“That’s right,” I said, pushing my thumb between his lips again and feeling the moist warmth. “Just like that.”
Clark pressed his face forward, and I let him run his tongue along my hip, then rub his cheek against my inner thigh. As Heart blasted on the stereo, I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him there while my cock pulsed and leaked. “Just like that,” I repeated.
Clark fell off the bed, landing on his knees at my feet. I pulled him forward by his shoulders, pushing aside the curtain and dragging him out into the room, and shoved my hand into the jockstrap to unleash my cock and feed it to him.
“What the fuck!”
Rip’s voice roared through the apartment, louder than the music. I startled and almost fell backward, but Clark grabbed the back of my legs, steadying both of us. I jerked my head toward the door, still gripping the base of my cock with one hand.
Rip looked furious. His stocking cap was clenched tightly in one hand, and a bag of groceries hung from the other. His shoulders were hunched up, and his lips pulled back in a sneer, but it was the look in his eyes that frightened me. I knew what pain looked like in Rip’s gaze, and I knew anger. But this, this was something I had never seen before. Like storm clouds and collapsing buildings, like fire and ice and smoke.
“What the fuck!” he repeated.
Clark scrambled on the ground, reaching desperately for his clothes. I shoved my cock back in my jockstrap. “Fuck, Rip,” I said. “I thought you were at work.”
Rip turned, then threw the case of beer against the wall. It exploded with a bang, leaving a dent in the drywall and a few broken bottles, bubbling and spinning on the floor.
Clark gasped, and when I looked down, I saw pure panic spread across his face. His hands were trembling so hard he could barely lift his underwear, and he had to lean against the bed to tug the boxer briefs back on.
“What the fuck, Rip!” I yelled, turning to face him. “What is wrong with you?”
Clark grabbed my hand, then pulled himself to his feet as he sucked in frightened, uneven breaths. I held tightly to his hand while Rip stared at us, that expression still raging across his face.
“In the middle of the fucking apartment!” Rip yelled. “What are you thinking, man?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Clark repeated to himself quietly.
I threw my arm over his shoulder, then pulled him close, but his body stayed just as tense. “We always hook up with other people in the apartment,” I said with a shaky voice. “Why are you malfunctioning, dude?”
Rip turned between us, looking from Clark to me and back again. He pulled his lips back, baring his teeth, then threw his shoulders back and punched the drywall, leaving another dent.
Clark jumped and threw his arms around my chest.
Rip’s mouth fell open, and for a second, I thought he was coming to his senses. He shook his head back and forth, like he couldn’t believe what he was looking at. “Fuck!” he said. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Rage flew through my body. How could he act this way? How could he act this way to me? But even worse than that, how could he do this to Clark? This wasn’t the Rip I knew. It was closer to the Rip I first met years ago, back when he would still fly off the handle sometimes and try to solve his problems with violence.
Before I could say another word, he turned back to the entrance and fled the apartment. The door slammed behind him, and when the song on the Heart album switched, I heard the gurgle of a beer bottle, still leaking on the floor.
“You okay?” I said, pulling Clark closer and feeling the heat of our bodies together. “I don’t know what the hell that was.”
Clark sucked in a few shaky breaths. He started to count to himself quietly, and I felt him clench and release his shoulders methodically, tightening and releasing the muscles in time with his breath.
“I’m so sorry that happened,” I said, stroking the back of his head. “I have no idea…”
“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “That’s just… that’s just who Rip is.”
I wanted to object, to say that wasn’t Rip at all. He never cared if I brought a guy home, and he’d caught me in the middle of a hookup more times than I could count. But with anger still hot in the air, I couldn’t deny what had just happened.
“Let’s get you out of here,” I said. “Let me drive you home. We can hang out there if you’d like.”
Clark kept shaking against my side, but once he managed to stop, he nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.”
And hearing his voice, my heart broke, but not just for Clark.
It broke for all of us.
