12. Colt

Colt

W hat the hell am I thinking?

He's the father of my sister's baby, and I'm mauling him in my living room like a man starved.

I stare at him, his lips puffy from my kiss, and his eyes wide and scared. I should regret kissing him, but I can't at the moment. He's so damn beautiful. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

He's panicking again. The scream he let out was downright tortured. What is going on with him? What has him so afraid?

"Talk to me," I say, moving closer to him, keeping our lower bodies separated as I cup his face with my hands. "What happened just now?"

He shakes his head from side to side, but I don't release him. I just look into his eyes and wait for him to speak. "I can't—" he starts but then cuts off. His voice sounds strangled, like something is physically holding him back from speaking, and it breaks my heart for him.

"You can't what, sweetheart?" I should pull that back, apologize for the endearment, but I can't. I don't want to. He looks in my eyes, his own haunted by something. Something dark.

"I can't have this."

I hold onto him desperately, terrified to let him go. This was so not my intention when I asked him to come over. I really did just want to get to know him for Chloe and Christian's sake, but everything has changed now. Now I need to know him. For me.

It's selfish and fucked up, but it doesn't make it any less true.

"Can't have what?"

He looks down between our bodies, my hands still on his face. My erection has waned slightly, but that kiss was so damn intense, I swear I was close to coming in my jeans, and I don't think he was faring much better. There's still a bulge in his jeans as well as mine, but when his eyes meet mine again, it's not heat or desire I see.

It's fear.

"This." A single tear falls from his eye and splashes against my thumb. "With a man."

It's starting to slowly click for me. At least a small part of Dallas. I don't know what's happened in his life, but something tells me his attraction to men has been suppressed before. "Says who?" I try like hell to keep my tone light, even though the thought of anyone telling this beautiful man his attraction to men is wrong makes me want to put my fist through the wall.

He just shakes his head again, and I try to hold his face still, looking deep into his eyes and holding on for dear life in more ways than one. I can't let him run away from this. Why? I don't know.

Liar.

I tell my stupid brain to shut up, and I don't look away from Dallas. "Says who, Dallas?"

"Everyone," he says so quietly, I nearly miss it. Before I can ask him who everyone is, he goes on. "My parents. My pastor. Kids at school." He turns his head away from me more violently this time, my hands dropping as he looks away. "Everyone."

"Dallas, look at me," I try because he looks so beaten down, my heart might have cracked in half. "Please," I add. He slowly lifts his eyes to mine. "They're wrong." I say it firmly.

He starts to shake his head, and I can't take it. I pull him to me, but not his mouth to mine. I just wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, wanting to keep him safe from the cruel world that can be so damn ugly.

"They. Are. Wrong," I repeat and squeeze him tighter. "Every single one of them. You being with a girl or you being with a guy, as long as it's consensual, it's never wrong." I try like hell to get the message across and make it very clear this has nothing to do with me.

Yes, I want to kiss him again, but more than anything, I just want him to know it's not wrong to be with someone just because of their gender. Because the world, or his world, says it is.

"I've tried so hard to fight it."

"I know, baby," I say, cursing myself for letting yet another endearment slip, but I just hang onto him, holding him tight, and I feel him trembling with the weight of it all. "You don't have to. You shouldn't ever have to."

"It's not fair," he says, his arms squeezing me back, and I can feel his fisted hands against my shoulders. He's angry. Good. He should be. At everyone who ever hurt him.

"It doesn't have to be like that, Dallas. I know it seems like you have to hide in Big Bend." He pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes glassy as he sniffs, another tear falling from his eyes. "You don't."

"I do," he argues instantly. "You've seen the team. They hate me, and nothing has even been confirmed." I don't know what the hell that means, but it makes me want to find everyone on the team except for Benny and beat the shit out of them for making him hurt.

"Dallas." I sweep my hand over his cheek again, and this time, he leans into my touch.

"I want this so badly," he says softly, his eyes focusing on my lips, then pulling back up to my eyes. "But I can't have it."

"Why?" I ask dumbly, just staring at his gorgeous face. Lost in his tormented, beautiful gaze.

He shakes his head, and his frustration is clear. "I try, and I can't." His breathing ticks up again. "I just can't. It's so damn frustrating." He's breathing heavily, and his face is red with anger. But before I can ask him about it, his lips are back on mine, and he's kissing me hard.

His tongue seeks entry that I don't deny. I know we should talk. He has a lot of damage that's been inflicted by so many, and he's strong, but he's still vulnerable. I can't take advantage of that. But when his tongue sweeps over mine and then he's sucking on my tongue, my cock gives an almost violent jerk, and our hips move together, and all rational thought is totally gone.

I don't have time to think about how wrong this is because he's rutting against me in a desperate plea, and I'm more than happy to give him anything he wants. I'll give him the whole damn world if he wants it. "Yes," I breathe against his mouth. "Take what you need from me, sweetheart."

He groans into my mouth, kissing me so hard, my lips feel bruised, and I fucking love it. My hands move to his hair, holding him close to me but still giving him every option to walk away. He's in control here, and I need him to know it.

His dick is hard and pressing against my own as he slides against me. We grind together, my back hitting a wall in my living room. I'm not sure how we got here, but I'm okay with it. His hands are everywhere now. Roaming under my shirt and over my back and then over my stomach and pecs. He's ravenous, and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

My balls ache and tingle with the need for release, but I won't rush him. And I don't want to scare him by suggesting we lose the clothes. There's no denying he's inexperienced, though I'm not certain just how inexperienced. We should slow things down. Talk a little. I need to make sure he's okay, but he's sucking on my tongue again, and holy shit, it feels good.

But then. "No. Damn it!" he shouts, his whole body shaking as he rests his forehead against mine. "No."

"Dallas," I breathe, begging him to talk to me.

"I hear them. All the time. I hear them. How wrong it is. How I'll lose everything. It doesn't feel wrong," he says, cracking another piece of my heart.

"It's not," I say softly. "It's really not," I say more firmly.

"I can't come. I need to." He sounds so damn full of pain, and I know it's emotional as well as physical. "I ache with it, Colt." His voice cracks. "It hurts so bad, but I can't..." He starts to look away from me, pulling back, and I can't let him.

"Do you trust me?" I ask without too much thought.

His eyes meet mine shakily, and he nods once. "Yes."

I move my hand so it's resting over his heart again, reveling in the hard muscle under my palm and the rapid thump of his heart. "This," I lean in and slowly drag my lips over his in the barest of kisses. "Isn't." Another kiss. "Wrong."

He lets out a strangled whimper, his body still trembling with need for release as I let my hand drag over his stomach, the soft cotton of his t-shirt under my fingers, but I can feel how solid he is beneath.

"You are not wrong." I kiss him softly, letting my fingers brush the top of his jeans. He's still breathing hard, but I think it's more about excitement now than fear. "You are beautiful."

I flick open the top button of his jeans and drag the zipper down slowly, being mindful of the raging erection he's sporting. His mind seems to be back on board, and I feel like if I can just keep him focused on me, maybe I can help him finally find his pleasure.

"You tell me to stop, we stop. But not because someone else is saying to, Dallas." I look into his eyes, needing his permission. Needing to know he really hears me.

He nods his head again before his lips part slightly. "Please."

Jesus, he might actually kill me. "I've got you," I say as I lean back in and kiss him softly as my hand dips into his underwear, and I wrap it around his thick hot flesh.

"Oh God," he nearly shouts. "Yes." He starts to pump into my hand, and I can't help but smile, loving the way he's owning his pleasure. That he's not fighting it at the moment. He's leaking like crazy, and it's the hottest fucking thing. I'm dying to look down at what I know is his absolutely gorgeous cock, but I don't want to break the moment.

His hips snap forward as he fucks my fist, and with as much as he's leaking pre-cum, I'm sure it won't be long. I use the sticky liquid to slick his dick, using a twisting motion every time I get to the head of his cock, making him moan deep into my mouth as we kiss.

But soon, he's making this god-awful sort of frustrated grunt, and I can feel him starting to pull away in his mind. "It's useless."

"No," I say. "It's not. You're so damn beautiful. You're perfect, Dallas." I chance a look down between our bodies, urging him to do the same, and he does. "Look at you." My hand is around his thick cock, the red, almost purple head flushed and angry-looking with a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. My mouth actually waters to taste him, but this isn't about me. "Look how goddamn beautiful you are."

"We are," he says breathlessly, and I look up at him, his eyes glazed over with lust. "We..."—he swallows hard as he looks back down at my hand wrapped around his dick—"are."

I nod and grip him a little tighter as he starts to fuck my fist, his cock growing even harder in my grasp. "We are beautiful together," I say as we both watch his cockhead slide through my closed hand. "So damn hot."

"Yes," he says, his cock jerking in my hand. "Oh God, yes. Holy shit." His voice cracks on the sexiest wail as cum sprays from his dick and all over my hand. He spurts all over as I stroke him, his entire body becoming rigid as he cries out again and again, my eyes lifting in time to see the bliss on his face as he comes.

When he finishes, he falls into me. I release his spent cock in just enough time to catch him as he wraps his arms around me and starts to cry. But there's joy in it. Relief.

"You are absolutely perfect, Dallas," I say into his ear as I hold onto him, trying my best not to get his cum on his shirt, but I don't think he cares too much at the moment.

"Thank you," he says. "Thank you."

"Oh, Dallas." I hold onto him. "You don't have to thank me. That was all you."

I feel him smiling against my neck, but a wave of uncertainty hits me out of nowhere. This feels too damn good to be true.

He's been through so much, and I know that any moment now, he's going to freak out. Probably leave. I hold onto him a little tighter then, the thought terrifying me to my core.

"Please don't go," I find myself saying.

Apparently, I'm not above begging because if he leaves, I think it will kill me.