Rough Terrain (Out of Uniform 7) - Page 89
“No way. Turn.” Renzo tapped his hip. “If we’re doing this, I need to see your face.”
“Fine.” Canaan gave him a defiant, almost haughty look as he spun around, straddling Renzo’s waist. He held Renzo’s cock steady with one hand, putting the other on Renzo’s chest.
“Go slow,” Renzo urged, not wanting Canaan to hurt himself to prove some sort of point.
“Yeah.” Canaan breathed, all warm pressure and slick skin against Renzo’s cockhead as he gradually took him in. Renzo hooked his fingers under the headboard, trying to resist the urge to thrust upward or pull Canaan down. Rocking in sharp, shallow movements, Canaan took a little more each pass.
“Fuck,” Renzo moaned. If anything Canaan was tighter than the first time, gripping Renzo’s dick hard. Amazed, he released one hand from the headboard, using his fingers to trace where they joined.
“Holy hell.” Canaan’s curse turned into a needy moan. He slid down further, and Renzo could feel the stretch.
“Oh fuck.” Coming fast wasn’t what he wanted, so he reluctantly moved his fingers, going instead to Canaan’s cock, stroking in time to Canaan’s slow movements. “Want you to come. Want you to go with me.”
“I will.” Canaan’s eyes were so damn serious that Renzo had to swallow hard. “Take me there.”
“Need you.” So many other words gathered in his throat, but something held them back, like if he said them he might never recover.
“Need you too. Tell me.” Canaan was rocking faster now, moving with a fluidity Renzo wasn’t sure was possible.
“Mine. All mine.” Renzo put his free hand on Canaan’s chest, covering his heart. Mimicking the gesture, Canaan moved his own hand to Renzo’s heart, right over his medallion necklace.
“Mine,” he told Renzo. “Not letting go.”
Renzo wanted to tell him that he would, eventually, and that Renzo wouldn’t stop him, but those words too died in his throat. God, he needed this man. Was going to need him forever. Wasn’t ever coming back from this moment, this great clawing need that consumed him.
“Don’t want to come.” Canaan’s voice was ragged. Renzo took that as his cue to speed up his hand. “Fuck. Fuck. Ren. Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.” He finally gave in to the urge to move his own hips, rocking to meet Canaan’s movements, and apparently Canaan had been waiting for that, because his moan sounded a lot like relief. “Gonna get me there too.”
“Yeah. Do it.” Canaan grabbed his hand, entwining them, squeezing hard. “Let go.”
Something about the plea broke Renzo’s restraint loose, made him slide deeply into Canaan, into this moment, fully present in a way he’d never been before in his life. Each breath. Each movement. Each second seemed to mean something, say something, and he wasn’t even sure what, just that he needed this place, never wanted to leave it.
But then Canaan was whimpering, the little sounds that always meant he was close, and Renzo couldn’t stop his orgasm from gathering, readying for that moment when Canaan finally—
“Ren. Ren. Right there.” Canaan’s first spurt hit Renzo’s collarbone, and Renzo was lost, coming too, hard pulses that made him feel like he might be dying, and still he gave himself up to it, let it take him until they were both clinging to each other, shuddering.
It was Canaan who moved first, taking care of the condom and finding a towel to wipe off with. Pulling the covers up around them, he burrowed into Renzo’s side.
“We’re going to work this out.” He kissed Renzo’s neck.
Renzo’s eyes were burning so much his only choice was to fake sleep. In reality though, he held Canaan for hours, long after Canaan had fallen asleep, long after he’d turned off the bedside light, long after the words stopped ringing in his ears, the promise he knew he couldn’t hold Canaan to. Soon he was going to have to leave, and it was going to kill him, so he stayed, just a little, another few moments in the best place he’d ever found.
* * *
Canaan woke to a cold, empty bed and a still, middle-of-the-night feel to the air. He was about to curse when a noise from the living room alerted him that he wasn’t alone. Not yet.
Wrapping the blanket around himself, he hurried to the front room. “Were you seriously going to leave without saying goodbye? Really?”
Renzo was sitting on the couch, tying his shoes. He let out a resigned sigh. “Thought that might be easiest. Figured we might both need time to think.”
“Bullshit. This is you not wanting to try. You not wanting to seize every minute we could have together.”
“Hurts too much.” Renzo’s eyes were even darker than usual, deep pools of pain. “Not sure I can take a month-long goodbye.”
“Then don’t let it be goodbye.” Canaan went to stand in front of the couch. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re the one saying that.”
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