14. Malcolm
MALCOLM
I ’m throbbing everywhere . What I’ve said to Ryan since he walked in the door is a hot mess, I realize that. It’s just that I can’t articulate this particular conundrum: I want him because I’ve always wanted him, but I never wanted to want him like this.
I didn’t want the feelings I had for him to mean that my feelings were like this.
That doesn’t make sense—none of it makes sense.
When did it get so goddamn complicated? How do I explain to him that yes, I’m just now figuring this out, but these are old feelings.
Deeply familiar and just as uncomfortable as they’ve ever been, but not half as uncomfortable as my untouched cock threatening to knock the towel off my lap.
“Would you wanna go lie down?” I ask. “Watch something on TV maybe?”
Ryan nods, and I exhale with relief.
I stand up, and the loose towel falls. He reaches to grab it, but I put a hand on his shoulder and say, “Leave it.”
He looks at my erection, and I let him. It’s so hard, the tip is a scary purple.
“Your legs,” he says so softly I almost miss it.
“Yeah? ”
He lifts a hand and runs it up my right thigh, barely touching me, but it’s electrifying. I want more. Badly.
“This okay?” he asks, glancing up at my face as the pads of his fingertips tickle my leg hair.
“Anything,” I tell him. All the reasons why seducing my former stepbrother is a bad idea leap out the window. It doesn’t feel wrong. What it feels like is long overdue.
“Anything,” he echoes in a whisper, gaze roaming down my chest, my abs, settling on my cock. “Do you give a fuck if I’m bad at this?”
If he’s saying what I think he’s saying… “You won’t be,” I whisper.
“I want you,” he whispers, and it’s like a song I’ve been dying to hear, though I don’t think he meant for me to hear it.
I inch closer, leaning into his light touch, wanting him to want me. Wanting him unable to resist me.
“ Mm …” His hand wraps firmly around my thigh, and I find myself pitching forward.
He’s still sitting on the couch, and then my knee is on the cushion, too.
His other arm is banded around my ass, but the main thing—the single most important thing—is the way he’s running his lips down the side of my cock and rubbing his face in my pubes.
“Fuck,” I grunt, as he nuzzles and licks at my base. His chin grinds against my balls as he scents and tastes me. I put one hand on his shoulder and one hand lightly on the back of his head so I don’t collapse at the raw hunger he’s allowing me to see.
Was this there when he walked in the door? Is he that good at hiding it? I would have thought he’d stoically accept my advances if I got really slutty about it, but this feral, primitive shit is doing it for me .
I’m leaking precum onto his cheek by the time he wraps his lips around my right nut. “Jesus Christ,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his deltoid. “You’re so fucking hot, Ry. So hot.” Because Ry is my name for him. It’s always been mine. Fuck Miguel for even trying to take that from me.
“You smell so fucking good, Mal. I wanna suffocate in you.”
My mouth drops open, and my eyes flutter shut as my body rolls toward him. Did he really just say that?
“ Mm…fuck ,” he groans, kissing his way up my shaft. He laps at the precum and shudders. He’s holding me so tight, I shake, too. And then my cock is in his mouth. I cry out sharply like no one’s ever sucked my dick before. But it’s more like no one’s ever tried to consume my dick before.
It’s somewhat terrifying if I’m being honest, but it’s also the best, the hottest, the wettest—his mouth is the ultimate hole. He sucks voraciously, groaning and squeezing my body closer to him.
Like he can’t leave them alone, he takes breaks from my cock to mouth and suck my balls. One at a time, both at once, but never letting me move more than the space it takes for him to catch his breath.
Jesus, is this how much he wants me? It feels like a lot. If I’d known it was this much…
I can barely breathe it’s so much.
Not that I’m complaining. I want it. All of it. I just hope what I have to offer is enough to satisfy him. Because I want that, too.
His hand slaps my abs, and his forehead digs into my pubic bone. He breathes, hot breath on my wet cock. “Sorry…” he says, inhaling again, and letting his breath out shakily. His hand gripping me goes from firm and forceful to gentle and soothing, barely touching again. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
I run my fingers through his hair and take his face between my palms.
He shakes his head, refusing to let me look at him. “We can lie down,” he says, then again, “I’m sorry. ”
Using the strength I have left, that he didn’t just inhale or suck out of me, I put my other knee on the cushion, straddling his lap. I force his face up, making room for myself to slide onto his thighs. I wrap my arms around him, pressing my mouth to his neck. “Sorry for what?”
“I’m not like that,” he says. “I just…you were naked, and…”
“You wanted me.”
He nods, his chin digging into my shoulder.
“I want you too,” I tell him.
“Let me chill out a minute.”
“Like this?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Like this is fine.”
Good, because that wasn’t really a question.
He would have to throw me off him. I ignore my painful erection and rub his back, taking my chance to breathe him in, soak up his warmth, and settle into the secure circle of his arms. It’s the polar opposite of the way I felt when I got home last night.
That was wild and erratic, nearly a frenzy.
This is calm and centered and stable. This is the way only Ryan has ever made me feel. This version of me belongs only to him. And it’s the truest version of me I can think of. Naked, slightly trembly, a lot uncertain, and needing something stronger to hold onto.
This is what I meant when I said I was born this way.
I wonder sometimes if I had a twin who died in the womb and got reabsorbed.
I’ve read about it—disappearing twin syndrome.
And I wonder if I was already attached when I lost him.
I’ve never felt like a whole person, complete all by myself. There’s always been something missing.
But if it wasn’t a twin, then I think it might be Ryan, because being close to him like this almost makes those feelings go away.
Almost .
“Are you gonna put some clothes on?” he asks once his breathing settles.
“I wasn’t planning on it. You can take yours off too, if you want.”
He pulls back and looks at me. His eyes narrow. “You just wanna lie down and watch a show, huh?”
“I’ll do whatever you want.” Anything to get him to stay. “Even put on pants.”
“I don’t know how to take it when you’re nice to me,” he says.
I grin. “Am I more likely to get what I want if I’m an asshole?”
“Probably not.”
I shrug like well—there you have it. Nice it is.
“Put on some pants,” he says. “Please.”
I make a face. “Are you sure?”
He nods.
“Can I ask why?”
“I just need to slow down.”
“And if I say I don’t need you to?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” he says.
“Okay.” I let go of him and grab the towel from the couch. When I stand, I wrap it around my waist, covering my hard on and my ass.
I swear he sighs with relief. Throwing myself at him is obviously not the move.
I tell myself to back off and give him some space, but I’m not sure I can do it.
I’m not sure I remember how to. Not when we’re alone.
What seemed like a terrible, impossible idea when he first got here feels like the only option now. I want him close. Closer. I need it.
Ryan follows me into the bedroom, and I like the sight of him lying down on my bed after he kicks off his shoes.
I go into the bathroom and pick up the pants I was wearing before I took the second shower where I was mainly making sure my asshole was clean, because I took a shower right before he got here, too .
I turn the TV on before I get into bed with him, putting on “Battlestar Galactica”—the most recent version.
We used to watch it when we were kids, and I’ve watched it many, many times since.
I notice his scowl when he sees what it is, and I crawl into bed, making myself comfortable on my side, propping up on my pillow so I can see him and the TV.
For the moment, I keep my legs to myself.
“I don’t need space,” he says after a minute, reading my mind like I think he’s always been able to, even when we weren’t friends.
I don’t question him, I just move over, slotting my leg between his and putting an arm around his waist. I rest my head on his chest, hoping he’ll run his fingers through my hair, and he does.
From this angle, I study the waistband of his jeans.
They’re a good fit, not loose like my sweatpants.
It wouldn’t be a smooth move if I tried to get my hand inside them.
I’d have to unbutton, unzip, dig around…
it’d be an event. Whereas, if he wants, he can just slide his hand down the back of my pants and play with my very clean ass. I sigh.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“I’m better now, too,” he says. “Sorry about that.”
For slurping up my dick? “Still nothing to apologize for.”
“You might think differently later,” he says.
I think I get what he means, but I’m pretty sure he’s wrong. If he wants to be feral, I’m confident I can match his energy. My balls are so blue they might bruise.
“Are you really on a break with Kaylin, or is she just out of town?” he asks out of nowhere.
I wish he wouldn’t bring her up while I’m literally all over him, but I guess it’s a fair question. “It’s a real break. She and I are on the same page about it. ”
“Why did you need a break?” he asks.
“It’s just not going anywhere. We’re great friends, and the sex is okay, but it’s not like I’m ready to have kids. I don’t even have a real job yet.”
“Is that what the break is for? Once you get the job you’ll re-evaluate?”