Afire: Entire Blinded Series (7 page)

He makes eye contact, staring at me for long moments before hiking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “I haven't really thought about it. I mean, I'm only eighteen. Haven't looked that far ahead.” He pauses, gaze searching my hot face, then, “Besides, there's my mum and dad. I'd miss them. Miss you."

His gaze intensifies, like he's challenging me, daring me to open my mouth and tell him how I really feel. I could, couldn't I? I could spill it all, lightening my weary bloody soul, relieving myself of the burdens that sit on my shoulders twenty-four-seven. “Yeah, there is that,” I say, mentally berating myself for letting the opportunity to come clean slip me by.

"Where would you go?” He looks down at his hand lying between us then back to my face.

My cheeks heat further, and goddamn my cock, growing with each passing second. “Dunno. Pointless even talking about it, ‘cos I won't go. Not yet, anyway."

"Reckon she's sailing close to the wind. She'll say the wrong thing soon enough."

"You might be right, but she's clever. Knows just when to back off. And you don't know her like I do. She's—"

"A bully?"

I remain silent for a minute. “Yeah, and she—"

"Treats you like shit?"

"Yeah. And...” I shake my head, unable to tell him.

"I've seen the bruises over the years, buddy. I know there's more to it than her just being strict. She know you're gay?"

His question startles the shit out of me. Never before have we talked about this. Never. And I always thought we never would. “Um..."

"She suspects I am,” he says. “Got this look about her when she sees me."

I open my mouth to say “You are?” but close it again. It'd be stupid of me to say it, because I know damn well he is, and he knows I know, just like he knows I am. Shit, we've tiptoed around one another for such a long time, denying who we are, probably through fear of the other brushing the truth off and risking causing offence, when all along we shouldn't have.

"I've always loved you, Lee."

Jesus Christ
...

His gaze remains steady, fixed on my eyes, the sincerity in his almost bringing me to tears. This admission, this confirmation of what I've always known and felt, seems surreal, like I imagined it.

"You okay with that?” he asks.

"Fuck, yeah. I mean, I... Fuck, yeah."

Ryan reaches out and strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers, the touch sending shivers up and down my spine, springing goose bumps on my arms. I've dreamed of this, wanted it for so long, yet now it's happening I can't quite believe it. I'll wake up in a minute, alone in bed, the morning light seeping around the curtains, the alarm blaring.

He scoots closer, his belly moulded to my side, and fuck, my cock hurts it's so hard. Tentative, I slip my hand between his inner arm and side, curving it around his back. His heat bleeds into my skin, and my stomach bunches with the hope of what's to come. Ryan leans forward and down, his lips brushing across mine like a whisper of breath. I tilt my head, offering my mouth, wanting him to kiss me so damn hard I lose the will to think clearly. As though reading my mind, he does so, and I raise my other hand, grasping his shoulder and bringing him on top of me, the weight of him fucking fantastic.

His hard cock presses against mine, and I have to fight hard to hold off coming. This is all too much, too many sensations going on all at once. My bollocks, Christ, they ache, and I curl my toes, hands roving up and down his back. His fingers slip into my hair, the tips massaging my scalp as the kiss intensifies. He gyrates, almost bringing me off. I groan into his mouth, a pain-filled sound that has Ryan backing away and looking down at me as though he'd hurt me.

"You okay?” he asks, out of breath.

I nod, my heart beating hard and fast, my pulse echoing in my ears. “Yeah, just...just give me a minute. I've never—"

"Me neither.” Ryan pecks my lips again then rears up, staring down at me, his expression one of tenderness.

Of love?

I'm exposed in this light, blush in full view, but I don't care. Not really. What does it matter what I look like? Ryan's seen me at my worst. That time I had flu, and many instances throughout childhood when I slept over at his house, my hair sticking up in all directions come morning, my pyjamas rumpled, sleepy dust in the corners of my eyes.

"I fucking love you,” he says again, and I'm bowled over by the passion, the complete and utter devotion in his voice. “Knew it for sure when I hit sixteen, and it's grown ever since."

How have we held it back for so long? Did I wait until I came of age to finally admit I'm gay? Like it's acceptable now? I don't know, don't want to analyse it right now, only revel in the feelings his words have produced. I love him too, and I want to tell him, shout it out to the world, yet I remain silent, hating myself for it but unable to give him the same feelings he just gave me.

I'm selfish. Selfish to the core.

"I feel the same,” I manage and cup my hand around his nape, bringing his head down for another kiss that has my cock throbbing and my heart rate soaring.

God, I'm going to come
.

Ryan circles his hips, his hardness so fucking right as it grinds over my cock. His tongue swirls inside my mouth, gliding over and around mine, the wet heat of it too arousing, too much for me to bear. My arsehole spasms, and a grunt cuts short in my throat. I lift my arse and lower my hands, pushing him closer so his erection pulls back my foreskin.

I ease my mouth from his. “Jesus, I'm coming. I'm fucking coming!"

Cum erupts, hot and sticky inside my boxers, and I close my eyes, mind clearing of everything but the feelings coursing through me. Shit, this is intense. Another spurt bursts from me as Ryan circles his hips faster, and he lowers his head, face buried in the crook of my neck, breaths hot on my skin. His stuttered moan heightens my orgasm, and a third shot comes out so fast it hurts. I grip his arse, fingertips biting into his jeans, and my breath leaves me in jerky exhalations. Heat pours into my face, and sweat trickles down my temples.

Ryan jolts, one-two-three, and whispers, “I'm coming."

I move him faster, wanting him to experience what I'm going through, the euphoria unlike anything I've ever known. He groans and bucks, tongue licking my neck.

I'm where I've always wanted to be, where I'm meant to be, and shit, the future I'd thought about earlier burns brighter than I could ever have imagined.

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Together, we stumble to the bathroom. A tinge of unease settles over me, embarrassment that I came too soon and in my pants, but Ryan appears fine. He strips, switching the shower on and stepping beneath the spray as though we've done this a hundred times before. I sit on the closed toilet seat and watch him, taking in the planes of his body, the way the soap lather glides down his belly. My cum cools, leaving me uncomfortable, so I hike in a deep breath and take the plunge. Undressing quickly before bravery deserts me, I join him in the tub, his lazy smile spurring me to reach out and wash him, smoothing the bubbles over his chest. Thoughts of moving in with him enter my mind, and I grow angry that I'm fooling myself with the notion that if I did everything would be fine. It wouldn't. I'd still have to deal with those blokes, with Mum, and every other fucker who has an opinion on being gay.

Not wanting to sour this precious moment, I clear my mind and concentrate on the now. Ryan rolls the soap between his hands then places it in the small dish shaped like a dolphin on its side. He washes my chest, hands lowering to my cock, and a familiar tingle starts at the base. Before long I'm hard again, heat burning my cheeks. God, this is so unreal, so hot, that I can't get my head around it. I look up, meeting Ryan's gaze, and he smiles again, no hint of reproach in his features. Relief surges through me, and I lift my arms, cupping his shoulders as he soaps my balls. His kiss sends spikes of pleasure through my cock, and I step away, aware that if we get caught in here...shit, my old dear would have a fit.

"We'd better get out,” I say, reluctantly getting out of the tub and drying myself with brisk strokes.

The water stops its incessant beat on the enamel, and Ryan stands beside me, his skin peppered with goose bumps.

I hand him my towel, cock softening. “Sorry, but if she sees two wet towels..."

"It's okay.” He dries himself, hangs the towel on the rail, and scoops up his clothes. “Come on. Gotta check the time."

He leaves the room, and I turn to follow, picking up my clothes then padding across the landing and into my room. The bed covers bear the imprints of our bodies, the quilt cover mussed, a round dent in my pillow. Sex scents the air, the tang of it sharper than when I come alone. I drop my clothes beside Ryan's at the foot of my bed and move to the window, opening it a crack. Fresh air soughs in, chilling my body.

Ryan steps up behind me, snakes his hands around my waist, his fingers reaching for my cock. I harden again, the throb in my balls insistent, and he clasps my shaft, pressing his erection between my arse cheeks. Jesus, who knew it would feel like this? An all-consuming burn rages through me at speed and takes away all the bad things, replacing them with a serenity that surpasses any of my imaginings.

"What time will she be back?” Ryan kisses the top of my spine, the touch light, soft.

I glance at the clock on my bookshelf. “About another two hours."

"Good."

He twists me around so we're facing one another, our cocks and bellies meeting. I slip my hands about his waist, interlacing my fingers at his lower back, and he lays his palms over my chest. The hot contact sends a jolt of pleasure up my cock, and the vein pulsates, a quick, almost painful beat. Unlocking my hands, I cup his arse cheeks and begin circular movements over the globes, taking in how it feels, skin on skin and emotionally. This exploration, this experience, makes me whole somehow, and I have the absurd urge to cry.

Stupid bastard
.

Ryan steps backward, leading me to the bed, and we flop down, a lattice of arms and legs. I shift onto my side, Ryan doing the same, and our new discovery begins. Hands roam, fingertips featherlight, palms skating across dips and swells, breaths heavy and ragged. I squirm, wanting to capture every emotion, every movement at once, but there's too much going on. Lips brush, tongues lick, and sweat drips. I imagine later times, when we're experienced enough to ease our cocks into hot, tight sheaths, and a groan-laden gasp leaves me panting, unable to imagine the intensity our future fucks will hold.

His tongue laves a path along my collarbone and up my neck. Warm breath tickles my ear, the sound of it so loud it drowns out my thudding pulse and the rasping of hands over skin. I close my eyes and curve my groin up, pushing my cock into his, loving the hardness.

A shift of air whispers over me, and a gasp fills the room followed by a high-pitched scream. I jerk away from Ryan, almost falling off the bed, my eyes snapping open to see his face in profile, eyes wide, mouth hanging open, gaze fixed on the door.

Oh, fuck. Fuck!

I see her in my peripheral vision, hands cupped over her mouth, the darkness of the landing behind her. I jump off the bed at the same time as Ryan, scrambling for our clothes, anything to cover ourselves. As he slides his legs into his jeans, she starts railing.

"You filthy little
bastard
!” She's lit as though under a spotlight, staring at Ryan, hands fisted by her sides. Angry red splotches spread over her cheeks, joining to form one raging mask, and spittle sits at the corners of her mouth. “I
knew
it!"

She's fit to burst, and I'm scrabbling into my jeans, zipping up, reaching for a T-shirt from an open drawer. Christ, my heart's beating so fast it hurts, and I want to throw up. I glance from her to Ryan, who's dressed and shoving his feet into his Nikes, face flushed, his shaved head making him look like a ruffian. Someone to avoid.

My attention returns to Mum, hands on her hips now, mouth gaping open as though she's lost for words. Her speech isn't halted for long, and she raises one hand, finger pointing at Ryan.

"You'd better get the hell out of my house! How
dare
you come in here and turn my boy, leading him into your disgusting ways. Go on, get out!"

She jabs the air with her finger, the tip meeting Ryan's chest as he steps forward, stuffing his soiled boxers into his pocket. Springing back, she melts into the darkness of the landing, and for a moment it's like she was never there and Ryan's just leaving to go home. He glances back, and his face, my God, I don't ever want to see that stricken look again. Like he's saying sorry, that he's the cause of all this, that it's his fault. It isn't. It fucking
isn't
!

His footsteps recede as he goes down the stairs, and the front door closes quietly, my loud breaths superseding every other sound that remains. She fills the doorway again, eyes narrowed, and I stand beside my bed, the fear of childhood filling me.

"You!” She stalks into the room, standing inches from me. “You need to get in the bath. Wash his filth from you. Didn't I tell you? Wasn't it only earlier I told you what he was up to? What he was like? And you didn't believe it. Now look what's happened. You've allowed him to touch you, to... God, you disgust me. The pair of you! What will the neighbours say if this gets out? You can bet that pervert won't keep this quiet. Oh, I know what those types are like. He'll brag about his conquest, how he made you just like him, when you're not. No, this is just a blip. A bit of confusion, that's all.” She whittles her fingers then grips the hem of her fitted blue jacket.

A blip? A bit of confusion?

"No,” I say, turning from her to kneel beside the bed and pull my large holdall from beneath it. A brief memory of me and Ryan packing our clothes into it for a camping trip comes to mind, and although this situation is dire, I smile.

"What's so funny? What the
bloody hell
is so funny?” Mum bunches her hands, arms rigid, and stares down at me.