RUIN: A M/M Romance Novel

by Daya Daniels

  My dick drips.

  I dip down and send my teeth into his flesh nibbling on his ass cheeks as I work my fingers in deeper. I suck on his tight balls, one by one, feeling their heft, accepting that they’re full of cum just like mine are. He moans even louder. I stretch that pretty hole of his out until it’s gaping and abysmal, ready for my cock.

  “Yeah, that’s it.” I jerk my dick for just a second to relieve the pain, the want, the need.

  Ryker arches his back and glances at me over his shoulder.

  My dick is soaking wet and so is his pouting asshole. It’s miserable without what it really wants. I got somethin’ for ya’… Smiling, I admire him against the backdrop of my Batman sheets.

  Pretty as a fucking picture.

  Running my fingers along the crack of his ass, I groan, spreading his cheeks even more. I’m in position again quickly, breathing heavy and hard. I brush the hole with the head of my cock and then I let it linger there, teasing, pushing gently, encouraging it to let me in.

  He rocks back against me.

  Cute as fuck.

  With a squelch, his hole swallows the broad head of my cock, sucks me in, milks me, like it was fucking made for me. I’m speechless, only able to let out deep breaths and mutter incoherent words.

  He bounces back slowly.

  My fingers dig into his flesh.

  SLAP.

  I deliver one to his right cheek.

  Moaning, he bounces more, faster, deeper, hungrier.

  My balls tighten, ready to drop a bomb!

  The thunder roars.

  The melodic music confuses my head.

  Fuck.

  His dark hair is wild all over his head as it hangs low and just for a second he dusts my vision with blue. So much blue. Blue eyes. Blue beating heart. Blue fucking soul.

  “Fuck me like you love me, Griffon.” His bottom lip quivers.

  A shove a wail down in my chest when every nerve ending in my cock is worked to the point of no mercy, slowly snaking its way all the way into his tight pink tunnel.

  Almost there…

  “I—I—I love you a lot.” The words leave my mouth in a desperate rasp.

  A whimper leaves Ryker just as he bites his bottom lip, hard, still rocking on my cock. “Well, then.”

  Dear, God.

  I shudder.

  And when all nine inches of my cock slides all the way in, I scream this shitty apartment down.

  RYKER

  BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU ask for…

  Tiny gasps leave me. My body grows rigid. My fingers twist into the sheet.

  The air-conditioning in here buzzes but it does nothing to help with the heat!

  Griffon’s fingers tangle in my hair.

  My head is wrenched back. Slowly, his sweaty chest covers my back. He presses a fierce kiss to my mouth, stealing all my air away.

  I lower my head when his hand slides to my shoulder, locking me in.

  SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

  He fucks me hard and slow, just like I like, allowing me to feel every thick inch of him sliding in and out of my asshole, forcing me to open wide and let him in.

  He moans.

  He groans.

  He picks up speed.

  The squelching of flesh against flesh is deafening.

  I wail.

  SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

  This rickety old bed creaks. Debussy echoes from the speakers.

  This tiny room smells like fucking and rain.

  Griffon whimpers just as his cock twitches deep inside me and I know he’s close.

  My own is stone hanging between my legs slapping each one of my thighs slicking them with precum each time I’m vaulted forward, my head almost hitting the drywall. Any harder and Griffon is going to send me right through it and into his next-door neighbor’s living room.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, loving the sensation of having him deep inside me.

  The fullness. The hardness. The wetness.

  Him bucking into me wild.

  The realization of being completely fucking owned.

  “That’s it,” I hiss. “Fuck me like you fucking love me.”

  A whine leaves Griffon. More throbbing of his dick. More twitching. His grip tightens on my shoulder. I’m in the presence of a silverback! His beautiful fingers leave pink marks along my hot skin. My asshole opens more, more, more as he buries himself deep, fucking me harder, putting all his weight into the stroke.

  SLAP. SLAP. SLAP.

  I choke at the invasion, lick my lips and breathe.

  Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.

  “I do love you.” Each word is deliberate and grunted.

  They make me whimper.

  Reaching down, I tug on myself off, losing it. I work my hot and swollen cock fast and hard, lost in my own world for just a few seconds, then I’m back in ours as if there’s no other place to be.

  Our moans mix together only catapulting my desire.

  It’s an opus of dirty lust and love.

  Griffon turns to stone just as my cock jerks wildly in my hand like an out-of-control hose and sprays everywhere.

  His hand presses the spot just over my hip and he stills me, as if making sure I don’t run away. His cock jumps, forcing me to cry out with every spasm. Grunting like a beast, he spills every ounce of his cum into my asshole.

  I don’t move, only breathe.

  Running his hand over my ass cheek, he pants.

  I relax just a little and shake my head.

  “What’s the matter?” His shaky voice crawls its way into my ears that are still thrumming with my orgasm.

  I glance at the mess beneath me and then at him. “I jerked off on Robin’s face.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  RYKER

  CRANING MY NECK UP to the October night sky, breathing in the cool air that’s laced with the scent of roasting peanuts and exhaust fumes.

  It’s wonderful.

  A month had gone by.

  Nothing like New York City…

  Griffon marches alongside me as we make our way through the Village.

  A place of counterculture.

  The Bohemian capital.

  A place were the LGBTQ movement rules.

  I love this enclave in the Lower West Side.

  It is home to the best people and some of the most mouthwatering Cantonese food I’ve ever tasted.

  Glancing over at Griffon next to me, I make a mental list of everything I’d learned about him over the time we’ve officially been together.

  His favorite color—green. He hates ethnic food. He loves green beans. He’s a night owl and finds it difficult to drag himself out of his bed in the morning. He loves animals despite how severely unlikely that would seem, but he prefers dogs over cats. And he’s quiet, not shy. There is a difference apparently. I think I get it though. I love the moments when he doesn’t say much sometimes leaving me to figure out what he’s thinking though I never can. And he loves me. All that matters.

  We have no clue where we’re going but it’s Friday night, so…

  The streets are alive with lights and a bit crowded with people.

  I breathe in once more relishing in how I feel in Griffon’s presence.

  Things had become intense, as if they weren’t already. NYU had been maddening with back-to-back classes for the two of us. I’d finally picked a major and made up my mind I would change it. Economics had a good ring to it, I think. Pierce seemed to agree and told me I’m on my way to becoming a lawyer and that even though it would take forfuckingever that I’m off to a good start.

  I feel good about the future.

  Not great.

  But better than I did yesterday.

  Griffon had decided to take up a different position at Baby’s gym—in the office.

  He complained and complained about not wanting to have to socialize or talk to people, but I convinced him it was better than scrubbing floors and cleaning toilets. It’s been a week and he seems to like it better, even though, really, I
insisted he quit altogether.

  He took the money.

  Babbo bought a new TV, one that’s mounted on the wall instead of that gigantic thing from the Stone Age that used to rest on Griffon’s living room floor.

  I like Babbo.

  He’s an old man who’s going bald and who has a thick Italian accent even though he’s been living in New York City for over twenty years. He talks about Griffon’s mother, Giulia, nonstop. He has that twinkle in his eye when he talks about his wife even though she’s gone. Babbo has that twinkle in his eye that Francis and Bella lack when they look at each other. I mean, I’m pretty sure much of the time Bella’s vision is blurred, but still. They don’t love each other, not anymore, if they ever did.

  And of course, after all these weeks, Griffon has been hounding me about introducing him to my parents.

  I truly don’t want to.

  It’s as if I’m inviting castration on myself.

  “Have you spoken to Doctor Azad?” Griffon asks.

  “Nope, and I don’t plan to.”

  He gives me the side eye and squeezes my hand tighter. “You should, Ryker.”

  A couple walks by—a man and a woman who smile. Then two girls who are nuzzled in each other’s necks, laughing. Then, a group of skinheads who heckle each other and already seem drunk. They only stare, toss us “mean face” but they daren’t say a word. Still, you can feel the animosity and the hatred they have for us.

  Like go die!

  Besides, what in the ever-loving hell are they doing in the Village anyways? This is by far the biggest, best, and most thriving gayborhood in the western hemisphere!

  Griffon barely makes eye contact with the losers.

  It annoys me how passive he can be sometimes.

  I, however, look them right in their fucking eyes.

  It’s amazing how in twenty-first century there are still humans in this world who believe that their unwanted opinions and warped beliefs should govern the lives of others. I suppose there will always be jackasses in this universe, but it doesn’t mean we have to tolerate them encroaching on our privacy and violating our individual rights.

  Fuck ’em.

  When I look around these New York City streets, I see people from all walks of life and all nationalities. The faces that stick out to me the most are the ones with smiles on them. You can see their genuine appreciation for life written all over their mugs. They’re happy.

  I’ve decided that Griffon makes me happy.

  I think I make him happy too.

  If I could only be as happy on the inside as I appear on the outside…

  “Um, why should I call Doctor Azad?” I make a pained face. “I’ve had no reason to use. I haven’t even felt a nudge toward it.”

  He frowns. “It doesn’t matter, continued treatment is the best treatment.”

  “You sound like Doctor Azad in the flesh.” I yank my hand away and shove it into my pocket. “In fact, he might just be walking next to me with that scary-looking beard and his unibrow.”

  Griffon laughs. “He doesn’t have a unibrow?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Yes, he does. I don’t think even a weed whacker to the face could handle that thing.

  Griffon falls apart with laughter, stomping his boots on the pavement. “Ah, that’s harsh.”

  “Not as harsh as he’s been to me these past few years. I told them they can give my room away because I’m not going back to that place, ever.” I press my lips tight and run my hand over my jaw realizing I’ll need a shave very soon since right now I’m rocking at least three days’ worth of stubble.

  My words are hope.

  For me.

  For Griffon.

  For us.

  The want and the need to leave your old life behind. To correct your errors. The desire to escape what used to be and can be the soul-snatching want to use.

  It’s a killer, literally.

  I want to live.

  And so does Griffon.

  “You’re really grumpy tonight?” He nudges me in the shoulder playfully.

  A long groan leaves me.

  “Is that how someone behaves when they know their birthday is less than a few days away?” Griffon sucks his teeth.

  “So is yours.”

  “Yes, I know.” He yanks me into his side and presses a kiss to my cheek, making me smile. “So, please let’s be in a better mood to enjoy these things.”

  Sucking in a breath, I decide he’s right.

  My phone buzzes.

  I yank it out of my pocket and laugh at the message.

  Benjamin: The beautiful Beverly Hills bitches are in town. Are we meeting up?

  “Who’s it from?” Griffon asks.

  I moan. “Benjamin. He’s here all the way from Cali.”

  Benjamin Murphy is a dude I met a few years back when I hiked it out to L.A with a few of my coked-up friends. He’s cool. Or, she’s cool I should say. He showed us around the city and met up with a few movie stars. LA seems to be like that.

  Anyways, I promised Benjamin that if he ever made it to this side of the United States, I’d show him around the city and take him to all the best spots.

  But, can’t tonight.

  Busy.

  Besides, Griffon hates meeting new people.

  Griffon smirks. “You know I don’t like meeting new people.”

  I scoff. “Yeah, I know. I’ll give him a time tomorrow to shoot the shit. Besides, this time of night he’s probably face-deep in expensive cosmetics and drowning in a pile of Chanel dresses.” Laughing, I tap out a message to Benjamin.

  Me: Can’t tonight.

  Benjamin: Are you with your lover boy?

  Me: Yep, you know it.

  Benjamin: Damn, I want to meet him. I’ve heard he’s that weirdo type, doesn’t like people, hates fraternizing, works as a janitor or something.

  I narrow my eyes at Benjamin’s words.

  Me: Eassssy, I love him.

  Benjamin: Yeah, yeah, I can tell if you’re blowing me off.

  Me: Not blowing you off, rescheduling, there’s a difference.

  Benjamin: Well, he sounds like a real hottie.

  I glance over at Griffon for a beat and grin like a fool.

  Me: Yeah, he is.

  “Are we on time?” Griffon asks, nudging his chin at the building ahead.

  I check my watch. “Yes, I think so.”

  Griffon rubs his hands together as if he’s warming them, a sadistic grin on his face. “Let’s party.”

  GRIFFON

  “CHEERS,” ALL FOUR OF us say in unison.

  Pierce smiles. “To young love.” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye and his smirk tells me he’s thinking of something too inappropriate to say aloud.

  Baby grins. “Yes, to young love.”

  Then, we take long swigs of our expensive water then set our glasses down.

  It’s a little after seven o’clock at night.

  The four of us sit around a table in Le Souk Restaurant.

  I’m not sure whose idea it was for a Moroccan feast tonight…Says the guy with the sensitive stomach…So, unless the chairs we’re sitting on double as toilets, someone better have an explanation as to why we’re shitting…no sitting…here.

  I peruse the menu in front of me and it all looks tasty.

  “How do you know we’re in love?” Ryker scrunches up his face.

  I shoot him a look.

  In the last few weeks, Ryker had been staying at my shitty apartment more than he had his own. Surprisingly, Babbo didn’t seem to mind. He and Ryker often sat together in front of our new seventy-inch flat screen TV and watched Monday night football while I studied. Babbo made chicken cacciatore again too and we ate at our tiny table together. It felt good to let someone new into our little ghost home. But I did wonder then, as I do now, why Ryker prefers sometimes never to go home. Why he’d rather squeeze next to me in my single bed beneath my Batman sheets than spend the night in his sprawling penthouse apartment o
n the Upper West Side? Why he often wakes up in a cold sweat lying next to me, holding on to me as if he fears I’ll let him go.

  And nothing about his dislike of clowns makes any fucking sense to me. I’d only discovered that while at my place when I tossed him a stuffed one and he practically jumped out of his body before kicking it across the room like he was summoning his inner Cristiano Ronaldo.

  In the midst of this dinner my thoughts are all over the place!

  Laughter draws me out of my rumination.

  Ryker lifts a shoulder. “I mean, we are, but how do you know we are?”

  Baby’s brow lifts. “Trust me, we saw how deep in love you two are.”

  Heat flares up the back of my neck boiling my skin.

  Pierce and Baby crack up laughing.

  I cover my face with a hand and peek out at Ryker who looks completely lost.

  I toss him a look.

  His mouth falls open. “Oh, fuck.”

  Pierce and Baby laugh louder, so hard that I swear they’re about to fall out of their chairs.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, turning away from them to find the belly dancer shimmying her way past our table.

  Baby nudges me in the arm with his elbow. “Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.” He tosses Pierce a look. “We won’t tell anyone.” They crack up laughing.

  Assholes.

  I place a hand on Ryker’s shoulder then shove my fingers into his hair.

  Baby holds his hands up in surrender, palms facing out. “I don’t tell anyone this because it’s for security reasons, of course. Not even you would know, Griffon. But there are cameras all over that gym.”

  I lower my head in shame.

  Ryker smiles. “As long as you don’t put it on YouTube, I’m over it.”

  Baby chuckles. “If I had, I think you two would be very famous by now, especially you, Griffon.” He taps me on the shoulder playfully.

  “Gee, thanks.” I smile but it’s all fake and pissy.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen.” The waitress appears. “But will you need the wine list, or can I take your drink order?”

  We all meet eyes and one by one we confirm that we’ll be drinking water for the duration of the night.