“No, seriously. What’s so funny?” I ask again. A sadistic part of me can’t decide if I want to hear him say it, or if I want to watch him squirm and dance around it.
“Just this,” he says, finally answering my question.
I tighten my hold on him. “What about this?”
There’s that laugh again, nervous this time. It thrills me. “Obviously, we both wantthis.”
Maybe it’s residual from him being like everyone’s younger brother all those years ago, but I can’t help myself from fucking with him. “I still don’t see what’s so funny about wanting to go home and go to bed.”
“Oh shit,” he says, moving to let go of me. I can see the panic making the color drain from his face.
I tighten my grip on him and spin him to press his back against a nearby building’s brick wall. “I’m fucking with you,” I say, then lean all the way in and close the gap with my lips pressing against his. And it’s here, up against this cool brick wall on a warm spring night in St. Louis, Missouri, Brandon Bouchard gives me a taste of what I’ve been missing all these years when he kisses me back like he’s been starving for me the same as I’ve been for him.
EIGHTEEN
Brandon
Ryan’s apartment is thankfully not far from Mickey’s. As soon as his apartment door shuts behind us, he has me pinned up against it, kissing me again.
He’s an excellent kisser. If it wasn’t for the solid door behind me, I’d be melting into the floor.
He pulls his lips away but presses his forehead against mine. Against my hip, I can feel the unmistakable length of his hard cock in his jeans. My mouth is watering.
“Do you want a tour?” he asks, slightly breathless.
I slide my hand over his clothed erection. “The only tour I want is the one of your dick.”
His laugh causes both of us to shake. “Damn. When did Baby get so bold?”
I grip him through his jeans and harden my gaze as I stare into his eyes. “Now is not the time to call me Baby.”
“Noted,” he says, then kisses me again. This time, instead of pressing me against the door, he leads me away from it. Clumsily, he leads me to what I assume is going to be his bedroom.
When we get in there, we break apart and he takes a step back. He points at me. “Off.”
“You first,” I say, but I’m toeing myself out of my shoes and grabbing onto the hem of my shirt.
He smirks at me as he does the same. “I’ll race you.”
“You’re on.” I laugh as he pulls his shirt over his head. I eye his torso appreciatively.
Stepping closer to me again, he helps me pull my shirt off. “Why are you looking at me like you’ve never seen me naked before.”
“Trying to avoid staring at you in the locker room doesn’t count as looking at you,” I tell him.
“Ahh. I see,” he says, tossing my shirt to the side, then brings his fingers to my jeans to work them open. “You’re not like me, then.”
“Oh.” I press my hips up and forward so he can feel my hard dick graze against his hand. “I’m pretty sure I’m exactly like you.”
“You definitely are.” He runs his fingertips over it. “But where you have been avoiding looking at me, I have spent plenty of time looking at you.”
He presses his lips against my neck, and I swallow thickly. “Have you now?”
“Oh, yes,” he says. “And I can’t lie to myself anymore. I like what I see.” He steps away and opens his pants then steps out of them. Wearing only his briefs, he holds out his hand. I take it and let him lead me to his bed.
Ryan
As cute as Brandon is when he’s flustered, seeing him right now, focused, and hard in his jeans, it’s the best version of him I’ve ever seen. Once I have him on the bed, I pull his jeans all the way off of him, then press my hand against his chest to lay him down.
