Role Model

by Rachel Reid

  “No kidding. I don’t ever want to experience that again.”

  They both stared at the television for a few minutes. Harris wasn’t really watching at all, his attention divided between the ice cream and the gorgeous man who had brought it to him. The man who was reclining beside him, close enough that Harris could feel the warmth from his skin.

  “I used to make fun of Ryan Price on planes,” Troy said quietly. Unexpectedly. “Because he was scared of flying.”

  Harris didn’t say anything. He hated hearing things like that, but he waited for Troy to continue.

  “He was such a wreck, every time he flew. We thought it was hilarious.”

  Harris knew that by we, Troy meant himself and Dallas Kent.

  “And now,” Troy said, “all I can think about is how we have to get on another plane in a couple of days. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “Yeah,” Harris said. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”

  “I owe Ryan a thousand apologies. Jesus fucking Christ. I was such an asshole.” Troy turned on his side to face Harris. “He’s the bravest person I’ve ever met. Seriously. Dallas liked to laugh at what a baby he was about flying, but how much fucking courage do you need to have to face your fears, like, at least once a week? Usually several times a week. For years. I can’t even fucking imagine.”

  “It’s impressive,” Harris agreed.

  “And he’s gay, too.”

  Okay. That seemed like a non sequitur. “I don’t think being gay makes flying scarier.”

  “No, I mean, like, that’s fucking brave too. Two things Dallas thinks are weak, being afraid and being gay, but they aren’t. I wish I’d...” He sighed. “I wish I’d done everything differently. I should have supported Ryan and told Dallas to go fuck himself.”

  “Probably,” Harris said. He wanted to say something more substantial, but his brain was in tatters and Troy’s mouth was very close to his.

  Troy flopped onto his back, creating some distance, but not removing the temptation. “I have so many regrets.”

  Harris was about to create a regret of his own if he didn’t stamp out the burning need to kiss Troy. Because, yeah, it had been a weird night, and, yes, they had been holding hands on the plane, and, sure, Troy was lying beside him now in the dark after coming to his hotel room with cookie dough ice cream.

  But none of that meant that Troy wanted anything from Harris besides some companionship. Troy was straight, as far as Harris knew, and even if he wasn’t, he was the most beautiful man Harris had ever seen. He could do better than an apple farmer with a busted heart.

  “So what’s on your mind?” Troy asked. “I’m unloading on you like a selfish jerk over here.”

  “You’re not a jerk. I like it when you talk to me. And I don’t know what’s on my mind right now. A million things, but I’m too tired to figure them out.” Harris laughed. “I was thinking about watching porn earlier, if you want total honesty. But my laptop is broken and I turned my phone off and shoved it to the bottom of my suitcase. Don’t want to look at it until I have to.”

  “Same,” Troy said quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Porn, huh?”

  Harris probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Yeah. Just thought it would be a good distraction.”

  “It would be.” Something bright was on the television screen, and for a few seconds, Harris got a clear view of Troy’s cheekbones, his full lips, and the shadow of stubble on his jaw.

  Harris needed to change the vibe. Immediately. “Do you want some ice cream? You should at least try it.”

  Troy turned his head to glance up at Harris. “Is it good?”

  “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Here.” He held out a spoonful of ice cream, hovering it over Troy’s lips. Troy stared at the spoon, as if unsure if it was safe. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, and parted his lips. Harris slipped the spoon inside and watched Troy’s face as the sweet, silky ice cream hit his tongue.

  Troy’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, those long, raven-wing lashes brushing his cheekbones. The tip of his tongue peeked out from between his plush lips, as if seeking any stray drops that he may have missed.

  It did not change the vibe. At all.

  “Oh,” Troy said quietly. “Shit, that’s really good.”

  “Yeah,” Harris said distantly. If he kissed Troy right now, he would taste like ice cream. “More?”

  A painfully shy smile curved those soft lips. “Okay.”

  Harris, realizing that it would be weird to continue spoon-feeding Troy, handed him the container and the spoon.

  It was also weird to be sitting in the dark, so he turned on the bedside lamp. Troy settled back against the pillows with the ice cream, while Harris sat, cross-legged, next to him, trying like hell to focus on the television. It was difficult when Troy kept sighing happily around each mouthful of ice cream.

  Harris gave his thigh a playful shove. “I told you ice cream is awesome.”

  “Mm” was all Troy said, because he’d just shoved another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

  They watched TV while Harris’s hand twitched with the urge to touch him again. He often craved physical touch and loved cuddling possibly even more than sex. He found it comforting, and at that moment he desperately needed comfort. Nothing inside him felt right; his brain couldn’t settle, his skin prickled, his stomach was in knots and his throat was dry.

  He didn’t want to think about his heart. He was sure it was beating normally, medically speaking, but it felt...fluttery. Anxious.

  He heard the spoon scrape against the bottom of the ice cream container and smiled. “That didn’t take long.”

  “It’s a small container.”

  Harris turned to look at him, and huffed out a laugh when he saw how relaxed Troy seemed. His hair was mostly dry now, but it was messy and fell in his eyes. He had one arm stretched over his head, which gave Harris a nice view of his biceps, and also of a strip of skin above the waistband of his sweatpants. A hint of his muscular abs.

  “I’ll take that,” Harris said, grabbing for the empty container. “I’m going to the bathroom anyway.”

  He needed distance. Now.

  In the bathroom, he rinsed out the container, then brushed his teeth, drank some water, and examined himself in the mirror. He looked exactly like he felt: wired, exhausted, on edge. He wondered if Troy would go back to his own room now. He didn’t want him to.

  Troy was curled up on his side, facing away, when Harris returned to the bed. The change in position gave Harris an eyeful of Troy’s muscular ass, his broad back and shoulders, and his oddly adorable socked feet.

  Cautiously, Harris approached the bed. He wanted to drape himself over Troy’s gorgeous body and breathe him in, but instead he left some distance between them when he lay on the bed beside him.

  Harris faced the ceiling with his hands folded on his stomach, avoiding all temptation. “You can stay,” he said.

  There was a long pause before Troy murmured, sleepily, “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Stay.”

  “Thanks.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from gazing helplessly at the slow rise and fall of Troy’s back. At the short hairs on the back of Troy’s neck. At the absolutely normal, yet somehow precious curve of his ear.

  He allowed himself a few moments of furtive admiration before turning off the television, then the lamp. They were both on top of the duvet, and maybe that was fine for tonight. It would be safe.

  He rolled to his side, away from Troy. He still couldn’t sleep, but he liked listening to Troy breathe. It was nice to have another body close, even if he couldn’t touch him.

  In the dark, memories from the plane came racing back, playing in a horrible, looped clip package in Harris’s brain. He tried some deep breathing.

  “You okay?” Tro
y’s voice was low and scratchy, and Harris stopped breathing altogether at the sound of it.

  “Yeah. Sort of. I don’t know.”

  There was movement behind him, and then Troy’s big, warm hand was on Harris’s arm. “Can I help?”

  Harris gnawed on his lip, deciding what to say. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  More movement, and then Troy’s body was almost touching his. He could feel Troy’s breath on the back of his neck when he said, “Me too.”

  For a moment, everything was very still and quiet. And then Troy’s hand slid, very slowly and gently, down Harris’s arm to his wrist. Harris was sure every hair was standing up in its wake.

  Troy stopped at his wrist, fingers lightly stroking the sensitive underside, and Harris would swear it was the most intimate touch he’d ever received. He stifled a gasp, not wanting to make a sound in case Troy realized what he was doing and stopped.

  But Troy didn’t stop. He stretched his fingertips and brushed them over Harris’s palm, making him shiver.

  Touch me, Harris thought. Touch me everywhere.

  Warm breath tickled his nape. “I’m sorry you were on that plane.”

  Harris exhaled. “Could’ve been worse.” He curled his fingers until they met Troy’s in the middle of his palm.

  “I know.” And then Troy pressed his lips, just briefly, to the back of Harris’s neck. It was the softest of kisses, almost nothing, but Harris couldn’t hold in his gasp this time.

  “Sorry,” Troy said, and he began to pull away. Harris laced their fingers together and pulled him close, wrapping Troy’s arm firmly around his chest.

  “I wouldn’t hate it if you did that again,” Harris said.

  For a moment, Troy did nothing. Then Harris felt the wonderful tickle of his lips against his neck again. Then another kiss, just below that spot. Then another, to the right. Painfully gentle and perfect.

  The mattress shifted, and Troy must have raised himself up a bit because now his lips were caressing Harris from a new angle. He trailed kisses up the side of his neck, behind his ear, making Harris shudder happily.

  Troy sighed against Harris’s skin, then Harris felt the wet warmth of a tongue, just under his ear where his beard started.

  “Yes,” Harris breathed. There were a bunch of questions flying around in his head, but he didn’t want to worry about them because he was already hard and he really fucking wanted whatever was happening right now.

  He took a chance and rolled over so he was facing Troy. He couldn’t quite see him, in the dark, but he found his face with his fingers. He felt the scratch of stubble, the sharp line of his jaw, and then his thumb brushed over Troy’s wet lips.

  “Harris.” Troy’s voice was worn thin, making the name sound like a dying wish. He captured Harris’s hand with his own and kissed his knuckles, flicking his tongue gently against the tight skin. Harris let out a long, shaky breath, unable to believe this was really happening. He’d dreamed of this, fantasized about Troy countless times over the past several weeks, but he never thought it would ever be real. And even in his fantasies, he’d never expected Troy to be so devastatingly sweet.

  Finally, Troy leaned in and kissed him. Their lips found each other in the dark, brushing shyly together. It was gentle for only a few seconds, and then Harris threaded his fingers into Troy’s silky hair and kissed him back, hard and hungry.

  He was kissing Troy Barrett. Unbelievable.

  Troy moaned into his mouth and rested a hand on the side of Harris’s face, stroking his beard with his thumb. His tongue stroked over Harris’s, and he applied the slightest amount of pressure to the hinge of Harris’s jaw, urging him to open more for him. Harris did, wanting as much as he could have of this man. Wanting Troy to take whatever he needed from him.

  Somehow, despite the perfect wet heat of Troy’s mouth and the ache of Harris’s rigid cock, Harris was able to form a responsible thought. Was Troy really okay with this?

  Harris broke the kiss, but only left enough distance between their lips to pant, “Is this—are you—”

  “Can we talk about it later?”

  Harris nodded, his forehead bumping against Troy’s. Later.

  He kissed him again, and for several minutes lost himself in the exquisite pleasure of kissing someone he really liked. It had been a long time, and Troy’s mouth was lovely. So was his body, which Harris couldn’t see, but he could smooth his palm over the soft fabric of Troy’s T-shirt, mapping the hard muscles beneath.

  Feeling daring, he rolled Troy to his back and straddled his waist. Troy let out a huff of surprise, then gasped when Harris kissed under his jaw, then down into the hollow of his throat. Harris angled his hips, letting Troy feel his erection through his pajama pants. Letting him know that Harris was a thousand percent on board with this, and that he wasn’t always the goofy guy who hung out with hockey players.

  Troy responded by jerking his hips up, and they both groaned when their hard cocks bumped together. Harris was fully gone now. He wanted Troy to make him forget everything.

  Troy rolled them over, covering Harris with his solid, heavy body and kissing him again. Harris writhed underneath him as Troy ground their erections together. Even with barriers of fabric in the way, Harris was losing his mind. He loved being pinned down like this. Loved that Troy was so hard for him. Loved every soft sound Troy was making.

  “Fuck, that’s so good, Troy. Don’t stop.”

  “Want this. Want you,” Troy rasped.

  God, Harris needed more information. How long had Troy wanted him? Would he still want him tomorrow?

  Fuck it. Nothing mattered right now except the pressure building in Harris’s balls. He needed release more than he needed answers. But also...

  “We should,” he panted, “get our pants out of the way.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Troy yanked down Harris’s waistband, just enough to free his erection, then did the same with his own pants. Troy’s dick brushed against Harris’s, solid and smooth and hot.

  Had Troy done this before? Was this his first time with a man? He seemed confident, but if he’d been with other men and wasn’t straight, then why hadn’t he mentioned it to Harris? He must have known he didn’t need to hide that from him.

  Later. These were questions for later.

  “Kiss me,” Harris said, needing the distraction.

  Troy was on him immediately, kissing him with all the urgency that Harris felt. Rutting against him like a teenager, which was so much hotter than it had any right to be. Harris had never seen Troy just let go before, and he wished the lamp were on because he wanted to see his face.

  Instead, Harris cupped his cheek and murmured encouraging words against Troy’s lips. “So good. Fuck, I’m close. Want you to come.”

  Troy grunted and wrapped a hand around both of their dicks. Harris arched into the touch. “That’s perfect. Holy shit, Troy.”

  He put his hand over Troy’s, helping him stroke them both off. He brushed his fingers over Troy’s tight balls and enjoyed the way Troy shuddered and moaned.

  “I—fuck, Harris. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna—”

  “Yeah. Me too. Me too. Fuck.”

  Harris cracked open, every part of him bursting with pleasure as he unloaded between their bodies. He cried out, probably too loudly because Troy pushed three fingers against his lips. It didn’t do much to quiet him. Fuck, he hadn’t had an orgasm like that one in ages.

  For a minute, they stayed where they were, Troy braced over Harris, both men breathing hard. Then Troy blew out a breath and flopped onto his back beside Harris.

  “Holy shit,” Troy said. “I fucking needed that.”

  “Me too, buddy.” Harris should have had the foresight to lift his own T-shirt out of the way, because now the cotton was soaked with their mingled releases. He couldn’t be mad about it.

  Af
ter a couple of minutes, Troy left the bed and went into the bathroom. Harris scrubbed a hand over his face as the reality of what they’d just done started to set in. He never would have predicted this happening in a million years, and now that it had he felt a bit anxious. He hoped they hadn’t just fucked up their fledgling friendship, because he really liked Troy.

  He turned on the lamp and looked down at himself. When he saw the state of his T-shirt, he started laughing.

  “What?” Troy asked, returning from the bathroom.

  “Nothing. I’m a mess, is all.” Harris waved a hand over his shirtfront.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “It’s at least half my fault,” Harris joked.

  He couldn’t read Troy’s expression, but he seemed...uneasy. Harris knew they needed to talk, but sleep was probably more important. “I’ll get cleaned up, then we should get some sleep.”

  “Right, um.”

  “You can still stay here. If you want.”

  Troy’s face relaxed a bit. “Okay.”

  Harris grabbed a clean shirt from his suitcase and headed into the bathroom. He was self-conscious about baring his chest, so he changed in private. When he returned to the bed, Troy was already under the covers, facing him. Harris crawled in beside him, but kept some distance between their bodies.

  “That wasn’t my plan,” Troy said, “when I came to your room. I wasn’t expecting...that.”

  Harris smiled. “Me neither. But, um, thanks. It helped.”

  Troy yawned, which made Harris laugh and Troy smile slightly. “Yeah.”

  He closed his eyes, and Harris allowed himself a moment to admire his handsome, peaceful face, before turning off the light.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Troy woke up first.

  For a few wonderful moments, while his brain was still foggy with sleep, he was happy. He had Harris’s warm, solid bulk under his arm, and when he inhaled, he smelled apples.

  Then reality set in.

  He shouldn’t be in Harris’s bed, and he certainly shouldn’t have rubbed off on Harris last night. Shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have thrust into their joined hands. Shouldn’t have soaked Harris’s shirt with his release.