Chapter 11
Eleven
RYAN
The water felt amazing. There was a small, cool current rushing around my legs, which was a balm under the warm sun beating down on my shoulders. I felt a little crispy after half an hour of watching fish swim beneath me, but I didn’t care.
For a moment, I’d wanted to stay in the room and spend the rest of the time worshipping Atlas’s body.
I could keenly feel the minutes ticking by us—a vicious reminder that whatever this was had no promises and no guarantees and would be over soon.
I liked to think neither of us was willing to walk away and never look back, but I had no idea where Atlas’s head was at.
Glancing over at him, I couldn’t help my smile. He’d breathed a heavy sigh of relief the moment his body sank into the salt water, and he was lounging back, buoyed by a pool noodle with his face tipped up toward the sun.
I swam a little closer, my fingertips trailing along his legs. He didn’t seem to notice until my touch went higher on his hip, and then he jolted and sat halfway up, pulling his sunglasses down on his nose.
His lips stretched into an indulgent smile. “Hey, gorgeous.”
I was not used to that. No one I’d dated in the past had taken the time to make me feel wanted. I was supposed to assume they were into me when their dick was hard and they were rubbing up on me like a drunk, horny frat bro.
Everything about Atlas was different.
“Want to go in soon? I think I’m getting burned,” I said, poking at the reddening skin on my arm.
Atlas sat up a little more, tugged his shades down, and squinted. “Maybe a bit. I don’t want to get out, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of the week peeling.” He dropped his legs into the water and let the pool noodle go, reaching for me instead.
Holding him like this was easy. His body swayed into mine with the movement of the water, and the kiss he gave me was salty and cool. He groaned, letting his tongue slide along mine before pulling back and dropping his head to my shoulder.
“If there weren’t people here, this would be a lot more fun.”
I eased him back and nipped at his jawline. “We have two very nice rooms with very nice beds we can make use of. And a hot tub.”
“I’m not fucking in there. Germs,” he said with a shudder.
I laughed, but he wasn’t wrong. I’d worked as an EMT for too long not to see some people calling with painful skin rashes after wild nights.
Letting my hands slide down to his fingers, I linked his with mine, and we headed back to shore. We had a couple of towels on loungers, and my little crab bag was filled with a handful of empty shells I’d found just past the shoreline.
It was exactly what I’d planned my vacation to be like—except with one massive difference—but I wasn’t angry at Atlas throwing off my routine. He was the most welcome disruption.
“We can come back for our stuff,” Atlas said, sliding his arm around my waist. “I want to go inside before someone notices the problem I have.”
I glanced down, and it was clear he’d tucked himself into his waistband again, but the outline of his dick was obvious. I grinned, reaching between us to rub the heel of my hand over it before leaning over to snag his towel.
“Take this so no one carts you away for indecent exposure.”
He didn’t break eye contact as he secured the towel around his waist, then grabbed my arm for support as we headed up the loose sand toward the walkway.
He was slow here—I could feel the strain and the effort it took for him to remain upright, but I trusted he would tell me if he needed something more than my arm.
He was slightly out of breath by the time we made it to the wooden walkway to our rooms, and when he stepped inside his sliding back door, he collapsed on the bed, his legs spasming gently.
“Please ignore them,” he said when he caught me staring.
I shook my head, then dropped to my knees and took his left calf in my hand. “Just tell me if where I’m rubbing is too sensitive.”
“Ryan—”
“Trust me? I won’t touch you if you don’t like it, but I want to help.”
He bit his lip, then nodded and flopped backward. “Yeah. Okay.”
It would have been easier with oil, but I took his muscles in long, firm sweeps of my hand, drawing the blood down to his feet. He was silent at first, then let out a tiny moan as his body began to relax.
“I won’t ask when the last time was that you had this done,” I murmured.
He snorted and shook his head. “How about never? I mean, my physical therapist would do massages after long sessions, but it was different.”
“How so?”
He pushed up on his elbows and looked down at me. “I didn’t want to fuck him.” When I raised a brow, he shrugged. “He was, like, eighty-five.”
I grinned and began to rub his feet, which twitched in my hands. “Come on, now. There’s something to be said about a silver fox.”
He blinked. “He had grandkids.”
“You never wanted to get it on with a great-grand Daddy?”
When he choked, I burst into laughter, and he kicked me away from him. “That’s it. I’m never getting hard again.”
Popping up, I slid my body alongside his, drawing a groan from his chest. My hand pushed under the towel, undoing the loose knot at his waist and exposing him for the liar he was. I traced the outline of his erection with the tips of my fingers, drunk on the quiet, unthinking noises he made.
“I think I just proved you wrong.”
“I’m okay with that,” he said, breathy and soft.
I slid up higher and took his mouth in a long, lush kiss. He moaned, and I caught the sound, swallowing it down with my next inhale. When I let go, I found his hammering pulse and teased it with my teeth.
“Ryan.” His body shifted restlessly, like it was searching for more. I wasn’t about to deny him. Spreading my legs, I straddled him, rubbing my own hard dick along his. The sand in my suit was chafing, but for now, it was easy to ignore. “Please.”
“What do you want?” I murmured.
“Everything.” His eyes were feverish as he looked up into mine. “I need to wash this sand off, then I want…” He trailed off.
Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me.”
“I want you inside me.”
I was expecting a thousand answers to my request, but for some reason, not that one. I jolted, pushing up to look him in the face. There was nothing there but honesty and raw need. “I have lube, but I didn’t bring condoms.”
“I’ve been tested a few times since my breakup. I was negative for everything,” he said. “And I haven’t been with anyone since well before my accident.”
It had been even longer than that for me. “Same. But I don’t expect you to trust me—”
“Maybe it’s foolish that I do,” he said, tracing a touch over my collarbone, “but I’m on PrEP, and I don’t think you’d lie to me.”
I kissed him again, on the lips, on his neck, down his chest, stopping when I reached the waistband of his swim trunks. “Get undressed and meet me in the bathroom,” I told him, then slid all the way off the bed.
He groaned, the sound frustrated, and I knew exactly why. Not touching him was painful. The feet between us felt like miles, but I ignored the ache in my chest as I rushed through the adjoining door and immediately dug into my toiletries bag.
It was a small bottle—practically travel-sized, though it wasn’t open. I ripped the plastic with my teeth, then shimmied out of my shorts and made the walk back into his room stark naked. He was nowhere to be found, and a second later, I heard the shower kick on.
When my feet hit the tile, I found him on the shower bench, staring at the doorway, his pupils consuming almost all of his irises. Walking to him felt almost magnetic—like I was unable to help myself as I moved past the shower door and stopped right in between his spread legs.
His hands immediately gripped my waist, and he tugged me close, tipping his head back far enough that my hard cock brushed the side of his throat. I fought back a groan as he turned his face and nuzzled me there.
Fuck. He felt so fucking good.
“Love this,” he murmured softly. His lips parted, and he laid a wet, open-mouthed kiss along my shaft. “Love your taste.”
“I want to see you take it.”
The words came unbidden, bold with him in a way I’d never been with a man who was damn near a stranger to me. But looking at him like this, it felt like we’d spent a thousand lifetimes together.
I gripped his chin. “Open.”
He did, so fucking obedient. His tongue stuck out a little, and I noticed the center was scarred.
“What is this?” I asked, gently touching it with the tip of my thumb.
He closed his lips around my digit and sucked. Hard. He released me with a wet pop and smirked. “I used to have a tongue piercing.”
“Oh.” Because oh. Fucking hell, that would have been hot. “Why did you take it out?”
“After what felt like a thousand MRIs,” he said with a half-bitter chuckle, “and surgeries, I had no idea when it was all going to stop. I told myself I’d put all my metal back in when I was done, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
I searched his face and noticed other tiny scars. One just below his lip, right in the center, one in his nose, a pinprick above and below his eyebrow. Was he pierced the night I’d seen him? I’d been so caught up in everything, I wasn’t sure I noticed.
“I want to see them again.”
He swallowed heavily. “Me too. That was a part of me I liked.”
I traced a touch over the ink on his chest, then on the crow that decorated his shoulder. I was such an odd juxtaposition to him, but somehow, it fit. But I was getting off track. I took his chin again and nodded, and he resumed the position.
My body gave a single hard shudder as I gripped my cock and laid the head on his tongue. It was dribbling with precome, and he closed his lips around me, sucking gently and swallowing before opening his mouth again.
“Fuck.”
He hummed in agreement.