I give myself a few minutes to shake off the call, then quietly let myself into Ro’s tiny efficiency.
We met a year ago, right after I’d finished my stint with the Marines. I’d spent the day floating on the Comal River, then pulled up Grindr to see what was good in San Marcos. Ronan’s profile was the first I saw. Honestly, there were probably other guys closer, but his searing blue eyes pulled me in.
We were both too busy for a relationship; he was in his last year at Texas State and I was ramping up my fitness empire. When we realized our chemistry was crazy-hot, we made it a no-strings monthly occurrence. One I look forward to more than I care to admit.
Leaving the stress and sadness at the door, I slip into the tiny kitchen where Ronan is bent over, examining a pan of roasted vegetables. His limited counter space is crowded with various ingredients, along with a cutting board, a chef’s knife, and a bowl of weed. It’s probably been there since this morning and is only half-smoked because he’s an adorable lightweight.
Fuck, he’s glorious.
Once he’s moved the vegetables to the top of the stove and is clear of the burn zone, I pick him up, tossing him over my shoulder.
“Eep!” he exclaims, softly punching my back. “Thane, you asshole! You scared me.”
He really does have the sexiest little squeak.
I palm his adorable butt and respond, “So, is that a fear boner digging into my shoulder?”
He giggles. “I-I made en-enough for two if you want to stay for dinner,” he says, grabbing my ass in return. His slight stutter only makes an appearance when he’s stressed over schoolwork or when he’s super aroused. I love it when he stutters for me.
The small open floor plan is divided into the kitchen and living space on one side, the sleeping area and bathroom on the other. He keeps it neat as a pin and his bed is damn near military in its precise tucking. Not sure why, but that always turns me on.
We laugh as I walk over and throw him on the bed. “I’d love to,” I say, instantly willing to break my rule about staying after. “But I have dinner at my parents’ house tonight. Raincheck?”
Grinning, he nods, and we both scramble out of our clothes. He reaches over, grabbing the supplies from his nightstand while I drink in the supple lines of his body, admiring the grace and strength he’s gained from years of yoga practice.
Tossing the lube and condoms on the bed, his eyes track from my ridged abdomen to my defined pecs, widening in appreciation as he goes. I used to shave my body, but when he off-handedly mentioned an affinity for a hairier aesthetic, I let it grow out. Hell, I changed my entire grooming routine, even adding a beard to the mix. It’s scary to contemplate but hard to regret as he runs his fingers through my chest hair.
“God, you’re beautiful.” The words fall out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.
His eyes go soft, and I pull him into a kiss before I do something stupid, like let those eyes mesmerize me into contemplating a future with him.
It would be a disaster, of course, because he’s the complete opposite of me. Erudite, with full red lips and a surprising sense of humor. Preppy, with unruly black hair and a sharp jaw. Lithe, with a fierce inner strength and the prettiest blue eyes. I’m practically a bridge troll next to him.
Still, the way he gets on all fours and starts prepping himself strokes my ego. He loves having someone so much bigger than him, and he trusts me to go hard without hurting him.
As if I could ever hurthim.
“That’s right, Ro. Get yourself ready for me,” I say, stroking my cock as he slips one, then two lubed fingers inside himself.
The side of his face is smashed in the bedding and the thin fingers of his other hand curl around a bit of duvet as he goes deeper, hitting that perfect little spot. Mouth open, he adds a third finger as his flushed cock bobs below him, a thin string of precum drooling from the slit.
I roll the condom down my length, then pull on my balls while slicking myself with lube, watching this beautiful man take himself apart in front of me. I bring myself to the edge and stop, my crown peaking past its foreskin, the head nearly purple from want. I touch his hip, and he removes his fingers.
Fuck, what a sight. A beautiful man bent over, whining and impatient, his perfectly prepped hole just waiting for me. His toes push against the bed, the muscles of his back tense and release, and both hands grip the bedding as he pants with desire. I press into him as he pushes back, drawing me in, enveloping me in his tight warmth.
“Yes, Thane. Please.Please. Fu-fuckme.”
I let out a satisfied grumble and push in deep, pausing when his body’s grip on me nearly shakes my iron-clad control. This man is more dangerous than anyone I ever met in the service. He’s winding his way around my heart and I want all of him, all of the time. I used to fuck other men, but not anymore. I can’t get it up for anyone else; he’s the only one I fantasize about.
Thankfully, he’s far too pretty to ever want a grunt like me, which saves me from the horror of trying to be the Prince Charming he deserves. My trust fund means I can afford that kind of gated-community, golf-every-weekend life, I suppose, but even the idea of it is claustrophobic. I would turn into my father so easily under those conditions, and I refuse to make myself or anyone else—especially Ro—that miserable.
I’m just grateful I get to enjoy him in the interim.
I carefully wrap one hand around his throat while gripping his side with the other, initiating a lazy hip roll. His mangled whine says he wants it harder. He always wants it harder, so I tease him with soft kisses and shallow thrusts. I follow that by slowly pushing in deep enough to graze that all-important delicate bit of flesh inside.
“Tha-ane,” he hiccoughs, pushing back aggressively.
I smile, needing him to beg me. Needing the reassurance that he really wants this as much as I do.
