27. Easton

Chapter 27

Easton

"Bad news?" Easton inquired.

"Depends. It's Jerry. He and Gerald are about to head out."

"You don't look happy."

"Well, no." Royal stiffened. "I mean, it could be a good thing. He gets to go home and be with sa mère ."

"What's wrong being with his mother?"

"Nothing. It's just a long drive to make cooped up with an asshole."

Easton leaned against the counter, folded his arms across his chest, and studied his friend. The way Royal clenched his phone and bit his bottom lip gave Easton pause. He'd witnessed that expression too many times and heard the words not spoken. No doubt, his friend now teetered toward slipping into a dark place. Easton opened his mouth to speak but then reconsidered. Instead of confronting the obvious, Easton decided to change the subject temporarily. Honestly, he needed a distraction too. His own emotions were still ricocheting inside him from earlier.

"How about we get out of here for a bit?" Easton finally asked after taking a couple of swallows to find his voice. "We could go for a walk."

"You're supposed to be resting."

Yeah, right. Who can rest?

"The fresh air will do me some good."

Royal contemplated for a moment and then consented. "Earlier, I saw a pond on the edge of the fairgrounds. It looked peaceful."

"Lead the way."

* * *

After emerging from a veil of trees, Easton plopped down on the grassy, sunbaked ground and peered up at the stars beginning to peek out as tiny sparkles of silver and ivory against the pinky-orange evening sky. A steady chatter from grasshoppers and crickets replaced honking horns and rowdy voices at the caravan park. Closer to the water's edge, moss padded the ground. A faint breeze created small ripples in the pond and brought with it the sweet scent of honeysuckle. How Easton adored that fragrance. Royal's assessment had been correct. The place was peaceful. It reminded Easton of home. The location's seclusion didn't hurt either.

" Gardez-donc ," he said, pointing. "Cygnus."

"Cygnus has always been the constellation to throw me for a loop. I've never understood how someone looked up and saw a swan and then convinced everyone else of the same."

"It kind of does, though. You have to use your imagination."

"I guess." Royal tilted his head. "You were always good at imagining things."

The corners of Easton's mouth turned downward, and a sickly twist crept into his gut. He didn't know how to take the statement. "And how does one decipher between imagination, perception, and wishful thinking?"

"The five senses. If you can touch it, taste it, smell it…."

"And if that's not to be trusted?"

"Well, there's always the existential thing of ‘I think, therefore I am.'"

Sighing, Easton leaned back on his elbows. "Sometimes, I get tired of thinking—thinking of what to say and what not to say. Of what to feel or not feel. Of what others expect me to do and not do."

"Hey." Royal bumped Easton's knee with his. "You don't have to be anyone other than who you are or do anything that doesn't make you happy."

"Are you sure about that? Because that seems it's all I've been doing here lately." Disconcerted, he flattened his lips together and scowled down at his boots. "I'm not like you, Roy. It's hard to keep everything bottled up. I wish I had your talent to compartmentalize life instead of having everything coagulate into a sludgy gook . Makes me feel like I'm losing my mind, like I'm on Blue's Clues island and didn't get a damn letter."

"East…," Royal stated tenderly, using the crook of his finger to lift his companion's chin and bring their gazes back together.

The robust scent of juniper blended with alpine soap jarred Easton's realization that he was sprawled against the earth with Royal hovering inches above him. Mint-green eyes peered at him—stabbed at his soul and drained him of all thoughts. The eyes flickered a question. Or perhaps they mirrored his own. Regardless, the stare pinned him motionless to the ground despite scarcely feeling Royal's grip on his wrists.

"What are you going to do?" Easton asked, struggling to dislodge his voice from his throat. It trickled out barely audible.

"I'm…." Royal leaned forward, closer, his hot breath hitching slightly. "Debating."

"Well, if you're going to regurgitate the litany of reasons us fooling around is perilous, be aware that I don't care. So don't bother proselytizing."

"Aw." He decreased the space between them further. "Look at you making use of those college exam words. It just demonstrates how smart you are—that you should be making brainy decisions."

"Informed decisions are smart," Easton challenged, his gaze fixated on Royal's mouth and his pulse ticking in a throbbing tempo. Or was it something else that was throbbing?

"True dat."

"Then what are you debating?"

"If I should take what I want."

"You can't take what is freely given."

Royal acknowledged with a soft hum and paused, mesmerized—and then he fused their lips.

The kiss spilled through him, and Easton responded with a noise he'd never heard himself make. Funny how he'd been racking those up lately when it came to Royal. In reality, he'd developed a compendium of odd emissions and could open a museum of sonancy and acoustics. He'd be embarrassed if the heat coursing through his body from Royal's tongue hadn't been causing a comprehensibility lobotomy. However, he didn't care how he sounded as long as he could have this moment in which Royal's tongue tangled with his. And he'd meant what he'd said earlier. Royal could take nothing from him because he willingly surrendered. Easton would give this man whatever he asked and even what he didn't.

Royal moved, wedging his knee between Easton's legs and rubbing his thigh against Easton's entrapped budge.

Too many damn clothes.

"How will you sound if I do this?" Royal slid his hand down Easton's arm, splayed his palm on his chest, and flickered his fingers across his nipples.

Another noise tumbled out of Easton, low and lusty, and Royal cruised his mouth over to the hollow of Easton's throat, where he lavished attention on the sensitive flesh.

Easton began lowering his free hand, but Royal trapped it and hoisted it above his head to be pinned with Easton's other hand. Mentally, emotionally, and now physically, Easton was at Royal's mercy. Seconds later, he felt his shirt hem being tugged from his jeans, followed by the jerk of his belt. The sound of his zipper being undone drowned out the sound of chirping insects, and he stilled. Looking down, he watched his friend work his hand into the opening and beneath his cotton briefs. He sucked in a breath and bit his bottom lip as Royal took hold of him, curling his fingers around the thick, smooth length. Instinctively, Easton's hips jerked forward, craving friction.

"Get me off, Royal. Please," he added in a desperate plea.

"I will," he replied, sliding his hand down with a light squeeze. "I'll make you feel good."

" Oui ."

Easton's jeans scraped his body as they were pushed to his knees. And then…

Oh, God!

Royal's tongue pressed against his cockhead leaking with precum. Multiple lines trickled down his shaft and dripped onto a nest of pubic hair, and he watched Royal lap at them—short precision strokes—with his tongue.

Heaven .

Easton couldn't tear his gaze away from the view that was equally as gratifying as the tactile sensation. However, as much as he enjoyed it, he wanted…

"I want to taste you too."

He didn't have to ask twice. Royal hastily wiggled out of his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Easton leaned forward, but Royal pressed his palm to his shoulder.

"Lay back," Royal ordered, pushing down his denim and turning simultaneously. Once his jeans were to his ankles, he positioned his knees on either side of Easton's head.

"Oh," Easton responded, understanding the assignment. Reaching up, he slid his hands to cup Royal's ass and sucked in his cock until it breached his throat. He savored the salty taste.

A strangled groan leaped from Royal's chest, delighting Easton.

Oui, that is what I want to hear.

"More, more. Eat. Feast on me," he mumbled around Royal's rigid dick.

Complying, Royal extended his legs back, leaned forward, and took Easton into his mouth again. Using only upper body strength, he balanced himself on his hands and toes. Slowly, he bent his elbows to lower himself and then pushed back up, pumping his thickness inside Easton's jaws. He repeated the movement once, twice—until Easton couldn't bother himself with counting.

Holy shit! He's push-up fucking my mouth and sucking me off at the same time. Fuck, that's hot!

Up and down. Slow. Methodical. Deliberate. Royal set the pace, controlled all movement. Easton marveled at Royal's triceps flexing and relaxing with every expertly executed push-up. He could give a Marine in basic training a run for his money. But Royal wasn't in basic training. He was giving and receiving a blow job.

Pleasure rose in Easton like a flood—drop by drop until the levee could hold no more. His voice went hazy, as did his vision, when the tension in his abdomen coiled. Light burst from behind his eyes, and his breath sputtered out fast and ragged. He had no time to give warning. His orgasm exploded from him in fiery jets down Royal's throat. As his body vibrated with the last wave, his own mouth was flooded with his lover's seed.