Page 30 of Resisting You

Frey’s pink blush darkened to a ruddy red, and Renato’s gaze traced the way it made his freckles stand out before locking on his lips. Fuck, were they always so plump? So wet? He hated himself when his cock twitched.

Frey’s tongue darted out and licked his lower lip. “Let me go,” he whispered.

Renato felt wild suddenly. “That’s not what you want, is it? You don’t want me to let you go. You want me to keep you pinned here.”

Frey’s breath came out a trembling rush. “I fucking hate you.”

Renato’s laugh was dark and cruel. He’d never felt like this. Ever. God only knew what Grady might have thought if he’d seen this side of him, but Frey was the only person who had ever brought it out. “Yeah, I know. I don’t like you very much either.” He cocked his head to the side and stared at the way Frey’s eyes were so, so wide. “But you like this.” He pushed Frey harder against the wall and rocked into him. “Don’t you?”

In the silence between Frey hitting the plaster and Renato’s rough breath, the nurse moaned. And Renato lost it. He surged forward, crashing their lips together in a cruel, biting kiss. For a moment, he tried to pull away, horrified at what he’d done, but then Frey gripped him by the back of his hair. He pulled hard as he kissed Renato, taking what Renato was giving.

It was ruthless, relentless, full of teeth and tongue. Frey tasted like the coffee Renato had been denied, which left him freshly pissed, and his body was so fucking warm. He rocked his hips forward against Renato’s, hard. Their cocks strained for friction through the flimsy material in their scrubs, and Renato’s vision all but whited out when Frey managed to lock both of their erections between their hips.

“Fuck,” Frey said, thrusting against Renato. “Fuck.”

“Is that all you can say? Where are your clever words now, amore?” Renato growled sarcastically, matching his pace. He was so close—far too close for his own comfort. He would humiliate himself if he spilled early, but no one had touched him since Grady, and God, it was killing him to hold on.

Frey shook in his arms, shutting him up with another kiss. He took Renato’s bottom lip between his teeth as his hand dove between them and began to tug at the scrub ties. It took seconds before they were both pooled at their feet, and then Frey grabbed him and began to jack him roughly.

“Slower,” Renato barked.

Frey obeyed like he was born to bend at the knee. His arm slowed, and though there was fire in his eyes, Renato saw another spark. Frey was just as turned on as him. He wanted this just as much.

“Good,” he whispered, and Frey all but melted right there on the spot. Ah, his soft underbelly—the place he was most vulnerable. Renato knew what he liked now. “You like being told what to do.”

“Fuck off,” Frey bit, but his hand was moving even slower now, exactly the way Renato liked it.

Back in his younger days, when he wasn’t beaten down by the world and by loss, he’d liked it tender. He liked to be pinned to the bed and fucked slowly until he couldn’t see straight. He would drown in soft, heavy thrusts taking him apart for eternal minutes until he came, half-blind with honey-thick lust running through his veins.

This was nothing like that, but it didn’t matter. It was something new—and he felt tension in his chest starting to crack, like the walls he’d built were tumbling down.

He forced his gaze to hold Frey’s as he began to rock his hips. His own hand slipped between them, and he dragged fingers over Frey’s balls, watching him twitch. Frey’s pupils dilated, eclipsing all the color in his irises, and Renato couldn’t help a small smile.

The man drove him fucking wild, but he was so, so beautiful. And he knew what he’d suffered—the loss, the pain, the trauma of his son’s birth and illness. He knew what it felt like to live with those gaping holes of being unloved and unwanted and entirely alone.

Renato curled his free hand around Frey’s wrist and pinned it to the wall as he leaned in. “Kiss me,” he ordered.

Frey did—mean at first, then softer as Renato slowed it into something heavy and a little sweet. Their tongues danced together, teeth nipping but no longer trying to draw blood. Renato fucked his hips upward, the drag of Frey’s palm against his dick too much.

He was going to come, but he wanted to take Frey with him. He grabbed the nurse’s cock and pressed the flat of his hand against it, then used his knee to knock Frey’s legs wide. He sank down half an inch, and Renato looked down at him.

“Take what you want. Get yourself off on my hand.”

Frey swallowed heavily, but his hips began to move—rabbit fast, teaching Renato all the things he wanted. He was unchecked as he sought his orgasm, his eyes fluttering closed as he grunted. His hand still gripped Renato, jacking him slowly as the rest of his body was racked with frantic motion, and Renato damn near lost it when Frey’s mouth dropped open and he came on a sharp cry.

Renato’s eyes slammed shut, and he let Frey’s hand go to guide the one on his cock. He sped Frey’s arm up just a little, tightened his grip a bit more…and then he was coming. His vision turned fuzzy as his orgasm hit him like a freight train, the force of it almost taking him to his knees.

He’d come before with his own hand and old memories, but this was new. This was like no other orgasm he’d ever had. It overwhelmed every single one of his senses, and he came to with his face buried in the crook of Frey’s neck.

He waited a moment for the shame to hit—for the feeling like he’d betrayed his husband, or at the very least all of the ethics he held dear, but it wasn’t there. There was only the stale grief that was getting quieter every day and the warm arms of a man who truly hated him.

But he didn’t feel shame over that either.

He breathed deeply and smelled the musky scent of them together, and his cock twitched. Then Frey dragged fingers through his hair, gently easing him down to earth.

“We should, um…”

Renato nodded as Frey trailed off. He pulled away, and the space between them felt like a canyon as he reached down and pulled his scrubs up to his waist. He needed a shower and a change of clothes, and so did Frey.

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