7. The Flames That Consume Us

CHAPTER 7

The Flames That Consume Us

Everett

We sat around an antique coffee table in Lady Vivien's sitting room, drinking coffee, talking at length, and forming plans to fight my father. None of them knew, and I wished I could keep it that way. I wished I could keep it that way with all of them except Roman. Some incredibly stupid instinct urged me to tell Roman who I was, but I didn't dare.

I talked the least, choosing to listen to their conversation instead. Martha, Roman's friend from picket lines and die-ins, called a friend of hers. She spoke with this person for a little while, explaining the history of the place and its significance for the queer culture of New York City, and happily announced to everyone that Layla Zahran would join the cause with her legal expertise.

Luke Whitaker, a twenty-nine-year-old sensation in the world of queer graphic novels—or so Roman told me—drafted a petition memo and a letter to his readers. A brief discussion ensued over the possible mentions of corruption and bribery.

My heart sank as the room split into two factions. On one side, they wanted to come as close to accusing my father of bribing the local government officials to allow him to purchase this property; on the other side, they insisted the cause would lose credibility if we threw unfounded accusations at the mastermind behind it.

Only I knew the truth.

"Everett?" Roman said, and I became aware that he had been looking at me for a little while. "Are you alright?"

I scratched the back of my head, fighting an abrupt wave of nausea. "Eminent domain is tricky," I said. To my surprise, the voices in the room quieted, all attention on me. "It's vague, for one thing. Worse still, it rests on a lot of research that supports the claim that a certain piece of property is necessary for the good of the public. This can mean that whoever purchases Neon Nights and builds something on this plot has ‘evidence' that their project will bring more jobs to the local community, for example."

"Research like that is notoriously biased," Martha said.

"It is, but it's done by…" I bit back the name of the research and analytics company my father hired for all his projects. "…well-connected companies, to say the least."

"Can't we conduct research that proves the opposite?" Roman asked.

"Maybe, if you have a lot of money and a lot of time. These things take months, and the companies that perform such research for large corporations are very experienced." I rubbed my brow and discovered that it was slick with cold sweat. The line I treaded was very thin and very high above the ground. One wrong step, and I would fall to my doom. "You have to understand this isn't your typical bribery. It's not how these things work." I licked my lips. Where the fuck were my balls, dammit? Putting my hands on my knees to conceal the oncoming wave of trembling, I inhaled and spoke with more haste and annoyance than I wished. "The idea that there is an envelope passing hands between a CEO and local officials is crazy. It's about relationships. The big boss probably plays golf on sunny weekends with the head of Urban Planning. Golf's a long, boring game, guys, and they start chatting. I don't know, the CEO will invite the head of an important department to his home for dinner, or he'll happen to have spare tickets for a big game, or he'll let the official win that day and send a set of platinum golf clubs the next day. You're not looking for a bank transaction. You're looking for shoulder tapping."

Roman frowned, and my heart lurched with fear. Had I outed myself? "That's useful knowledge," he said, committing it to his memory.

"But how can we find anything like that?" Tristan asked.

You'd need someone close to the Big Boss. You'd need someone willing to betray Harold Langley . My guts twisted. This morning, as I dragged myself out of bed after a restless, sleepless night, my mother and father were discussing Neon Nights. Mother said, "It's a disgusting place, Harold. You are doing this city a favor."

"What do you know about that, Lavinia?" Father muttered impatiently.

"More than you know," Mother replied in an icy tone. "I have seen the things that happen there, Harold. Those deviants bring young men and make them…do things. It should be flattened to the ground. It should be salted when it's down."

Father said something under his breath.

Mother lifted her knowing finger. "They recruit them, Harold. They're perverts."

"For the love of Jesus, Lavinia," Father cried. "I know. I know that. It's done now, and there's nothing more to talk about."

"Well, I don't understand why you need to be so fussy, Harold. I am only telling you that you are doing the right thing in the Lord's name." She spotted me standing there and pressed her lips tightly together until they turned white. "Everett, it's ten in the morning."

For a moment, I was completely stuck in the replay of the morning. My father was a religious man, I knew that, although my mother's righteousness was unmatched. I had always thought of their faith as something good, but that was before they had moved the lines much deeper into the conservative territory. Their intolerance was what placed me in this sitting room above Neon Nights.

I looked at Roman. He was so handsome and passionate. Last night, his lips pressed against mine and left a blazing imprint that still lingered.

I swallowed. "We'll need someone's email correspondence to illustrate the depth of that relationship," I said, shedding away the fearfulness in my tone. I was on the path to betraying my father, and if Hell was real, this would send me there just as surely as my never-yielding lust for Roman. "Meeting in the city once or twice won't cut it. We need to prove that these men rubbed elbows for a long time if you want anyone in the press to pay attention."

Tristan leaned in, puzzled. "Okay, but how ?"

"I might have a way," I said, my mouth dry. "I know someone who works at Langley Corp. Maybe he can find the proof we need."

"Everett, are you serious?" Roman asked. "That…that's huge."

I cocked my head a little. I'd do it for you , I thought. It felt appropriate—even if I couldn't voice that through my tight and treacherous throat—because Roman had me on his mind when he decided he would fight to preserve this place. After all, Neon Nights was the very location where I first let myself admit who it was that I wanted.

"It would be a huge boost," Luke said. "That's something we can spin."

"I can't guarantee it'll work," I said.

Rafael, the tall guy with pierced ears and milk-chocolate skin, met my gaze. "We can fight without it if it comes to that, but if you can get in touch with your contact, it would be a big help."

"Can you trust him?" Roman asked.

I looked into Roman's green-gray eyes and wished I could give him an affirmative answer. I wished I could promise to solve this whole mess. But instead, I shrugged.

"Should we risk it?" he asked me, then looked at Mama Viv for the final decision.

The queen nodded gravely. "There's little else we can put on the line. No use in half measures."

And that was it.

We left Mama Viv to rest and think. Luke and Rafael approached me before leaving Neon Nights to welcome me to the circle. I thanked them awkwardly, unsure if I belonged in the circle at all. This was all happening too fast for a lifetime of trained reflexes to simply disappear. I pretended that seeing two married men was nothing strange, but every Sunday Mass had taught me it was against all the laws of nature and God. However much my rational brain rejected those Bible verses, it was impossible to fight my instincts. In my heart, I knew I wished them well, and I knew I was jealous of their happiness when mine had always slipped out of my grasp.

Martha decided to meet with Layla Zahran to discuss the legal challenges and if Layla and her team could do anything beyond what we had already put together.

Tristan and his boyfriend, the tall guy with a foreign accent I couldn't place exactly, stood a little further away, something heavy and deterministic passing between them. They spoke quietly, their heads close together, and small nods of something like reassurance occurred between them.

"Are they okay?" I asked Roman, who was having sparkling water at the bar.

"They'll be fine," Roman said. He focused on me. "And you? How are you?"

I knew what he was asking. Tingles spread over my lips and face just at the thought of it. I was great. If only I didn't feel like each of my limbs was tied to a willful horse and my body was about to be quartered. If only I didn't feel like a vicious tug-of-war pulled at the two halves of my soul. One path led to misery, another to eternal damnation. One led me to life within the confines of my parents' norms, the other to become an outcast in the only world I had ever known.

"Look," I said carefully. "Do you think we could talk somewhere…in private?"

Roman tensed. He licked his lips and nodded. It was like he could smell trouble. "Sure. If you think we need to."

"I need to," I said. He was the only one I could admit this to simply by virtue of being the person I admitted things to without losing my mind. I liked Roman. I'd go as far as to say I trusted him.

Roman had more of his horrible water, saying that was exactly what he needed after last night's drinking, and got up. "My place?"

I nodded. It was as good as any, so long as nobody could overhear the fact that I was one of the Langleys they all hated. Fears rose from my stomach. They tightened around my throat as I followed Roman out of the bar and across the street.

On the way up, Roman explained that Tristan was likely to sleep over at Cedric's place because it was much bigger and way more private. Some guy called Lane had football practice, and his roommate was probably in the library. "Nobody's gonna bother us," he finished.

I was grateful that Roman understood my need for privacy, although it was clear that we were anticipating a different sort of conversation by the time we entered his room. Roman shut the door and flicked on the lamps instead of the ceiling light. The room was softly lit, subdued, and warm, and it was cleaner than it had been the night before. I noticed that the back of his chair no longer hosted a pile of clothes, including his sexy underwear.

"I wanted to say…" I choked up and sat on the edge of his bed without being invited. It occurred to me a moment too late, but by then, Roman sat next to me.

To his credit, Roman waited, but my thoughts got so jumbled up in my head that they couldn't translate into words. I had gone through all the ways I could tell him who I was, from doing a long speech to prepare him to ripping it off quickly, and none came to me now.

So Roman shifted a little to face me and took over. "I was drunk last night, Everett. People do things without thinking when they get drunk. Look, I won't pretend I don't find you crazy hot. I'd jump on that opportunity in a heartbeat. But if you have any concerns, you should just tell me. I'm a big boy. I can handle it."

My lips parted, and I looked into his eyes. That? But I had told him it was fine.

"I was worried today when you didn't show up," Roman admitted, tossing his head dismissively. "I thought I scared you off. But it was a moment of weakness, and if it crossed the line, you just tell me, and I'll be more careful. I can guarantee that I can control myself." There was a touch of irony in his voice at the end there, as if he was an untamable beast. Perhaps he was, but I liked that fire in him.

"It was a good kiss," I said, my voice a little rough. "I liked it a lot." My face heated up. I shifted uncomfortably, flustered and feeling like I might start to sweat at any moment. This bubbling excitement surged in me whenever I flirted with the thought of men, and in the case of this particular man, there was no stopping the flutters that leaped from my stomach. They were everywhere inside of me. "I think you're hot."

"Oh?" He masked his surprise with something like flirtatious cheekiness. "And you're saying it aloud."

I shrugged. "What's the point in pretending? All it ever got me was a bad case of depression."

Roman put his hand on mine where it rested on my knee. "I hear you. It sucks, but that's sadly very normal for boys like us."

"Boys like us," I whispered, looking at our hands on my knee. I lifted my gaze and looked into his eyes again. There they were; I found my balls. I found some courage at long fucking last. "For the gays."

"Yep," Roman said unabashedly. Softening his tone a bit, he allowed a small smile to touch the corners of his lips. "It gets better. Every day, you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin. And before you know it, you can't understand how you ever put up with other people's bullshit."

I shook my head. "I don't want to put up with it anymore, Rome. I'm sick of hiding it from myself, and I'm sick of being scared to say the words that are on my mind. I like you. I think you're sexy when you grin." He grinned on cue, making my heart stumble. "I think you're really hot when you get all angry and flustered. I like your eyes. They're the color of electricity." I didn't know what that meant, but it sounded right. Or maybe I made a total fool of myself speaking nonsense, but Roman's dimples popped when I said it. "And I like your dimples." My hand cupped his cheek, and a thumb brushed over that adorable spot. He didn't pull away from me, and I didn't act with the kind of revolt that would have controlled me a month ago. Nothing about him was repulsive to me. It was time I told him so. And maybe he was right; maybe hatred was an attractive force, but I didn't want to be attracted to him through hatred. That was cheap. He deserved better. "And I like your lips. They're soft and warm when you kiss me." My thumb feathered his lips lightly, my whole hand sliding down to hold his neck. "And this…holding you like this, it makes me crazy with…with desire."

Roman's eyes widened, a clash of mischief and lust playing out on his face.

I held his throat and brought my face closer to him. I could feel his warm breath on my skin. I steadied myself and acted as if I had all the bravery this required. "That night when you took your shirt off, I wanted to devour you, Roman. I wanted to make you mine, and I blew it." My hand descended from his throat to his collarbones, part of my palm resting on his cotton T-shirt, the other part feeling his heated skin.

"It's never too late," Roman said, almost daring me to take him.

"I'm sick of pretending," I said, anger gathering on the ages of my consciousness like distant clouds heralding a terrible storm. It was just that this storm didn't have to be terrible. I could change it around. I could channel it and use it for something so much better instead. "I want you, Roman. Your body, your muscles, your fury. I want you to give it to me." My voice was a husky whisper as I forced myself to tell him this. Although I hadn't told him the single thing I had meant to tell him, I hadn't failed at telling him the truth. "I want to make you mine."

Roman shuddered. "Oh, fuck," he said, almost like some invisible dam had collapsed, and nothing stopped him anymore. He leaned in, practically melting into me, and slammed his lips against mine.

His hand clasped the back of my neck in a rough, manly grip, and my fist closed around his T-shirt like the first time we'd met, but I had no intention of fighting him.

I kissed him back. It was nothing like kissing a girl, or I had kissed those girls the wrong way. Before, I would try to be gentle. Not with Roman. This was everything but gentle. This was fiery and furious. This was passionate and rough. We kissed with our lips parting wider, his tongue slipping into my mouth. It gave me a bolt of shock that fueled my motions. As if competing with him, I thrust my tongue into his mouth in turn, partly in disbelief that I did it.

The flush that had rushed through me some minutes ago intensified. I knew I was red and heated, but I didn't care.

We grappled, our heads pressed together, our breaths short and powerful, making out in something that looked like a fight.

We kissed harder, faster, our breaths growing more heated. My body thrummed with the need to have him. I wanted to see him naked. I wanted to gaze at his wiry, masculine figure, his chiseled abs, his sculpted arms, his rounded pecs, and his small, brown nipples. I wanted to let my gaze explore him lazily as he touched himself, one firm, roughened hand gripping his cock.

I kissed him in a way that would have seemed impossible last night. Back then, I had been an unassuming and fearful creature, the real me hiding behind someone else's sense of decorum. No more. If I was possessed by demons, I wanted to go down with pleasure. I wanted to burn up while kissing Roman.

He pulled back and looked into my eyes. "Say that again."

I placed my hand on the side of his torso, the other rising to the back of his head. "I'm going to make you mine," I said in a voice I'd have used for threats two weeks ago.

"Oh yeah?" he half whimpered, half dared me. It was an almost pained sound he made, and it just added fuel to the blaze in me.

"Oh yeah," I assured him, adding pressure to the back of his head and looking into his eyes from slightly above. Every tremor of fear that dared enter my heart was quickly turned into action by some arcane alchemy. This occult spell made the bolt of insecurity turn into the willpower that lifted me off the bed. I stood, my hand sliding to the front of Roman's face, thumb and forefinger pinching his chin. "Mine," I said; every ounce of greed Monsignor O'Connor called sinful filled up that word to the point of shattering.

"Yours," Roman whispered fearfully, his eyes wide and never leaving my face. There was a playful flicker in them, but it was pale in comparison to the devotion that filled his gaze. I had seen this look in St. Augustine's Cathedral. I had seen people give themselves to God with all their hearts and souls, and they looked exactly like this. I knew worship when I saw it, and it pleased me.

"Take your shirt off," I told him, then held my breath as another wave of fearful desire thundered through me. I almost couldn't believe it when Roman hooked his hands under the bottom edge of his T-shirt and then pulled it off and threw it on the floor. His bare, smooth chest rose and fell with big, steady breaths. "Do you like me like this?"

I returned my hand to his neck, sliding it to his bare shoulder. "I do." And within me, it was as though I had swallowed glowing coals.

Roman raised his hands off his knees and put them on my hips, dragging them up my hoodie and lifting its lower edge off my bare skin. "And I like you like this," he said, tugging the hoodie up and up and up until my abs were visible and his face a mere few inches away from my body.

I clamped down on the rising panic. They couldn't cast me out if they never found out, I told myself. They didn't matter now. So I pulled my hand away from his shoulder and put it on the back of his beautiful head. In a voice that was barely more than a breath, I commanded, "Lick me."

Roman shuddered, his fists tightening around the folds of my hoodie, his breath leaving his mouth in a hot gust, washing over my tense abs. Opening his mouth wider, Roman lifted his electrifying gaze to my eyes and watched me like he wanted to say, "Did you think I wouldn't?" His pink tongue glistened in the dim light for a moment before he pressed it exactly above my hollow belly button. He exhaled shortly, and my skin prickled, exploding in goose bumps a moment before Roman dragged his tongue upward. He tasted me with unrestrained deviance, perfectly comfortable to do as he was told if it brought him pleasure.

A bolt of jealousy flashed through me. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to have my pleasure dictate my actions just like that. "…just like that…" I whispered, unsure if I was voicing my thoughts or reacting to the soul-shattering sensation of his hot, wet tongue crossing the hills and valleys of my muscles.

I took the edge of the hoodie from his hands and pulled it over my head, throwing the baggy thing away and letting Roman put his hands on my chest. As I reached behind my neck to take off the gold chain with a cross, Roman whispered, "Don't." My stomach filled with balefire. "Leave it on," he said. My hands moved from my neck, and I gripped his bulging biceps like a wrestler on the offense. His tongue returned to my skin in a heartbeat.

Roman moaned so quietly and shortly that part of me couldn't swear it hadn't been inside my head. He rose slowly off the bed and continued to cross the length of my torso all the way until he folded my head in the crook of my neck, pulling his tongue between his lips and kissing my neck gently. The touch was so soft and torturous that I felt the urge to wiggle away from him, shivers running down my neck whenever he moved a little.

"Kiss me," I said huskily, and Roman leaped to obey. Such a loud and fiery person, he was deliciously submissive when the lights dimmed. It suited him just as well as the role of a leader of a rebellion. I could see him climbing out of the trenches for another great push; I could see him claimed and owned and used for the sake of my pleasure.

Roman kissed me, and I lowered my head to take more and more from him. My tongue probed his mouth as the shivering fits passed. The longer I kissed him, the more certain I was that it was not wrong. How could this ever be wrong? My greed was not for wealth or control of people's minds and souls. My greed was exclusive to him.

While kissing me, Roman's hands fumbled between us, and the sound of fabric moving against his flesh told me what was happening a moment before I felt it. He found my hand and put it on the small of his back, pulling his head away to look into my eyes. "You can touch my ass," he whispered, his cheeks red and glowing. "It's yours now."

He had let his pants fall to his ankles, his briefs hugging those firm, round cheeks lovingly. Letting go of my hand, he put both his palms on my chest, his fingernails scratching my skin lightly at the exact moment when my hand dropped from the small of his back to the fine curve of his ass. If he knew just how loudly my heart thundered inside my ears, he would begin to understand just how attracted I was to him.

I put the other hand on his other cheek and squeezed them both, mind ringing with disbelief that this was happening. I had never gone this far with another guy. My cock throbbed painfully inside my jeans when my fingers met in the middle between his cheeks, only a scrappy bit of cotton separating them from all that my heart desired.

"I'm yours," he said, eyes widening briefly as I dared my fingers to reach nearer between his glutes. I could have sworn I had felt it, the gentle tightening and relaxing of his hole in the smooth and narrow space between his cheeks. "Completely yours, Everett."

"Yes, you are," I purred, although a destructive sort of lust strangled me. It roared in me, yet it left me nearly voiceless. I fought hard not to wheeze when I inhaled a breath of air again. Roman's hands circled my torso to rest on my broad upper back.

"Do what you want to me," Roman said, pulling a lip between his teeth. "Whatever you want."

A grunt left my throat, words suddenly a distant memory from another time. I squeezed his cheeks hard, spreading them until Roman winced. He was so utterly and indescribably sexy when he bared his teeth like this. A true fear of whether he would bite me crossed through my heart, and I adored it.

Words I had never said to another living creature, not even in my most desperate attempts to do it with the most willing girls, welled in me and poured over my lips. "I want to fill your sinful mouth with my cock until you choke."

Roman was the only person whose delighted and daring smirk would meet those words.

Before he could find some quip to reply to that, I pinched his chin again. "Get on your knees, Roman."

His smirk widened into a true, dimpled grin, and his eyes flashed wickedly. "To worship you?" He didn't wait for me to know but descended to his knees while dragging his hands down my torso. "Give it to me," he pleaded, fingers resting on the waistband of my jeans.

Something sacrilegious played out in the moments that followed. Something so unspeakably devious that it rocked me to my very core. And what I found where that good Catholic boy had died weeping for His mercy was a man with strength and courage and willingness to risk his comforts for the sake of beauty.

What we were doing at this very moment, with Roman on his knees and his head up, his pouty lips parting, and me unzipping my pants with false bravado about to make myself comfortable in his mouth, was our own kind of Communion. My body and my cum.

Sweat broke over my brow and under my arms as I stuffed my right hand inside my underwear, holding myself firmly and unmovingly. I feared that one wrong move would tip me over the edge, make me come, and ruin it for us again. So I opened my mouth and let the air move in and out of my lungs while Roman pulled down my jeans in a careful, devoted move. He waited with his mouth open as I pulled my throbbing dick out of my underwear and stroked myself very slowly right before his eyes.

He watched me do it. His breathing sped up as if we were at the peak of passion. He licked his lips and blinked. "Fuck," he whispered tightly, eyes traveling down the length of my cock from the tip beaded with precum to where my fist held it at the root. "This is gonna be good." His lips stretched open for me, and his gaze rose straight to my eyes, looking at me as I pressed the head of my cock against his outstretched tongue.

I didn't let it show, but a storm of Biblical proportions raged in me. If I let myself shiver, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from falling apart. The warmth of that touch, the wetness and softness of his tongue as I inserted myself into his mouth, were more than simple sensations. I felt them in my heart.

As I released my cock, my hands settled on Roman's face. I held him gently, testing this new and incredible feeling. When he raised his eyebrows at me, his lips sealing around a third of the length of my cock, a grunt broke out of me.

I swayed back, sliding out before letting myself go in again. Slowly, carefully, I filled him deeper and deeper again. Although he could barely breathe with half of my length firmly in his mouth, Roman put his hands on my ass—male hands on my ass, for the love of all that was unholy—and wouldn't let me pull out.

My fingers threaded on the back of his head, and my torso leaned back. The tension on my cock increased as the angle widened, my hips swinging back and forth with growing ease as I held Roman's head firmly before myself. His eyes were wide, eyebrows very high as I filled his throat, making him produce the sexiest choking sounds, and he still held his hands on my ass, making sure I didn't pull back too far.

And when my cock throbbed abruptly, this maddening pressure on my chest preventing me from inhaling a lungful of air, Roman was the smart and quick one. He moved his hands to my upper legs and nudged me away.

My cock dragged slowly out of his mouth, a silver string of saliva dripping from it thickly as Roman wiped his wet and shiny chin with the back of his hand. He heaved in a breath of air. "Fuck," he said. "Oh, fuck, Everett…"

My consciousness had narrowed so much that nobody else existed on the planet. Nothing stood between me and him. Nothing could stop me from having what I wanted, especially when Roman grinned with such wicked and beautiful pleasure.

"Let me see you," I said, my voice sore all of a sudden.

Roman hooked his thumbs inside his bloodred briefs on the small of his back and pulled them down slowly over the curve of his ass. I watched his cheeks appear from under the fabric, and my heart leaped right out of my chest.

Slowly, Roman lifted himself off his knees, his torso bent as he pulled his underwear down his legs, stepped out of them, and straightened.

The sight gave me heart palpitations instantly. It nearly killed me, in fact, as my entire body wanted to move closer to him, but my eyes desired me to remain where I was and take him all in.

Lean and wiry, Roman's definition was like that of a fine marble statue in the Vatican Museum. His muscles were all rippling knots on his athletic constitution. His skin was bronze after a long summer of wearing little and less. It was smooth as if he had shaved a mere few hours ago. Even where his cock stood straight and unmoving, his balls hanging heavy between his legs, he was hairless. A tan line revealed that his skin was only two shades lighter than bronze. Around the middle of his thighs, sparse, light hair covered him to his ankles. His feet were long and narrow, and his toes were pressed together, forming a gently curving line with their perfect proportions.

My gaze darted from his wide chest to his narrow waist, to his dazzling smile and his stiff, eager cock.

"I want you in my mouth," I said.

Roman cocked his eyebrow. "Really?"

"Why? Do you think they'll let me sooner through the Gates of Heaven if I don't?" I whispered, one side of my lips lifted into a smirk.

"I think we're both pretty damned already," Roman said. "And I couldn't care less."

"Come here," I huffed, stepping forward. My arms wrapped smoothly around Roman's torso, and another flash of fright and anxiety passed through me. His dick touched me just under my hip as our bodies pressed together. It was trapped between us, pulsing twice as my fingers sank deep into the knotty muscles of his back. Its heat was what I felt the most sharply when it rested against my body.

Kissing Roman deeply, alarms sounded in my head. That was my scent I found on his lips. Soon, the roles would be reversed. He would kiss me, and I would be marked with his musk.

My muscles tensed as I slowly and carefully lowered myself to my knees.

Roman's breath hitched in his throat. His body remained still, hands on my shoulders, neither holding me back nor pushing me down but feathering my skin with his fingertips. When my lips touched the smooth, taut skin of his lower abdomen, I could feel the infinitesimal prickling of shaved hair along his happy trail. It surprised me in the same way every other difference between making love to a girl and a guy had. It was like living in two different dimensions. Even shaved, his skin was rougher than a girl's. And just under my jawline, his long, swollen cock touched me.

A fearful shudder passed through me as I exhaled. I had denied myself this for so long, yet I had dreamed of it. I had lived through the torment of erotic dreams that never ended wetly but abruptly, with panic waking me up and my chest heaving in hyperventilation, my bed soaked with sweat, my dick throbbing in pain. I had dreamed of pressing my lips against a man's skin right above the root of his cock, and doing it to Roman made the last restraints of my previous life snap.

I was free of it.

My fingers wrapped around his cock, and I felt it pulse in my fist. Licking my lips, I pulled the memory of Roman doing this same thing ten minutes ago, and I folded my lips over my teeth before extending my tongue slightly to touch the swollen head of his dick. Its flavors spread an explosive sensation through my entire body. Salty and sweet and something I couldn't place however hard I tried to think, the flavor of his precum soaked my tongue. My lips closed around him, and I bobbed my head forward, trying to take him deeper and immediately learning there was more to this than just swinging back and forth. Trying to inhale, I discovered that the head of his cock easily made breathing impossible.

"Slowly," Roman husked in a strangled voice.

I placed my hands on his ass and widened the cavity of my mouth, leaning into him and letting him reach deeper along my tongue. My throat constricted instantly when his cock touched it. This reflex was missing from Roman when our roles had been reversed. He had taken me in with remarkable ease now that I could compare us.

Fear of failure fueled my stubborn attempts while Roman moaned, his breaths coming in choked puffs. I decided I couldn't fit his eight or more inches inside my mouth, so I wrapped my fist around the base of his cock and worked the tip wetly. My tongue pressed the underside of his cock with growing intensity, and my lips sealed so hard that I sucked all the air out of my mouth. Something about it made Roman groan and shiver.

Saliva filled my mouth as if I were a starving man offered a buffet. And the more my mouth watered with my growing appetite for Roman's body, the easier it was to take him in. My muscles relaxed as his cock slid in and out of my mouth sloppily, making me choke once in every three swings of my head.

I wanted to take him to Heaven and Hell. I wanted to do to him what he had done to me. I devoured him, my chest rising and falling as breaths moved in and out quickly through my nose, often cut off when his dick probed deeper into my throat.

I swayed on my knees, my ass resting on my heels, my hands gripping his narrow waist. The golden cross swung like a pendulum where my neck and head leaned toward Roman, a reminder of what I'd left behind.

Roman threaded his fingers in my thick hair, closing his fists and adding a tingling sensation of pain that made me crazier about him. His head dropped back, and he rose onto his toes, his cock filling my bruised and helpless mouth. He cried out, all his muscles knotting with tension, and he pulled himself out before he could come. Whispering a litany of profanity, Roman said he was so fucking close to spilling his cum down my throat. Part of me wished he'd lost control and done it. I was suddenly hungry for it.

"Do you want to fuck your boy toy, Everett?" he asked in that strained tone that made the muscles in my thighs loosen regardless of his words.

Saliva dripped from his hard, wet cock before my eyes as I dragged my hands down to his thighs. "Yes," I said in a low, airy whisper.

There was a freakishly handsome smirk on his lips when I rose to my feet. I planted my lips on his, kissing him open-mouthed and with tongue. Roman shivered, fingernails digging into my pecs before he pulled me toward the bed.

As he lay on his back, I knelt on the bed between his muscular legs. He had runner's calves that made me want to lick his entire body from the ankles up. While my hands traveled up the insides of his thighs, I watched the goose bumps rise on his skin. And in the next moment, I realized I didn't have protection.

Frowning, I told him so, and Roman cocked an eyebrow playfully. "We're about the same size. I'm pretty well stocked." He reached over to his nightstand and opened a deep drawer, revealing a clutter of items of varying deviance. There were rags of cloth I recognized as jockstraps, packets of condoms, a bottle of lube, something long and bendy with lumps that went from tiny to huge along its length, a rubbery dildo approximately the size of my dick but with much more pronounced veins, a smaller dildo of elegant black rubber with a curved handle and a cock ring attached, and finally, a small, pink plug. Scanning the contents of the drawer made my vision narrow and my heart leap.

"Don't judge me for being a slut," Roman said in a sexy, teasing voice.

My hands rose along his thighs right to his groin, then met around his cock and balls. "I like that you're a slut," I said, feeling guilty and incredibly horny for using that word. He was my boy toy, as he'd said. Mine to play with.

A shaky breath left his lips, his body quivering. He handed me a condom and watched me as I tore the wrapper off with my teeth, then slipped the rubber down my cock. Touching myself even like that threatened to bring me dangerously close to coming; my cock leaped with each throb, making Roman's glassy eyes sparkle with playfulness. He rummaged through his drawer with one hand and found a rubber ring. "Do you want this?"

My heart clenched. In the past, I'd never had an issue like this. It had been the opposite, actually, as I'd struggled to keep myself interested enough to get the thing done. But this was not the pairing of a guy and a girl. Rules were different. I knew this. Straight people spiced up their sex lives by rolling dice that told them to suck each other's nipples for ten seconds. Gay sex was a whole different beast I knew nearly nothing about, but I understood well that it was far more liberating and open-minded.

"Is it yours?" I asked, taking the small rubber ring and stretching it with my fingers.

Roman chuckled, which I found so odd given the fact we were naked and heated and preparing to fuck, yet it warmed my heart. Chuckling was allowed. "I don't collect them as souvenirs if that's what you mean."

I smirked. "Smart-mouth." I slipped the ring around the base of my cock and around my balls. It diminished the sensations nearly instantly, making my dick seem even harder than it had already been. I didn't know this was possible.

Placing my hands on Roman's thighs, I wondered if we should just start. It seemed like the wrong way to do it, but I had never considered the steps carefully.

Roman took my left hand and pulled me in until he could wrap his lips around my index and middle fingers, sucking them into his mouth and wetting them generously. My whole arm tingled. And when he let my fingers slide out, he still directed my hand. He pushed it down between his legs, his stormy-sky gaze on me. "It's your first time," he whispered, and I swallowed louder than I'd meant to. He made my fingers touch his smooth, hard taint and slide lower to the warm spot that pulsed at the exact moment I touched it. "I'll be your little sex toy," he said, his voice a little firmer. "You can have me however you want." I licked my lips, making a circle with my wet fingers around his hole. "But I can still guide you."

I nodded. It clicked in place somewhere in my head, this entire construct of guidance and power dynamic. He wanted me to have him my way, but he knew I had no way that was solely mine. All I had was a profound desire to own him, keep him for myself, never share him with anyone, and never let any harm come his way.

Roman nodded, lips parted and the tip of his tongue crossing over the edge of his front teeth. He added just a tiny amount of pressure on the back of my hand, and I knew what he needed me to do. My forefinger straightened, sinking a couple of inches into his body. The heat I discovered there was incredible, and the rippling pleasure on Roman's face rewarded me.

"Slowly," he pleaded in a small whisper. "Slowly."

I felt it then, this obvious—yet surprising to me—reaction of his body. He closed tightly around my knuckle, his breath catching, and I paused. As he clenched his warm hole, his dick sprung off his abdomen. As it rested back on his abdomen, his hole loosened around my finger, letting me pull a little back and slide it in again.

My mouth was open, air flowing in and out freely, although my chest was so heavy that all my breaths were shallow. Bit by bit, my finger entered him deeper, no longer shy to feel him, and the reminder that I was inside another man's body made my ringed cock swing with throbbing.

I placed my free hand on the middle of Roman's chest, and he gripped that wrist with both hands. It made his breaths shallow when I leaned some of my weight on him, clearly pinning him to the mattress while my other hand worked his hole. He was wet and slick with his own saliva, and the lengthening penetrating motions made him moan softly.

And when I let a small amount of spit fall from my mouth to my fingers just under his heavy balls, Roman hissed through his clenched teeth. He was ready, relaxing forcibly enough that I felt him loosen around me, and I probed him with my middle finger, too. This time, I could feel every ounce of tension where his hole stretched to accept me.

But there was more to it than that. It wasn't the simple insertion that made Roman's face light up with joy. It was a moment when my fingers entered him slightly upward, massaging some spot inside of him that made his voice crack and his eyes roll back. I filed this as important somewhere in the back of my mind.

"Oh fuck," he whispered hurriedly. "Ohfuckohfuckohfuck." A whimper tore free from his strangling throat. I wondered briefly if he would lie to me and tell me it was good when it wasn't, but I was sure he couldn't fake the way his muscles knotted and his body contorted. He was the spitting image of someone experiencing the peak of their ecstasy. "Everet," he moaned my name. "Oh fuck, I'm so ready," he whimpered, his hips coiling from one side to the other and back as if the sensation was so wonderful that he couldn't take it resting. It made me maddeningly curious and just as terrified to try being in his place. Could I trust him enough to let him enter my body?

With a litany of filthy words, Roman begged me to have him at last. So my fingers slipped out, and I reached to get the lube. Pouring plenty over my fingers, I rubbed myself to the surprisingly dull tingling sensation in my cock. The ring would slow me down for sure.

Roman heaved in big breaths of air while free of me. When I was slick and straight as a spear, he licked his lips. "Like this," he said, lifting his legs until his feet were planted on my pecs and shoulders. "Lean in."

I did.

Roman's legs bent at the knees, which reached all the way to his chest, and his ass lifted off the bed, cheeks spreading for me naturally.

It took me a few heartbeats to make sure the head of my dick touched his hole. The ring was right around me, and it made me less aware of Roman's needs, but I read his face when I began to impale him with my length. His eyes widened for a moment, lips forming a silent O, before he breathed smoothly again. I pulled myself a little out before continuing and watched as Roman's eyes rolled back, a long, deep moan leaving his throat.

After a few fearful moves and a moment where he begged me to wait for a second, Roman nudged me with his hands on my hips.

I entered him deeper now and deeper still with each brisk thrust, making him grunt and moan as I loosened his hole. My body found a rhythm that let Roman breathe and moan at even intervals as a fire grew hotter and brighter within me. The disbelief of our act got old quickly, fading away to give the spotlight to something far more powerful. The unyielding desire filled me to the brim as Roman and I connected in the ultimate act of sinful pleasure.

My cross dangled back and forth, propelled by the motions of my hips, fueled by the thrusts of my dick filling Roman's body.

His voice cracked, and he cursed, telling me all the filthy things he felt. "Fill my hole like that. Yes. Just like that. Fuck, you're making me crazy. Fuck me harder, please. Fuck my ass, Everett." The words were like gasoline spilled on destructive flames. They made my vision dim at the corners, and only Roman's sweaty face was glowing before my eyes.

I had him like this for what felt like twenty minutes, though it never occurred to me to be bothered with silly things like time. When I pulled out, letting us both catch our breath, Roman's face was red, and his smile was dimpled. "Do you want me to turn around?"

"Yes," I huffed, pulled a few inches back to let him turn.

Roman knelt in front of me, his fists planted firmly in the mattress under him, and his lower back curving in so that he thrust his ass out.

Holding myself in my right hand, I approached him slowly, gazing at him as if I would never get to see this again. It was such a beautiful thing to look at. So forbidden to me and thus infinitely sweeter. His round cheeks parted and offered a clear view of their middle, where Roman's hole was slick with lube and spit, open and dark pink. Under it, his taint bulged, and his balls hung heavily between his spread legs.

The tip of my cock entered him easily now, filling him halfway in at once.

Roman took over for a moment, swinging on his knees away from me and back, impaling himself instead of letting me do the work. When he was three-quarters down my dick, I grabbed his hips and thrust myself forward, fucking him just like he begged. Harder and harder.

My view was like the finest piece of art no amount of money could buy. His tense muscles knotted along his back, his round shoulders bulging, and beads of sweat trickling along his spine.

Fucking him suddenly wasn't enough. I needed to claim all of him. My hands squeezed his hips and dragged along his torso until I held his shoulders, keeping him firmly in place as I rammed into him. I closed my hands around his neck, yanking him back against me. The sound of my groin slapping against his cheeks made me self-conscious for a moment, as if I was being naughty, but I allowed myself to indulge in every dirty fantasy I'd been denied. I had my wicked way with him, all the while the golden cross stuck to the sweaty valley between my pecs. It didn't burn me. It didn't invite His wrath upon me. It didn't do anything except lend its holy weight to make this act more alluring.

Roman cried out that he was coming, sweat rising from the pores on his skin and slicking the grip I had on his long neck. I held him tightly, making him growl and grunt hoarsely instead of moaning as before. He lifted himself a little off his fists, straightening his torso and thrusting his ass against me, one hand moving quickly along the length of his cock.

"Fuck, I'm close," he said huskily through his teeth. A moan tore free from his throat and pealed toward the ceiling as I loosened my grip on his neck, and his head fell back. He tensed everywhere at once. His muscles bulged epically, and his hole clenched so hard that I felt the pain shoot through my cock. It made my balls rise tightly as I rammed him harder, pushing every last drop of his cum out of his body.

I was close, too, but blinding desire came over me, and I decided to let myself have it. To have all of what I wanted. Pulling out, I slipped both the condom and the ring off and nudged Roman around to lie on his back. He fell flat and heaved in a lungful of air, his cock still throbbing sensitively and his arms shaking like branches on the cold winter wind.

Sparing him a glance to remember the sheer glowing beauty of his body, the glossiness of perspiration, and the redness of satisfaction, I bent down and closed my lips around his still-trembling cock. The sharp mixture of sweetness and saltiness of his cum penetrated deep into my awareness as a fiery sensation descended from my tongue straight into my balls. They tightened, rising higher and preparing to unload, just as I took myself into my right hand and stroked.

"Come on me," Roman huffed, putting his hands on my face and pulling me toward him. As tension strung all my muscles, I pressed my lips against Roman's, my dick throbbing victoriously and shooting ribbons of hot, white cum over his cock, balls, and abs. Some landed heatedly on Roman's chest, and I felt it smear between us as I lowered my weight onto him.

I kissed him hard as the orgasm thundered through my nervous system, releasing pleasure hormones into my bloodstream and spreading them through my body.

I lay next on top of him, unwilling to let our lips part.

Why did it have to end? Why couldn't we have existed forever in the suspended moment just before the orchestra played that crashing final chord?

Roman was in no hurry to stop, either. His kisses grew lazy over time, but he didn't stop making out with me. We both struggled to catch our breaths properly, but Roman kissed me back as many times as I pressed my lips against his.

And when I finally rolled off him to hold him from behind, I continued kissing his neck instead.

Letting out a pleased sigh, Roman pushed his naked ass against my crotch. "It'll be a crying shame if we don't do this again."

I didn't know I had been holding a breath of anxiety until it disappeared. Relief washed over me like a welcome rain shower after a devastatingly hot summer. "Do you mean that?" The words left me before I could stop them.

"Do you actually think this was any less than world-shattering for me?" he teased. "You banged God right out of me."

I snorted, burying a finger into his ribcage and making him squeal. "Not funny."

"No, you're right," he said after a wave of laughter. "But sinning with you is too good not to make a habit out of it."

I pressed my forehead against the back of his head. "You won't hear me complain," I whispered.

"I'm thinking, next time, we could wear mixed fabrics," Roman said, his voice alight with humor.

I spanked him before I knew what I was doing.

Roman hissed and laughed somehow at the same moment. "Oh, I struck a nerve, huh? Well, you're sexy when you're annoyed."

"I'll show you sexy and annoyed if you keep teasing me," I said.

"Pretty boy, but doesn't know I live for a good threat," Roman said, laughing.

I rolled him onto his back and grabbed his wrists, quickly trapping them in one hand above his head. He might be defined like Adonis, but my strength was incomparably superior. "You're going to regret this," I warned him darkly, fingers of my free hand feathering along his rib cage.

Roman thrashed and laughed in panic as my tickles intensified. I tormented him until his hips were bouncing off the mattress, and he laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe, let alone beg me to stop. But when I stopped, his sexy chest expanded and fell with heated breaths, and he looked into my eyes.

We kissed again, and I wondered if he'd ever fuck me. I wondered if I would like it. Then, belatedly, I wondered if he would like it. Until now, it hadn't crossed my mind that he might not. Did gay men assume roles of men and women exclusively? Was that a messed-up idea? It sure sounded like it could be, so I decided not to ever voice it until I knew more.

We made out softly until my eyes became grainy, and I realized I needed to leave. That, together with the thought of returning to my parents' penthouse, was the hardest thing of all.

"I wish I could stay with you," I whispered.

"You could," Roman said, half-hopefully.

We both knew I couldn't.

So I kissed him goodbye and faced the dreadful prospect of sleeping alone in my room, stared down by a wooden carving of Christ dying on the cross for the sins I had committed. At least you're making it worth his while . The wicked thought crossed my mind, and I nearly chuckled.

As I left Hudson Burrow behind and headed for the subway, Roman's scents remained on me. His sweat had mingled with mine, and his cum lingered on my tongue. I adored it.

And I was coming back for more. More and more and more, so long as he would lie on his bed for me, so long as he would spread his legs and drag his hands up his thighs in the heat of passion, and so long as he looked at me like I was someone who mattered to him, and not just a constant reminder of disappointments that happen when life doesn't go your way.

Foolishly, I imagined returning to Roman forever.