by G. R. Lyons
The seated guy gave a shout. Ryley broke the kiss and turned to look as both cocks erupted at once, coating their hands with cum.
“Holy shit,” his friend whispered, openly staring.
A third finger entered Ryley, making his eyes roll back and breaking his concentration as he tried to jack the guy through his orgasm. His hand slipped away as he braced himself, riding those fingers.
A moment later, the fingers disappeared. Ryley whimpered, feeling the loss. Then he heard the distinct sound of a condom, but before he could turn to watch, the guy with two cocks suddenly grabbed Ryley's chin and tilted his face up for a kiss. The guy kissed Ryley's friend after that, then used his own shirt to wipe off their hands before flashing them a grin and getting up to leave, squeezing between them and disappearing out of Ryley's line of sight.
Ryley turned to watch him go, only to feel the blunt head of a cock at his hole.
All thought of the man with two cocks fled his mind as he rocked back and bore down, needing that cock inside him yesterday.
The head popped through, the guy's hands gripping Ryley's hips as he made shallow thrusts, slowly working his way inside. Ryley pushed back, meeting each thrust. The guy was going too slow for his liking. He wanted that thing all the way inside him right now, slamming into him, pounding away as hard as he could, filling the void that had been begging for contact.
Ryley couldn't stand it anymore and shoved back, getting that cock fully inside him and sliding perfectly over the spot where he needed it most.
The guy behind him leaned down and chuckled in his ear. “Greedy little bottom, aren't you, honey?”
Ryley's only reply was to pull forward and slam back again. The guy laughed and took the hint, taking Ryley's hips in a bruising grip and setting a brutal pace, pounding into him so hard and fast that all Ryley could do was grip the chair in front of him and hold on.
A hand wrapped around Ryley's cock. He had no idea whom the hand belonged to, only that it felt incredible combined with the steady, hard thrusts against his prostate. Ryley came with a shout, his fingers digging into the chair's cushion as he held on, riding out the waves of pleasure while something pulsed within his core.
He was vaguely aware of the dim lights flaring up only to lower again as the pulse within him faded.
Ryley sagged against the chair with a sigh, his body going limp, the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the floor being the guy's solid grip on his hips as he gave the last few thrusts before he came, his cock pulsing within Ryley's body as the guy shot into the condom.
A moment later, the guy eased out gently, keeping a steadying hand on Ryley's back.
“You alright?” the guy asked.
Ryley managed a nod.
The guy chuckled. “Don't move.”
Ryley didn't think he could move even if he wanted to. He stayed right where he was, feeling the stark absence when the guy moved away, then felt him return a moment before a cool cloth pressed against Ryley's backside. Ryley hissed with surprise, then let out a little moan as he eased back into the touch.
“Sorry,” the guy said, his voice laced with humor. “That was a lot of lube.”
Ryley managed a laugh and glanced over his shoulder, watching the guy clean him up before throwing the cloth into a bin. He helped Ryley to his feet, and Ryley wriggled his jeans back up his legs while the other guy hunted around for his own clothes. As soon as they were both dressed, the guy caught his eye and gave a nod toward the door.
“Buy you a drink?”
“Oh, you don't have to do that,” Ryley said.
The guy shrugged. “Might as well.” He chuckled and nodded at Ryley's friend. “He looks busy.”
Ryley looked at his friend, still on his knees, getting fucked by whoever had joined them. Laughing and shaking his head, Ryley gave the guy a nod and followed him out of the backroom and up to the bar.
They grabbed a couple of stools, Ryley easing down onto his while the guy looked on with a smirk, and ordered their drinks.
“So, don't take this the wrong way, but…”
Ryley paused in the midst of sipping his beer and looked at the guy.
“Don't you have a boyfriend?” the guy asked.
Ryley winced. “Yeah…”
The guy nodded. “I thought so.” He held up his hands. “Hey, not judging, honey. You do you. I'd just rather do without a punch to the face.” He gave Ryley a cocky grin.
Ryley laughed, then really looked at the guy, now able to see him better in the light of the bar. He wasn't as tall as Vic, but definitely on the larger side, just the way Ryley liked his men. The taller and more fit, the better. And this guy was certainly fit.
His face, though, was to die for.
No wonder he didn't want to get into a fight. Ryley wouldn't either, in his place. A pretty face like that was probably all over magazine covers, for all Ryley knew.
“What, you don't think you could take him?” Ryley teased, giving those impressive biceps a nod.
The guy chuckled and flexed. “Oh, probably. But I've seen that guy. I can't imagine anyone wanting to mess with him.”
Ryley blinked. “You have?” Vic had never gone to the club with him. It just wasn't his scene, and with good reason.
“Fuck, yeah. That big, foreign guy you're always hanging around with? That is your boyfriend, right?”
Big, foreign guy? Ryley thought, then barked a laugh as it hit him. “Athan?” He chuckled and shook his head. “No, he's not my boyfriend. He's just…” Ryley shrugged. “He's a regular hookup, that's all.”
And was he ever a good one. Athan was huge. Easily the tallest man Ryley had ever met, with the exception of Athan's uncle, who was an inch taller. Both men had been born and raised on Falsin, the frozen Isle in the north of the world. Falsiners were naturally tall, most of them towering well over seven feet, though Athan and his uncle were both short for their kind. Athan only reached six-foot-nine, making him a runt of a Falsiner, but on Agoran, he was a giant.
A giant with a cock that could work magic.
Ryley shivered at the thought even though he'd just been thoroughly fucked. Besides being freakishly tall, the Falsiners also had freakish sex drives. Athan could go all night without any effort whatsoever, coming six or seven times with little to no recovery required in between. Ryley couldn't even begin to keep up with the man—hells, he doubted anyone but another Falsiner could—but it meant Ryley could get as much sex as he wanted, whenever he wanted it.
Because that man always wanted it.
Ryley grinned and shook his head, looking at the man sitting beside him, trying to get his mind back on track with the conversation. Right. They'd been talking about fighting. Ryley laughed. No wonder the guy had asked. No one ever dared stand up to Athan. He was walking intimidation.
“So you have a boyfriend…and a regular hookup?” his drinking partner asked.
Ryley nodded, grimacing again. “Yeah.”
“And other hookups,” the guy went on, nodding with his chin, indicating both himself and the club in general.
Ryley nodded again.
“And the boyfriend's fine with that?” the guy asked, eyes wide. “Hells, man, last guy I dated, I so much as looked at another guy and he went full-blown drama queen on me.”
Ryley laughed, then shook his head. “Vic doesn't know,” he said, then looked away. At least, he hoped Vic didn't know, but he couldn't be sure. Vic certainly hadn't said anything, except in a joking tone. Shit. Maybe he did know. Not that Ryley was helping matters. “Then again,” he admitted, “I haven't exactly been careful.”
The guy's eyes widened even more.
“No, no, not like that,” Ryley said, waving his hands. “I'm always safe. Always condoms.” The guy's expression relaxed as he nodded. “Just…I haven't been careful about hiding it lately.”
The guy thought for a moment, looking out at the crowd. “Maybe you want to get caught?” he suggested, then slid a sideways glance at Ryley.
Ryley frowned
. Did he? He'd been so careful at first, sneaking about, preparing lies way ahead of time, finding excuses and covers for his behavior, trying to keep his flings as infrequent as possible. Lately, though, he'd gotten lax. Did he want Vic to know?
“Do you love him?” the guy asked, then shook his head. “Sorry. You barely know me and I'm being nosy,” he said with a laugh.
Ryley chuckled. “That's alright. I've never had anyone to talk to about this before.” He paused. “I do love Vic. I'm just…” He paused again, frowning. “Maybe I'm not in love with him anymore.”
“So what changed?” the guy asked, then barked a laugh. “Sorry. I'm a therapist. Job hazard. People talk to me and I can't help pulling the so-how-do-you-feel-about-that card.”
Ryley groaned through a laugh. “Oh, gods. Vic's a therapist, too. Well, sort of. I mean, he rehabilitates kids who have been in abusive situations. Rescues them and helps them move on and have normal lives.”
The guy's eyebrows went up again. “Holy shit.”
Ryley nodded. “He's such a good guy, you know? The kind of guy anyone would be lucky to be with.”
“But?” the guy asked after Ryley went silent.
“But…” Ryley conceded, then trailed off, thinking. “Well, besides the fact that he flat refuses to fuck me…”
The guy jerked back, his eyes now comically wide. “Seriously?” He gave Ryley a thorough once-over. “With that ass?” he asked, nodding at Ryley's seat. “Your man is seriously missing out. What the fuck is wrong with him? He also a bottom or something?”
Ryley shook his head. “Vic's a total top. Or, at least, he would be, if he would actually top during sex.” Ryley sighed, shaking his head again. “He's got all the makings of a top, but he acts like a side.”
“What the hells?” the guy scoffed. “Sounds like you need to have a serious talk with that man–”
“No, no, see,” Ryley interrupted, “he's actually got a good reason–”
“Shit, he's not pos, is he?”
“What? No, nothing like that.”
“Dysfunctional?”
Ryley barked a laugh. “Hardly.”
“Trauma?” the guy suggested gently.
Ryley gave a noncommittal nod. “Not like you'd think, but yeah. I mean, it's a good reason, but…Gods' sakes, it's been over twelve years, and he just can't get over it. And he knows how much I want it. I've made that very clear, but he still refuses. Won't even consider it.”
The guy shook his head. “I'm sorry, hon.”
Ryley saw the guy eyeing him curiously, so Ryley shrugged. “You're thinking I should just leave him, right? I'm not getting what I want, so I should just go? Hells, I'm already cheating on him, I might as well, right? And that's not even counting the fact that–” Ryley broke off and shook his head. “Sorry. You didn't sign up for this. Here I am, complete stranger, and I'm unloading on you.”
The guy smirked at him. “Hey, I just unloaded in you. I figure turnabout is fair.”
Ryley barked a laugh. “Thanks.” He finished off his beer and set the bottle firmly on the bar just as the bartender shouted out last call for the night. “And thanks for the drink.” He slid off the bar stool.
The guy gave him a nod. “Anytime.”
Ryley nodded back and headed for the exit. He got in his car, selected his home address, and sank back in the seat with a sigh, letting the car drive him home.
Downtown Morbran City was dark and silent at that early hour. Quiet. Peaceful. The storybook, Old World architecture made it feel more like an ancient, foreign village than a full-blown, prosperous city, even though it was that, too. It was one of the things he loved about his hometown. The very dichotomy of it made him smile.
But his smile faded as the car pulled into his driveway. Gathering his things, Ryley crept into the house and eased the door shut behind him. He set everything down on the dining table, then tiptoed into the bedroom. Vic was still asleep, thank gods. Maybe he hadn't noticed Ryley's absence.
Ryley snuck into the washroom, stripped off his clothes, and got into the shower. He washed off quickly, dried himself, then slipped naked into bed.
“Ry?” Vic asked, rolling toward him.
“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you,” Ryley whispered.
Vic grunted and fingered Ryley's wet hair.
“I went to the morgue,” Ryley said, holding back the rest of the truth. “Didn't want to come to bed smelling like death.”
Vic grunted again and slipped an arm around Ryley's waist as he fell back asleep.
Ryley let out a sigh and closed his eyes.
When he woke later that morning, Vic was gone. Blinking heavily, Ryley rolled over and checked the time.
“Shit,” he muttered, chuckling.
He was late for work. Ryley slipped out of bed, combing his fingers through his hair as he headed for the closet. He stood there for a long while, blinking as he tried to decide what to wear. Settling on jeans and a soft button-up shirt—just barely meeting the company's dress code—Ryley got dressed, brushed his teeth, twisted his hair up into a man-bun, grabbed a bagel, then gathered up his keys, wallet, and files before heading out the door.
Holding the bagel between his teeth, Ryley tossed everything else into his car, then slid into the driver's seat and punched a button for his work address. The car started up and headed down the street.
Ryley munched on his bagel along the way, smiling to himself. He'd solved a case. That was one more off his list of cases and contracts that needed to be finalized before they headed off to Erostil for a few weeks. Ryley sighed. A vacation. He couldn't remember the last time he'd taken one. Not that it was going to be all play. There would be some work involved, just not the kind that dealt with inheritance issues and dead bodies.
A few months back, just after his friend and fellow bandmate, Zac, graduated from college, a talent scout for a big record label had come to one of their shows, asking if they were interested in a recording contract. Their music group, Treble, comprised of two violins—played by Ryley and Zac—and one cello—played by Vic—had been performing at Underground, a swanky, upscale lounge, for years, their music a fusion of classical and pop elements, making the normally stuffy, tame instruments something fun and exciting. Now, with a potential contract in their future, they had a chance to take their music worldwide.
They'd done some preliminary recordings, and had a test gig lined up later that month: a week's worth of nightly shows onboard Libertas II, a cruise ship in the Libertas fleet out of Agoran, followed by a few shows at a resort on Erostil. Since Erostil was unofficially considered the entertainment capitol of the world, many producers sent their potential talent there to test the waters and see what kind of reception they could expect, and Ryley wasn't about to argue. A week on a cruise ship, followed by a week on the tropical Isle, all expenses paid? How could he refuse?
But first, he had to get all his work caught up. There was still plenty of time for all of it, provided nothing new came in, but the more he could get done, the better. No one else in the office could handle doing what he did. Hells, he was just about the only insurance agent in the whole city who could stand to deal with dead bodies. It wasn't unusual for his company to contract him out to competing companies when none of their agents could stomach a crime scene the way he could.
The car pulled into its reserved parking space in the company lot and powered down to idle. Ryley switched off the car, grabbed his things, and headed inside. The building that housed Sturmwyn Insurance looked like any other in Morbran City, the stone walls and shingle roof giving the structure an Old World cottage feel. Inside, the reception area was decorated to look like a sitting room, something right out of a Ceynesian nobleman's manor. Not that Ryley had ever been to Ceynes, let alone seen an actual manor house other than in books and paintings. Then again, considering Morbran City was built on land that had once been part of the Ceynesian empire, way back before the Breaking of the World, and was modeled after the original Ceynesian ar
chitecture, he figured the interior décor also had to be pretty accurate.
Beyond the reception area, though, form made room for function as the space opened up into a bullpen, the large room broken up into separate cubicles and work spaces. Still, it didn't look like the usual, cold, lifeless offices that one found in other big cities. Sure, the partitions were far from historically accurate, but they were designed in such a way as to not clash too terribly with the overall Ceynesian charm.
Ryley waved at a couple of agents as he made his way through the room. All along one side, individual cubicles were walled-off and separated, allowing agents and their clients to discuss personal matters in relative privacy. On the other side, where Ryley's desk was located, the cubicles were more open, the walls between them either lower or nonexistent. The agents who worked on that side either rarely had direct clients or had overlapping cases. Ryley mostly dealt with dead bodies and forensics, leaving the client chairs before his desk empty more often than not.
As for Vic, whose desk was right next to Ryley's, his clients were mostly children who were rescued from abusive situations, so it was rare for any of them to actually make an appearance there in the office. Most of Vic's direct client interaction was done offsite.
But their cases overlapped frequently enough, unfortunately, that their desks were right next to one another, allowing for ease of access when it came to working together.
Depressing, really, how often a child abduction case turned into a homicide investigation.
“You're late, Skye,” Ryley's boss, Mace Parker, called as he stepped out of his office, cutting into Ryley's thoughts.
Ryley stuffed the last piece of his bagel into his mouth, held up a finger, and dropped his files on his desk. He shuffled through them, pulled out the medical examiner's report from his midnight excursion, and slapped it down on the other side of his desk just as the boss approached.
The boss picked up the sheet and squinted at it. “You went to the morgue in the middle of the night?” he asked.
Ryley shrugged. “Couldn't sleep, and the case was bugging me.” He flashed the man a grin and pulled out the bag of evidence he'd collected at the scene the night before, holding it out and waving it in front of the man's face. “Decided to go walk the scene myself, in case they missed something, and I found this.”