Changing on the Fly

by Cherylanne Corneille

  Chris lifted his head and smiled sleepily at Tim before leaning up to press their lips together.

  Morning breath wasn’t great, but it didn’t matter at all when compared to being able to kiss Chris. Why hadn’t they done this a year ago? Three years ago? He forced back the idea that he had so much time to make up for, the regret of time lost, and focused instead on now. He was doing such a thorough job of it, of kissing Chris, he didn’t notice the movement under the covers until deft fingers trailed down his belly and through the thick hair surrounding the base of his cock.

  Chris ended the kiss, leaning back when Tim chased his lips for more.

  “You don’t have a game today,” Chris observed with another slow smile. Tim was sure he’d never seen Chris smile like that before this morning. If he had, he might have figured shit out a whole lot faster—and reciprocated a lot sooner, too.

  “I don’t,” he agreed, intrigued to see what Chris would do next.

  Chris’s eyes narrowed, studying him. Then his long, warm fingers curled around Tim’s cock and tugged. It felt like a challenge. One Tim met by arching one eyebrow and smirking, because this was still them, and he wasn’t going to make it easy. What would be the fun in that?

  Chris’s narrow gaze never wavered as his fingers danced lightly up the length of Tim’s shaft, smoothing over the head and back down again. Exploring.

  Tim gritted his teeth, keeping his face impassive and choking back a groan when Chris’s grip tightened. Tim broke, though, when a hint of worry snuck onto Chris’s face. He cupped his hands around Chris’s jaw and captured his lips again.

  “So good,” he murmured against Chris’s lip. “Please.”

  Chris nodded, their noses bumping, their lips and tongue still tangled. Tim’s breath went shaky, his hand slipping down Chris’s back to his ass, anchoring him close.

  It didn’t take long. In fact, Tim considered being a little embarrassed about how quickly he got to the point of gasping, fingers knotted in Chris’s hair and digging into his firm ass. Tim tipped his head back and shouted through his orgasm.

  He floated for a moment, warm and happy and utterly content. He thought he could go back to sleep and Chris would forgive him. Would even understand. It was a nice feeling.

  Tim wouldn’t, of course. That kind of selfishness wasn’t in his programming. He was perfectly aware of Chris’s erection pressed to his hip and how hard Chris was trying hard not to squirm, based on how his glutes clenched and released under Tim’s palm.

  The moment Tim’s head stopped swimming, he rolled Chris onto his back and climbed over him. “Tell me what you like,” he said, then without waiting for a response, sucked Chris’s cock as far into his mouth as he could without gagging himself.

  “Oh, fucking Christ,” Chris groaned, his knuckles going white around fistfuls of the flannel sheets.

  Tim bobbed his head experimentally, trying to find a good rhythm and level of suction. It was actually really fucking hard to figure out what was best, since Chris was groaning and muttering through everything with roughly equal amounts of enthusiasm. Which was to say, a lot. Tim almost drew off just to ask if Chris could manage more detailed feedback, but one glance at Chris’s face told Tim there would be no articulation from that quarter.

  Chris’s face was flushed pink, his eyes screwed closed as he gasped and squirmed. Tim put on hand on Chris’s belly and loved how it dipped and juddered with every shaky breath. Since Chris apparently wasn’t going to be bothered much by whatever Tim did, he tried a few things. Taking Chris’s cock deeper into his mouth triggered his gag reflex, but it also forced a punched out breath from Chris, which Tim liked a lot. He tried it again, until his chin and Chris’s cock were wet and messy with spit and Chris was swearing viciously. Tim tried everything, but kept coming back to trying to take Chris deeper. He did it while holding his breath, then while breathing in, breathing out, until he realized all he really needed was practice. It wasn’t too long before his gag reflex started to give up on him.

  That was so cool.

  He pulled off Chris with an obscene noise and a swirl of his tongue. “Dude,” he said breathlessly, “I’m totally going to be able to deep-throat you soon.”

  Chris’s head popped up and he looked at Tim like he was insane, his eyes wild.

  Tim dove back into his work, and Chris’s head fell back to the mattress with a thump. From there, it didn’t take long. Chris warned him with a hand in his hair, trying to yank him off, and Tim’s dick perked up with interest with every pull.

  Huh. Another thing to explore later.

  “Fuck, Tim. Tim. You have to—I’m gonna—”

  Tim’s only response was to suck harder. Chris curled up, his abdominal muscles bunching in stark relief, and came with what Tim might generously call a high-pitched shout.

  But would be sure to call a scream when he teased Chris about it later.

  Chris collapsed back onto the bed, the hand that had been yanking at Tim’s hair pushing at his head weakly when he became too sensitive.

  Tim pulled back, curling his tongue around the soft head once, just to be tidy, and released Chris’s cock from his lips.

  Chris was staring at the ceiling blankly, his arms flung out the width of the mattress. His chest heaved as he sucked in great gulps of air, color slowly returning to normal. He looked wrecked. Again.

  Tim felt accomplished.

  He crawled up the bed and looked into Chris’s glazed eyes. “You okay there, buddy?”

  “Nngh.” Chris’s gaze drifted to him and held, and for a long moment, Tim got lost in just that. Chris’s eyes were so blue. His lashes long, just a few shades darker than his hair, and slightly curled. Gorgeous.

  Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before?

  If he’d had a mirror, he would have given himself the “you’re such an idiot” look.

  “You’re pretty,” he said with a little smile.

  Chris blinked, his gaze narrowing. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No,” he said, maybe a little dishonestly, since he could have chosen any number of other words—handsome, gorgeous, stunning—and not have needled Chris so much with it.

  Chris shifted on the bed and grimaced.

  “What? What is it? Did I hurt your leg?” Tim asked, sitting up quickly.

  “No, no, my leg is fine. I ahh…”

  Tim watched in fascination as a blush swept over Chris’s face.

  “What is it?” Tim asked again.

  “I think there’s a lot of…umm…drool? Down there? Between—beneath. You know.”

  Tim grinned and pecked Chris on the lips. He was sorely tempted to give Chris shit for being shy, but decided he enjoyed the idea of making a project out of teaching Chris to be uninhibited.

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised with a last kiss.

  Chris protested mightily when Tim returned with a warm washcloth and rolled Chris onto his stomach, nudging his thighs as wide apart as the cast would allow. Chris buried his bright red face in the sheets while Tim made quick work of wiping Chris down, forcing himself to remain detached when his innate curiosity was screaming at him to explore all the places he was seeing and touching for the first time.

  If he gave into that, there wasn’t a chance in hell either of them would get breakfast.

  Tim threw the washcloth into in the sink, coming back to find Chris’s breathing had gone deep and soft, his eyes closed and his mouth lax. Tim pulled the covers up off the floor and tucked them in around Chris before padding out of the bedroom.

  CHRIS WOKE SLOWLY, his body melted into the bed, consciousness returning when the smells of coffee and cinnamon permeated his sleep-addled brain. He sat up, carefully dragging himself to sit against the headboard, barely settling before Tim came into the room.

  “Is that french toast?” Chris asked incredulously.

  It was. It was fucking french toast.

  The surreal feeling was back. But it wasn’t bad. Hell, no. Not when it came with c
innamon and butter and maple-flavored fucking awesomeness.

  “Shut up and eat, loser,” Tim said with a little smile as he climbed into the bed beside Chris.

  Chris did as he was told, but only because his mouth was too busy eating to tell Tim to fuck off. Tim, on the other hand, ate slowly. Chris kept catching Tim watching him out of the corner of his eye.

  It was a little disconcerting, but also nice. The Tim he’d always known, the one he’d fallen in love with, was fun and funny. Gregarious and boisterous. Generous with his friends, with his time. But never so attentive.

  Chris wondered what had gone wrong with all those women if this was how Tim had treated them. Or maybe this was how Tim had learned to be, to make up for whatever shortcomings they saw in him.

  “You know you don’t have to feed me, right?” Chris asked suddenly.

  “I know,” Tim agreed with an easy shrug.

  “Even with the whole cast thing.”

  “Yup.”

  Chris tried to read Tim’s face, but he was finally focused on his food. “I won’t be mad if you don’t. Or expect you to, now that we’ve…done stuff. You know that, right?”

  “Considering I’m going to be gone for most of the next week, I should hope not.”

  Chris’s heart sank. He’d been trying not to think about the road trip. “Oh, yeah. Right. It should be interesting, having to fend for myself,” he said as brightly as he could. Tim shot him an amused, if somewhat insulting, look. “What? I’ll be fine.”

  Tim rolled his eyes. “I’ve already talked to Callum. Rupert is on the road with us, but Callum’s staying home with the kids and is happy to keep an eye on you. He’s going to ask if you want to stay with them while we’re gone.”

  Chris sputtered, simultaneously touched and put out that Tim had talked to them about this. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Tim finally put down his fork. Then his entire plate on the bedside table. Chris licked his lips nervously, not sure what was coming. He twitched when Tim took his hand and pulled it into his lap.

  “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been pushy, okay? To be honest, you getting hurt kind of threw me for a loop.”

  “I’m sorry,” Chris said.

  “Shut up. It’s not like you asked for this. But it has made me think a lot. About you. About us. Even before you told me everything yesterday and all this happened,” he said, gesturing at the bed. “And what I’ve figured out is that I like taking care of you. I want to take care of you.”

  Chris looked back at Tim, bewildered. “You do? Why?”

  Tim looked at him like he was an idiot. “Because I love you,” he said, like it was perfectly obvious.

  “You—you—what?” Chris spluttered when he could finally draw a proper breath.

  “I love you. I mean, I’ve loved you for a long time. Like, years.”

  Oh. Right. “You mean like a friend.”

  “I did. I mean, I do? I don’t know,” Tim said with an impatient sigh. “Look, I’m still figuring shit out, obviously, since it’s been, like, two days. But I love you, okay? And that’s been about friendship for a long time. But then you got hurt, and I’ve sucked your dick a couple times, and that’s definitely changing things for me, you know?”

  Chris really didn’t, since he’d loved Tim in the dick-sucking way for a long time, but he nodded anyway, his heart galloping in his chest. “Okay,” he said, though it came out somewhat strangled.

  He felt like he should say it back—tell Tim he loved him, too. Tim made it sound so fucking easy, to just let the words past his lips. It had been easy yesterday when he’d been yelling at Tim, too caught up in the moment to engage any kind of filter. Now, though, with Tim’s dark gaze looking directly into his, Chris realized Tim wasn’t the only one struggling to get used to all the changes.

  Chris had opened his mouth, even moved his lips to form the words, a few times, before Tim sighed again, this time with far more exasperation and a giant eye roll. “Don’t hurt yourself, dude. We can take our time figuring things out.” He plucked Chris’s empty plate from his lap and put it aside.

  Chris was still trying to wrap his head around what Tim had said, and now also the realization that of the two of them, Tim Robineau was the one that was better at this relationship thing.

  “Thanks,” Chris said quietly, meeting Tim’s steady gaze. “I’m sorry I’m being reserved again.”

  Tim smiled. “Well, I happen to know a way around that, now.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Chris was mortified to feel himself blush furiously. “No you don’t,” he protested, which was a total lie.

  He leaned away from the wicked smile that stretched across Tim’s face. “Wanna bet?”

  Chris swallowed hard. The answer should be no. He should definitely say no.

  Instead, the words, “I dare you,” came out of his mouth.

  Chapter Six

  TIM LAUGHED, A sound so big and happy, Chris couldn’t help but smile, too. That smile was erased, though, when Tim pounced on him, dragging his ass down the bed until he was flat on his back and Tim’s wicked grin and big body were hovering above him.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” Tim announced in a deep voice.

  Chris opened his mouth to say god-only-knew what, but all that came out was a squeak.

  “Is that a yes?” Tim asked, his eyes dancing with laughter.

  “Fuck you,” Chris groaned, hooking a hand around Tim’s neck and tugging him closer, kissing him hard, as boldly as he dared, trying to find some way of saying, “Yes, please, and hurry the fuck up” without actually having to speak the words.

  Tim kissed like he played hockey, with focus and energy, using his strength to move his opponents out of the way. Or in this case, move Chris right where he wanted him, cast and all. Chris held on for dear life, his head spinning while Tim nipped at his lips, then dragged his mouth down Chris’s neck and behind his ear, finding a spot that made Chris whimper helplessly. Tim’s hands were everywhere.

  Goddamn, Tim was good at this. Chris felt like a rookie by comparison.

  “You’re not built like a rookie,” Tim said, a wealth of appreciation in his voice as he ran his hands down Chris’s flanks.

  Chris blinked, realizing he must have spoken aloud. God, he hoped he hadn’t babbled all of that. He was reassured by the knowledge that his tongue had been too busy trying to wrap around Tim’s for a good portion of the last five minutes.

  “Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly, gulping when Tim pressed his legs wider on the bed so he could kneel between them.

  “You’re welcome,” Tim murmured, running his eyes down Chris’s torso, lingering where his erection rested against his hip.

  Chris jumped when Tim wrapped a hand around his cock.

  “I bet this would feel great inside me,” Tim said contemplatively.

  All the air left Chris’s lungs in a rush, his mouth hanging open.

  Tim smirked. “Not going to agree? I think you should agree,” he suggested. His hand hadn’t stopped moving.

  How the hell was Chris supposed to speak when he wanted to die of lust and embarrassment?

  “Yes,” he finally managed to hiss out. “Yes. I want that. Please.”

  “We can’t,” Tim said sadly.

  Chris pushed up onto his elbows. “What? Why’d you even say it if you don’t want—”

  “Oh, I do want,” Tim promised while his thumb did honestly mind-blowing things around the head of Chris’s cock. “But I can’t. Not with all the games this week. But later. When I get back and have two days off…”

  Chris let his head fall back between his shoulders and tried to breathe. “Fuck. Tim. You’re killing me.”

  “Sorry.”

  He didn’t sound sorry. Not even a little. Then Chris had a thought. It took an absurd amount of energy to lift his head again, but he wanted to see Tim’s face when he said, “You know, you might not like it. And that’s cool.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to like i
t.”

  “How do you know?” And suddenly, Chris was afraid to know the answer. “Have you…you’ve been with a man? Before?”

  “Nope,” Tim said easily, his lips popping on the P.

  “Then you don’t know,” Chris said, trying to ignore the relief surging through him. It shouldn’t make a difference that he was the only man Tim had even been with.

  “Alison,” Tim said, dropping his ex-girlfriend’s name into the conversation out of nowhere.

  Chris focused back on Tim, shaking his head in confusion. Then it clicked, a shudder running through Chris’s body as the most insane images burned themselves into his head. “Are you fucking kidding me? You. And she. You let her…”

  “Peg me? Yep.” Another popped P, another stroke along Chris’s cock.

  “You know, being smug about it is not attractive. Like, at all.” To utterly belie that point, Tim’s finger caught the pearl of precome on the tip of Chris’s dick and rubbed it into his skin. “Fuck,” Chris groaned, his good leg twitching against the sheets.

  “That good?” Tim asked mildly, his hand speeding up.

  “Yes, you bastard,” Chris gasped as he writhed helplessly. “Yes, it’s fucking good.”

  “Good,” Tim murmured, bending to return his mouth to Chris’s neck, his shoulders, his lips tracking all over Chris’s chest and torso.

  Chris ran his fingers through Tim’s hair. He’d fucking known it would feel like this. Soft and thick. Like mink fur. He ran his other hand over Tim’s shoulder, along his jaw where the stubble scraped gently against his fingertips.

  “You know, I’m not going to just lie here when I’m not in this cast anymore,” Chris promised, cutting himself off with a gasping giggle as gentle fingers danced over his ribs. He was helpless to whatever Tim wanted to do, and Tim was shamelessly taking advantage of it. And fuck fuck fuck, why was that so hot?

  Tim’s lips brushed Chris’s pec when he replied. “I look forward to it.”

  Chris groaned, his cock leaking again. “Please, god, do something. I swear my balls must be blue by now.”