21. Miller

Ryan is naked beneath me. I’m naked too. We’re on my bed with the covers kicked off. Nothing exists but his skin and mine and the sounds we’re making. We started kissing before I unlocked our bedroom door, and we haven’t stopped until now.

I only break the kiss to look at him.

I have to. I can”t stand having my eyes closed and not seeing his face any longer. He looks dazed, dark eyes blinking sluggishly. His lips are bitten and raw. Mine feel that way too. I feel shocked and unplugged from pulling away from him, unsure how to function without having part of my body in his. My tongue has been in his mouth, deep and hard. My fingers have been in him too.

He drops his knees back almost to his ears, spreading his legs as wide as he can, making space for me, showing me where I need to be.

“You ready?” I ask.

He nods, open-mouthed and silent. I cover him with my body, holding myself up on my forearms as I rest my hips against his. My cock finds his slick opening and rocks against him, nudging and asking until he gives way. A thin hiss of air fills his lungs, and his eyes fly open as I breach him. Green and gold striations fry my brain. They reach into me. Into my mind. Into my soul. The warmth he holds inside him gently laps against me. Warming my cock first but quickly flooding the rest of my body.

I move unhurriedly inside him. Taking my time with him for the first time. There’s no rush. No timer.

He didn’t give me a limit this time.

I have all night.

Every thrust is slow and considered, overflowing with pleasure for me and for him. He’s moving under me, undulating his chest and raising his hips in time with my thrusts, moaning softly when I fill him, whining when I draw back.

He’s different tonight. More beautiful. More wild. Tamer too. Much, much tamer. Tamer than ever before. His walls are down, and there’s nothing or no one who’ll ever convince me this is an act. He’s right here. He’s with me. He’s where I am. He wants this too. It isn’t something I’m doing to him. It’s something we’re doing together.

My lips find his. It’s a soft kiss. Pillowy flesh on pillowy flesh, just teasing and tasting before his tongue finds mine in earnest. His arms wind around my neck, pulling me closer and closer, and when even that’s not close enough, he circles my waist with his ankles, locking them together behind my back and holding me where he wants me.

His movements hasten, growing urgent and less coordinated. His face changes like the page of a book being turned. Slow, easy rapture one second, carnal need the next. He reaches between us to take my dick in his hand. I lift myself onto my hands to make enough space between us to give him the access he needs. I’m torn, tortured by having to choose whether to watch his face change as he nears orgasm or watch his hand strangling his cock. His belly trembles and his hand movements become sluggish. His ass flutters around me, and even though my own orgasm is tightly coiled, wound all around me like rope, ready to spring free, ready to burst to life, I pull out of him.

Tortured gasps follow guttural groans. The first one is mine. His is a close second. As soon as I’m able, I catch his wrist and drag it away from his pulsing erection.

“Nooooo!” he wails, throwing his head back on the pillow. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

I pin his hands on either side of his head, holding him securely as he struggles against me. “I know, baby. I know. But I want to make it last.”

He struggles again, harder, hips bucking off the bed to get himself close to me. I love it. I fucking love it. Seeing him like this. Desperate and horny. Desperate and horny for me. It might be the best thing I’ve ever seen. I kiss his neck, then the meat of his shoulder, scraping with teeth when I forget I’m being gentle tonight. I let my tongue run over his pec until it finds the bud of his tight, swollen nipple. Every flick of my tongue is rewarded with a jerky thrash from Ryan. His belly quivers as I trail kisses down his side. A soft kiss. A soft kiss. A hard one that almost ends in teeth. His breath catches from the soft ones, and a long, shuddery sigh greets the hard ones. To my surprise and endless gratification, I notice that his body curves toward me, harder and more desperate with each scrape of teeth.

“D’you want me to mark you, baby?” I ask through thick mouthfuls of lust. His head lolls back, hooded eyes track slowly, taking me in and then nodding twice. “Where do you want it? Here?” My lips graze one pec, then the other. “Here? Show me.”

He drops his hand on his stomach, near his navel, and he slides his fingers over his own skin until he finds the exact spot he’s looking for: a sensitive place on his side just below his rib cage.

I mark the spot in the form of an X I draw with my nails.

A soft kiss. A long, greedy suck. A light exhale. Then teeth. Gritted and hungry, ravenous as they clamp down on silky skin.

The sound he makes is otherworldly. It finds me from far, far away and pierces me deeply. I hear it in my brain and my spine.

It’s perfection.

It’s everything right in the world set to music.

I don’t ever want it to end. I don’t. I can’t stand the thought. If I was with anyone but Ryan right now, I wouldn’t let it end. I’d stay like this, teasing and tormenting until he passed out. I can’t do that now though. I can’t because it’s him. I feel his need like it’s my own. It’s hot and omnipresent. It’s everywhere. Every cell is whining, asking, begging. There’s need everywhere.

I let go of him, and he quickly rolls out of my grip onto his belly and then onto his hands and knees. He arches his back impossibly hard, spreading his legs and showing me his pretty, freshly fucked hole. He grinds it against me, rubbing velvety hot skin against my aching erection. My vision blurs out, but I hold firm.

All night.

I have all night.

We have all night.

Then he looks back at me, dark hair tumbling into his eyes, and says, “Please, Miller.” His voice is hoarse. Layers and layers of him have been stripped back. All his bullshit lies on the floor, discarded like our scattered clothes. “Please, Miller. Show me the stars.”

Turns out, we don’t have all night.

All we have is now.

I thrust into him hard, filling him completely. My own cry is as raw and animalistic as his. He jolts forward, wincing and groaning each time I fuck him but fucking me back just as hard as I’m fucking him.

“Grab the headboard.” It’s a warning. A foretelling. A notice that I’m all but lost. “Hold onto it hard, baby. You’re going to need it.”

His delts and traps flex as he spreads his arms and takes the headboard in both hands, holding on to it like a man giving thanks. My fingers dig into his hips, pinching his skin, gratified but unsated by the feeling. It feels good, but mainly, it feels like more. Everything feels like more. I slam my cock into him.

It turns out that now is enough.

Now is everything.

Now is all I’ll ever need.

The world is molasses. Runny and warm. Sweaty and heavy. Great big folds of sweet, sticky liquid drizzled all over me.

No.

No, that might be Ryan.

He has an arm and most of his body thrown over me and his face is buried in my neck. Now and again, his tongue flicks out and he tastes my skin. He’s making soft little sounds. Little hums or grunts, depending on the whim of the breath that releases them.

I melt into him. Or I let him melt into me. I can’t tell which.

I’m dimly aware that I’m talking. Asking him questions, and when he replies with a sleepy “Mm,” I ask him another, or I answer my own question. I’ve talked in circles about his body and what I like about it. I’ve touched on how rude he is and what it does to me. I think I might have said something about how much it turns me on when he’s mean, but I’m not sure about that. I know I’ve told him I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want him. I’ve told him that over and over.

“Homoromantic,” I say several times. Mulling it over, relishing the way the word feels in my mouth. “I think I’m homoromantic. I think I only fall in love with men.” I pull him closer and hold him so tightly that I hear his ribcage adjust. He melts into me a little more. A little deeper. “No, scratch that. I’m Ryromantic. That’s what I am. I must be ‘cause I’ve never felt like this about anyone else. I’ve never lo—”

His hand clamps onto my mouth, silencing me brusquely, muffling the words I was saying before they had a chance to become his reality.

“Don’t say that,” he says.

A book has been closed. The jarring sound of pages snapping shut sends a jolt through me. A chapter has ended. A spell has been broken. I’ve been treading water in the endless ripples of Ryan’s eyes for hours. Now, I find myself on my knees. Spat out. Cold and confused.

He extricates himself from me, disentangling his legs and then his arms.

“I gotta go,” he mumbles as he stumbles to the bathroom. “Need a shower.”

For the first time, I don’t love the rejection. It doesn’t do a thing for me. There’s no heat, no excitement. Just a rip. A tear that makes my eyes water.

“You’re wasting your time,” I call after him. “You can’t wash a night like tonight off you, Ryan.”