“Jesus, Jamie,” Ryan said, holding him close with one arm while the other—

The other hand pressed between James’s legs. James flinched with his entire body, his glazed eyes going wide as he tried to focus them on Ryan’s face. “What are you doing—”

His jaw set, Ryan ignored his half-hearted protests and unzipped his jeans swiftly. When Ryan’s hand wrapped around his engorged cock—fuckfuckfuck—rational thought and any remaining protests fell away. With a long moan, James buried his face against Ryan’s neck and could only hold on as Ryan started stroking him, awkwardly at first, then with more confidence, harder, squeezing him just right, and fuck. This was Ryan, his Ryan, his—

James sank his teeth into Ryan’s neck, needing to have his mouth on Ryan, needing to taste him, and wanting to muffle the shameless, inhuman sounds he was making—moans that would make any whore proud. He couldn’t control them at all. It was pleasure so intense that it sliced him when he moved, and James couldn’t help trying to hold still so that it would be keener.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Ryan said, stroking his other hand along James’s back while his right hand continued pumping James’s cock hard, almost brutally, his grip perfect, just right, and James’s head was spinning, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t—

“Come on,” Ryan murmured into James’s ear, his breath hot. His hand squeezed James’s leaking cock, hard. “Come on, Jamie. You need it. Let me take care of you.”

The words jolted through him in a shiver, and Jamie arched, tossed his head back, and he was coming, his mouth opening in a silent moan, Ryan’s hand around his cock, everything white behind his eyelids, inside his head: trembling, blinding white. Wave after wave after wave, mind blanking. God.

God.

After what felt like a small eternity, he could think again. He could see again.

And he saw Ryan staring at him with the strangest expression.

But soon, the odd look was gone. Ryan smiled at him crookedly. “Feeling better now?”

Groaning, James covered his face with his hands. “Someone kill me now.”

Ryan chuckled. “Not before you fetch me something to clean this mess.”

James peeked through his fingers and felt even his ears turn hot when he saw Ryan studying his own hand—the hand covered in James’s come—with a pinched look.

Then he realized he was still sitting in Ryan’s lap with his cock out. His cheeks hot, James fumbled to tuck his cock back into his jeans, jumped off Ryan’s lap, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once there, he leaned over the sink and stared at his own flushed face in the mirror, breathing like he’d just run a marathon.

Fuck.

What had he done? What now?

He didn’t know how long he’d stood there when there was a knock on the door. Before he could react, it opened.

“You done freaking out and blaming yourself?” Ryan said, walking over and washing his hands—his long, strong fingers that had been wrapped around James’s dick a few minutes ago.

Drying his hands with a towel, Ryan glanced at him. “I’ve never seen you turn this shade of red.”

There was a faint mark on Ryan’s neck—from James’s teeth and lips.

“I have to go,” James said, turning around swiftly and heading out of the bathroom.

“Jamie.”

James took a deep breath and turned to face him again.

Ryan stepped closer and looked at him carefully. “Are you embarrassed?”

“What do you think?” James said with an awkward laugh.

“Are you embarrassed?” Ryan repeated, his tone calm and firm. His face betrayed nothing.

“Of course I am,” James said. “I’m fucking mortified. I molested you.”

The look Ryan gave him made him feel like an idiot. “I don’t feel molested. I could have stopped you at any moment. You didn’t force me to put my hand on your prick. If I’m not freaking out, you sure as hell shouldn’t be.”

James’s lips twisted into half a grimace, half a smile. “Don’t pretend it didn’t weird you out at all. I won’t believe you.”

Ryan’s green eyes glistened with amusement. “It was…interesting. Different, but familiar.” He shrugged. “What’s a little help between friends?” He smiled a little. “And it was flattering as hell.”

“I really, really hate you,” James said.

Ryan’s smirk disappeared, his face sobering. “Stop freaking out,” he said firmly, laying a hand on James’s shoulder and clasping it. “Yes, it was a bit strange, but it wasn’t a big deal. Really.” He looked James in the eye. “I know what you’re thinking, but it wasn’t pity or a favor. I just can’t watch you hurt and do nothing. I never could. I know you hate being coddled, but I always feel like—like I need to be taking care of you. And when I can’t, it fucking eats at me, Jamie.” Ryan’s lips thinned for a moment. “All these weeks, I’ve felt bloody useless, because I couldn’t do anything.”

James licked his lips. Of course he knew about Ryan’s thing for protecting him. It had been like that from the very beginning of their friendship. When he was a kid, James had been pretty clueless about the real world outside huge mansions. Ryan had taught him things he needed to know—how to throw a good punch, how to pass for a normal boy and survive in rough neighborhoods—and he’d always been protective of him, though not in the annoying way James’s mother was. Ryan usually tended to hold back, trusting him to make his own little mistakes and learn from them, but when it mattered, Ryan always was there, ready to catch him if he stumbled. James had long had a sneaking suspicion that Ryan actually enjoyed sweeping in and saving the day, knowing that Ryan probably reined in his protective instincts only because he knew how much James disliked his mother’s coddling. What Ryan didn’t know—and James had no intention of enlightening him—was how much he loved it when Ryan was the one being overprotective of him. That warmed the part of him that felt like he was Ryan’s, which was…okay, probably not a very healthy way of thinking of oneself.

Tags: Alessandra Hazard Straight Guys Erotic
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