by E M Lindsey
“God,” James sobbed, pushing back against Rowan’s hand. “Please.”
Rowan bowed his head, fucking James with a third finger now as his other hand tried to pull his boxers down. It took more effort than he wanted to give right then, but he finally managed to get them off and get the condom box out of the drawer without dislodging his other hand from James’ ass. “Are you ready for me?”
James gave another sob. “Please, darlin’. I need to feel you. Please.”
Rowan was half out of his mind with want as his shaking hand managed to get the condom rolled on, and another flood of lube smeared over himself. He tossed the bottle to the side, and with some reluctance, he pulled his hand away. He watched James’ hole flutter for a moment, like it was trying to close down on something, and he pushed the head of his cock against it. “Are you ready?” he asked.
James nodded against the bed. “I’m ready. I swear.”
Rowan’s eyes squeezed shut as he grabbed James by the hips, then slowly pushed past the tight ring of muscle. It was by sheer will alone he didn’t immediately come. James was so tight, so hot, dripping wet with everything Rowan had given him, and he was so, so greedy. His hands were fisted in front of him, and he was fucking backward like he was going to die if he didn’t get all of Rowan inside of him.
It took everything Rowan had to keep going slow, to ease in with practiced care. Had this been any one of his other lovers, he might have given in to his need to take the man hard and fast, without abandon. But then again, had this been any one of his other lovers, it wouldn’t have felt so intense. This was more than stress relief, more than just getting off or scratching an itch. This was someone who made his heart beat hard, his insides burn with desire to be close to him, not just to take him.
Rowan was finely tuned to James’ entire body, hearing, watching, feeling every minute reaction the other man was giving. James was shuddering, and letting out small gasps of discomfort, but his body was pushing for more, not less. When Rowan was finally all the way inside of him, he held James by the hips and his head dropped forward.
“Fuck, can you,” James groaned, wriggling his hips, tightening around Rowan enough to make him gasp. “Can you move or…or somethin’. This is a lot.”
Rowan murmured an affirmative noise, then carefully pulled back, only to push in deeper. James grunted, then groaned and met the second thrust back with his hips. “Yes,” Rowan groaned. “Yes, fuck me.”
“I am,” James said. He looked behind him, catching Rowan’s gaze, and his eyes were almost all pupil. “You don’t need to be careful with me, darlin’. I can take it. I want it.”
Rowan lost all sense in that moment. He came to as he was sitting up on his knees, gathering James up to his chest, his cock all the way inside James’ willing ass as James straddled his thighs. James’ back was warm, sticky with sweat, and his hands were shaking as the scrabbled to find purchase, reaching back around to curl through Rowan’s hair.
It wasn’t the easiest position, especially with James’ compromised ability to move, but Rowan had his hips tight. It was more grinding than thrusting, but it was keeping Rowan from immediately spilling, and that wasn’t a bad thing. He wanted this to last.
“So good,” James groaned. His head lolled back onto Rowan’s shoulder, eyes closed. “So fucking good.”
Rowan let out a moan, which ended on a slight sob as he turned his face into James’ neck and sucked a mark there. How? How was he supposed to give this up? It was insane how quickly he’d fallen, how much James had wound himself around Rowan’s insides. Pulling away would rip him to shreds. He’d do it, and he’d survive, but it would leave a jagged scar.
Rowan’s orgasm began to build, and he urged James to lift a little higher, to sit down harder. He finally got his hand around the other man’s cock, and he matched his strokes in time with their rhythm. James’ bouncing began to lose rhythm as his flush rose from his chest to his neck, and Rowan could feel him pulsing with his impending release. His own cock twitched, and he thrust his hips with a fast, rapid, shallow pace, and just as he felt himself crash over the edge, James went with him. His eyes were closed, but he felt James’ release spill over his knuckles, heard James’ shuddering cry. James tipped forward, catching himself with his hands, the position pulling Rowan’s cock almost all the way out of his ass.
Rowan couldn’t help but look down to see the way his still-hard length was stretching James out, and his dick gave another throb, spilling another dollop of come into the condom. It took him a moment to gather himself, but he finally managed to ease James all the way down. Everything was sticky with lube, sweat, and come, but he loved it.
Rolling onto his side, he tied the condom off, throwing it into the bin before turning toward James and gathering him close. James was still breathing heavy, his face pink with exertion, but he had a faint smile on his face, and he eased himself into Rowan’s open arms without hesitation.
“I don’t think I can take more tonight,” James admitted.
Rowan chuckled, only because he felt the same way. It was a loss, in a way, because he hadn’t wanted to waste another second, but sleep was pulling at him. His week of insomnia was catching up with him, and having James wrapped up in his arms was like a drug. His eyes started to close, aching with fatigue.
“Wake me up if you need anything,” James murmured, sounding half gone already.
Rowan murmured something, just a noise to acknowledge him, and he fell asleep with his lips pressed to the soft, shorn hair on the crown of James’ head.
Chapter Fifteen
“Man, I fuckin’ hate this,” James grumbled, twisting around in his chair to look at Mat who was carving the final design on his leg.
Mat looked up, his eyes full of sympathy. “I know. But it’ll be over soon, and it’s not like they’re going to deny him. It went perfectly, just like—” His words died off, just like they always did whenever Rowan’s name was about to come up.
James had woken up the morning after he’d finally lost the last vestiges of his virginity to find a cold bed and an empty house. Not a note, not a whisper of goodbye, or vague promise that they might see each other again. James understood why Rowan had bailed, and he tried to remind himself that it wasn’t like they were in love. Hell, he barely knew the guy. The sex was good—probably better than good, even if he didn’t have anything to compare it to—but it wasn’t transforming. Or well, for him it probably was, but that was only because he was finally letting himself live the life he wanted.
He hadn’t met anyone else in the months Rowan had been gone, but he was starting to feel ready. His father’s voice had faded to a dull murmur in the back of his mind, and he was starting to look around him. He noticed people now—not for ways to avoid them, or ways to appear like he was something he wasn’t—but for opportunities.
Presently, he had a flyer in his pocket for a little mixer Mat had pointed out. Someone had come into the shop asking if they could hang it, and it was advertising an LGBT+ Christian social group, which seemed an oxymoron in a way, but Mat reminded him that people were trying these days. Not every church was a backwoods Southern Baptist mess of fear and punishment. Some people not only believed God was about love, but actually practiced it.
And James couldn’t even be sure he believed out of anything but habit, but he was willing to try. It didn’t really seem like his scene, but he decided this autumn was going to be about taking bigger steps forward and allowing himself to indulge in a life he always thought he’d never be ready for.
“You’re coming to dinner at Niko’s place tonight, right?” Mat asked. He swiped the side of the leg, then turned it to inspect his work. “He’s going to be there, so I get it if you don’t want to…”
James held up his hand. “I’m not going to miss this just because Rowan bailed on me like that. I mean, we weren’t together.”
Mat gave him a flat look. “He was your first.”
James shrugged. “So? How many people a
ctually still talk to the person they lost their virginity to?”
Mat laughed. “Okay, fair.” He set the leg down and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “My first was Cindy Burns. Junior prom. We snuck outside and fucked under the bleachers. It was the worst sex I’ve ever had.”
James’ grin was soft, and he felt a warm bubble in his belly when he realized he couldn’t sympathize. At least, not from experience. Rowan had been so fucking careful with him, so thorough and tender and attentive. He regretted not being able to have him longer, but he couldn’t regret the gift he’d been given.
“Can you wipe that smug look off your face,” Mat grumbled, picking up the leg again. “Not everyone gets the best sex of their life during their first time.”
James laughed, his cheeks heating up. “To be fair, I don’t think it will be the best sex of my life. It was kind of awkward and messy.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t two seventeen-year-olds humping yourselves stupid in the dirt on a high school football field.”
James laughed again. “I mean, fair.”
Mat picked up his scalpel and went back to work. A few minutes later, a timid looking woman came in with a design clutched in her fist, and James was able to focus on something else besides his apprehension of finally seeing Rowan again, after all this time.
* * *
Rowan was unsurprised to find James outside of the restaurant, leaning against a stack of crates in the alley. He had his phone in his hand, his fingers flying over the screen with a long message. He startled when he noticed Rowan, then deflated a bit and even offered a smile.
That wasn’t really much of a surprise, even though Rowan half expected the guy to fly into a rage. Rowan had woken that morning long before his alarm, and had realized he’d lost all courage to say goodbye. His promise that he’d give James part of his morning was broken before he even really admitted it, and he crept out without so much as a note explaining himself. He deserved to be punched, or at the very least verbally stripped bare for his lack of bravery, but James didn’t really seem eager to do either of those things. “You okay?” James asked.
Rowan shrugged with a small sigh. “I tried to decline the invitation, but Sam insisted. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“So, you thought it would be better if you cornered me alone in an alley?” James asked with a sardonic smile.
Rowan flinched. “Point taken. Just tell Sam I’ll be in touch soon, and that he has my heartfelt congratulations. I’m…I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel, but before he could get more than a few steps, he felt a hand tugging at the back of his suit jacket.
“It’s fine, you know,” James said as Rowan slowly turned. James’ hands were off him now, shoved into his pockets, and he was looking at the ground instead of at Rowan’s face. “I knew I was gonna see you tonight. Sam didn’t keep it a secret.”
Rowan blew out a puff of air and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay. I wasn’t sure if this was just…sprung on you.”
“Guys love me more’n that. They asked first, and I said it was fine. It was only fair that you get to celebrate. It was just as much your hard work as Sam’s,” James said, finally glancing up. He looked good—somehow even better after all this time, and Rowan’s heart twisted in his chest for what he’d been willing to give up. “How are you?”
Rowan let out a tense laugh. “I don’t really know how to answer that, if I’m being honest. And I feel like the truth will make you feel sorry for me, and I don’t deserve your sympathy.”
James made an impatient face, backing up to lean against the crates again. “You never made me a single promise you didn’t keep. I knew you weren’t mine—not really. I wasn’t going to ask more of you, darlin’.”
The endearment stabbed through his chest, and Rowan felt like he could double over from the impact. He couldn’t count how often he heard that sweet, southern rumbled of, “Darlin’,” in his dreams, and found himself waking up, reaching for an empty space on the bed. He was fucked.
“Your momma, is she…”
“Some days are better than others,” Rowan confessed. “She’s got a few months left, we think. She spends most of her time sleeping now.”
James’ face fell. “Then what?”
Rowan frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“After all that. Where will you go? You want to start right over, pick up where you left off…?”
Rowan’s laugh was a little bitter. “I haven’t really let myself think past her funeral.”
James’ hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out for him, and Rowan’s entire stomach twisted with how much he wanted that. But James didn’t. He pushed away from the crates and sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets again. “Come on. They’ll serve food soon and that’ll get your mind off shit for a while. Trust me when I say Niko really did somethin’ with this place.”
“I have no doubt,” Rowan said, unable to stop his smile. He didn’t feel better, but the fact that James didn’t hate him was enough.
Inside, the place was fairly chaotic. Rowan had met half the people, and heard about the rest just from James talking. He exchanged some small talk with Wyatt for a little while, and even managed to see how Basil was doing with his shop and the progression of his relationship with Derek. James didn’t ignore him at dinner, either, leaning over to make conversation and smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world. It felt strangely like home, and yet like he was watching through a window instead of being part of it.
He knew if he stayed, if he let himself explore with James further, this could be his. He’d grown up half his childhood with only his mother, and the rest a bitter system kid who struggled to make his way to the top so he could make a difference in the world. But he was still so damned alone.
“So,” a voice said from behind him as everyone was getting up to leave, “you got somewhere to be?”
Rowan turned to see James there, looking a little apprehensive and unsure. He frowned, shaking his head. “No. My flight’s tomorrow at noon.”
James nodded, blowing out a puff of air before he asked, “You wanna go for a ride?”
Rowan almost laughed. “On your bike? Trust me, I’m not really in a good headspace to keep us from dying.”
James shook his head with a smile. “Got her all fixed up and ready. Been ridin’ every day now since August.”
Rowan’s eyes went wide. “Wow. Okay.” He wanted to say no, only to protect himself, but he couldn’t let this moment pass him, either. “Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.”
James let out a small laugh, but he nodded and led the way out. The biggest difference of the moment was how James didn’t reach for him, how there was no permission to touch anymore. Rowan had relinquished his rights to that when he left, and it was hard to accept it. Still, he didn’t push. He followed James across the street, then around the back to the parking lot where the bike waited. It didn’t look much different than before, except he could see where the hand controls had been installed on the handle bars.
“I take it no one rides it now so they don’t die?” Rowan asked quietly.
James laughed. “Yeah, but I got Sage already up my ass about building one for him, so I’m fixin’ to make that my next project.” He steadied the bike, swinging his leg over, then put the key into the ignition and started it with a roar. Rowan couldn’t help his flinch, laughing at himself a little when James gave him a look, and he didn’t hesitate when the other man beckoned him to climb on.
“Thanks for this,” he said, leaning up toward James’ ear.
James shook his head. “You looked like you could use it. Ain’t got the helmets tonight, so I’ll take it easy on the turns.”
Rowan found he didn’t care much. He trusted James to get them where they were going. Winter was settling in quickly, but it hadn’t snowed yet, and there wasn’t ice on the ground. The cold was a lot, though, and his suit jacket didn’t do much to keep the chill at bay. He wrapped
his arms tight around James’ waist, burying his face in the back of the soft leather, and breathed him in.
The scent was so James, so warm and familiar, Rowan lost himself in it. He barely noticed when they took off, and was only peripherally aware that they were heading up the hill to the spot James had suggested during their last ride. The cold settled deep into his bones, and his teeth were chattering by the time they reached the top.
James gave him a look as he turned the engine off, then stripped his coat off and handed it over. “Darlin’, you look cold as a frosted frog,” James said when Rowan tried to decline it. “I’m used to it by now. Feels good.”
Rowan grumbled because he wasn’t unused to that kind of weather. Oregon wasn’t the damn Sahara—he’d suffered plenty of frigid winters. But something about tonight had stripped him of his defenses, and he couldn’t help but sigh when the warm jacket came around him.
James kept his distance, hands back in his pockets as he stood near the edge of the pavement, looking down on the town below them. “Seems so small from up here.”
Rowan nodded, not daring to come closer. “It was hard to leave.”
James glanced over his shoulder at him, then let out a breath. “Wish you would’a said goodbye. Thought we had more’n that.”
“We did,” Rowan confessed. “I realized if I let you talk to me in the morning, I wouldn’t be able to go. And if I didn’t walk away, if I let my mom die on her own, I’d never forgive myself.”
James’ face crumpled and he backed up a few steps until they were shoulder to shoulder. “Can’t say I get it. My momma died when I was young, and ain’t gonna miss my daddy when he goes. But I’d never put you in the position to choose.”