Stan follows us, but this time Ty is prepared and throws a toy that I suspect is filled with treats onto Stan’s bed, which is conveniently placed outside the door.
Once inside the room, Ty is on me like a starved man.
My clothes fly off me until we fall on his bed, naked and desperate to be skin-to-skin.
“God, I’ve never felt like this before, Ty. This need to touch someone. I wanna suck you off.”
“Yes.”
I press him into the bed and lick my way down his chest, paying attention to the dark peaks of his nipples and then exploring his taut stomach. He doesn’t have visible muscles, but he’s strong, healthy, and just perfect. And he fucking reacts to my touch like a thirsty man being given a sip of cold water.
He raises his hips to find friction, but unlike other times, I’m not interested in teasing him. I want to give him everything he needs right now.
“I’m gonna take the edge off, okay, baby?”
“Please.”
He doesn’t need to beg. My mouth is on his cock, and I taste the slightly sweet essence he’s leaking already. I take him to the back of my throat, using my hand to grip the rest of his cock because I was right. He’s longer than me and also thicker.
I increase the suction and rotate my wrist.
“Jesus, fuck…god,” Ty shouts.
I know he’s close when his cock swells even more in my mouth. His moans go straight to my dick. A few tugs of my cock, and I’ll come.
He cries when I release his dick but lets out a sigh of relief when I slide up his body and take both our cocks in my hand.
“Are you going to come for me, baby?”
“Yes.”
“You always do it so beautifully.”
I keep my eyes trained on him while I stroke us both to finish. The desire to kiss him through his orgasm wars with my need to watch him unravel.
The only thought going through my head as I take us both over the edge is how did I go twenty-five years without this feeling, and what do I need to do to keep it?
26
TYLER
NOW
I wakeup when sunlight shines in my eyes. Something heavy is on top of me, which is unusual. The last time I woke up with something heavy on me was—
“Porter!” I shout, sitting up and searching for his pulse.
“Ty?”
I can’t think. I need to call someone. Seymour. An ambulance.
“Tyler, baby. Look at me.”
The deep voice cuts through the fog in my brain. Slowly I come back to the moment. Tears run down my face, and I sob as I feel his loss all over again.
I’m pulled against Mik’s hard chest, which makes it worse because it means Porter is gone. This is my reality.
He lets me cry until I have no more tears left. He doesn’t say anything or try to pull me out of my state. He’s just there like he was when I told him about my father’s diagnosis.
