Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
ANGEL
I bury my face into the crook of Rhys’s neck and snuggle down into him as much as I dare. I don’t want to crush him. Although he seems intent on crushing himself with how tightly he’s clinging to me.
If that’s any indication of how he feels, then I feel the same way too. I want to cling to Rhys and never let him go. I want to burrow into him and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist. All I need is Rhys and his light. All I want is to bask in him—forever.
Or at least, for as long as he’ll let me. I’m under no illusion that this will last. Rhys has his pick of guys. Dudes who will stumble over each other for just one chance with him.
I’m everything he left behind the second he was old enough to move away from home. I’m everything he’s run away from and cut out of his life. Why would he invite any of it back in?
I tilt my hips forward, sheathing myself all the way inside his body. Then I wiggle my hips back and forth a bit. He clenches down around me, and twin shudders run through us.
I like this kind of sex. Soft and gentle is much more my speed. Slow enough to savor, to imprint every moment, every sensation into my memory. So that in the future, when Rhys has moved on, when I’m back to my boring old life, I have something to remember, something to cherish.
Rhys sniffles. He turns his head to the side, away from me. He doesn’t stiffen underneath me, but his movements become jerky, rather than the smooth, flowing dance we’ve been doing.
I lift my head and what I find triggers alarm bells and flashing lights.
“Rhys? What’s wrong?”
Tears trickle from his closed eyes, over the bridge of his nose, and down into the pillow. There’s a growing wet spot on the fabric.
“Am I hurting you?” I move to climb off him, but he only clutches me tighter.
“No,” he says, voice thick with tears. “You’re not hurting me.”
“Then why… why are you…” I try to lift off him again, but he digs his fingernails into my back.
“I just… got something in my eye.” He blinks a few times and takes a deep breath. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”
He’s clearly not. Crying during sex isn’t normal, is it? It’s supposed to be fun and pleasurable. Not sad.
“Are you sure? Can I… do something?” Although I ha ve no idea what I can do when he doesn’t want me to move.
Rhys keeps his gaze lowered, his lashes still clumped with moisture. “Let’s flip.”
I don’t know how he does it since he’s so much smaller than me and I’m basically smooshing him into the mattress, but being small doesn’t mean he’s weak. All those dancer muscles are stronger than I’ve been giving them credit for.
He leverages himself somehow, then shoves. And in one swift motion, we’ve rolled so I’m flat on my back and he’s straddling me. My dick is still firmly buried in his butt.
It takes a moment for me to orient myself, and in those few seconds, Rhys has taken control. He braces his hands on my stomach, and starts bouncing on my lap. It’s like what we did in the video, and at the same time, it’s not.
The position is the same. Rhys’s quads are flexed and fully on display. His dick smacks against my stomach in loud thwacks . His head is thrown back. His body is beautifully arched.
But there’s something else too. Something raw and unfiltered, primal and potent. Rhys’s nails scrape over my front, almost painfully, leaving red, burning trails in their wake. The sounds he makes are deep and guttural. His face is screwed up tight. The pace he sets is punishing, driving, like he’s chasing something that’s just out of reach.
It’s so good that my mind spins. Too many sensations coming at me from too many directions. Too fast for me to catalog, too fast for me to capture any memories. All I can do is hold on to Rhys’s thighs and let him ride me toward the edge of the cliff.
He slaps his hands on top of mine, then moves them up so I’m palming his pecs. I squeeze them, his nipples hard against my palms.
“Yes, yes, that’s it. Almost there, teddy bear. You with me?”
“Yes! Yes!” I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to, but if Rhys is asking, my answer will always be yes.
He reaches down for his dick, and his hand flies over it, stroking so quickly it’s nothing but a blur. His hips never falter, only going harder, faster.
“Come for me, Angel. Come now. Now!”
My orgasm rips through me, sending me right off the cliff and into the air. With a roar, my hips come off the bed. Rhys’s hole clenches tight around me, a hot vise that milks my cum from my balls. At the same time, scalding liquid shoots from Rhys’s dick and lands on my skin, branding me.
We both freeze, locked into those positions by utterly paralyzing pleasure. Wave after wave until I’m battered, bruised, and broken.
Sluggishly, Rhys lays himself down on me, face hidden between my pecs. I run my fingers through his long, damp hair, down his toned, sweaty back.
The high of the orgasm clears slowly, but even then, it’s much too soon. And in its place is a niggling worry. Rhys cried. While I was inside of him, on top of him. I must have done something wrong, something he didn’t like.
Maybe I’m too heavy. Maybe he doesn’t like being coddled. Or it makes him feel trapped. Guilt eats away at me as the words burst from my lips .
“I’m sorry!”
Rhys stills before pushing himself up to gaze down at me. The tears are gone, but there’s a hint of pink rimming his eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, voice strained.
He sounds like he’s only saying that so I don’t feel bad, but that only makes me feel guiltier.
“Was it something I did?”
Rhys lets out a strangled laugh, then rolls off to the side. My fingers itch to drag him back to me. I want to hold him. I want him to hold me. The scant inches of space between us feels like miles.
“No, it’s not you.”
I don’t believe him. What else could it have been? I shift onto my side, hoisting myself up on an elbow, leaving enough room so I’m not hovering over him.
Rhys regards me for a moment, then raises a hand to cup my cheek. I turn into his palm, eyes drifting shut as I lean into the contact.
Maybe he’s had enough of me. I remind him too much of all the people he left behind in the neighborhood. I knew this wouldn’t last forever, but I was hoping it would last a little longer than this. I feel like I just found him, I’m not ready to lose him yet.
“Do… do you want me to leave?” I ask in barely a whisper.
When Rhys doesn’t answer, I blink my eyes open, bracing myself for the rejection. But that’s not what I find in Rhys’s expression.
I don’t know how to describe it, really. It’s tender and affectionate, so much care and fondness. Rhys’s eyes are glassy again, but there’s no hint of rejection in them. He pulls me down to him, and after a second of hesitation, I let him arrange me how he wants me.
My arm is slung over his waist. My face is tucked into the crook of his neck. I’m half on top of him.
“I don’t want to crush you,” I say, still keeping my weight off him.
“I want you to crush me.” He tugs me more snugly against him.
I give in. To him and to the overwhelming desire I have to be as close to him as possible.
It feels so good . Better than anything I’ve ever felt before. Maybe better than kissing. Maybe even better than sex. It’s hard to believe how something so simple can make me feel so light and joyful, calm and peaceful.
I soak it in. Every single drop. I’m hungry for it. Starving for it. For that connection I’ve found with Rhys that I never knew was possible.
He doesn’t want me to leave now. But that doesn’t mean he won’t change his mind later. I don’t know what I’ll do when that time comes.
I drift back toward consciousness, and the first thing that registers is that I need to pee.
The second thing is that I’m not hugging my pillow. No, the thing in my arms is much bigger, much warmer, and fits against my front much better than my pillow ever could.
I’m hugging Rhys. My heart rate skyrockets at the realization. We’re both on our sides, him facing away from me, his body tucked snugly into the curve of mine. I think this is called spooning? Which would make me the big spoon and Rhys the little spoon.
Delight races through me and a smile tugs at my lips. I’m spooning with Rhys. I memorize the feel of him, of his bum against my morning wood, the tickle of his hair in my nose, the way his chest expands with each breath. Another memory to add to my collection. Another moment I’ll be able to recall once this is all over.
We fit really well together—is that coincidence? I want to think that it’s not, that we were made for each other, custom-built to slot right into place.
My bladder protest and I reluctantly uncurl myself from around Rhys. He turns over as I ease off the bed, grabbing the pillow where my head was and nuzzling into it like he’s trying to find my scent again. If my bladder wasn’t bursting, I would slide right back into bed with him.
Instead, I grab my boxers from the floor and slip out of the room. I’ll just relieve myself and go right back to bed. I want to squeeze in every last second with Rhys before this ends and he kicks me out.
But on my way back to his room, I hear the front door opening.
I freeze, seized by sudden panic. Oh no. Is someone breaking into the apartment? What do I do? I’ll need to fight off the intruder. I’ve never fought anyone before.
Footsteps come down the long hallway. I plaster myself against the wall so I can jump the bad guy when he comes around the corner. But before anyone materializes, the living room lights flick on.
I hiss as the bright lights blind me. I press my fingers into my eyes to ease the sting .
“Uh… hey.”
I force my eyes open to find Hayden standing with his hand still on the light switch.
Oh. It’s not an intruder. It’s just Hayden.
“Uh, hey,” I parrot back at him.
We stand there, me in my boxers, Hayden with his coat still on, staring at each other.
“Um, I was just going to the bathroom,” I say, pathetically.
Hayden nods. “I’m just coming home.”
I nod back. “I, uh… I’ll just…” I point toward Rhys’s bedroom, not waiting for Hayden’s response before pushing myself off the wall.
“Wait.”
I stop in my tracks and slowly turn around.
He looks conflicted, with a furrow in his brow. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Open. Shut. Then he plants his hands on his hips, dropping his chin with a short, frustrated chuckle.
“Are you okay?”
Hayden shakes his head. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Rhys.”
My stomach drops to my knees. “Rhys?”
Hayden glances up at me, his green eyes wary. He studies me, and I wrap my arms around myself defensively.
“I’m worried about Rhys,” Hayden repeats. “He’s had to put up with a lot of shit in his life—you probably know. His parents aren’t the greatest, and he stands out everywhere he goes. The straights think he’s too gay. The gays think he’s too femme. Despite all that, he’s still himself. No matter how hard it gets. He’s tough, strong, resilient, but…”
My stomach isn’t at my knees anymore. It’s all the way on the floor. I agree with everything Hayden has said. A lot of it is why I like Rhys so much. But I don’t think I’m going to like what comes next.
“Look, if you hurt him, it won’t be the end of the world.”
My hackles rise at the thought of hurting Rhys. I would never. Not on purpose. But Hayden doesn’t let me talk.
“He’ll get over you. He’ll bounce back. But the thing is, he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t have to be strong all the time. He deserves to be the soft one for once and have someone else be strong for him.”
I’m stunned. Speechless. Every single one of Hayden’s words is a nail shot directly into my heart. They’re painful to hear, especially because I know they’re true.
This whole time, I’ve been so preoccupied with myself, with all these new feelings sprouting up inside me. I’ve been confused about what it means about who I am. I’ve been afraid of Rhys getting bored with me and kicking me to the curb.
I never stopped to think about Rhys. What does he want? What does he need? He’s done so much for me, and what have I done for him in return? Nothing, dang it. I’ve given him nothing.
“I…” I’m not great with words on a good day, never mind in the middle of the night while wearing nothing but my boxers.
I force myself to meet Hayden’s gaze, to look him right in the eyes so he can see how sincere I am. I swallow around the ball of emotion that’s lodged in my throat. “You’re right. About everything.”
Hayden’s eyebrows lift a fraction, as if to ask what I’m going to do about it. I haven’t a clue. But I want to. I want to be there for Rhys the way he’s been there for me. I want to support him, care for him, protect him.
He’s shown me what it feels like to be the soft one. Now it’s my turn to show him I can be strong too.