Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Riley lived in a cozy two-bedroom house on Partridge Lane that was a far cry from the modern open-plan apartment Wes had moved into when he and Georgia got married.
The house was small, but comfortable. Riley explained he’d inherited it from his grandmother around the same time he was looking to move out of the city.
Since he was doing an online master’s, he’d decided to move to Rosedale and keep his costs down, at least until he got a job somewhere else.
Wes didn't give a fuck about the setting, though he looked forward to someday browsing the titles on Riley's bookshelves. Maybe in the morning he’d familiarize himself with Riley's coffee maker.
Don't get ahead of yourself he thought sternly, or he would have, if all the thoughts hadn't been pushed out of his head the minute the door closed behind them by a large, handsome male attaching himself to Wes's lips.
They kissed for a long time, first against the door, then leaning against the back of the sofa, then against the wall of the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Wes reveled in the feeling of having someone warm and welcoming pressed against him.
He'd missed it—being touched. He'd missed the weight of another person, the heat and the sweat, the smells and the sounds of having someone invade your personal space so thoroughly you weren't sure where you left off and they began.
Riley was an amazing kisser, assiduous to detail. He didn't neglect a centimeter of Wes's mouth. He was creative, too, kissing the bow of his lips, the hollow of his cheeks, his eyebrows, his Adam's apple. Everywhere he could reach with his soft lips was fair game.
"Damn," Wes said after long minutes of kissing left his lips feeling chapped and oversensitive. "I forgot how good it feels just to kiss."
"Mmm." Riley hummed against Wes's jaw. "So good, Wes. You're so good. Do you know how hard it was not to want to do this every damn day you came into the shop?"
"You—you thought about this?" Wes had pretty much convinced himself that his crush was one-sided. Sure, Riley was friendly, but he was like that with everyone.
"Only when I couldn't help it anymore. Most of the time you were just the nice guy who ordered bran muffins and over tipped.” Riley kissed his way across Wes's collarbone, pulling aside the top of his button-down to expose the skin underneath.
"But other times I'd look up and there you were, just as freaking gorgeous as the first time I saw you and I'd just—crave. "
Wes shuddered, his entire body hot, his skin too tight. "Riley—" he had to bite back something embarrassingly close to a sob "—I need—"
"I know. Come on." Riley let up his assault on Wes's collarbone, led him to his bedroom and flicked on a lamp.
Wes registered an enormous unmade bed before Riley grabbed the hem of his undershirt—his flannel had been shrugged out of on the journey from the door to the couch—and lifted it over his head.
All Wes could see was skin—beautiful skin covering well-defined muscles. His gaze slid up to Riley's face, to the predatory gleam in his eye. "You’re a student who works in a coffee shop and volunteers at a museum. How—?" He gestured wordlessly to Riley’s torso.
"I work out,” he said modestly.
Wes licked his lips. "I'll say."
Riley stepped forward, crowded Wes against the bed. "It drives me crazy when you do that."
"Do you what?"
"Lick your lips."
Wes couldn't help his tongue from reflexively touching his lower lip. "Oh yeah?"
"Makes me wanna do things."
Wes closed his eyes, imagining a hundred scenarios. "Do them," he choked out. "Please."
Riley didn't reply, just growled and then somehow they were both on the bed, and Wes had wriggled out of his shoes. Riley's belt was off, and Wes sat up long enough to get rid of his own layers.
"You look like you see your fair share of the gym," Riley said, tracing his finger down Wes's flat stomach.
It took him a minute to find his voice. "Uh, yeah. Football coach. I sometimes do the drills with the team. And I hit the gym in my building a couple times a week.”
“Gym guy, huh?”
"Keeps me busy."
Riley just hummed and bent his head to lick Wes's nipple.
His hips bucked forward instinctively, his head lolling back.
Everything Riley did was lighting up neon signs in Wes's head that screamed "yes," and "more," and "thank fuck this gorgeous man seems to want me as much as I want him. " Or something.
Then more clothes came off, and large, capable hands wrapped around his cock. He almost shot then and there, but he held on with everything he had and panted. "Wait."
Riley let go immediately, concern in his beautiful eyes. "You okay?"
"Yeah, just give me a second." A second wasn't going to help, but Riley seemed to understand.
He lay back, unashamedly naked, his thick, full cock pointing straight up to his belly button from a dark thatch of hair. He looked better than any porn Wes had ever seen, was hotter than any fantasy he'd dreamed up. He was Riley. Nice, thoughtful, concerned, smart, funny, Riley.
"This isn't just sex," Wes found himself saying. He inwardly cringed. Not what a guy wants to hear on a first-not-really-sort-of-date. Then again, nothing Wes had told Riley tonight was what anyone wanted to hear on a first date. And Riley had stuck around.
Riley nodded. "I know."
Wes relaxed a touch. "Oh."
"So we have time. Now. Later."
Wes’s eyes watered uncomfortably. "I feel like I've wasted so much time."
"Hey." Riley pulled him down on top of his chest. "I don't regret a second of any of the time I've spent with you."
Wes let out a harsh breath. "Sorry I'm such a mess." He felt a kiss on the top of his head.
"Don't be sorry, Wes. We're here now. Let me take care of you."
"You're pretty good at that."
"Well, you are a good tipper," Riley teased.
Wes looked up at Riley through his wet lashes. He licked his lips deliberately. Just because emotions were more involved than he'd bargained for didn't mean he wasn't still dying to come.
"Fuck.” Riley groaned, leaning down for a kiss. Wes let him stick his tongue in his mouth, then pulled away, scrambled to his knees, and straddled Riley's waist.
"Scoot down," he instructed, pushing at Riley's shoulders.
Riley slid down the back of the bed obediently.
Wes fed him his cock an inch at a time, Riley's mouth a heaven of wet heat and suction, his hands finding purchase on Wes's ass, digging in, pushing him closer, until his nose was buried in the hair at the base of Wes's cock. Riley swallowed around his erection.
Wes uttered Riley’s name on a long moan. He didn't last long, but it didn't matter. He'd take the sight of Riley underneath him, his mouth stuffed full of Wesley's cock, his eyes slitted in concentration, to his grave.
Riley swallowed everything as Wes shuddered through his seemingly endless release. It wasn’t as if he hadn't come in five years. But there was something vastly different about spilling into the back of someone's throat than into his lonely, overused hand.
He flopped down next to Riley, boneless, with fireworks still going off in his mind.
Riley kissed him softly; Wes could taste himself.
"Your turn," he said, opening his eyes with effort.
Riley stared down at him, smiling the same fond smile he'd had earlier in the bar.
"It's okay. I can wait."
"Dude, don't tell me you haven't wanted to get your cock in my mouth all night." He licked his bottom lip, not above provocation.
Predictably enough, Riley groaned. "Fuck, Wes. You know I want that. But—this is going to sound dumb—"
"What?" Wes was intrigued by anything that would make Riley seem less than absolutely perfect.
"I really want to be kissing you when I come. Would that be all right?"
Wes's heart clenched. "Um, yeah, that would be all right."
They reversed positions, with Wes sitting up against the headboard, Riley straddling him, Wes's not-quite-soft cock lying against his thigh, Riley's hand wrapped around his own cock.
They kissed—long, slow, deep kisses. Wes could hear the slap of skin as Riley touched himself, Wes helping him along, squeezing his tight ass cheeks, probing with a finger until he brushed against Riley's hole.
Riley grunted low and the kisses became more desperate.
Everything sped up, the sounds, the clash of tongues, the insistent press of Wes's finger, until Riley went rigid, and Wes felt the splash of warm fluid across his belly.
They didn't stop kissing. Not for a long time.
The next morning Wes woke up disoriented; it had been five years since he'd woken up in a strange bed after all.
He turned over and saw Riley sleeping, dark lashes grazing the tops of his cheeks.
He looked young and sweet and Wes wanted to spend the day having sex with him in every possible position.
A minute later Riley opened his eyes, blinked sleepily, and immediately offered to give Wes a hand job to take care of his morning wood. Wes had to pinch himself to make sure he hadn’t died and gone to heaven sometime during the night.
One mutual orgasm later, they stumbled into the galley kitchen. Riley pulled a carton of eggs out of his fridge. Wes glanced around the small space, spying a juicer and a toaster oven on the counter next to the stove.
“Dude, where's your coffee maker?" He needed his daily fix.
With his oversized hand, Riley cracked two eggs at once into a frying pan. Wes’s spent cock twitched. “Oh, uh, I don't have one."
"Excuse me?"
Riley smiled, channeling summer sunshine despite the gray December morning outside the small window over the sink. “I don't drink coffee."
"I wanna break up,” Wes deadpanned.
Riley laughed. "Tough."
Then Riley kissed him and Wes forgot all about coffee and eggs and ex-wives and moving too fast.
"I think I love you, Riley," he said, when they had to stop kissing to take the burning pan of eggs off the stove.
"I love you, Wes," Riley said, soft but certain.
Wes hadn't heard those words in a very long time.
"But one thing's for sure. We're going to have to go to Hot Brew for breakfast."
"Story of my life," Wes said. And he couldn't be happier about it.