at the rooftop bar once or twice.”

  “Has she—” He swallowed. “I mean, has she ever hit on you or anything?”

  Bryan chuckled mildly and then snorted. “Funny you ask that. She’s sort of a cougar. Right? I mean, the breasts obviously are as real as silicone and she wears those tight dresses,” Bryan said, flopping down on his leather couch. He seemed to lose his train of thought and said, “But I’ve heard older women are wild in the sack because they’re horny and they want to please.”

  That wasn’t an answer, though it sounded more like speculation than firsthand knowledge. “Don’t sleep with her, Bryan,” Aidan warned heavily.

  Bryan cocked an eyebrow and then laughed. “You’re not going after her, are you? ’Cause there’s at least one guy that’s got a serious hard-on for you. Not me.” His clarification was idle, not rushed. “I just figured you and that Irish guy were together.”

  Aidan’s heart warmed at the memory of waking up that morning wrapped tightly in Patrick’s arms. He’d rolled over, snuggling up against his strong chest and breathed in his scent. Everything had been so perfect this morning. They’d made love. They were in love.

  “Duuude.”

  Apparently it was perfectly acceptable to have a boyfriend. It was uncool to blush about it. That was one thing about Bryan that was different than any other person he knew. Bryan made Aidan feel old. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. Most times he felt so immature in the face of everyone else who knew what the hell they were doing in life, it was nice to be the adult for once.