by Lucy Gage
The hoarse sincerity in his voice nearly split me in two. It was the same voice playing back on my voicemail, begging me to call him back, to explain to him why I was so mad at him, why I had left without saying goodbye to him.
“It wasn’t my plan.” Of all the possible combinations of words to tumble out of my mouth, it had to be that one. Instantly, I hated myself even more than I already did – if that was even possible. But I stayed strong and kept up the façade I knew would save us both from breaking our hearts all over again. “I just wanted to let you know I was leaving on Monday. I wanted to come out here and just, uh,” I stumbled over my words, my resolve breaking by the second. “Uh, that, well I just wanted to let you know I wasn’t staying so that we could both get through the weekend without wondering about anything.”
Just about to turn around, I figured he wasn’t going to say anything. Not that I deserved a minute of his time. He hated me, that much was true, but it wasn’t nearly as much as I hated myself.
And that hatred had to fuel me, because if I let any softness into my heart right now, I would break down and…and… well, for fuck’s sake, I had no clue what would happen, but I knew if I opened myself back up to the possibility of Quinn, I wouldn’t be able to stand the reality of not having him.
I stood there a moment longer, waiting for who the hell knows what. My gut twisted in the most complicated knot ever when he grabbed his shoes, stood, and turned toward me. Standing no more than a few inches in front of me, his scent intoxicated me more than the drink I’d lied about needing to get ever would have. He took a deep breath, his exhale shaky and so incredibly vulnerable my fingers itched to touch the light dusting of dark red hair on his jaw. “I wish you’d stay. I always wished you would’ve stayed.”
Without saying another word, he pushed passed me, certain not to let his arm brush mine.
But even just the air that he’d touched moving over my skin was enough to make me want him more than I already did.
Yet once again, I knew giving into my urges would be pointless. No one here knew I was gay. No one here cared.
That thought sent a knife through my heart, mostly because it was the damn truth. Yet here I was, a fucking good guy to a fault, showing up for the asshole brother’s wedding who wouldn’t even notice if I went missing right now.
Not wanting to go down that path, I pulled out my phone, resolving to get on the next flight out of bum fuck North Carolina tonight.
Small towns come with small airports and the next flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. So rather than high-tailing it out of here, I decided on the next best thing – downing a few drinks and numbing myself to the pain burning in my chest.
“Did you see Ryan?” Mom asked as I came back into the kitchen.
Sliding my shoes back on afforded me the chance not to look at her just yet. If I had, she’d know too much. She’d know about the tears I held back, about the searing pain in my chest. “I did,” I answered quickly before burying my head in the freezer for some ice. After dropping a few cubes into the glass, I filled the tumbler three-quarters of the way with vodka and squeezed a slice of lime into it.
“And?” she pestered with a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.
“Not tonight, Mom. I don’t have the energy.” My words hurt her. It wasn’t my intention, but it was the truth. I simply didn’t have the strength to rehash everything with her. Sorting through my emotions and baring my soul right now was the last thing I wanted to do.
Well, second to last. Because as I walked back out into the living room, all that greeted me there was a room full of family and friends with whom I didn’t want to spend time at all.
But I did anyway. I did it for my sister, because she was so ridiculously happy and head over heels in love with Patrick that I couldn’t help but be happy for her. She was my best friend and I promised her I would help her in whatever way I could for the wedding. And that meant staying here in our parents’ house for the weekend, prepping for the big day on Sunday. It meant sleeping in my old bedroom – the same one that Ryan would sneak into when we were kids, the same one that held my happiest and saddest memories.
As I watched her walk about the room, talking to everyone and thanking them for coming in for the wedding, I knew I’d made the right decision. I knew being here for her was important, but I also knew I couldn’t wait for the night to be over.
After my third vodka and lime, the crowd finally thinned out to the point where I didn’t feel guilty about lying and needing to rest.
Walking down the stairs to my old bedroom brought back a flood of memories. Ones that I didn’t really want to feel right now, but ones that demanded my attention. Somehow, leaving the light off was my way of trying my best to keep those memories at bay. After stripping down to my boxer briefs, I climbed into my bed and didn’t even bother to turn on the television. I’d let the buzz from the vodka lull me to sleep. I’d let the night fade away and deal with the morning when it got here.
My eyelids grew heavy. My breathing evened out. I felt the peace of sleep descending.
And then the sound of a key opening the side door jolted me upright. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm in my chest. Breathing was near impossible and I tried my best to blink the early signs of sleep from my eyes.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I turned on the light just in time to catch the first glimpses of someone walking down the stairs.
I was about climb out of the bed when I remembered I wasn’t in anything more than my underwear. Without saying a word, Ryan walked over to the bed and sat as far away from me as the mattress would let him. The bastard didn’t even have the courage to face me. He sat facing the wall, not saying a fucking word.
We stayed that way for a few minutes. Not saying anything, not even looking at each other. I guess neither us of knew where to start.
There was no guidebook on trying to pick up the pieces of a broken heart.
As the minutes dragged on, my frustration grew. Finally, I blurted, “What are you doing here?”
When he turned to face me, shock washed over me. I had no clue what I had expected him to say, but the absolute last thing I expected to see was his face bloodied and bruised as if he’d been in a bar fight before coming here.
All concerns of only being in my boxers were overridden by my immediate panic. “What the hell happened?” I demanded as I sprang from my spot at the head of the bed. Grabbing some tissues from the night stand, I moved next to him and patted over the blood dripping from the small split in his lip. “Who the hell did this? Are you okay?”
A flash of pain crossed his beautiful face. Even behind the fresh bruises and the winces of pain, I could see how fucking gorgeous he was. He covered my hand with his and my pulse skyrocketed as if he’d just electrocuted me. He took the tissues from my hand and the placed my hand back on my lap. “If you keep touching me,” he spoke, his voice hard and cold, “I don’t know what I’ll end up doing.”
That sentence alone sent chills dancing all over my body and every ounce of blood racing straight to my cock. “What if I want to find out what you’d end up doing?” I challenged.
It was a dangerous game, tempting him. But feeling the heat radiate from his body, remembering what he felt like, I knew it would all be worth it.
“You don’t. Hell, I don’t even know.” He rambled, keeping his eyes trained on the Tarheels poster across the room. “Not much has changed down here, huh?” he attempted a joke.
Garnering every bit of courage I had, I reached for him, cupping his jaw and turning his face to mine. Pulling his face within an inch of mine, I said, “Nothing at all,” before pressing my lips to his.
The feel of his lips against mine, of my hand on his jaw – it was old and new at the same time. What started as nothing more than a sweet kiss, a tender press of the lips quickly changed into a heated and passionate kiss from which I knew I’d never recover. He opened his mouth to my needy tongue and all v
estiges of whatever control I thought I had were lost and gone forever. Emboldened by the way his tongue moved against mine, I lifted myself up, swung one leg over his body, and settled onto his lap. “Quinn.” His voice was ragged and needy. His fingers bit into my back, pulling me impossibly close to him. He pulled back and my lips instantly missed the heat of his. There was reluctance in his eyes. Rigidity set in his body and I could tell I wasn’t going to like the words that came out of his mouth. “I just wanted to come here to say goodbye.”
Anger and fury raged in my veins. “Goodbye?” I seethed, pushing away from him. “You’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” I cursed, pulling on my pants that were hanging over the back of my desk chair. “You just walk in here like you used to do all the fucking time. Your face is all fucked up. Something clearly happened, but you won’t tell me. You let me kiss you. You kiss me back. And then you have the balls to tell me all you wanted was to say goodbye. Fucking asshole.”
He stood from the bed, straightened his shoulders, and looked me right in the eyes. “You’re right. That’s exactly what I am. Believe me, you’re better off hating me. It’ll make it that much easier for me to walk away.”
My words stuck in my throat. Anger, rage, love, passion – they all mixed together in my head and heart. They all made it impossible to say anything.
So I didn’t. I just stood there waiting for whatever the hell would happen next.
God, I was a fucking mess. I had no clue why I came here. I knew better than to dig out my old key and come over here like I was welcome.
But after the knock-down drag-out fight with my brother, I had nowhere else to go.
And it was always here, with Quinn that I felt the safest.
Except now, standing before him, I knew being safe with him was the last thing I deserved.
Vulnerability wavered across his face and I wanted nothing more than to run my hands all over his naked chest. The last time I saw him in any state of undress we were nothing more than two teenagers, barely coming into our own bodies.
But now. Holy fucking hell. Despite wanting nothing more than to walk away from him, I found it impossible to do anything but move closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
One step closer.
“So sorry,” I repeated.
Another step.
“You deserve better.”
One more.
“I’ll never be good enough for you,” I admitted, closing the small gap left between us.
When he opened his mouth to say something in return, I didn’t have the heart to hear whatever insults he’d fling at me. I knew I deserved them all. I’d done nothing but earn his hatred. But right now, I needed something much more than that.
“I should walk away,” I said, pressing my body against his. “I should leave right now and never look back – let you go on with your life and forget all about me, but I can’t. With you, I just can’t walk away again.”
And then we didn’t need words. We didn’t need apologies or explanations.
All we needed was each other.
Just as they’d itched to do moments ago, my fingers roamed all over his chest. His hot skin moving under my fingers was almost too much for me to handle. He resisted at first and if he would have kept it up, I would have stopped and walked away. But when he melted into my touch, I knew he wanted this just as much as I did.
“Fuck it,” I cursed in between heated kisses. “I need you. God, Quinn I need you so fucking much.”
“Then take me,” he demanded.
So I did just that. From his chest to his back, my hands touched every inch that was available to them. Trailing kisses from his lips, down his neck, and then across his collar bone, I knew I’d never be satisfied when it came to Quinn.
I’d always be hungry for this man.
And this man alone.
Rolling his head back, he exposed his Adam’s apple, the long, thick line of his neck teasing me. His groans of pleasure set my skin on fire and hardened my dick instantly. “Missed this. Missed you,” he whispered between tender kisses and playful nips. “I need more. More. Please.”
Of all the things I’d loved about Quinn, this was the thing I loved the most. He was never afraid to ask for what he wanted. And I never, ever denied him anything he wanted.
Kissing a trail down his chest, I followed the dark red path of hair disappearing behind his opened pants. He’d been so enraged a few minutes ago that he never buttoned them up. It worked out to my benefit because my fingers shook with so much nervous need I knew I wouldn’t have been able to open them myself. With some help on his end, we both managed to lower his pants and boxers to the floor.
Kneeling before him, I knew I was at his mercy. Staring up at him, his long, thick erection filling the space between our bodies, I knew I would never be done with this man. No matter how much I lied to myself about needing to leave him alone, I would never be able to do that.
Throwing away every warning I’d ever told myself about loving anyone again, I let myself go. When my hand wrapped around his silky hard skin, I thought I’d come on the spot. “Fuck,” I cursed, running my finger over the bulging vein running the length of his cock. “I forgot how fucking gorgeous you are.”
“Ryan.” My name came out like a curse. His voice was broken and needy. Knowing that I’d put that need there spurred me on even more. “Oh God, Ryan. Your hands. They feel so –”
Touching him suddenly wasn’t enough. I needed to taste him. With my control already gone, I took him to the back of my throat, loving how he filled my mouth. “Oh fucking hell, Ryan.” Quinn took my head in his hands, fucking my mouth without regard for my ability to breathe. His need nearly broke me in half because it mirrored my need for him.
I could taste the first drops of his orgasm and there was no way I was going to end the night that quickly.
If this was going to be the last time I was going to have Quinn to myself, I was going to take everything I could. Letting his thick cock fall from my mouth was the last thing I wanted to do, but getting inside his body was as important as taking my next breath. “Get on the bed,” I demanded, all but pushing him toward the mattress. Of course he didn’t fight back.
As I stood before him, ridding myself of my clothes, he lay on the bed, stroking himself, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. “Does your hand feel good?” He nodded, seemingly unable to speak. “Is it as good as my mouth?” I asked as I crawled toward him. When our naked bodies touched for the first time since the last time, it was as if all the stars aligned and everything was right with the world.
Just for tonight, I would take that feeling and run with it. In the morning, when the sun came up, I would go back to my old ways of running away from everything and burying my feelings.
But just for tonight, I would give him this.
I would give me this.
“Nothing feels as good as your mouth,” he admitted between more kisses. My lip hurt like a motherfucker, but I didn’t care. I needed his kisses more than anything, so I’d deal with the pain.
“Nothing?” I taunted, pressing my body against his so that our cocks were touching one another. “Not even this?” I asked as I reached between us and ran my fingers along the two hardened cocks gliding against one another.
“Ryan,” he purred my name. “Fuck.”
“You read my mind.”
Resting back on my haunches, I pulled him up by the shoulders, bringing his face within an inch of my dick. “Get me good and wet,” I told him, cupping his jaw with my hand.
“Still so bossy,” he joked as he licked his lips.
“Only with you. Only ever with you,” I admitted.
If he only knew just how true those words were. That in all the time we were apart, I’d never been like this with anyone. Not anyone other than him. He was the only man who’d ever had the real me, the me I kept hidden from the rest of the world, the me who lay dor
mant all these years, with all those other men trying fruitlessly to forget him. But now wasn’t the time for that.
Now was simply the time to revel in the feel of his tongue twirling around the broad head of my cock, to relish in the feel of hitting the back of his throat just as he’d done to me a few minutes ago. Feeling the electric pleasure of my orgasm gather at the base of my spine, I knew that was enough.
I pulled away from him and he fell back to the bed. Laying there waiting for me, he was the perfect picture of sin. His eyes begged me to fuck him. His cock throbbed as it lay heavy and hard on his tight stomach.
With wet fingers, I readied him for my cock. His body was hot and willing – just like it had always been.
“Condoms?” I asked, situating myself between his spread legs.
“None that aren’t more than a decade old.”
If I didn’t want him so damn much I might have laughed. But instead, I said, “I don’t have any either. But there’s no way in fucking hell I can turn away now.”
His response, a “me either” that was nothing more than a needy growl was all I needed to hear before I buried myself into his body. Gently pushing past the tight ring of muscle sent my body into overdrive and whatever ability I thought I had to make the night last forever was gone on the first thrust.
He wrapped his legs around my waist, pulling me down onto him. Our mouths tangled together as our bodies became one. Every pull and drag of my cock in his body was a fire in my soul. It was everything that I loved and hated about myself all blended together into this blindingly perfect pulse of pleasure that I could no longer control.
“Quinn, fuck, oh fucking hell,” I cursed as I pounded into him.
His nails raked up and down my back, mixing pleasure with pain in the way I’d always loved. In the way only he knew how to do.
“I need more. More of you,” I admitted.
“Take it all. It’s all yours. Always has been. Always will be.”