Page 11 of Romeo vs Romeo

As Roman pushed the front door of a run-down building, we slipped inside. The door shut behind me, and lights came on in the hallway. He went for the stairs, his hips swinging invitingly left and right, back and forth, and his light blue underwear more than a little visible where his jeans struggled to keep him covered.

I inhaled a calming breath of air and followed, my gaze tracing his back. His shoulders and upper back were broad, but his hips were athletically narrow and lean. His ass, though… My heart dropped into my stomach. His ass. It was going to kill me.

Roman reached his landing and unlocked the door. I was one step behind him, following him inside.

Kitchen cabinets were fitted with small lights that greeted us when we entered Roman’s apartment. He didn’t bother turning on the rest. Instead, he shut the door, huffed, “This way,” and gestured with his head.

As he marched on, I hesitated. My heartbeats were quicker still, but my breaths were so shallow that I was barely remaining conscious.

Roman’s bedroom was open, and he was inside, waiting for me. Waiting for the devious and divine. Offering all that my heart desired. Offering himself to me to use however I liked. That was the type of person he was, I realized. It was just good fun, nothing more and nothing less.

I moved forward, passing through the short hallway and turning left where the door of his room was wide open. Roman stood in the middle of it, his chest rising and falling steadily. “Are you ready, Catholic boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” I growled from the doorframe.

“I don’t know your name,” Roman pointed out.

I blinked and hesitated. “Everett.”

Roman nodded and took a step toward me. “Everett. I like it.” He placed a hand on the wide strip of flesh of his waist. “Do you still want me, Everett?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Instead, I crossed the room and decided not to let my brain question my actions. Deep down, I knew I had abandoned the dogma that had defined my entire life. I knew I had betrayed all that my family and friends held dear. I knew I was a lost cause, so what was there to think about?

When my hands moved forward and touched his hips, a shuddering exhale left my body.

Roman gripped my wrists swiftly and lifted my hands higher along his waist, dragging them over his heated skin and under the tight top he wore. When he released my hands, I knew what to do next. Moving them higher still, I took the edge of his top and pulled it up. Roman’s arms shot above his head, armpits covered with short, brown hair that caught the light of a small desk lamp. His top traveled over his head and up his arms until it was no longer on him but hanging in my hands.

I dropped it, watching him with my mouth slightly open, air traveling through it softly.

“Touch me, Everett.” The dare never left his face. Everything he asked of me sounded like he expected me to turn away. He sounded like my reluctance and reservations amused him as much as the prospect of our bodies coiling and sweating in the heat of our sins.

Sins. Such a silly notion. It wasn’t my soul I was worried about. It wasn’t the loss of my spot in Heaven that I feared. My worries were much more earthly, and the prospect of losing my family, their wealth, and the status I had lived with my entire life terrified me much more than whatever would happen after my death.

I touched him. It was a full and possessive gesture. My hands were big and strong, one holding the side of his waist and theother resting much higher on the side of his rib cage. Now that I held him, he seemed smaller than before. Although his body was lean and defined, his constitution was in strong contrast with mine.

“Atta boy,” Roman said, clearly mocking me.

It sparked my fury instantly, and I jerked his entire body closer to mine. His torso pressed against me. Roman gasped, cracking a dimpled smile, and rested his hands on my chest.

I wondered if I should kiss him, but the thought screamed against all my other thoughts. Some part of me was driven to try it when this stranger was so willing to give himself to me, but I couldn’t muster the strength to put my lips on his. It seemed that if I did that, I would forever be excommunicated from the world I lived in.

Roman’s fingers met on the middle of my chest. He tugged and released, and the top button of my shirt was undone. Slowly, carefully, without much wiggling, Roman continued to undo the buttons, revealing my muscled torso. One after another, they let the shirt part, and Roman’s fingers brushed over my body.

I held my breath, gripping his harder. I dragged my hands to his back and down until I felt the waistband of his underwear under my fingertips.

“Is this hot for you?” Roman purred. He undid the last button and lifted his hands to my shoulders, sliding the shirt over them. When I released him to undress, Roman put both hands on my round pecs and sucked a shallow breath of air between his teeth. “I knew what you wanted the first time I saw you.”

I grunted, my shirt on the floor, my hands returning to his sides.

“You look like the kind of guy who likes to fuck,” Roman said.

Pressure on my chest increased. My fingers dug deep into his flesh as tremors of anxiety passed through my arms. “Shut up,” I growled in a low voice. “Don’t talk.”

“Is that how you want to play?” Roman seemed surprised but not displeased. “Make me.”

I hesitated a moment while his hands explored my body and moved all the way to the front of my pants, rubbing the painful erection that pitched a tent down there.

“I can think of ways you can shut me up,” Roman said in a teasing, seductive voice.

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