Imperfect Harmony (13 page)

Rhys drew back, feeling as though he was coming up for air when he gazed at John’s flushed face. John pushed a strand of Rhys’s hair out of his eyes.

“What do you want?” Rhys asked. He wanted John to fuck him, but he wasn’t sure whether John was ready for that. Hell, he wasn’t sure if John liked to top; they hadn’t had that conversation yet. But Rhys hoped he did, because one day, even if not tonight, Rhys really wanted John’s gorgeous cock inside him.

“I want to slow things down a little. Make it last.”

“Okay.” Rhys was good with that. It would only make it all the better when they finally got to come.

“Here.” John shuffled back to sit against the padded headboard. He held out a hand to Rhys, who crawled over to straddle his lap. “Yeah. Like this.” John curled his hand around the back of Rhys’s neck and drew him down into a kiss.

As Rhys settled on John’s lap, their cocks bumped and Rhys bucked his hips, making them slide together, the sticky skin catching a little. John took both of them in one of his large hands.

“Lube?” Rhys suggested.

“I don’t have any.” John flushed at the admission. “Haven’t needed it since….”

“Of course,” Rhys said quickly. “Spit, then?”

John grinned. “Better than nothing.” He licked his palm and tried again.

They went back to kissing: slow, deep tender kisses that matched the lazy squeeze of John’s hand around them. Rhys started moving, fucking into the grip of John’s fist, and that seemed to work for both of them. Rhys was getting close again, and he didn’t want to hold back this time. “Gonna come soon,” he muttered between kisses.

“Me too.” John bit down on Rhys’s neck, then soothed the tender spot with his tongue.

Rhys’s thighs were tight with tension, and he couldn’t have stopped himself now even if he’d wanted to. “Yeah,” he gasped as John readjusted his grip and his thumb brushed the head of Rhys’s cock. “Fuck.” He thrust harder and then stilled, groaning as his dick pulsed and released, making everything gloriously slippery as the scent of come filled the space between them.

Once he’d come, he was too sensitive to bear John stroking him anymore, so he shifted back just a little and watched as John stroked himself. John’s cock was wet with Rhys’s come, and the sight of it was so fucking sexy.

“God, you look so hot.” Rhys combed his fingers through the hair on John’s chest, and John gasped as he brushed his nipples. “Yeah? You like that?” He did it again, deliberately this time, and John nodded, breathless. So Rhys pinched them lightly and John tensed beneath him and came all over himself.

When John got his breath back, they traded lazy, sated kisses for a while until they separated, smiling goofily at each other.

Snuggled under the covers after a hasty clean up, Rhys couldn’t stop smiling. “That was fun,” he said. Although
fun
was a bit of an understatement. It was more than just fun to Rhys, and he wondered if John felt the same. He hoped so, but it was a little too soon to talk about where they saw this relationship going.

“Yeah, it was.” John pulled him a little closer and pressed a kiss to his temple. They lay in silence and Rhys found himself listening to the soft sound of John’s breathing and the patter of rain on the window outside. It was cold at first, but soon warmed up with their shared body heat.

“You tidied up,” Rhys said suddenly. He hadn’t noticed before, too focused on John to pay attention to his bedroom. Now he saw it looked quite different to last time, when there had been piles of stuff everywhere and dirty washing on the floor—not that Rhys had cared. His room was often as bad.

“Yeah. I thought I’d try and make it look less awful in here. It’s a challenge keeping it tidy when most of the room is taken up by the bed.”

Rhys sat up and looked around properly. The double did rather dominate the space. It wasn’t a large room, and even with the bed pushed up against the wall on one side, there wasn’t room for much other furniture. “Yeah. I see what you mean. And what’s with the black walls?”

John chuckled. “Yeah. I went through a gothic phase when I was fifteen. It’s awful, isn’t it? Eventually I’ll get around to decorating… and I’ll probably move into the bigger bedroom at the front. But it still feels like Mum’s room. I haven’t been able to face changing it yet. It’s only a few months since she died. The whole house is still the way it was.”

Rhys lay down again, turning on his side so he could see John. “What was the matter with your mum?”

“Cancer.” John sighed. “It was very quick. Breast cancer… it had spread before they caught it. I came home to spend time with her before she died, but it was a matter of months.”

Rhys took John’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Were you close?”

“Yeah, quite close, I guess. Especially after my dad left—I was sixteen then, and it was hard for her when I left to go to university. David and I ended up living a couple of hours away, but we used to come back and visit quite often.” He paused, and his voice was rough when he continued. “It’s so weird, living here. Sometimes I almost forget she’s gone. I keep expecting to turn the corner and see her. It was like that for me in my old house after David died.”

Rhys edged closer, releasing John’s hand so he could put his arms around him instead and draw him close. He had no words of comfort to take away John’s pain, but he could hold him. Sometimes the reassurance of touch was better than anything anyone could say.

They lay in silence for a while, warm skin and soft breaths as the seconds ticked past and became minutes. Rhys had lost all track of time. It must be getting late, eleven… maybe even close to midnight now?

Rhys was starting to feel sleepy. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d fall asleep before he could. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want to outstay his welcome either. He shifted reluctantly out of John’s embrace and propped himself up on an elbow so he could see the clock. It was just after eleven thirty. John’s eyes were closed and he didn’t move. Rhys stroked John’s cheek with his fingertips until his eyes fluttered open.

“I should probably go,” Rhys said quietly.

Just then, there was a particularly loud splatter of raindrops on the window as a gust of wind lashed the glass.

“You can stay if you want.”

Rhys searched John’s expression for a hint as to whether he really wanted Rhys there or was simply being polite. It didn’t give anything away. “Are you sure?”

John’s face softened into a smile. “I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure. But no pressure if you’d rather not.”

Rhys sighed with relief. “I’d like to. Going back outside in this weather isn’t very appealing.” Not that the weather was the only reason Rhys wanted to stay, but he didn’t want to seem too needy.

“Of course.”

“I’d better text my mum before I fall asleep, though. I don’t officially live at home—I’m in a flat that adjoins the house—but she might notice and worry.”

Rhys slid out of John’s arms and got up to find his phone. He winced as the cold air hit his naked skin, and suddenly he felt very exposed. He bent over to get his phone out of his jeans pocket and could almost feel John’s gaze on his arse as he did so. When he turned around, sure enough, John was watching him.

Rhys raised his eyebrows and John grinned, unapologetic. Rhys flushed and grinned back, glad that John seemed to like his skinny arse. His cock started to stiffen in response to John’s ogling, and when John dropped his gaze, it got even harder.

“Stop it. I don’t want to text my mum while I’ve got a boner.”

“Sorry.” John didn’t sound very sorry.

I’m staying at a friend’s tonight
.

Rhys kept his text short and to the point, knowing it would result in questions next time he saw his mum. But as he kept his bike in the passage between his flat and the main house, she might notice it missing in the morning, and he didn’t want her to freak out. This was the first time he’d spent a night away since he’d moved back here.

“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked John.

“Of course.”

Rhys put on his T-shirt and boxers, and went to use the toilet. He cleaned his teeth as best he could with his finger. At least his mouth felt fresher.

When he went back into the bedroom, John got up. “My turn,” he said. He didn’t bother to put any clothes on, so Rhys took that as a hint and got naked again before getting back into bed and moving into the warm patch John had left behind.

Sure enough, when John got back, he climbed back into bed as he was and snuggled close, giving Rhys a mint-flavoured kiss. The kiss soon got hot and heavy again, and they ended up tangled together, lying on their sides. John had one of his hands on Rhys’s arse, and when he let his fingers slip into the crack, Rhys groaned in approval and hitched his leg over John’s hip to give him better access as Rhys ground his cock against John’s thigh.

John took the hint and stroked lightly over Rhys’s hole with his fingertips. Rhys squirmed, breaking the kiss to pant against his neck.

“Do you like to bottom?” John asked. The brush of his lips on the shell of Rhys’s ear was like a caress.

“Yeah,” Rhys managed, breathless now as John breached him with the tip of a finger. Rhys felt his hole soften for John, even though it had been a long time since anyone—or anything—had been inside him. “Please tell me you’re a top.”

John huffed out a quiet sound of amusement. “Mostly.”

Mostly
was perfect. Because Rhys was
mostly
a bottom, but it was nice to have options. “Good.”

John had managed to work a finger inside him, his way slicked with sweat and nothing else. It would feel better with lube, but the familiar stretch made Rhys’s nerve endings sing. John crooked his finger and found Rhys’s prostate, stroking over it as Rhys bucked against him. Rhys eventually worked a hand between their bodies to stroke himself. He was making embarrassing, incoherent sounds of pleasure, the dual sensation almost too much to handle. He came like that; fisting his cock with John’s finger buried deep inside him, coaxing his orgasm out till he was spent and dazed.

John carefully eased his finger out, and Rhys bit back a whimper as he slipped free. John’s erection was hard and hot next to the curl of Rhys’s fingers, so he moved his hand around John instead. Slick with his own come, it was easy to stroke him. John’s cock felt good in Rhys’s fist, thick and solid. Rhys’s arse clenched reflexively at the thought of it inside him.

“We need to get some lube and condoms.”

“What, now?” John sounded amused, although there was a husky edge to his voice as Rhys kept moving his hand. “I’m not sure where you can buy them at this time of night.”

“For another time. If you want to fuck me, that is.”

“Yeah—ohh,” John gasped as Rhys gripped a little tighter.

Rhys wasn’t sure if it was agreement or just John getting closer to coming. But he carried on regardless. John’s breath was hot and ragged against his neck as he mouthed at Rhys’s skin. “I really want you to fuck me,” Rhys said. “I want your cock in me. I want you to fuck me and jerk me off until I come.”

And maybe John wanted that too, because Rhys’s words made him groan loudly and climax, shaking with the force of it.

Afterwards, John seemed wiped out, his body heavy and lax. He threw an arm around Rhys and kissed him again. “Didn’t expect you to be a dirty talker,” he murmured with a sleepy smile.

Rhys kissed him back and then twisted away to reach the tissues by the bed. “Speaking of dirty….”

They mopped up their come as best they could, but the box was almost empty, so John used his boxers to finish off. “I’d better add tissues to my shopping list along with lube and condoms, hadn’t I?” Then he added. “Assuming you meant what you said before… you weren’t just talking dirty to get me off?”

“Oh yeah. I definitely meant it. But there’s no rush.” Rhys beamed, happy that John was obviously into the idea. And there was going to be a next time.

“Are you free on Friday night?” John asked.

“Yes,” Rhys replied without hesitation. He was always free—unless it was a Wednesday. Choir was usually the only thing that got him out in the evening. His mum had been on at him to reconnect with some of his old mates from school, but Rhys hadn’t wanted to rekindle any of those friendships. He preferred to keep himself to himself.

“Come over then?”

“Okay.” Rhys yawned. Exhaustion was creeping over him after two orgasms and a long day.

John yawned too. “You ready to sleep now?”

Rhys nodded.

John turned out the lamp and moved in close to him. Their knees bumped when they tried lying facing each other, so Rhys rolled onto his other side and backed up against John’s warmth. “Is that okay?” he muttered sleepily.

“It’s perfect.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

When John woke the next morning, it was still dark outside. His alarm was set for seven and hadn’t gone off yet. In the night he’d rolled onto his side away from Rhys. Rhys had shifted too, and now John was the little spoon with Rhys curved around him, one arm thrown carelessly over John’s torso.

John looked over his shoulder so he could see the clock by the bed. Six fifty—not worth trying to go back to sleep, then. He settled back down with a contented sigh.

Rhys stirred behind him and made a soft
mmph
sound.

“Good morning,” John whispered, not sure whether he was awake.

Rhys tightened his arm around him and stroked John’s belly. John instinctively tensed his muscles and sucked his stomach in a little. He felt self-conscious about his softness in certain places compared to Rhys’s lean beauty.

“Morning.” Rhys slipped his hand lower, and okay, there was nothing soft about
that
. Rhys shifted his hips closer and he was hard too. “When do we need to get up?”

“In about ten minutes.”

Rhys had his hand around John’s cock now and was stroking it while rubbing his own erection against John. “Well we both know you can come in less than ten minutes.” His voice was soft and teasing.

John tried to be offended but he couldn’t muster up much outrage with Rhys thumbing over the head of his cock and moving his hand faster. “Yeah,” he huffed. “Thanks for that.”