The deafening soundof Harlan’s music assaults me the moment I step into our townhouse. When I realize that it's his “Not Today, Satan” playlist, concern washes over me. Music is always a good indicator of the type of day he’s having, and today is clearly not a good one.
The heavy bass reverberates through the ceiling above as I drop my bag by the door. In my haste to get to Harlan, I kick off my sneakers in the general direction of the shoe rack rather than placing them in their proper spot. He will inevitably give me shit about it later; a smirk tempts my lips at the thought of his dramatic eye rolls. Harlan is organized to a fault, and I’m just not. We’ll deal with my shoes later; right now, I’m eager to be in the same room as him.
He’s been so stressed about the new campaign he’s been working on for Lust & Lace. He’s put in endless hours at the studio, modeling in anticipation of the release. It means that between my travel schedule with the Brooklyn Sea Scorpions and his photo shoots, we haven’t seen much of each other in thelast few weeks. The ache of missing him sits heavy in my chest. I’m desperate for his project to be over, for the season to be over, so that we can just be lost in each other for a few months.
Taking the stairs to the second floor, I turn toward our shared bedroom. Harlan is sprawled out dramatically across our bed, outfitted only in a pair of dark blue lace panties that have my dick taking interest. Harlan hasn’t seen me yet, so I take a moment to admire his beautiful body. My boyfriend is truly a work of art. He’s muscular, but not overly so. He’s tall and lean, with the most incredible ass I’ve ever had the pleasure of burying myself in. His wavy, sandy brown hair is a chaotic, beautiful mess on top of his head, and his face is buried in the duvet.
Approaching the dresser, I power off the speaker, dousing the room in silence. “Sweetness, what’s wrong?” Sitting on the end of the bed, I rub his back while he remains face down and unmoving. He’s awake—I can tell—my body is so attuned to him after over two years of sleeping with him in my arms.
Harlan stays quiet for longer than I expect, but I give him the time he needs. His anxiety can be a lot to manage. He’ll talk when he’s ready. After a few beats of silence, he finally opens up. “There’s an issue with my visa.” Dread swirls in my stomach, every worst-case scenario immediately fighting for space in my head. Harlan has been in New York for the last six years. He was born in Beaconsfield, England, and came here on a visa to attend Brooklyn School of Fashion. After he graduated, he began working with Lust & Lace, both as a model and designer. The extension process has been pretty easy up until now, and I honestly forgot that he was up for renewal. “If they can’t get it sorted, I’ll have to go back to the UK.”
“Jesus, baby. What can we do?” Spreading out next to him, I pull his body flush to mine, my arms wrapped tightly around his well-defined stomach. Some of the tension leaves his body at our close proximity. Harlan releases a small sigh when I kiss thesensitive skin behind his ear. I know his body as well as my own—better than mine—so offering him this quiet comfort is second nature at this point. It has never occurred to me that he wouldn’t be able to keep living and working here. Eventually, he was going to apply for citizenship, but it’s such a daunting process.
“I’m not sure if there’s anything we can do. Shawn arranged a call with the immigration lawyer. We’re going to appeal it, but with how things are with visas right now, I don’t know if it’s going to make a difference.” He sounds despondent, and his tone mirrors my feelings. “It’s a fucking nightmare.”
“Fuck, Lan,” I say. My mind is spinning with what this means for him, and for us. Lust & Lace will do whatever they can to keep him here. He’s the backbone of their North American design team. It was always his dream to live and work in Brooklyn, so the thought of him losing that is devastating.
“I hate this. I don’t want to leave you.” He turns in my arms, burying his face in my neck. I inhale the strawberry scent of his hair, his curls tickling my nose as I squeeze him. The thrum of contentment tries to break through the unease suffocating the room. “I should know more in a few days. If the extension is denied, I’ll be here for no more than a month before my current visa expires, so it’s not a lot of time.” A month puts us right at the start of the playoffs. Not that baseball is the biggest priority here, but it could mean that I’m not here when he’s supposed to leave. That realization sits like a lead weight in my gut.
“A month? That’s it?” The questions come out harsh and much louder than I intended. The rush of my heartbeat in my ears is louder than the music I just turned off, as I let the reality of what he’s saying sink in. Harlan flinches, instantly making me feel like an asshole.
“It’s out of my control, Darío. I’m not sure what you propose I do.” He pulls away from me to sit up. Frustration and hurt shine in his eyes at my abrasive tone. Harlan worries his lowerlip with his teeth, so I reach out to rub my thumb over the abused skin. “I didn’t ask for this, you know.”His face is clear of any makeup as I take in his red-rimmed eyes. The deep blue of them steals my breath, but right now, they’re swimming with sadness. Something about this feels so much heavier than I’m prepared to examine right now. He sighs heavily, crossing his arms across his bare chest.
“I know, sweetness. I know you didn’t. I just hate all of this.” Reaching for his hand, I lace my fingers in his, pulling him closer to me. He slides his body over mine, leaning down to kiss me. Forcing myself to focus on him, on the way his lips slot perfectly with mine, I block out the rest. Before Harlan, I wasn’t much of a kisser, but there’s somethingmorewith him. I could spend hours just kissing him like this.
“Distract me, Darío.” His kisses turn needier, tinged with desperation, and I lose myself in the headiness of his desire. Moving my hands from his face, I slide them down his smooth back until I’m cupping his full, firm ass through the lace wrapped around him like a second skin. He moans at the contact, grinding his hard cock against mine. His breathless moans and kiss-swollen lips have me desperate to feel more of his skin on mine.
His hands move under my shirt, smoothing over my abs before he pulls away from the kiss long enough to tug it off. Suddenly, my athletic shorts feel too restrictive, the fabric abrasive against my heated skin. Eager to stay connected to him, I arch my back to slide my shorts down while devouring his mouth. The taste of him on my tongue drowns out the noise of everything else. “You taste so good, baby. You taste like mine.” Kissing down his silk-soft jaw, his body releases the rest of its tension as I prepare to take him apart. When I reach his collarbone, I nip at his sensitive skin, making him moan. Hepresses his ass against my cock, the soft lace torturing me as I leak precum.
“I need you inside of me, babe,” he pants. Reaching under the pillow for the lube that got shoved there last night, he pulls it out with a huff. With fluid grace, he slides the lace off, straddling me. Moving my hands to his hips, I run my fingers over the small halo tattoo on his left hip bone while he uncaps the lube to pour some on his fingers. Sadness is replaced by desire in his eyes as I watch him open himself up for me. While I find a sadistic pleasure in slowly opening him with my hands and tongue, reducing him to a begging mess, there is something exquisite in him preparing himself for me. His quiet, breathy moans make it nearly impossible for me not to rut into him.
“You’re so beautiful, Harlan.” My hands stroke up his muscled, hairless thighs before gripping him tightly by the hips. He’s stunning, and I find myself staring in awe at how beautiful he is on top of me. He opens the lube again, pouring it directly on my cock. It twitches at the contact from the slick liquid before his firm grip wraps around me. “Fuck, baby.” I thrust into his fist before rolling him under me. “Are you sure you’re ready? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I want it to hurt.” He pulls his knees up near his ears, putting his perfect pink hole on display. Fingering himself again, he lets out another needy moan while I grip the base of my aching cock. With three fingers thrusting in and out, it’s the most depraved, filthy sight as he pleads with me. “Please, babe.”
“You beg so pretty for me.” I push against the tight ring of muscle, and he moves to grab his own erection. The grip on the head of my cock is incredible as I ease my way in. Harlan tries desperately to get me to move faster as he attempts to thrust up, but I won’t give him what he wants. Not yet. I catch him wince, and I slow.
“Don’t. Fucking. Stop,” he demands, breathless, and writhing under me. I grip his hips and push the rest of the way in, causing him to whine and whimper. “Yes, just like that.” The noises this boy makes can practically bring me to orgasm untouched. He has never been shy about asking for exactly what he wants. He wraps a hand around my wrist and tugs, leading me to his throat.
I follow his wordless instruction as I meet his lust-filled gaze, squeezing gently. It’s just a physical reminder that he belongs to me. Something that anchors my body to his. “Is this what you want, Harlan?” Moving my hand to his chin, I slide two fingers into his mouth, forcing him to gag. “You take my cock so well, baby. Your ass was made for me.”
The tight grip of his hole is bordering on painful as I sink in and out of the warmth of his body. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he opens more for me, his body adjusting to my size. The pleasure of being inside him is almost too much—the way I’m immediately ready to come is embarrassing.
The sensations of fucking him are overwhelming in the best possible way. The warmth of him surrounding my cock, the way he whimpers with his perfect lips, the smell that is so distinctly Harlan. He clenches around my cock, letting out a low moan as he continues to meet me thrust for thrust. Propping myself on my elbows, I lean in to take his mouth with mine. It’s a messy, feral connection; all teeth and tongue. I pull back long enough to spit in his eager mouth, making him whine, before I dive back in. He attempts to control the kiss, but I’m not willing to give up that control right now. Kissing him is as familiar to me as breathing. When I break the kiss to lick down his jaw, the salty taste of his skin has me growling.
“Mmmmm. My hole, fuck. You’re so big.” Harlan strokes his leaking cock, letting out another needy plea. “I want to go to bed with you leaking out of me. It feels so good. You feel so good inside me, babe.” Sweat beads on my brow as I continuewith a punishing pace, changing the movement of my hips in an attempt to find the spot that will unravel him completely. His mouth, his grip on me—all of it—takes me over the edge. My balls draw up, and I empty into him with a shout of his name.
“God, you’re so good for me, sweetness. Come for me.” Shoving his hand out of the way, I take over stroking, while continuing to slide in and out of him, despite how oversensitive my own cockhead is. His pupils are blown, the blue almost gone as he fucks into the vise grip I have on him. He looks so beautiful coming undone for me. A few more strokes have him flooding my hand with his release, and I lean down, taking his mouth in a bruising kiss. “Fucking perfect.”
Breathless and sweaty, I roll to my back. Harlan snuggles into my side with a soft sigh, his damp curls brushing my neck. As close as he is to me, I can feel the distance looming; a chasm threatening to separate us. The orgasm isn’t enough to clear the dread that hangs in the air, but right now, he’s in my arms, and that’s what I need to stay focused on. I’m not sure how, but we are going to figure this out. Jobs, the government, a fucking ocean—none of it matters—he’s fucking mine. “Stop thinking so hard,” he murmurs. I chuckle lightly, trying to shake off the heaviness.
“I love you. Let’s get some food. Practice kicked my ass.” My stomach growls, finally making me take notice of my hunger since leaving the stadium. We have two days off before we’re heading to LA for a three-game series. Being first in our division in the middle of September is worthy of celebration. It would take a lot of shit going wrong in order to take us out of first place. As a team, we’ve worked our asses off to guarantee a spot in the playoffs, and hopefully that work gets the Sea Scorpions to the World Series.
“I love you most.” He kisses me gently and buries his face in my neck before reluctantly moving away. I revel in the affection, thankful, like always, for his presence.
Harlan climbs out of bed, pulling on my discarded Scorpions T-shirt. Unsure of where my shorts went, I grab a new pair from my dresser and follow him downstairs to the kitchen. While we prepare dinner, we navigate the space together as if we’ve been doing it for a lifetime. There are so many ways that Harlan is ingrained in my life, and I can’t imagine not waking up with him every day. My appetite evaporates, replaced by worry and anxiety.
Both of us are lost in our own thoughts when we sit at the dining room table to eat. My head is a mess of ‘what ifs,’ and I’m guessing his is that much worse. His brow is furrowed, with his cute nose scrunched, as he contemplates the food on his plate. Staring at him across the table, I consider that this is another way I’ve taken his presence for granted. “Not hungry either?” My voice pulls him from his thoughts.
