Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Virtual Insanity
Ryan
There. Everything's set. All I have to do is click a button on my fancy keyboard and I'm live on VidVu. After I put on some clothes, of course.
I glance at my tablet, double-checking the settings, when I see Spence rise from the barstool.
His eyes lock onto mine, a heated gaze that sends a shiver down my spine.
He rounds the island, stalking towards me, his silk lounge pants tented obscenely.
My heart races as he grabs my wrist, pressing my hand onto his hard dick.
I groan, “Spence, I have to—"
He presses two fingers against my mouth, silencing me. “Shh,” he whispers, leaning in close, lips brushing my ear. “I'll be quick, but I need to try something.”
His tongue swipes my earlobe, and my brain goes blank.
He pushes me down until my chest is flush against the cool marble counter.
My shorts are yanked down, my hard dick already leaking, smearing precum on the cabinet.
I can't see Spence, but I feel his hands trailing down my body, grabbing a handful of my ass.
“Your ass is so sweet. My good boy,” he murmurs.
I arch my back, presenting myself to him. The sound of a whipped cream can is unmistakable.
“Omigod,” I moan, as the cool, creamy confection hits my hole.
“Oh ffffuck!” I shout as Spence spears his tongue into me.
My fist slams against the marble repeatedly as he eats me out expertly.
I swear to Satan, no one has ever eaten me this well.
The man has a gift. I start pressing my ass back against his face, desperately seeking more.
F-Bomb jumps up on the counter and mews at me.
“No. You can't be here, F-Bomb,” I laugh. “You shouldn't watch this.”
He mews again. I try to swat at him, but he scurries across the counter, then steps directly on the keyboard. I swat at him again and he scurries off.
Spence stands and pulls me back from the counter.
He spins me around and drags me backwards until my back is against the stove.
Then he pulls his lounge pants down and his cock bounces in the air, thick and rigid.
He still has the can of whipped cream in his hand, and seeing it in close proximity to Spence’s girth is a comparative analysis I wasn’t prepared for this morning.
He’s damn near as thick and it makes my mouth water.
Spence sprays a stripe down my dick, then drops to his knees. “Look at this big, sweet dick pulsing just for me,” he says.
I suck in a breath as I watch him take my dick down whole, the whipped cream getting everywhere. He pops off and licks his lips, then lifts my cock and sprays whipped cream on my balls, and dives in, laving at my sac.
“Shit-shit-shit! That feels so good, Spence,” I shout.
He stands and turns me so I'm facing the sink now and bends me over. He sprays a generous amount of whipped cream onto two fingers and then starts working it into my hole. I'm gripping the counter for dear life, pushing back and fucking myself on his fingers.
I look at the microwave clock. 7:50 AM.
“Spence,” I whine.
“Hm?”
“Just hurry up and get that dick in me. You have two minutes to come. Then I have to get dressed.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see him spray more whipped cream on his dick. Then he lines the head up with my hole. He flicks his hips, but only enough for the blunt fat head of his cock to slide in. I throw my head back.
“Come on, Spence. Fuck me, damn it.”
He slams forward, impaling me in one thrust.
“Oh yeah, that's what I like, Daddy,” I gasp.
He pulls all the way back out and slams back in again.
I grip the counter and try to say, “Sixty seconds,” but I'm consumed by the sounds of his thick cock being milked by my hole.
The sounds reverberating through the kitchen are the rawest and most sordid symphony my ears have ever heard.
I reach down and grab my own dick and start to say, “Spence, I'm going to come. I need you to—”
But I'm cut off by a loud pounding on the door.
I groan, “Nooo.”
Spence huffs and says, “Ignore it.”
I stroke my dick harder, knowing I need to get over the finish line so I can throw on jeans and a shirt and hopefully pull myself together enough to do my live. But the banging at the door starts again immediately, louder and more insistent.
Then I hear Anthony's unmistakable voice, pretty much screaming, “Ryan, Spence, open the door. NOW!”
Spence growls and pulls out of me. He pulls his pants up over his cock.
I scramble to find my shorts that he tossed aside.
I step into them and hurry over to the door.
I fling it open as Anthony is about to knock again.
I'm breathless, chest heaving, and Anthony's face is bright red. Chance is snickering behind him.
Anthony pushes past me and barges toward the kitchen. I say, confused, “Bro. What's the big emergency?”
But then I see Spence standing in the kitchen, basically face-palming, and Anthony goes directly for the tablet. Spence grumbles, “I already turned it off.”
I look around the room, confused, and Anthony shouts, “You guys were banging on live, jackass!”
“What?” My eyes go huge. “No. I wasn't supposed to go live until—”
And then it hits me. I look at the cat and screech, “F-Bomb! What did you do?! Bad kitty!”
The diabolical menace just lets out a mew then starts licking his own asshole.
“Probably learned that from you two,” Chance helpfully provides.
Spence just groans, “Fuuuuck.”
Reality starts to sink in, and I begin to spiral. “Oh shit. Oh. Shit. Fuck-fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck.” I start pacing around the room, hand fisted in my hair. “Oh my God. The team. My contract. Oh fuck… my father.”
I bend over, grabbing my knees, trying to catch my breath. Spence grabs me by the shoulders and straightens me. “Hey. It's going to be okay.”
Then he and Anthony move me over to the couch. Anthony looks at Chance and says, “Go get him some water. Set the recorded video to private while you’re in there. We don’t need any more people doing screen grabs.”
Chance saunters off to the kitchen and Spence says he’s going to grab us shirts. Anthony stands there with his arms folded over his chest and I look at him and say, “What?”
Anthony raises a brow. “I'm pissed at you.”
I lean back on the couch and blow out a breath. “Yeah, well, take a number. There's probably going to be a long line after this.”
Anthony shakes his head. “Not for that. Though, we'll deal with that in a minute.”
Spence comes back in the room, wearing a long sleeve henley, and tosses me a t-shirt. I catch it and start to put it on. Anthony waves his hand between me and Spence. “How long has this been going on? More importantly, how long have you known you aren't straight?”
I just blink at him.
Anthony continues, “Let me be clear. You don't owe anyone that information.
But I know you, Ryan. You've always been unapologetically you.
So, the fact you haven't said anything, even when I was struggling with it myself, tells me you've been struggling with it as well. So, I ask you again. How long has my best friend been hurting?”
I look down at my palms in my lap. “My whole life, basically.”
“Fuck,” Anthony softly curses.
Then Chance comes in and hands me a glass of water. I look at him. “Thanks.”
“No sweat,” Chance says, then he turns and looks at Anthony. “Totally called it.”
My mouth drops and Anthony smacks Chance's chest. “Stop. Go rustle up some snacks in the kitchen. This is going to take a minute.”
Chance leans in. “You got it, baby,” then kisses Anthony softly on the lips. Anthony gently pushes him toward the kitchen. “Just don't try to cook anything.”
Chance barks a laugh. “Love you, too.”
Spence and I exchange a look and it hits me hard that the whole world knows I'm gay now—but it probably still won't matter to Spence.
The moment I just watched between Anthony and Chance, that's what I want, damn it.
It just makes me feel worse and now I've got to deal with what's going to be a huge scandal.
It's probably already up on TMZ's website and socials.
Anthony looks between me and Spence. “And you two?”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “Well, you know we've been hanging out since I met Spence that night Chance showed back up.”
“We don't talk about that,” Chance chirps from the kitchen.
Anthony rolls his eyes and I continue, “But we've been hooking up since my birthday last August.”
I can see Anthony doing the math in his head. “That's fifteen months, Ryan.”
I nod. “Yep.” Then I blow out a breath. “I'm sorry. You're my agent. I should have given you a heads-up. You know,” and I wave in the direction of the tablet in the kitchen, “for situations like this.”
Anthony pulls his phone out of his pocket. “First of all, what is this agent bullshit? I’m your friend—your family—first. I just wish I could have been there for you is all.”
I pick at my nail, not knowing what to say. “Look,” Anthony continues. “As your agent, would it have been better for me to be prepared ahead of time? Sure. But with something like this, Ryan, there's no right timing. It's my job to be prepared for the unexpected.”
He starts scrolling his phone and I see his eyes flare a couple times.
I lean forward on the couch, elbows on my knees, and I feel the heat of tears breaking free and falling down my face.
I break into a sob and my vision is blurred from the tears.
I sense someone crouching down in front of me.
I look up through blurry eyes, expecting to see my friend, Anthony.
Instead, it's Spence, who immediately grasps my face between his hands and soothes, “Hey.
You'll get through this. We're all here for you.”
I laugh, almost sardonically, shaking my head. “These are happy tears, Spence. I don't have to hide anymore.”
Spence smiles at me and wipes tears from my eyes with his thumb. “I'm really fucking proud of you right now.”