Chapter 13 #2
“But I also want my fashion career back,” Ryan said.
Whatever it was that had been holding him back from being completely honest with the people he cared about so far, it was gone, leaving nothing but freedom and the need to say everything in its wake.
“I love fashion. It’s all I ever wanted to do since I was a kid, playing around in the clothes room upstairs.
I got so close to achieving my dream, closer than most people ever get.
Is it so wrong for me to want that as well as a satisfying relationship? ”
“No, it’s not wrong at all,” Art said, staring at Ryan’s lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I think it’s noble and ambitious and beautiful. I also think there’s not necessarily just one way to achieve everything you want to achieve.”
“Maybe not,” Ryan sighed, circling his arms around Art and loving the feel of it. “But even you, as horny as you are, have to admit that showing at London Fashion Week is the right opportunity, even if it’s at an impossible time.”
“Of course I do,” Art smiled. “That’s why I’m here to help you instead of defending my excavation to the faculty of my university.”
Ryan arched one eyebrow at him. “Are you supposed to be somewhere else right now?”
“No,” he said. “I’m supposed to be right here, in your arms, growing an erection I could fell a tree with.”
That was the tipping point. Ryan burst into laughter, some of the self-imposed restraints he’d locked around himself melting away. “Let me see if I can help you with that,” he said, then leaned in to slant his mouth over Art’s.
Kissing Art was the balm to his troubled soul that Ryan didn’t know he needed. Or maybe he knew but had been denying himself for too long. There was so much acceptance in Art’s lips, so much adoration in the way Art stroked his hands up under Ryan’s shirt to tease and touch his skin.
That touch sent fire pulsing through Ryan’s blood. He needed this. He needed a hot-blooded lover who could drag him out of his head with passion and remind him of the vital things in life.
“Desk,” he panted as their kisses and groping grew more intense.
“What?” Art said, allowing Ryan to pedal him back toward the huge, oak desk.
“I want you,” Ryan went on. “I want you right now. I’m sick of holding back because it isn’t right or because someone might judge us.”
Sparks of lust flared in Art’s eyes. “Yes, please, sir,” he said, scrambling back and grabbing the edge of the desk when his backside bumped against it. He arched his back to thrust his hips forward.
Ryan took the cue for what it was. Still kissing Art, he swept his hands down to the fastenings of Art’s khakis, working through the button and zip.
Art made a delicious sound as he reached in to grasp and stroke his balls and cock, pushing slightly away from the desk so Ryan could have all the access he needed.
Everything but the need to please and take pleasure vanished from Ryan’s mind.
His worry and confusion evaporated as he sunk to a crouch, tugging Art’s trousers and pants down just enough for his cock to spring free.
He wasted no time, grabbing the base of Art’s cock and holding it so he could lick his way up the growing length, then closing his mouth around the flared head to lick and suck.
“Fuck, Ryan,” Art gasped, fisting a hand in Ryan’s hair.
It was the best relief Ryan could have asked for. He loved Art’s musky taste and the control he showed in not just spilling down Ryan’s throat. He could have stayed there all day, sucking Art off, but the fire within him was burning out of control, and he wanted more.
He popped wetly off Art’s cock and stood, his knees cracking a little.
“What—”
Before Art could ask more, Ryan pulled him away from the desk, flipped him to face it, and pushed him forward over it.
“God, yes!” Art gasped, widening his stance slightly.
Ryan pulled at his trousers to bring them down around Art’s thighs, exposing his arse. The way Art arched into the position said volumes about how familiar he was with being fucked like that, which only spurred Ryan on.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Ryan panted as he worked through the button and fly of his jeans, pushing them and his boxers down to free his cock.
“I’ll bet you do,” Art panted.
Ryan laughed, leaning closer to him, then whispered against his ear, “Look in the top drawer.”
Art stiffened for a moment, then rocked back into Ryan enough so that he could open the drawer directly under his hips. There, sitting as if waiting for them, was a small bottle of lube and a strip of condoms.
“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Art laughed, resuming his “fuck me hard” position,
Ryan growled with anticipation and snatched the strip of condoms from the drawer.
He ripped one open without detaching it from the rest and fumbled to get it on, then went back for the bottle of lube.
He popped open the cap and squirted more than he probably needed on his hand.
Without bothering to properly close the bottle, he tossed it back into the drawer, then slathered his cock and used the rest to play with Art’s hole.
He needed to be inside of Art immediately.
He lined up, and even with the constraint of Art’s trousers holding his legs tighter than he might have wanted them, he pushed through the mounds of his arse and found his hole. Neither of them wanted any foreplay or niceties, so as soon as Ryan was confident, he grabbed Art’s hips and pushed in.
They both cried out as the initial tension of Art’s muscles gave way, letting him slide deeper. Ryan worked quickly to pump as far in as he could until the denim of his jeans rubbed and pushed against the loose khaki of Art’s trousers.
It felt so good Ryan was in danger of coming hard and fast. He wanted to make their wicked, stolen moment last as long as possible. The tight heat of Art’s body was amazing, and the way Art dropped even lower onto his forearms, lifting his hips higher so Ryan could drive into him was—
“Guys! You’ll never believe it! Mrs. St. Ives just called with an offer for me to redesign the gardens at—”
Graeme burst into the studio, all smiles and excitement, as Ryan was pounding away in Art like his life depended on it. The moment he saw the two of them and the transported looks on their faces, Graeme froze, eyes wide.
Mad though it was, knowing that Graeme was watching them, that he’d stumbled into something hot and forbidden, only turned Ryan on more.
He glanced sideways, meeting Graeme’s eyes, and thrust harder into Art.
His orgasm had already been close, but with Graeme standing there watching them, he didn’t think he would be able to hold back any longer.
He wanted his other lover to see. He wanted Graeme involved as much as possible.
“God, yes!” Art shouted, his body tightening in a signal that he was coming. Ryan knew in his balls that being watched by Graeme was what did it. “Yes! Harder! I’m coming!”
Art was absolutely saying that for Graeme’s sake.
The primal part of Ryan that wanted to stake his claim on both men couldn’t resist. Knowing that Graeme was witnessing every moment of it, Ryan thrust until he started coming, then pulled out, slipped off the condom, and stroked out spurts of cum over Art’s lifted, exposed arse.
It was perfection, hot and commanding. Graeme watched the whole thing, mouth open in an O-shape, and as the last of Ryan’s orgasm wore itself out, he turned to Graeme, breathless and sweating, with a look that said, “You’re next.”
The bulge in the front of Graeme’s trousers was unmistakable, but so was the look of shock in his eyes.
It could have been the catalyst they all needed to answer all the questions swirling in the air around the three of them.
It was the moment they could talk openly about things and decide who they were.
But instead, as Ryan staggered back, his dick grown too sensitive to touch for the moment, Graeme turned and ran out of the room.