He imagined how different his life would be if he had Rhys’s ring on his finger. He wanted to hate it, but he didn’t. He wanted this man, this life, more than anything. But Rhys had about a thousand pounds of baggage he needed to put down before Beckett could have that.
And he would wait, and he would stay.
Because he was in love with Rhys St. George.
Rhys whimpered, his cock hardening against Beckett’s hip. He rocked their bodies together while Beckett kissed him, brain turning fuzzy with desire.
“I want you,” Beckett whispered against Rhys’s warm mouth. “I need you to know that it’s not a no; it’s a not now. I’m still here and I’m still yours.”
Rhys moaned again, almost a whimper. Beckett reached under the pillow and pulled out the lube. Rhys shoved Beckett’s underwear down to below his balls, taking the lube and quickly slicking up his dick.
“You’re out of condoms,” Beckett reminded him.
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” He stilled Rhys’s hand. Rhys looked up at him, his eyes dark from how big his pupils had gotten.
“I don’t. We’ll get tested. We should have done it by now, I know, but…” Rhys gave a small shake of his head, looking away. “Please.”
Beckett knew how much the vulnerability cost Rhys in that moment. He released his hold on Rhys’s wrist and threaded his fingers together behind his head.
“Yes,” he consented.
Rhys continued to work Beckett’s cock in his slippery fist, and then he climbed on top, arranging himself so the blunt head of Beckett’s cock pushed against his tight hole.
“Let me get you ready,” Beckett rasped.
Rhys shook his head and bore down, the tight ring of his entrance opening up and swallowing the tip of Beckett’s cock. Beckett arched off the bed, reaching for Rhys and bracketing his hands around the other man’s waist. Being inside of him, even barely, without a condom was satisfying enough to make his entire body hum with pleasure. Rhys was hotter, tighter, better…Beckett didn’t have words.
“Go slow,” he panted, holding Rhys steady so he didn’t move too much.
“Oh, God.” Rhys threw his head back, displaying the decadent column of his throat as he lowered himself down onto Beckett’s hard and waiting cock. Beckett sat up, adjusting the angle and pushing himself deeper. He slid his arms up Rhys’s back, flattening his palms against his spine and pressing their bodies together in every way possible.
Rhys’s channel stretched and spread around Beckett’s erection, their bodies moving in tandem until Rhys was fully seated on Beckett’s lap, his asshole stuffed full of cock. Sweat beaded on Rhys’s spine, cool against Beckett’s warm and sweaty palms.
“Rhys,” he whispered, leaning in and dragging his tongue up the long curve of Rhys’s throat. Rhys shivered, all of his muscles constricting. “I’m here.”
Rhys’s breaths trembled, and Beckett kissed his way up the sharp angle of Rhys’s jaw to his ear. He sucked Rhys’s earlobe into his mouth, drawing a low growl out of him.
“Come on,” he coaxed, pumping his hips up from the bed. “Let me prove it to you.”
Rhys jerked his head to the side and looked down, crashing their mouths together. And then he started to move. Slow at first, and Beckett could tell the lack of prep was causing him some trouble, but it wasn’t long before he had a rhythm that was working Beckett out of his mind.
Rhys tried to speak, but whatever the thought had been fell out as a whining sort of grunt that sent Beckett’s head spinning. He shifted his position and lurched forward, throwing Rhys onto his back and barreling into him with a sharp snap of his hips. Rhys cried out, his legs wrapping around Beckett’s waist and holding him in.
“You feel so good,” Beckett praised, body working furiously to bring Rhys around to an orgasm. “You’re better than anything. Everything.”
Rhys’s nails dug into his back, drawing sharp and painful lines from the top of Beckett’s spine to the small of his back. Beckett grunted, hips stuttering and stilling as his orgasm slammed into him. His cock thickened and swelled, spurting wildly as he came inside of Rhys for the first time.
“Shit.” He dropped his head onto Rhys’s shoulder, the aftershocks of his orgasm still tearing through him, from his toes to the top of his head. Beckett shivered uncontrollably, the sensations and the emotions suddenly too overwhelming to contain inside of him. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to think. The only thing that didn’t hurt was the place where their bodies were connected. The place where he’d filled Rhys to the brim with proof of his love.
“Darling, I…I’m…” Rhys’s voice was scratchy, and Beckett reached between their sweaty bodies, seeking out Rhys’s hard cock. It didn’t take more than two strokes to bring Rhys over the edge. He came with his entire body, every muscle convulsing as hot jets of cum spattered over Beckett’s white knuckles. The squeeze milked more cum out of Beckett’s body, and he shuddered, tightening his grip on Rhys’s cock until they were both done with their release.
He reluctantly withdrew himself from Rhys’s body, falling onto his back beside Rhys on the bed.
“Don’t be mad at me,” he whispered.
“Why ever would I be mad?”
