by Rachel Reid
Stupid long-distance relationship. Not that it had stopped Adrian.
Troy didn’t want to be thinking about that now. He wanted to focus on the man underneath him, and enjoy the musky scent of his crotch, the salty beads of his precome, and the sexy way he was moaning—overly loud, like he did everything.
He took him deep, because that was something Troy was good at. Hockey and deep throating, his top two skills.
“Wow. Holy. Troy, that’s—wow.”
Troy hummed in response, and removed one of his hands from Harris’s thighs so he could squeeze and caress his balls. He loved the way Harris was writhing on the bed, already out of his mind. He deserved to feel this good. Troy wanted to give him everything he deserved.
With that goal in mind, Troy trailed his fingers down to Harris’s hole and began to lightly stroke and circle it. He slid his lips up to the head of Harris’s cock, suckling and teasing out more precome.
“Shit,” Harris rasped. “You gotta stop.”
Troy released him, and stilled his fingers. “Need a break?”
“If you don’t want me to come already, yeah.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I’ve got a few rounds in me.”
“You played a game tonight. There’s no way you do.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Harris just laughed, which Troy deserved. He knew he was probably going to fall asleep as soon as he came. Harris would be lucky if Troy didn’t crash out on top of him.
“Here...” Harris reached into his nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. “I think it’s safe to touch me again.”
Troy took his time opening Harris up. He liked doing this and, again, it had been a while since he’d had the opportunity. He and Adrian didn’t have set roles in the bedroom; they’d both been figuring out what they liked with each other. Troy preferred topping, and he hoped he was experienced enough to make this good for Harris. It was intimidating being with someone new when he’d only ever been with Adrian before. What if they had done everything wrong?
“God, that’s so good, Troy. So fucking good.” Harris moaned as Troy slowly penetrated him with three fingers. So maybe Troy was doing this right.
Harris’s dick was so cute. Troy wasn’t sure how to express that without sounding weird, so he kept it to himself. Troy’s own dick was decent looking, long and lean with, he thought, a good shape to it. Harris’s dick was chubby and a little shorter than Troy’s, and had a single freckle on the head that Troy was already obsessed with.
“Buddy,” Harris gritted out. “Gonna need you to fuck me now.”
Troy stroked his index finger over Harris’s prostate, making Harris jolt and moan. “Condoms?”
“Drawer. With the lube. Fuck. Hurry.”
Troy grinned as he withdrew his fingers. His own dick had barely been touched yet, and that was probably for the best. He already felt like he might come as soon as he entered Harris, and that would be tragic.
He got the condom on while Harris watched him with glazed eyes.
“You want it hard?” Troy asked, making sure.
“Hard as you’ve got. I can take it.”
Troy sucked in a breath. “Roll over. I’m gonna break the fucking bed fucking you.”
Harris flipped over so quickly it almost made Troy laugh, but he was trying to be intimidating here. Or at least macho and sexy. He knelt behind Harris, gripping his ass cheeks with both hands and digging his fingers in. Harris’s back bowed, lifting his ass in invitation.
Impulsively, Troy lowered his head and sank his teeth into the left cheek. He enjoyed the surprised gasp Harris let out. “Troy. Please.”
Troy lined himself up, took a slow, steadying breath, then carefully pushed in. Harris might want it hard, but Troy was going to make sure he didn’t hurt him.
“Good?” he asked when he was fully inside. He was breathing hard, as if he’d just finished a long shift on the ice, trying to stay in control.
“You’re killing me, pal,” Harris said. “I said I liked it rough, not that I like torture.”
Troy bit back a smile, then took firm hold of Harris’s hips and gave him what he wanted.
Troy pounded into him, as hard as he could while Harris made loud, encouraging sounds. Troy enjoyed exercise and working out, but even if he hated it, the daily hours of work he put into his body would all be worth it for this moment. He loved being strong and having the stamina to fuck Harris like this.
“Ah,” Harris panted. “Fuck, Troy. Don’t stop.”
He wouldn’t. Not until Harris had had enough. He slid his hands onto Harris’s back, and Harris’s arms gave out, dropping him to the mattress. Troy followed, bringing his body low over Harris’s, holding him down with a firm hand splayed between his shoulder blades as he jackhammered into him.
“Yes,” Harris gasped. “Love that. Holy shit.”
Troy kept it up, losing himself in the bliss of fucking someone. Of fucking Harris. He wanted to do it forever, except he was getting close to his own orgasm, and didn’t want to come first.
“You,” he gritted out. “Want you to—”
He lifted his palm and stared in amazement at the angry red patch he’d left on Harris’s skin, then wrapped an arm around Harris’s chest and roughly hauled him up. He pulled Harris back so he was seated in Troy’s lap, back to chest. “Stroke yourself,” he growled into Harris’s ear. “Need to see you come.”
Troy thrust up into him while Harris jerked himself frantically. It was becoming a struggle to keep up the pace Harris wanted because Troy was about to explode inside him. He needed Harris to come. Now.
“Come on,” he panted. “I’m so fucking close, Harris. Fuck.”
“Me too. Keep going.”
Troy wasn’t sure what came over him, but suddenly he was biting into the flesh between Harris’s neck and shoulder like a fucking dog. It was a strange impulse, but it seemed to do it for Harris because he cried out and shot his load all over his furry stomach.
“Holy shit, Harris. I’m coming. I’m—” Troy couldn’t speak. His orgasm ripped through him in a blinding, wonderful blaze as Harris’s ass gripped him tight.
When he could think again, Troy realized he was peppering Harris’s shoulder with gentle kisses, as if apologizing for going feral on him. Harris was breathing heavily, his chest heaving against Troy’s arm.
“That was perfect,” Harris wheezed. “That was—holy god. I’ve never—”
Troy kept kissing him. He couldn’t stop. Anywhere he could reach: shoulders, neck, back, hair.
“Thank you,” Harris sighed. “I needed that.”
“I needed it too.”
He carefully released Harris and pulled out. Harris collapsed on the bed, sprawled on his back, and grinned lazily up at Troy.
“Jesus,” Troy huffed. “You look annihilated.”
“There’s nothing left of me.” Harris spread his arms out on the mattress. “They’ll need to hire a new social media manager.”
“Gonna be awkward explaining why.”
“Mm.” He closed his eyes, which meant he couldn’t see the way Troy was smiling helplessly at him. Harris’s hair was a mess, his skin flushed and glistening with sweat, and his face was relaxed and content, like Troy had given him exactly what he’d needed.
“Don’t fall asleep yet. Where’s your bathroom?”
Harris waved a hand in the direction of the door without opening his eyes. “Out there.”
Troy snorted and removed the condom. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mmff.”
When Troy returned from the bathroom, he cleaned Harris with a facecloth he’d found. “Are you okay?”
“I’m amazing,” Harris said. “Probably won’t ride a horse tomorrow, but...”
“Seriously, though? I didn’t hurt you?”
Har
ris sat up. “I promise you didn’t. I loved it.”
“Okay.” Harris’s dick was even cuter when it was soft. “Do you want me to leave?” Troy really hoped not, because he was crashing hard.
“No! Of course not. Stay.”
“Good. Thanks.” Troy tossed the facecloth into the laundry hamper in the corner. Harris pulled back the blankets in invitation, and they both got under them. Several pillows tumbled to the floor as the two men got comfortable.
“I can’t believe you thought I was gonna kick you out,” Harris scolded.
“I didn’t want to assume.”
“What happened to going all night, stud? Isn’t that what you said?”
“Fuck off,” Troy murmured sleepily. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.
“A few rounds. That’s what you said.”
Troy closed his eyes. “Jus’ gimme a second,” he slurred.
Harris laughed, then turned off the lamp. A moment later, he snuggled against Troy, warm and soft and very welcome. Troy wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close so they could spoon together. Troy was pretty sure there was a throw pillow or something under him, but he didn’t care. He was more comfortable than he’d ever been in his life.
“Good night,” Harris said.
“Yeah,” Troy agreed.
Chapter Eighteen
Troy woke up late the next morning feeling well rested and perfectly comfortable.
Almost.
“What the fuck am I lying on?” He reached under his back and pulled out what appeared to be an extremely battered and worn-out stuffed...giraffe?
“Oh,” Harris said, reaching for it. “That’s Mr. Neck-Neck.”
Troy held it away from him, examining the well-loved toy. “Jeez. Mr. Neck-Neck has been through it.”
“Yeah,” Harris said, dropping his hand. “I’ve had him since I was a baby. We used to be inseparable.”
“Cute.”
“He was comforting, y’know, when I was... Well, I was in the hospital a lot as a kid. And as an adult, I guess, but mostly as a kid.”
Troy turned on his side so they could face each other. “You wanna talk about it?”
“Sure. Why not?” Harris frowned, and Troy held his breath. He was terrified that Harris was about to tell him he had a month to live or something. “I was born with a heart defect. It’s called truncus arteriosus, but basically my arteries were all fucked up, and I’ve gotten a few operations over the years to sort it out. The most recent one was three years ago.”
“Jesus.” It seemed so wrong, for someone as warm and loving as Harris to have anything wrong with his heart. “I’m sorry. How are you now?”
“Fine.” Harris said it quickly, automatically, the way someone would who had been asked about his health far too many times. “Really, I’m good. I get it checked by doctors all the time. But that’s why I never played hockey as a kid. I probably could have, but my parents were worried. I don’t blame them.”
Troy couldn’t blame them either, because even now he wanted to wrap Harris in a blanket and keep him safe. But Harris would hate that, so instead he handed Harris his stuffed giraffe. “I’m glad you have good doctors. And good parents. And Mr. Neck-Neck.”
Harris laughed. “Mr. Neck-Neck was with me through thick and thin. He’s true blue.”
“I’m sorry he had to witness what we did last night. Um. On top of him.” Troy propped himself up on an elbow and grinned. “Was that a threesome, technically?”
Harris hit him with the giraffe. “No! What the hell is wrong with you? And it’s not the first time Mr. Neck-Neck has seen that sort of thing.”
Troy felt an unwarranted pang of jealousy that there had been other men in this bed, but he shoved it down deep. “Mr. Neck-Neck is a pervert.”
“No way, man. He’s just chill and sex positive.”
They both laughed. Troy found it shockingly easy to laugh with Harris.
“We should take a shower,” Harris said.
“Can we both fit?”
“I’m willing to try.” Harris kissed him quickly, then rolled out of the bed. “Fuck, it’s cold. Come on.”
They both managed to fit in the shower, but barely. It was okay because Troy didn’t feel like being more than an inch apart from Harris anyway. They kissed for a long time, wasting water, as their erections bumped together.
Eventually they got down to the business of getting clean. Harris handed him a bottle of shampoo, and Troy laughed when he read the bottle.
“What?” Harris asked.
“It’s apple scented.”
“Is it?”
“Yes! Oh my god. I thought I was losing my mind. I kept smelling apples whenever you were close and I told myself I was imagining it. Jesus.”
Harris grinned. “I think my laundry detergent might be green apple scent too.”
Troy poured some shampoo on his palm and began working it into Harris’s hair. “Unbelievable.”
Harris gave a happy sigh and seemed to quietly enjoy Troy massaging his scalp for a few seconds, and then said, “Did you think I just naturally smelled like apples? Because that’s adorable.”
“No! I thought it was, like, psychosomatic. Or whatever.”
“You wanted me to smell like apples?”
“We can drop this, y’know.”
“Are you turned on by the smell of apples, Troy?”
“I didn’t used to be.” He took a step back from Harris. “Rinse.”
Harris tilted his head back under the spray. “Did I give you an apple fetish?”
“Maybe.” Troy dropped to his knees and kissed the head of Harris’s bobbing cock.
“Oh shit,” Harris said, opening his eyes in surprise. “I was kidding.”
“Yeah, well, I want you to shut up about apples.” Troy took him into his mouth and palmed both of his ass cheeks, squeezing them as he worked his cock. Harris stopped talking about apples or anything else for a few minutes.
“You are,” Harris panted, “so good at this.” He stroked Troy’s wet hair, watching everything he did. Troy pulled back a bit so he could give the head more attention.
“Ah, fuck,” Harris gasped. “I’m super close.”
Troy didn’t stop. He wanted everything he could have from this man.
Harris came within seconds; his cries sounded even louder than usual in the confines of the small shower. Troy swallowed his release, moaning at the thrill of getting a man off with his mouth.
“Get up here,” Harris said huskily. “Kiss me. Wanna touch you.”
Troy took his time, slowing sliding his lips off Harris’s cock and kissing his way up his stomach, his chest, past the scars that guarded his resilient heart.
Their mouths crashed together and Harris wrapped his hand around Troy’s erection. It didn’t take long at all for Harris to take him to the brink of orgasm, and then over, pleasure exploding throughout Troy’s body as his release splattered Harris’s stomach.
Even as he was catching his breath, Troy kept kissing him. He couldn’t get enough of him. It wasn’t good.
“So,” Harris said, pressing his forehead to Troy’s, “did I taste like apples?”
Troy snorted. “Shut up.”
Harris laughed, and Troy couldn’t stop himself from joining him. Being able to laugh effortlessly like this was a different kind of release, one that was possibly more exhilarating than the orgasm he’d just thoroughly enjoyed.
Eventually they got clean, then left the shower and dressed. Troy was starving by the time they went into the kitchen.
“Do you like oatmeal?” Harris asked. “That’s what I normally have for breakfast. I’ll make coffee too, of course.”
Panic started to claw its way into Troy’s unusually happy brain. Maybe it was Harris’s mention of what he normally had for breakfast
, the reminder that Troy had managed to insert himself into his morning routine. Maybe it was the sudden realization that Troy was standing in Harris’s kitchen, in his home. Maybe it was the more frightening realization that he didn’t want to leave. Whatever it was, Troy reverted to his usual, cagey self.
“I should go, probably. You don’t have to feed me.”
“But you haven’t eaten,” Harris protested. Then he smiled. “Well, you’ve barely eaten.”
“Gross.”
“It’s just as easy to make two servings of oatmeal as one. Have a seat. Stay for breakfast at least. Or, if you’d rather, there’s a diner not far from here that—”
“I’ll stay. Oatmeal is fine.” The only thing that would be worse right now than staying here with Harris would be spending time in public with him. Anyone who saw them together would know that Troy was crushing hard on the guy, and he wasn’t ready for that.
Troy didn’t sit. He wandered around the small kitchen, probably getting in Harris’s way. He was full of nervous energy and should probably go for a run or head to the gym as soon as he was out of here.
“If you’re going to bounce around like that, maybe you can make coffee,” Harris suggested.
“Okay.”
Harris pointed to a cupboard and then to the coffee maker on the counter. Troy got to work. When the coffeemaker was gurgling and coffee began trickling into the pot, he leaned back against the counter, watching Harris stir the oatmeal. He was wearing jeans and a blue plaid shirt and his hair was still damp. Troy wanted to pull him into his arms, back to bed, and never leave.
Two months ago, he couldn’t imagine ever feeling happy again, much less finding a man who he could be himself with. He’d thought Adrian had been his one chance at happiness, but now, in Harris’s kitchen, Troy realized that he’d never felt this comfortable with Adrian. Their relationship had been hot and exciting, but it had been held together by fear and anxiety. They’d both been so scared of being caught, and their stolen times alone together had been full of desperation and relief. Troy had been so thrilled to have someone to fall in love with that he’d clung to Adrian with both hands, not daring to look at other options. Adrian, meanwhile, had been reaching his hands in two different directions. Until he’d let go of Troy completely.