by Lina Langley
“Yes,” he says. “I absolutely am. But I want to make some things clear.”
I nod. I expect him to tell me that this is just a fling, that there’s no way we can be together for long. And that’s okay, I think. I think I’m okay with being with him even if it’s only for a little while.
“I need to know your terms,” he says. “If you want to do this, I need to know your terms.”
I watch him. “If I want to do what?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Exactly,” he says. “That’s what I need to know. You’re going to leave soon and I don’t know if you know this, but I… I’m an intense person.”
I nod. “I like that about you,” I say. “And I want this. I want to be with you before I leave. Is that what you want?”
He watches me, then nods curtly. “Yes,” he says. “That’s what I want.”
When I reach over to kiss him, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door.
CONTINUE
Lawrence stands up to get the door. I can hear him laughing when he opens it. “I think your friends are here to pick you up,” he says and opens it.
I walk down the hall to join him. In front of me, Cyrus and Montgomery stand, both looking like shit.
“Hi?”
“Oh my God,” Cyrus says and steps forward, hugging me closely. “We were so worried about you.”
I hug him back. “I’m okay,” I say, trying to get out of his grip.
“Speak for yourself, Cy,” Montgomery replies, but I can’t hear the relief in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I needed to talk to Lawrence and—”
I turn to Lawrence, suddenly aware of how embarrassing this all is.
Cyrus moves away from me. “I’m sorry I took your phone,” he says. “I realized how big a mistake that was when you didn’t emerge from your room in the morning.”
“You stayed overnight?” I ask, cocking my head.
Cyrus and Montgomery exchanged a look.
“You didn’t!”
“None of your business, choirboy,” Montgomery says, winking at me. “What is it that they say? Easiest way to get over someone is to get under them.”
Cyrus is blushing. I want to slap them both. Lawrence laughs. “Why don’t you boys come in?” he asks. “I’ve made plenty of breakfast. Enough for two extra people.”
“Oh, they wouldn’t want to intrude,” I say.
“Actually, food sounds amazing,” Montgomery replies. He takes a step closer into the house and I gawk at him as Cyrus follows him inside. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
We all sit at the table as if it’s no big deal. When Montgomery starts to eat, his gaze darts between Lawrence and I. “So are you two like, dating? Considering you spent the night here.”
I look at Lawrence, my cheeks red. I don’t know what to answer. “Yes,” Lawrence says with a smile on his face. “I’m his boyfriend.”
That makes Cyrus and Montgomery look at each other, and then they start snickering. Lawrence grabs my hand and kisses it and it makes my heart jump in my chest.
CONTINUE
I spend the rest of my summer having sex with Lawrence and hanging out with Montgomery and Cyrus. The two are a couple now, and they’re cute. I’m glad to see they’ve found each other and sad to see that Cyrus is going to leave him behind, but they seem to have an understanding that it’s just a fling.
I wish Lawrence and I had to come to the same understanding, because I don’t think this is a fling. I think I’m falling in love with Lawrence, which is a problem. We’re having lots of sex, lots and lots of sex, but he cooks for me, asks me how I’m doing, lets me borrow books that look like they cost more than everything I own.
He pulls my hair and says my name as he comes inside of me. He tells me to get on my knees for the first meal of the day after he has cooked me breakfast and then he feeds me my come until I’m left gasping. He wakes me up by sucking my dick and he tells me to roll over and bites into my shoulder as he fingers me to completion. He’s asked me to fuck him in the bathroom, in the living room, by the pool. He’s always ready for anything, and even though he’s about twice my age, sometimes I find it hard to keep up with him.
Then he says my name and kisses my cheek. He asks me how my day was. He puts his arm around me as I’m watching a movie and he’s reading a book. He goes to Church with me and discusses the sermon thoroughly afterward in the car. The Friday before I’m due to leave, he gets me a silver rosary to hang around my neck, kisses my mouth and tells me he’s going to miss me. When he pulls away, I feel like I might faint.
“Can you drive me?” I say to him the night before I’m due to leave. We’re cuddling on the couch, my head on his lap.
He puts his book down, moves his glasses away from his face. “I thought you’d want your friends to drive you.”
“I want them there,” I say. “To see me off. But I would rather have my boyfriend drive me.”
I think that’s the first time I’ve called him my boyfriend to his face. He closes his eyes a little and then he nods, pushing my hair away from my face. “Of course I’ll drive you, Alejandro.”
I can’t see him like this. I can’t stand to see him this sad. I move his book away from him and put it on the coffee table, then climb on top of him, one leg on each side of him. I kiss him softly on the lips, then move away from him. His eyes are watering and I feel like I’m breaking his heart.
This is breaking my heart.
“Lawrence?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Can you fuck me?”
He smiles briefly then closes the gap between us to kiss me hungrily on the mouth. “Yes,” he says. “Yes, I can fuck you.”
I lean back to grab the lube off the coffee table and then hand it to him. I get off him for a second while he scrambles to take his pants off and I do the same. I’m already hard just thinking about this and I can feel his cock pressing against my ass as I move down, so the tip of his cock is right under me.
He’s slathering his dick with lube and kissing me on the mouth, sloppily at times, other times softly, moving away from me to gaze into my eyes. He bites my lower lip then smiles. “Sit on me, Alejandro.”
I could come just from the way he says my name. I do as I’m told, taking him in slowly, even though I want to fuck myself on his cock more than anything in the world. We both breathe at the same time once he’s inside me, then he grabs my dick and starts jacking me off as I move up and down on top of him.
It’s slow, slower than we’ve ever done it, but I can still feel how close I am to coming when I look at his face. He moves his free hand up so that he’s holding my throat, just hard enough to put pressure on it, and after what must be fifteen to twenty minutes of momentary bursts of pleasure and looking into each other’s eyes, he whispers my name.
I know what he means—there’s no way for me not to know what he means—because the moment he says my name, I start going faster, knowing that he’s going to come inside me, his hands matching the rhythm of my hips.
He groans, closes his eyes a little and tells me he’s going to come, making sure to hold me in place by applying pressure on my throat and looking right at me as he does, all while he brings me to an orgasm, which I can feel everywhere. Warmth from the core of my body to the tips of my fingers, rolling, crashing stars of nothing but pleasure under my skin.
I don’t close my eyes. I never close my eyes. I stare at him when I come. When I’m done, I’m left gasping for breath, and when he moves his hand away from my throat, I start coughing. He laughs quietly. I’m about to get off him but he holds me in place by securing one arm around my waist.
“Don’t,” he says, biting his lower lip. “I want you to stay here for as long as possible.”
I put my forehead on his, this time, closing my eyes. “I’m going to miss you,” I say quietly.
“I’m going to miss you too,” he replies, his voice breaking. I’m not sure, but when I open my eyes and look at h
is face, I think he might be crying.
CONTINUE
I’m sitting in Lawrence’s car and trying my best to make it seem like I’m not struggling with this decision. My bags are in the back of his SUV and they keep moving around the vehicle every time he takes a turn. I’m trying to ignore the growing pit on my stomach, even though we have barely left Lawrence’s place. I’ve already packed—everything is ready at home, safe with Montgomery and Cyrus. I smile, thinking about how weird it is to think about them together.
Cyrus told me they might continue their relationship when he goes. He said Montgomery might go with him. I would have loved to see his face then, but I’m kind of glad it was over the phone, because despite myself, I was definitely a little jealous.
I wish I hadn’t been. I wish there was no reason for me to be jealous.
I should feel relieved. This is the beginning of the rest of my life. I don’t feel relieved. I feel sick as I look at Lawrence, my throat dry.
I grab his hand and he squeezes me. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shifting my weight. “This is… it’s big.”
“I know,” he says. “Are you excited?”
“No,” I say. “Not at all.”
He furrows his brow. I cough, and then close my eyes. “Lawrence, can you pull over?”
“Yes,” he says. He checks his mirrors then pulls over on the shoulder of the road. He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. It burns.
I turn around to look at him. “I don’t think this is what I want,” I say, tears welling up in my eyes.
He watches me, saying nothing. I wish he wasn’t so damn inscrutable all the time. I wish he would help me out here. “Alejandro…”
“I want to stay,” I say. “I want to be with you.”
He swallows. I watch his Adam’s apple work as he does. “I can’t let you stay here just because of me.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice trembling. “You don’t think God will forgive me?”
He swallows again and kills the ignition. He leans forward to hug me. “Of course God will forgive you,” he says. “But if you don’t go, and it turns out it’s what you wanted to do, I’m worried you won’t forgive me.”
“I love you,” I say, more to myself than to him. Fuck it, I don’t care if it scares him. “I would have nothing to forgive you for. I want to stay here, with you.”
“You do?”
I nod. “Yes,” I say. “For the first time in my life, I’m certain of… fuck, of something. And you’re always telling me I should do what I want to do. This is what I want to do, Lawrence.”
“What is?”
“Be with you,” I say. “For good. Everything else… it can happen later. If that’s what you want. If it doesn’t scare you.”
He closes his eyes, and he lets out the most relieved breath I’ve ever heard in my life. “It doesn’t scare me,” he says, closing the space between us to kiss me in the mouth. “It doesn’t.”
When he pulls away from me, I can see the tears welling up in his eyes.
I swallow, my mouth dry. “Why are you crying?”
“Because,” he says. “I love you too. And I’m so, so glad that you’re staying with me.”
“You are?”
“Yes,” he says. “So glad.”
Then he kisses me again, and right then, nothing else matters.
THE END
Author’s Note
First of all, thank you so much for taking the time to read my book. I hope that you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you like my work, you should know there are ways you can support me without spending any money at all. I wouldn't be anywhere without your help. Authors rely on readers like you.
Seriously, your support and your feedback is what keeps me going, so thank you.
Would you like to support me in other ways? Here are some other ways you can do that.
Leave me a review. These are incredibly important, and you can leave me a review on Amazon or Goodreads. You can also support other reviewers! If you find a review of one of my books you like, you can always mark it as helpful.
Join my reader club. When you join my reader club, you get five free exclusive stories, a bunch of freebies and exclusive discounts! You can also always write me back. If you’re interested in being part of my ARC team, this is how to do it.
Connect with me on social media. You can visit & like my Facebook page, or if you’re interested in me rambling about the writing process—and why wouldn’t you be?—you can follow me on Twitter.
Tell your friends about my book. If you love my books, please tell people about them! Whether you tell them on Goodreads, Twitter, your blog, or in real life, word of mouth is an amazing compliment and I appreciate it more than I can say.
Host a book reading party. You can get together with your friends and discuss your favorite one of my books. Or your least favorite. Hey, I’m not picky.
If you like this book, you might enjoy my other books:
Bundles:
Boy + Friend (Friends to Lovers M/M Bundle)
Men at Work (Workplace M/M Bundles)
Famously Gay (Celebrity M/M Bundle)
Also available:
A La Carte Friend
Chasing the Sea
Be Mine
Gilded Silence
Until We’re Home
The Powerless (Free!)
The Powerless: Part Two (Free!)
The Powerless: Part Three
Switch (Free!)
Home for Christmas
Promises of Eternity
Rainbow Rebel
Under The Rug
And The World Begins With You
Finding Home
On The Beat
Literary:
Welcome To Crash
Anthologies:
Six Worlds
About the author
Lina Langley is a first-generation immigrant. She currently lives in sunny Florida and spends her time slashing hot strangers while getting coffee.
Her past is haunted by spies, thieves, tyrants, and murderers. A resident of the world, she’s lived on three different continents. She first saw a radiator when she was twenty-two years old, and one time she followed a cat instead of going to a house party.
She likes to read, watch TV, and play video games when she’s not developing them. The rest of her free time is spent recreating her own characters in The Sims and hoping that people don’t look at the back end of her games.
You can email her: [email protected]
Chapter SIX
Before I can talk to Montgomery, I need to clear the air with Cyrus. Nothing is going to feel okay again until I speak to my best friend. Regardless of what happens—or doesn’t happen, I suppose—between the two of us, I need things to be okay between us. If they aren’t, I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to Montgomery at all.
I don’t want to push Cyrus out of my life for Montgomery’s sake. If I have to pick between them… well, I’d pick Cyrus’ friendship. I just wish I didn’t have to. This shouldn’t be a choice and I know it’s my fault that it feels like it is.
I wait until the morning before I call Cyrus, but I don’t get a wink of sleep. After a few rings, he sends me to voicemail. Shit. He never does that unless he’s recording and I know he’s not recording right now. He never records on Sundays. I don’t want to pop over to his house when he’s not expecting me, but I will if that’s the only way I’m going to be able to talk to him.
I decide to text him. Hey, Cy. Can we talk?
He texts back almost immediately. I need some space, babe. I’ll reach out to you in a few days.
I look at the text for far too long. Everything around me feels like it’s stopped being important. The only thing I can think about right now is how everything around me feels dull, like it has lost all color.
Cy, it’s important.
The response comes back almost immediately. Is it ever not i
mportant?
Call me, please. I’ll stop bothering you after we talk.
No, he texts back. If you want to talk, I’d rather we do it in person. Can I come over?
I lick my lips, which are dry and chapped. No, I reply. I’ll meet you at your place in an hour.
CONTINUE
I bike all the way to Cyrus’ house. I could take a car there or the bus, but I need to see him as soon as possible and I have plenty of anxious energy to burn. By the time I get to his place, my clothes are sticking to my body and there’s sweat covering my face.
I get off my bike before I get to his driveway and lean it back against the tree he parks his car near. Cyrus lives very close to the bridge, which is noisy, but always beautiful. It’s tall and bushy and it provides shade for his car when it gets too hot and sunny around here.
I get out of the car and walk toward his house, leaves crunching under me. I’ve always liked it here. I think Cyrus got the house about two years ago, and it feels like it’s a reflection of him. He’s done everything to make this place feel his, nothing like his old apartment. It’s all music and bright loud colors, surrounded by nature, in a simple two-bedroom house.
I swallow as I walk up to his door. I’ve never been this nervous about visiting him. I lift up my hand and softly knock. I can hear footsteps approaching as I shift my weight between my feet, the pit in my stomach only growing.
“Hey,” he says as he opens the door, not even looking at me when he does. “Come in.”
I do look at him. There are bags under his eyes, which are small and bloodshot, his skin blotchy.
“Cy—”
“Sit down,” he says as I follow him into the living room. One of his guitars is on his loveseat, so the only place for me to sit is the couch. I do as I’m told, but he doesn’t sit down next to me. He doesn’t even offer me a drink. He looks me up and down and then exhales heavily, rubbing his temple. “Alex, is this really necessary?”