Page 12 of Romeo vs Romeo

My heart stumbled. Breath hitched in my throat as Roman rubbed his hand along the length of my bulging cock. “Wait… Ah…” I pulled him closer, his lean torso pressing against mine, his breath hot as he exhaled. I held him firmly, practically trapping him against my body, as desire flared so high and brightly that it blinded me.

“What do you want to do to me, Everett?” Roman whispered, making my dick leap uselessly inside my tight clothes. “Do you want to choke me with that thing?” I wasn’t sure if he was joking, mocking me, or offering to do that. Whatever the case, it made something melt inside of me. Something in my stomach was moving slowly, lazily, like lava. Roman grabbed my hand and brought it to his neck. “Or do you want to hold me like this while you make me see God with your dick inside me?”

My fingers sank into his neck, and he bared his teeth.

I stared into his eyes and brought my nose close to his, my lips hovering over his.

If I leaned just one inch further, our lips would press together. The tension would snap like an overstretched rubber band. We would collide and grapple until we were on the ground, and the Pandora’s box was open for all my sinful desires to run free and wild.

I wanted to hold his neck like this and fuck him until there were tears of joy and pain in his eyes. I wanted to see him sweat and come and drool over himself while I fucked him. I wantedto flip him around and fuck him with all my weight until he sank deep into his mattress.

My mother’s contemptuous glare landed on my face, her nostrils flaring, her face unflinching. She had expected nothing else from me.

My cock pulsed, pain spilling through my abdomen, my balls rising higher, growing tight, and I released his throat like it was a living snake I’d been holding. If it was a sob, it didn’t sound much like it when it left my throat. Hoarsely, I added, “I’m sorry.” I stepped back. The fears I’d kept away were banging on the door of my consciousness, battering on the walls I had kept firmly in place, threatening to overwhelm me, engulf me, and pull me to the dark abyss.

I stepped back another two paces before turning away. As I moved toward the hallway, Roman hurried after me, his hand landing on my shoulder.

“No,” I blurted. “I can’t…I can’t do this…”

“Everett, hold on,” Roman called as we crossed the space of his apartment.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For fuck’s sake, wait,” Roman demanded in a voice that set me straight. “You’re shirtless, dammit.”

I realized then that my skin was slick with cold sweat and that my consciousness was rising from some unimaginable depths as if I’d just woken up from a fever dream.

We had been so close. Close.

To what? The heavenly bliss of pleasure? The loss of our souls? The loss of status and comforts and what little family I had that still cared for me?

“Everett,” Roman whispered, his hand touching my triceps. I flinched, and he pulled back. “Jesus, fuck, alright,” he muttered. “Christ, I thought we were on the same page. I’m sorry.”

I heaved a deep breath of air, then began to turn around. He was still shirtless, although I kept my gaze exclusively on his face. There was no doubt about the fact that I found him hot. If I didn’t look at all I desired, it would be easier to resist it. Especially since giving in could only trigger a plethora of guilt.

“Listen, why don’t you sit down?” Roman suggested, his tone only a little pissed off.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Just…sit down and cool off a little,” Roman said, his breaths shallow. “And let me cool off, too.” He bit his lip and rolled his eyes. It made my gaze drop, and I found that he was still hard enough to show. Roman turned away from me and returned to the room, lingered there for a minute while I sat on a chair by the dining table in the low light from under the kitchen cabinets. When he returned, he had a proper T-shirt on, and he handed me my shirt. “What are you drinking?”

I accepted the shirt and licked my lips. “I don’t think I should…”

“Not what I asked,” Roman said. “You need a drink, and we need to talk.”

I cleared my throat. “Something strong. Don’t care what.”

Roman nodded, opened one of the cabinets, and produced a bottle of cheap vodka and two glasses. He closed the cabinet on the go and set the bottle and glasses on the table, then sat down. He left one chair empty between us.

After splashing some vodka in each glass, he looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry this got out of hand. I thought you wanted us to fuck.”

I frowned.

He misunderstood my expression for disagreement. “I mean, let’s face it, you got really hard, said you wanted to come over, and started undressing me. It’s not exactly a case of mixed messages. Besides, you’re twice my…”

“No, you’re right,” I said, my voice dry.

Roman stopped talking, mouth open for a moment. “What?”

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