Life Class

by Scarlet Blackwell

  “You come back here right now,” he yelled down the street. “You don’t spout that shit then run away like the pussy you are before I’m finished with you!”

  Ryan froze in his tracks. He turned around slowly, the expression on his face angrier and colder than Harley had ever seen. “Before you’re finished with me?” he demanded, and he stalked forward furiously, grabbing Harley by the collar, oblivious to passersby. “Then why don’t we go somewhere more private and you can say your fucking piece?”

  He dragged Harley bodily off the street and into an alleyway, hurling him against the wall so violently that Harley was stunned. He surged back at Ryan, smarting at the rough treatment, lifting his hand to smack him across the face as hard as he could.

  “Why didn’t you take the check, Ryan?” he shouted as Ryan reeled back in shock. “You fucked me for free because you wanted to. You never had a better time in your life than you did with me!”

  Ryan pushed him back against the wall, gripping him by the hair. A moment later, as their eyes met, flashing with passion, their lips collided fiercely.

  Their bodies strained against each other’s, and Ryan pressed Harley harder and harder into the wall so Harley moaned, his arms around Ryan’s neck. Ryan’s hands gripped his ass, scooping him closer, lifting him against the bulge in his jeans to grind against him.

  Harley gasped, the kiss breaking, and rough hands on his shoulders shoved him to his knees. Taken aback, he was confronted by Ryan fumbling the buttons of his jeans open, drawing his rigid cock free before he gripped Harley’s head in one large hand, bringing him forward.

  Harley had no choice but to open his mouth, and as he sucked Ryan down, his lust turned to anger at the blatant power games the other man employed. He was blind enough with desire to suck Ryan off in this alleyway in public, in daylight, but not this way. Not with Ryan’s face still hard as stone, not with Ryan doing this to subjugate him, not to get off.

  He looked up at Ryan with aggrieved eyes as he blew him, the other bucking his hips forward, his hand tight in Harley’s hair. Ryan’s eyes opened. They stared down at Harley intently, and his body went still, his gaze fixed, the expression on his face shifting to something else, something approaching anguish, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown.

  He drew Harley abruptly to his feet and pressed him back to the wall, lips on his. He fumbled at Harley’s pants, palming his cock through them, drawing it quickly free and jerking him off roughly, swiftly.

  Harley arched against him, reaching for Ryan, their hands and cocks bumping as they masturbated each other, their mouths heavy and wet with passion, tongues tangling.

  Harley was close, his body engulfed by flames. His head fell back against the wall, and Ryan’s mouth seared his neck, teeth and tongue attacking the sensitive skin, breath scorching him. He moaned loudly, fingers in Ryan’s hair, holding his head there as he bucked into his hand, coming helplessly.

  Harley shuddered long and hard, coming back to his senses only when Ryan moved away to fasten his jeans. Harley reached to pull him back because Ryan hadn’t come and Harley very much wanted him to, but Ryan moved out of his grip, turning away.

  “Hey.” Harley grabbed his arm, pulling him back because no way was he finished with Ryan yet. No way at all. He only wanted to be close to him for as long as he could.

  But Ryan shrugged him off, removing Harley’s hand from his arm. For a moment, their eyes met, and once more the shutters were down. Harley read nothing but blankness in those sapphire eyes.

  Ryan turned and walked away, leaving Harley in the alleyway, once more bereft.

  Oh, Jesus, what have I done? Tell me that just didn’t happen. Ryan walked blindly toward the stretch of beach he’d spent last night on and where he’d stashed his bag in some bushes. He’d been out on the pier looking for work, not expecting to bump into Harley, not expecting to end up with the other man pressed against a wall in a dirty alley, for God’s sake.

  His mouth was swollen where Nathan had punched him, and it burned like Harley’s kiss was branded on it for all time. His still-hard dick twitched and leaked in his boxers. He needed to jerk off badly, or he would go insane.

  He swerved into the first café he saw and made a beeline for the restroom at the back, not giving a damn what the patrons or the staff thought. He slammed and locked the door of the cubicle, then he freed himself frantically from his jeans. Bracing himself against the wall with one hand, legs spread and head bowed, he spat on his hand and jerked himself off roughly, quickly. As he imagined Harley on his knees with his mouth around his cock, Ryan’s breath came in stifled groans, and it only took him a couple of minutes before he spurted over the wall, the name of his tormentor spilling from his lips.

  He slumped to his knees, panting, eyes closed, praying for all this to go away.

  He eventually made it back to the beach to rescue his bag, and he sat there in the sand with it, deep in thought. Taking an honest look inside himself for the first time, he asked when this was going to stop. When was he going to admit it to himself?

  He’d been in purgatory for the last six months. There hadn’t been a single day when he hadn’t remembered the kiss and how it had made him feel. So many times he’d wanted to go to Harley’s house, had even, on two occasions, got as far as the end of the street before turning back.

  And he didn’t know what he would do when he got there. He only knew he needed to with a compulsion he didn’t understand. And yet he had resisted until he’d thought it would kill him. And two nights ago at the gallery, he’d felt all that pain, all that loss rise up inside him, and he’d thought he would choke on it. Then he’d gone to Harley’s house next day and fucked him and, for just the shortest time, those flames of agony had been quelled. Now, with his mouth burning again, an inferno consumed him once more.

  That was why he’d left the check. How could he take money for something which had made him feel so good? He would be a fraud and a liar. Not just that, he was done with feeling cheap. He would never take money for sex again.

  Nathan remained where Harley had left him, on the pier looking down into the water. As Harley approached his side, Nathan said in a low, trembling voice, “Oh, you must think I’m such a fool. Your ex puts me on my ass in front of all these people and you run after him and I’m still fucking here when you get back.”

  He turned to Harley with blazing eyes as Harley shook his head sorrowfully, shame-faced. “I’m sorry, Nathan. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Nathan cried.

  Harley bit his lip. Lowering his head to stare down at the wooden planks, he said, “I love him. I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

  Harley paced the terrace back and forth in the dark, staring out to sea, grinding his teeth and pulling at his hair. Oh, God, Ryan was going to drive him out of his mind. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He only knew he needed Ryan in his bed or he would lose the plot completely. Ryan had been such a goddamn stallion, bringing him to two explosive climaxes last night which nearly blew off his head and the same again in the alleyway today.

  How could he doubt Ryan felt something for him when he’d performed that way then left the check behind? Hadn’t that display in the alleyway sealed it completely, because where was Ryan’s motive for tangling with him there, other than blind lust?

  He had to have him, at the risk of Ryan rejecting him one more time for good. He had to abandon all his pride and beg Ryan to be his. Nothing else mattered.

  He strode from the terrace, grasping his car keys from the office desk as he passed through.

  Within minutes, Harley stood at Ryan’s door with his legs trembling and his heart in his mouth. He knocked repeatedly before he let his head fall against it, bracing his hand there, his eyes closed. Was Ryan inside and ignoring him? Was he really such a coward? The misery rose up to consume him whole. It was done, it was all done. As he turned to walk away, the door opposite opened a crack. A dark Latino face peered out, the smell of cooking
wafting behind her.

  “You won’t find him in, Mister,” the woman informed him.

  Harley stepped toward her. “Where is he?”

  “He was thrown out last night,” she told him. “Four months behind on his rent.”

  Harley’s heart clenched in sorrow and pity. “Do you know where he went?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry.”

  Harley sighed. He stood there a moment in thought. “Did you see which direction he went when he left?”

  The woman nodded. She pointed over her right shoulder. “Toward the beach.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Harley left his car on the boulevard and hurried down the steps to the beach. He walked along it methodically, scanning every single figure on the sand and in the sea, moving closer to the pier, his stomach clenched into tight knots of trepidation.

  It was half an hour before he spotted Ryan at the top of the beach opposite the pier. Curled up against the wall, he used his bag for a pillow and his coat for a blanket. He had his eyes closed, turned on his side facing the sea.

  Harley stood staring for long moments with palms damp and heart racing and then he stepped closer.

  He knelt in front of Ryan, looking at the pale face washed in moonlight, the dark crescents of the lashes against the cheeks. He lifted his hand, and it trembled as he trailed his fingers down the chiseled curve of Ryan’s jaw.

  Ryan flinched violently and lurched to a seated position on the sand, fists out in front of him as though ready to defend himself from an attack. He stopped short in astonishment when he saw Harley.

  “What are you doing here, Ryan?” Harley asked in a low voice.

  Ryan’s expression was cold, his lips set together. “What are you doing here? Are you fucking stalking me? Didn’t you get enough this afternoon?”

  Harley flushed because no, he certainly hadn’t. How could anyone get enough of Ryan? He’d expected Ryan to still be angry, but his attitude nonetheless hurt. Did all this anger boil down to him seeing Harley with Nathan? What else could it be? He could hardly be angry about the result of their lovemaking. After all, Ryan had been the one to walk out and leave the check. If it had been up to Harley, they would still be in that bed now, fucking like bunnies.

  “I went to your apartment and was told you’d been thrown out.”

  “What of it?” Ryan got up off the sand, so Harley did the same. “Come to gloat?”

  “No.” Harley frowned, confused. Why would Ryan accuse him of such spiteful things? Did he really not know yet how Harley felt about him, how he would do anything for him? But at the same time, Harley had to remember he’d committed the unpardonable sin of offering Ryan money for sex. The man had every right to think Harley was the lowest person to walk the earth. “Jesus, I don’t want to see you out on the streets. Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Come to you?” Ryan echoed angrily. “For what?”

  Harley swallowed. “For a bed.”

  Ryan nodded. “Ah, yeah,” he sneered, “a bed. And tell me Harley, what would the fee for your bed entail? A blowjob? Fucking ’til dawn?”

  Harley closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Oh, Christ, no, Ryan. Look, I didn’t…”

  “Spare me,” Ryan snarled and picked up his bag and coat.

  “Wait.” Harley grabbed his arm. “Just listen to me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean to do any of that.”

  Ryan looked down at him, his face deeply shadowed, his eyes almost black. “Do what?”

  Harley sighed. “Offer you money. That wasn’t what…” He stopped because, to his shame, he could feel tears welling up, clogging his throat with six months’ worth of misery. “I didn’t want to do that. I just…didn’t see any other way to…get what I wanted. It was so wrong of me, and I swear I never meant to make you feel cheap or used, and I know I did, but…” He couldn’t speak anymore. He bowed his head and started to cry, a hand over his eyes.

  There was complete silence from Ryan for a moment, then he moved closer to Harley. “Oh, look…” He sighed, and his hand cupped the back of Harley’s head, his touch hesitant.

  Harley tried to turn away. No way did he want this touch out of any sort of pity on Ryan’s part. He hadn’t cried in years, and what a way to end the drought now, in front of the straight boy he’d forced into his bed.

  But Ryan stayed him with another hand on his shoulder, and Harley found himself stumbling closer, seeking the other man’s comfort against his will. A moment later he was in Ryan’s arms, Ryan holding him with that hand on his head, stroking his hair.

  Harley pressed his face against his neck, breathing Ryan’s familiar scent, and he never wanted to let go. He let out the hurt of the last six months there in Ryan’s embrace, and Ryan merely held him and allowed him to vent.

  Harley would never have expected this sort of behavior from Ryan in a million years. He doubted Ryan had the capacity himself to cry, and he wondered why he wasn’t pouring scorn on him, calling him a pussy and pushing him away. But he didn’t. He kept Harley close against his chest as Harley muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

  When he’d finally composed himself, he drew back and stood there a moment, wiping at his eyes and sniffling. An awkward silence fell between them.

  “Just…take the bed for the night, okay?” Harley said quietly with eyes lowered. “No strings, I swear. I won’t touch you.”

  Ryan sighed. “I can’t.”

  “Why not? You don’t trust me, do you?”

  Ryan took a long time replying. Finally he turned and started to walk away, muttering as he did, “I don’t trust myself.”

  The blood surged in Harley’s veins, and he trembled all over. He ran after Ryan. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you think I mean?” Ryan said almost harshly, stopping and glaring at him with steel eyes.

  “I…don’t know,” Harley stammered.

  Ryan’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “There’s that innocent little boy act that I know and…”

  “Love?” Harley finished for him with his heart beating so hard it felt like it would break his ribs.

  Ryan bit his lip. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth. I’ll come home with you tonight, but you better behave yourself.” He set off walking, leaving Harley staring after him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Oh, thank you, God, thank you, Harley chanted silently as Ryan sat beside him in the passenger seat. His hands were damp on the wheel, and the atmosphere in the car was fraught with tension. I don’t trust myself. The more he thought about those words, the stiffer his prick got. He tried to tell himself they meant nothing, but he didn’t quite believe it. He’d been thrown from misery into confusion and some sort of bizarre hope. He dared not even start to think this way.

  They exchanged no words on the way home, and Ryan followed him into the house, kicking off his shoes when Harley did and following him up the stairs.

  Harley showed him into the spare room, because he wouldn’t have dared try to take Ryan into his own, no matter how desperate he was. “Make yourself at home,” he said nervously, flicking on the light.

  Ryan put his bag and coat down on the bed. “Is it okay if I shower?”

  Harley nodded. “Do you want anything to eat?”

  Ryan shook his head. “I just want to sleep.”

  “Drink?” Harley asked.

  “I’ll have some juice, if you have any,” Ryan replied.

  “I’ll leave you some by the bed while you’re in the shower.” Harley turned and left the room before his raging hormones got the better of him.

  Maria had long ago finished for the night, and the kitchen was silent and dark, lit only by the clock on the oven and the moonlight. Harley switched on the light and poured two glasses of cranberry juice. He heard the shower start upstairs and the creaking of the bathroom floorboards. His imagination took over.

  He saw himself climbing the stairs while stripping, opening the glass shower door and pressing against Ryan from behind.


  He imagined Ryan starting, giving a groan as Harley rubbed himself against his buttocks before reaching around to palm Ryan’s already hard dick.

  Maybe he would find Ryan jerking off, and he would stand on the other side of the door watching him for a few seconds before saying, “Do you need some help with that?”

  Ryan would jump and then say with a needy growl, “You bet I do.”

  He would drag Harley into the shower and push him face first against the wall, fingers probing between his buttocks, fingering him, getting him nice and ready. Then he’d fuck him against that wall with Harley’s hands scrabbling against the wet tiles and loud moans coming from his mouth.

  Harley drew in a shaky breath. He braced himself against the work surface while he stroked himself through his jeans and listened to the water running. Fuck, Ryan was going to kill him. If he didn’t fuck him soon, Harley was going to die from excessive masturbation. He was rock hard, and there was a damp spot in his boxers where his cock was leaking.

  He bit his lip, debating if he’d enough time, wondering if Ryan would come down and catch him, and then his libido won and he tore his pants open and jammed his hand into his boxers, jerking furiously.

  The shower stopped and the floorboards creaked, but Harley didn’t stop. He groaned and leaned against the work surface with his head lowered, panting hard for breath. His ass clenched as he imagined Ryan’s thick cock driving into him, filling him with come.

  Footsteps sounded on the landing now and a door opened. Ryan had gone into his room. The thought made his hand move quicker. Maybe Ryan was dressed in nothing but a towel, going into Harley’s room, ready to throw him down on the bed and fuck him senseless. He liked that idea, and he stifled a groan with his hand over his mouth.

  He heard his bedroom door close, but still he didn’t stop. Ryan was surely going back to his own room, and Harley was nearly there.

  Ryan was coming downstairs. Harley’s heart lurched with such panic that he thought it would stop.