The Rebuilding Year (18 page)

“So we’ll go out, have a meal. Let him see you’re fine.”

Ryan nodded unconvincingly.

They chose to go to Luigi’s. John found himself in the front seat of the car, directing Brent, while Ryan sat in the back. The drive was quiet. As they pulled in to the restaurant, Brent cleared his throat and said, “Ryan, do you want me to drop you off in front?”

“Huh?” Ryan frowned. “No. I can actually walk quite well now. I even run, climb rock walls, complete a mean triathlon, kickbox.”

“Really?”

“No, dumb shit. But I can make it as far as the parking lot.”

John reached back and smacked Ryan’s arm. “Don’t tease your brother.”

Brent gave them a startled look, but pulled obediently into a regular parking space. He headed toward the door ahead of them, not looking back at Ryan. “I’ll get us a table.”

Ryan followed, careful on the icy sidewalk. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Shit, what?” John held station, close enough for a catch but casual enough not to look like he was hovering.

“He still won’t look at me.”

“What?”

“In the hospital, when he would visit.” Ryan pulled the door open. “He looked everywhere except at me. And then he left town.”

“Maybe you’re exaggerating.”

The restaurant was warm after the winter air outside. It was modest, but clean and bright, with red chairs and paper tablecloths. A savory smell of tomatoes and garlic filled the air. John breathed in appreciatively. “Well, if he’s willing to buy me a great meal, he can look anywhere he wants.”

“I suppose.”

“Right this way, sirs.” The maître d’ led them toward a table. Brent went first, and John decided Ryan was right. The extra time it took Brent to get settled in his chair wasn’t random. The brother made sure that Ry was seated before he looked up.

They ordered drinks, which amounted to beer all around. When the waiter had gone, Ryan reached down and pulled out his cane. “Hey, Brent,” he said. “You have to see this. I commissioned it from John here. He’s some kind of artist.”

Brent swallowed as he took it, but then his attention was caught by the intricate carving. He turned it in his hands, looking. “Hey, this is great.” The man was better looking without the tight expression. “John, this is pretty amazing.”

“Thank you.”

The waiter brought their beer and took their orders. Brent raised his beer and said, “Listen, little bro. I want you to toast my good news.”

“You finally learned how to play that ukulele you bought in tenth grade?”

“No. Asshole. I met a girl.”

“Really?” Ryan leaned forward. “A real girl, not a blow-up one.”

“That’s your specialty, Ryan.” Then Brent looked stricken. “I mean, not that you can’t find… I mean, I heard about Marla.”

“Jesus, that’s ancient history. Quit tiptoeing around my frailties, and tell me about this lunatic female who is actually willing to date my brother.”

“Her name’s Anne.” Brent pulled out his cell phone, and brought up a picture. “That’s her.”

Ryan tilted it so John could see too. “She’s very pretty,” John said quickly, to head off whatever brotherly comment Ryan might have made.

“Too pretty for you,” Ryan said. “You sure this is not some kind of fantasy thing?”

Brent smiled. “I asked her to marry me.”

“Hey.” Ryan’s return smile was genuine. “That’s great! Assuming she said yes.”

“We haven’t set a date, but she took the ring.”

Ryan held out a hand. “Congratulations, brother.”

John echoed the handshake.

“So, have you told Dad?” Ryan asked. “Has he met her?”

“I called him a week ago. He was thrilled. He said the way that all I talked about for years was the other guys at the office, he was worried I was turning queer. I told him I was never that desperate. Anne’s amazing. I hope you’ll meet her sometime.”

Brent had totally missed the look Ryan and John exchanged.

“I’ll see her at the wedding, if not before,” Ryan said. “I assume I’m invited.”

“I’ll even let you bring a date, if you can find one.” Brent stopped, and flushed.

“Brent, listen up,” Ryan said firmly. “I’m fine. I gimp a little, but I’m doing well. I’m even dating. Not everyone is as superficial as Marla. You need to quit worrying.”

“I’m sorry,” Brent said. “I’m just…concerned about you I guess.” He glanced at John. “Kid brothers. When you’re not beating them up, you have this instinct to protect them. What happened to Ryan… We all feel like we screwed up.”

“I’m an only child.” John let his voice drawl slightly. “But I think Ryan’s big enough to take care of himself.” He took a long pull of beer to drown the frustration in his gut. Ryan was being very careful with his dating pronouns, or lack thereof. Clearly this was not going to be meet-the-family night.

“So, do you have anyone special?” Brent asked Ryan.

And sure enough, there was Ryan saying, “Not that I want to introduce you to.”

“Afraid she might like me better?”

“No, I’m not worried about that.”

John couldn’t resist running his finger around the neck of his beer bottle and saying, “Oh, I don’t know, Ry. Your brother’s a good-looking guy. Some people might find him very attractive.”

He winced as Ryan’s foot connected with his ankle under the table. And yet even that contact raised his spirits.
Barrett, you’re pathetic.

The food came and they ate, mostly listening to the latest nephew stories from Brent. He and Drew obviously stayed in close touch. Ryan added a couple of family items from Christmas. John would have felt more neglected, except that halfway through the meal, he felt Ryan’s hand on his knee. The strong fingers inched their way upward, while he tried not to react. Luckily, Ryan could only reach so far. John concentrated on listening to Brent, and not getting up from the table with a hard-on.

Brent dropped them off at the house, saying something about a hotel reservation and an early flight. Ryan blew out a breath and relaxed visibly once they were inside with the door shut.

“Were you that scared he might find out about us?” John asked.

“No. Not that. It’s just that when he looks at me, he’s remembering the hospital and thinking about me as his crippled younger brother. And he makes me remember how it felt to have everyone hovering and worrying. And I fucking hate it.”

John stuffed his issues away and put his arms around Ry. “I promise I won’t protect you. In fact I might wrestle you to the bed, and forcibly have my way with you.”

“Are you that desperate?”

Clearly, Ryan was a little hung up on his brother’s reactions. “Desperate.” John nodded. “Ravenous. Demanding. Insatiable.”

Ryan softened in his hold. “Wait. I thought that was me.”

John kissed him. “Shall we go to bed and find out?”

Upstairs in their room, with the door shut, it was just him and Ryan. John took a kiss, hot and wet, as he struggled with the buttons of his shirt. Ryan was naked first, and he dropped to the bed, watching John with an expression of heated impatience. So John drew it out more slowly.

He was playing with the waistband of his briefs when Ryan reached out, hauled him down, and stripped the shorts off him in one smooth move. “You’re a tease, Barrett,” he growled.

“A tease is someone who won’t put out,” John protested, running his hands over Ryan’s fine chest. “I plan to put out real soon.”

Ryan bit John’s neck, nibbled his way down his shoulder, and sucked on one nipple. He looked up. “How soon?”

John shivered at the feel of Ryan’s mouth, the touch of his hand sliding down between John’s thighs. They hadn’t yet gone there, but he’d been thinking about it. A lot. John stretched his arm out to the bedside drawer. After that first night, he had invested in some good lube. He pulled it out. Then he reached back in and pulled out the unopened box of condoms.

Ryan froze. John looked steadily into Ry’s green eyes as he set the box on the sheet beside them.
I don’t know if I can do this.
He had rehearsed it, planned it. He’d tried it out in the shower, testing himself with a finger, then two, even three, thinking about Ryan touching him. He’d gotten himself hot enough to melt steel, and then chickened out twice already. Not this time. He cleared his throat. “Ry. I want you inside me.”

He could see the reaction in Ryan’s body. But Ryan’s voice was soft as he said, “You? Are you sure?”

“I think so.”
Now that’s passionate.
“I mean, if you like. If you want to.”

Ryan reached out and ran a warm hand slowly over John’s thigh. “I’ve done it a couple of times with women. When they asked.”

“Did you like it?”

“Oh yeah.”

His voice was hoarser. “Did they?”

“They seemed to. No complaints.”

John nodded. “I’m asking.”

Ryan bent over and kissed him, soft and sweet. But John didn’t want soft. He clamped a hand behind Ryan’s head and opened his mouth. The kiss went from soft to desperate in five seconds. Ryan’s tongue was
way
down his throat and he made little whimpering noises. Ryan’s hand found his dick, and then stopped.

“Christ, don’t stop.”

Ryan pressed him down into the bed and rose over him. “Don’t worry, man. You’re gonna get fucked. But we’re doing this my way. By the time we get there, you’re not just going to be asking. You’re gonna be pleading for it.”

John shuddered under the man’s skilled hands. Ryan fisted his cock firmly with one hand, while the other slid lower, lubed and wet. John spread his thighs wider for the touch, tilting his hips up. Ryan worked him, rolling his balls, running a finger around his hole. The finger pressed in, slowly. Heat burned through John, arcing from his ass to his dick. He was leaking hard. Ryan slid a hand over his dripping slit and added the slick fluid to the mix.

Two fingers, and the burn hovered near pain. Then Ryan slid lower, and took John’s dick in his hot mouth.

“Holy crap, Ry. Don’t. I don’t want to come yet. Not yet.”

Ryan hummed as he pressed in with his fingers, stretching John’s tight opening. All John could feel was the wet vibration of Ryan’s tongue on him. John knew he was gasping nonsense, but it was out of his control. He was out of control. He arched upward, wanting more pressure, more touch. Ryan pulled back, and ripped open a condom. His other hand slid rhythmically over John’s hard, aching length.

And then John watched, his breath coming short as Ryan slid the slippery latex down his shaft. “Roll over,” Ryan told him.

John followed orders. Ryan tucked a pillow under him as he turned. John’s erect dick pressed into the fabric. Ryan’s hands spread him open.

“Jesus, John,” Ryan whispered. “That is so hot. You are so hot.” He bent and kissed the base of John’s spine, his hip, his ass. Ryan’s thumbs pressed wide. “Ready?”

John was vibrating between need and fear. “Yeah, ready, please, I’m ready. Just…go slow?”

The touch of cool latex was odd at first, then pressure, then pain as his body fought against it. He struggled to relax. He could hear Ryan’s rough breathing. Then suddenly his body consented to be taken. Ryan slipped inside with a groan, and stopped.

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

“Only if you don’t fucking stop there,” John grated through clenched teeth. Ryan felt huge and hot inside him. He slid a hand underneath himself, needy and shaking. It still hurt, but in an odd way that didn’t stop the building craving. He jacked himself hard, and the friction spiked into him.

Ryan pressed in, slowly, and then drew back an inch.
And Jesus God, that was freaking amazing.
He’d never thought pain went with sex, but this mix of sensations was beyond anything.

“Do that again,” he begged.

Slow slide of pressure, sharp drag outward. The sound he made had no words. He fisted himself urgently.

“Yeah, John,” Ryan groaned. “Let me see you touch yourself.”

Ryan’s hips moved harder, each drive a little deeper, each pull a little faster. Ryan’s hand was clamped on John’s right hip. Ryan’s thighs lay heavy against his own. John gasped, again and again, as Ryan drove him up and up. The sounds from Ryan’s mouth were ones he’d never heard before. And then suddenly the last resistance of his body was gone. Ry sank deep, and brushed against John’s prostate way inside. John arched, convulsed, coming in waves that rolled through him. He heard Ryan cry out, but could feel nothing more over the black velvet heat that burned inside him.

Ryan collapsed on John’s back, breathing in rasping shudders. John couldn’t have moved if the house was on fire. He lay boneless, feeling Ry’s breath hot against his neck.

“Wow,” Ry whispered. “I think I broke something.”

“Not literally?”

“No.” Ryan bit his shoulder lightly. “Moron.”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to insult me while you’re still inside me,” John said, and shuddered. His body tensed hard, and then slumped again.

Ryan pressed a kiss to his neck. “Should I move? ’Cause I’m not sure I can.”

“Not yet.” He could feel an ache beginning. He was going to be sore. But for now he was warm and content, and replete. He reached a hand back to press Ryan’s ass down over his own. The weight was sweet. The ripples of scars under his fingers were just Ryan. His Ryan.
This is right.