Sloe Ride (25 page)

“Babe, you get any better at this, you’re going to kill me,” Rafe groused playfully. “Just do what feels good. If I do anything you don’t like, tell me, because, Q, I want you to feel
good
.”

“I already feel good.” Quinn squeezed again. Then his hands drifted down under Rafe’s waistband, and he ran his fingertips through the soft hair on Rafe’s thighs. “I just want you to show me what to do. I’ve never done—
that
. All of it.”

“
That
isn’t all there is, you know,” Rafe hissed through clenched teeth when the elastic on his shorts was pushed all the way down past the rise of his ass. “You tell me. You want what? What do you want me to do? Flat out. Just say it.”

Quinn looked up at him, his long fingers working their way out of Rafe’s shorts and up along the groove of Rafe’s spine. His quizzical expression was so familiar it brought a twinge of joy to Rafe’s heart, and he laughed, then bit Quinn on his shoulder.

“Stop thinking so hard, magpie. Just spit it out. I can take it.” Rafe pulled up, smirking playfully. “Or put it in. Whatever you say goes.”

“I’ve never… fucked anyone.” Amid the heat of their bodies, Quinn’s whisper was a tiny breath of chilling doubt. “Last guy I was with… I didn’t…. It’s different with you. I want
this
with you.” Quinn’s voice broke, ragged with need and emotion. “I want to be inside you. At least… once. And well, you in me.”

“Been a long time for me, Q. Not going to lie, but we’re sure as hell going to do it more than once.” Rafe cupped Quinn’s chin, giving him a fierce kiss. “Stay
right
here. We’re going to need some things.”

R
AFE
A
NDRADE
’
S
mouth was on his cock.

It’d been other places on Quinn’s body as well, but at that moment, in that pristine, perfect, crystalline moment, the lips he’d wanted to kiss for as long as he could remember were wrapped around his dick.

And he could barely stop himself from shooting long threads of come down Rafe’s tight throat just from the sight of it.

Stripped naked, Quinn felt embarrassed, nearly shy. Every sexual encounter he’d been involved with had been in the dark. With Rafe, the lights were a golden glow spreading across the room and onto the bed, casting the bassist’s hard, toned body into a stark relief of flat planes and strong curves. Rafe’s long limbs and broad chest rippled as he moved, his shoulder muscles bulging with every dive and dip of his head as he sucked down Quinn’s shaft.

Rafe’s hair, gilded from running in the sparse San Francisco sun, poured over his face, mingling with the trail of soft black hair feathering down from Quinn’s belly button. It tickled. Not as much as Rafe’s fingers as they explored Quinn’s balls but enough to make him tense at the teasing sensations along his hip.

“Going to lose myself, Rafe.” He hated he didn’t have a nickname for Rafe, the smooth offshoot of affection easily spun out by others. His mind wandered down that path, threatening to dislodge him from his pleasure. Then Rafe’s lips nearly brushed the root of his dick, and his head slid into the tightness beyond Rafe’s tongue, and Quinn gasped, his thoughts scattering beneath the desire Rafe called up from him. “Oh… God.”

He was pretty sure he’d lapsed into Gaelic. Or at least the bastardized version his family was known for. What came out of his mouth was a combination of curses and pleas amid the muttering of sordid English phrases uttered in a dark, guttural moan, and from the smug, satisfied look on Rafe’s face as he pulled his lips free of Quinn’s cock, the throat swallow had been done solely to keep Quinn from meandering away in his own mind.

“I like that you know me,” Quinn whispered, stroking Rafe’s face. There was a bit of a scruff, a rough velvet along Rafe’s jaw. He’d felt the burn of it on his thighs and neck where Rafe’d brushed up against him, rubbing into Quinn’s skin like a cat marking its territory. “I don’t have to… explain with you.”

“Never—or hardly ever,” Rafe murmured, crawling up the length of Quinn’s torso to reach his face for a kiss. It was oddly salty, spiced with the lemony mint of Rafe’s mouth and a tingle of something muskier beyond. With that kiss, Quinn was lost, fallen hard for the soul he’d known for years. “Now, your turn. You and I, we’re going to make some music of our own.”

Quinn bungled it. As graceful as a three-legged flamingo, he swore when he lost the bottle of lube someplace in the sheets, then nearly gave up when he tore the wrapper off the condom Rafe’d given him only to somehow puncture the sheath with his index finger.

“Found it,” Rafe declared, holding up the recalcitrant bottle. His burst of laughter at Quinn’s dejection was bright, a splash of color on the dim of the flaccid latex. “It’s okay, Q. There’s about ten more. We’ll go for testing. Then… we won’t have to deal with those—”

“Past tonight?” The thought punched a hole in Quinn’s chest. He was already shaken to the core at the idea of sliding his body into Rafe’s. Suddenly there were breakfasts and movie nights with long battles over which way the toilet paper went on the spool and arguments about cat horf in shoes. The butterflies in his stomach grew teeth—no, fangs—and they savaged Quinn’s nerves, tearing him apart. “Shit, I can’t—I’m not. You can’t want me for that. I’m not—”

“Breathe, baby,” Rafe murmured softly, holding Quinn’s face.

They shared a kiss made only of their breath, and Quinn tasted himself on Rafe’s exhale, marveling in the surety in Rafe’s golden-brown eyes.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, Q. Not us. Not ever. I told you. I’m in this. If you want me. Don’t let that hay-and-needles brain of yours skew things sideways, and don’t go borrowing trouble. You and me… we work, don’t we? In our odd, weird way?”

There were confessions to be made, gentle admissions of truth Quinn held in the folds of his heart. They came pouring out, a rush of words and flailing fears, stinging his throat as they coursed out from his belly. Nothing made sense… not until the final dense chunk of words he choked out, its hard edges nearly bleeding him dry as he flung them at Rafe in a hurried panic.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he burbled, pulling away from Rafe’s hands. “God, is this what that feels like? This sucks. I feel sick and scared and…. Jesus fucking Christ, Rafe—”

“You said you feel me, Q. That you’ve always felt me. Now hear me. I’m not going to go anywhere. Not unless you tell me you want me to get lost.” Rafe caught him up again, pulling Quinn’s attention back. “I’m getting a second chance here—with a band that kicks ass and most of all, with you. Best of all, with you. And if I lose everything all over again, I am going to fight like fucking hell to
never
lose you.

“I see you looking at me—all warm and sweet—and all I think about is how I don’t deserve you. Don’t deserve that affection, but see, I’m an asshole, Quinn. Because I’m going to take it—and hold on tight.” Rafe pressed a sweet kiss to Quinn’s lips, chuckling at their mingled sighs. “I love you, Quinn. Hell, I fucking
like
you. But most of all, I love you, magpie.”

“Are you sure?” Quinn heard himself whisper. “Because I have to make sure you’re
sure
.”

“Oh yeah, Q. I’m sure.” Rafe dug the lube bottle out of the sheets again. “And right now, I want you. So fucking much I’m hurting in places I never even knew my dick had.”

Rafe was playful. Quinn’d never
played
before, and the
laughter
was extraordinarily sexy. He fumbled again with the condom, his fingers going cold and numb from nerves until he could no longer stand it and handed Rafe the wrapper.

He could only gasp when Rafe took Quinn’s cock in hand, then slid the latex sheath snugly down its length.

“Can’t wait for you,” Rafe whispered, nibbling Quinn’s ear. “Cannot fucking wait.”

The lube was a slick mess on their fingers, running into a puddle on Quinn’s palm. Stretched out on his back, Rafe watched Quinn with hooded eyes as he knelt down between Rafe’s bended, spread knees, murmuring encouragement when Quinn touched the rim of his hole. Rafe’s fingers clenched and pulled at the sheets as Quinn explored the crinkled edges of Rafe’s entrance. Then his body stiffened when Quinn slid two fingers into Rafe’s heat.

It was like nothing Quinn ever felt before, yet the pulse of Rafe’s flesh around him was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

He dove in, carefully exploring the curve of Rafe’s inner core, watching the reactions he could wring from his lover, spread out before him on the bed. Rafe’s cock jutted up from its curled golden nest, spearing the musky night air with its rigid, flushed form. A bit of liquid welled up along its velvety head, a daub of pearl in its silken divot. Sliding his fingers in as far as they could go, Quinn pushed up against the ring of Rafe’s ass, then bent over, licking at the sweet bitterness of Rafe’s seed.

“God, Q… shit,” Rafe groaned, reaching down to clamp his fingers around the base of his cock. “Need you in me before…
please
.”

A part of Quinn longed to plunge in… straight in with no looking back. He was holding his breath. He realized that when the world went sparkly around the edges and his chest hurt. Taking in sharp pulls of air, Quinn steadied himself and looked down at Rafe’s waiting body.

He was beautiful. Quinn had no other word for Rafe but beautiful. Earthy and angelic, he was everything a mother would warn their sons and daughters about, and yet no one made Quinn feel as cherished… protected… as
loved
as Rafe. The tangle of his gold hair and the sly, teasing cant of his mouth was as familiar to Quinn as his own face—perhaps more so since Quinn’d spent more time staring at Rafe than he had himself—yet Quinn was still fascinated with Rafe’s beauty and delighted at the
normal
they shared.

“God, you make me feel normal,” Quinn whispered. “Like I’m just… like there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“There’s
nothing
wrong with you, babe,” Rafe replied, stroking Quinn’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re who you are. You’re
Quinn
.”

If Rafe’s whispers freed him, Rafe’s touch gave Quinn wings. Guiding himself into Rafe, Quinn met his lover’s eyes, holding Rafe’s gaze as he sank in deeper until he strained against the push of Rafe’s legs against his shoulders. Wrapped tight in Rafe’s body, Quinn let go, flinging himself into the beyond of their joined bodies.

And discovered he could fly.

There was nothing else around him. Some part of his mind
knew
the noises and disturbances of objects and colors were there, lurking at the periphery of his awareness, but none of it mattered anymore. He couldn’t feel the harsh tickles of light on his mind or have to fight against the pull of something moving around him. All he had in his thoughts—at his fingertips—was Rafe. Rafe and the pleasure sliding into his body, setting his nerves on fire as lightning tendrils broke through the thick membrane of his thoughts and drowned him in their white flares.

Rafe quieted his world—became his world—and Quinn reveled in its blessed, sweet silence.

He thrust hard, riding some thoughtless urge to plunge deep into Rafe’s body—into Rafe himself—until their skin slapped wet and hard where their bodies met. He’d never felt so alive, so
physical
, with only the thought of pulling Rafe’s pleasure out of him.

At some point, Quinn was distantly aware of the burn in his thighs and the gouge of Rafe’s fingers into his ass. Rafe’s voice, broken and buttery, urged him on, nearly pleading Quinn to tear him apart so they could heal within each other. There was wet on Quinn’s face, a spill of tears nearly as scorching hot as Rafe’s clench around his cock. Then he felt Rafe stiffen, shouting hoarsely while Quinn continued on.

There was an angle Quinn twisted into, a certain spot he could find in Rafe’s body, and when he glided over it, Rafe shook with desire. As Rafe’s hands clenched and roamed over Quinn’s chest, twisting at his tight nubs, Quinn found that spot again, and Rafe seized, shoving himself as far down Quinn’s cock as he could, unable to do anything but take what Quinn gave him.

“Come for me, Rafe,” Quinn whispered, hunkered over Rafe’s belly with his head down. His hands were fitted under Rafe’s ass, pulling him up so Quinn could find the sweet spot in Rafe’s core. “I want to see you. Want to watch you. I want to see what I do to you.”

There were no more words Quinn could find on his tongue. Something molten built up in the churn of his balls, and it licked up his cock, arching up in a rush to find release. Trembling, Quinn thrust again, rocking his hips over and over into Rafe’s ass, barely aware of the sting of Rafe’s nails scoring his arms.

“Shit, going to lose it, Q.” Rafe reached for himself, tightening his fingers over his own cock. He twisted and pulled, working his length in time to Quinn’s pounding. Something broke in Rafe, and he cried out, clenching down on Quinn hard enough to pull at Quinn’s soul.

The hot gush hit Quinn’s face, and he gasped, surprised at the pungent thickness of Rafe’s spill. A dab of his tongue swiped through the fluid on his lip, and Rafe’s essence bloomed in Quinn’s throat, drowning out everything beyond.

Rafe’s taste in his mouth was enough to send Quinn over, and he shook with the force of his release, unable to hold himself any longer as his cock felt like it was splitting apart. He came, hard and fast, until Quinn wondered numbly if he would ever stop. The wave struck him hard, and Quinn went under, drowning in the release. A moment later, he collapsed onto Rafe’s stomach, gasping at the shivers rippling through him.

He was sad to feel himself slide free. Physics be damned, he wanted to stay inside of Rafe for as long as he could—forever if possible. One way or another, Quinn knew he needed Rafe—with him, around him, and even in him.

Especially in him.

Rafe sighed, a heartfelt, nearly mournful noise, when Quinn slid over onto the bed next to him. Reaching out, he found Quinn’s hand and carded their fingers together. They lay there, naked and covered in sweat and spend, bodies stretched to the limit. Catching a hitch in his chest, Quinn matched Rafe’s sigh with one of his own.