Page 64 of Without You

He leads us to his bedroom, knowing very well these four walls will keep my memories at bay. Slamming the door with such ferocity, he uses the strength of his whole body to press me up against it.

“Tell me now,” he spits out. I can feel his rage match my own, his heart beating in time with mine, but his heavy-lidded eyes clarify what’s really going on inside. He still wants me. He wants this. And that’s what makes him mad.

“Tell me,” he repeats. “I’m the straight guy, whose dick got hard for a guy for the first time in my whole life, and now you want to chicken out on me?”

He squeezes his eyes shut while trying to regulate his erratic breathing. It’s naive of me to think it’s only me who has issues to contend with. Kissing another man may change the whole trajectory of his life. And surely if he can face it, then so can I. Right?

He gently drops his head onto the wooden door, his mouth by my ear. “I just want to know if you regret it,” he says a little more calmly.

“No,” I rush out in a whisper. Slowly, he tilts his head back to look at me, his mouth a breath away from mine. Shaking my own head, I raise a hand to cradle his jaw, letting the pad of my thumb skim back and forth across his bottom lip. “I don’t regret it.”

His breath hitches, and I flick my eyes up to his. “Am I confused?” I nod, answering my own question. “But, do I regret it?”

Moving forward, I angle my head, and languidly brush my lips against his. My fingers curl around his neck, bringing him closer, wanting to feel the soft press of his mouth on mine.

“Can I?” I breathe out.

“Please.” His voice is strained and gravelly, anxiously anticipating my next move. Unlike last night, I set the unhurried pace. Wanting to savor the taste of him, I take control of his supple lips, and do my best to memorize them.

The shape. The feel. The taste.

When I swipe my tongue along the seam of his lips, a hum of approval rumbles in his chest. Deacon eagerly parts his mouth, and I hungrily lick the inside.

A heady groan encourages me to tangle my tongue with his, to take everything that he has on offer. I feast on the taste of all things unpredictable, revel in the familiarity of kissing a man, and bask in the newness of Deacon.

Hard and needing friction, I clutch Deacon’s ass and push his pelvis against mine. Considering this is all new to him, it’s a presumptuous move on my end, but when he bucks his hips, and his solid shaft grazes against mine, I have no doubt all logic was just pushed right out the window.

If possible, I feel myself get harder, as we shamelessly grind up on one another. Life ignites inside of me as I reacquaint myself with my old friends, need and want, adjusting to the thrill, succumbing to the risk.

“Fuck that feels really good,” Deacon pants, his voice managing to sound like a mixture of shock and sex. “I think I’m going to come,” he points out.

Searching for release, the kiss becomes sloppy and desperate; our bodies a tight bundle of unlit fireworks ready to explode. There’s only one of two ways this will end, and I feel too far gone to make the right choice.

“Deacon,” I pant. “I think we need to—”

“Come,” he says again, his brain clearly short-circuiting at the prospect. “I need to fucking come, Julian.”

Surprising me, he takes hold of my ass, and spins us so he’s now backed up against the door. Covering my mouth with his, he thrusts his tongue between my lips and refuses to let me come up for air. He gives my fabric covered ass a painful squeeze, as he uses all his strength to guide my aching erection up and down his.

“I’m going to come,” I blurt out, my half-hearted attempt to try to put some kind of hold on this outcome was fake and fruitless. “Shit, Deacon.”

My body shudders in anticipation, my spine tingling, my balls tight and full. Fuck. I didn’t know how much I missed this. I feel his body coil against mine, and I know we’re both on the edge of a very dangerous cliff.

With neither of us considering the consequences, we take the leap. Crying out in relief, I bury my head in the crook of Deacon’s neck as his fingers dig into my hips, and he lazily rolls his pelvis against me through his release.

Small, almost undetectable tremors race through my veins, as my spent body leans on Deacon’s for support. His chest rises as mine falls, sated breaths the only sound in the room. Not wanting to be the first one to break the silence, I wait.

I wait because I don’t have any words for what just happened. No words of comfort, no words of censure. Just physical proof of an unexpected connection, neither one of us can deny.

“Julian.”

His voice is thick with trepidation.

“Yeah?”

“Do you need me to get you some clean clothes?”

My shoulders shake with laughter, every part of me relieved at his question. “Let me survey the damage and let you know,” I tell him, finally unplastering myself from his body. “Maybe I can do a quick clean up in the bathroom and run to the car without anybody noticing me.”

---