His tongue thrust deep, mimicking the roll of his hips as he claimed every inch—lips, tongue, and the very breath Sloan took. The friction between them built, and Riley’s cock throbbed against the rigid length of Sloan’s through their clothes, each grind sending jolts of heat straight to his core.
He broke the kiss just so he could lock eyes with Sloan, those dark depths staring back with a mix of defiance and raw hunger that made Riley’s blood roar. No words now—just the heavy rasp of their breaths mingling in the space between them, and Sloan’s chest rising and falling in sharp pants that matched Riley’s own.
Terror of the unknown gripped him, but Riley pushed through it as his hand slid lower and dipped under the waistband of Sloan’s pants, hesitating briefly before he yanked them down and out of the way. Riley’s heart raced when Sloan’s dick sprang free, but he wasted no time as he wrapped a hand around the thick cock, gasping at how hot it was and the feel of pre-cum against his palm.
Sloan bucked into the grip, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. He looked scared too, but his gaze never wavered. He pinned his eyes on Riley’s face like he was daring him to push harder, to take it all.
So, Riley took. He stroked Sloan roughly, his thumb circling the slick head, spreading the wetness down the shaft while his own hips jerked forward to seek more pressure against his trapped erection.
“Look at me,” Riley said, his voice gravelly and low, even though Sloan’s eyes were already burning into his. He squeezed Sloan’s cock tighter, pumping faster, the wet slide of skin on skin echoing in the room.
Sloan’s hands flew up to claw at Riley’s back, nails digging through fabric, pulling him impossibly closer as his body tensed, abs clenching. Their foreheads nearly touched, breaths panting hot and erratic—Sloan’s exhales and moans ghosting over Riley’s lips, mingling with his own ragged gasps.
The pressure coiled tight in Riley’s gut, his balls drawing up as he ground his cock against Sloan’s thigh, the rough fabric making delicious friction. Sloan’s next moan was followed by a stutter of his hips, and his cock pulsed in Riley’s fist as his body locked up impossibly tight.
Riley felt the first hot spurt of cum hit his fingers, Sloan’s release spilling over his hand in thick ropes. The sight—the feel—had Riley gasping, cursing, and shaking as he tipped over the edge with him. He came with a choked groan, hips slamming forward one last time as his cock erupted, soaking the front of his jeans in sticky warmth, the wet spot blooming dark against the fabric.
They stayed locked together, their bodies shuddering through the aftershocks, cocks twitching and spent. Sloan’s cum-slicked length softened in Riley’s grip, but neither moved to pull away.
Their stares held, intense and unblinking. Sloan’s pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving with pants that warmed the air between them. Riley’s own breaths were coming in harsh bursts that matched the wild thump of his heart, and his brain began to process what had just happened.
He was distracted by the sight of the beaded sweat on Sloan’s brow trickling down to the fresh bite marks on his neck, and Riley’s thumb traced one idly, possessive even in the clarity of release.
The world narrowed to them and the feeling of their fear bleeding through the haze of passion—the excitement, too. Riley could see it in Sloan’s softening expression; the surrender to what they both knew was inevitable now.
“Can I…have my dick back, please?” Sloan asked, sounding as awkward as the situation called for.
Riley startled and quickly released Sloan’s cock, cheeks burning as Sloan unhooked his claws from him, and he stepped back to give them space. He looked down at his sticky hand, surprised by how unbothered he was to have another guy’s cum on him, before he sighed and yanked his sweater and shirt over his head.
The sweater was Jake’s, so he didn’t want to get it dirty, but his shirt was fair game. He wiped his hand off as much as he could and then used it to clean the rest of the cum that was plastered to Sloan’s abs.
Sloan said nothing while Riley worked on his task, but his cornflower blue eyes studied him, like he was waiting for something.
“I’m not going to freak out,” Riley grumbled, because he knew that’s what Sloan was expecting after the incident earlier that day. “No need to glare at me, Kingston. I’m just trying to clean up the mess so we don’t smear jizz anywhere.”
But Sloan continued to glare, appearing sulky as his gaze shifted between Riley’s face and the now sticky shirt. “Just call me King,” he said. “That’s what my friends used to call me, when I had them.”
King certainly fit his lofty attitude, but Riley found that he didn’t mind. Not anymore.
“King then—or Sloan if it’s too weird,” said Riley, smirking when Sloan cringed and dropped his gaze. “Not everything has to change all at once. I know you’re just as confused as I am, so I’m okay with slowly easing into it…ifitis anything.”
“Do you want it to be?”
Riley blinked, unsure of what Sloan had said because he had muttered the words, and the guy had his head ducked so low that he couldn’t read his expression.
When he was quiet for too long, Sloan finally lifted his head and returned to glaring. “Do you fucking like guys or not? How can I decide without knowing if you liked jerking me off?”
He didn’t give Riley a chance to answer. Sloan shouldered past him with a growl, stopping to pick up the forgotten food container before skulking to the living room.
Riley wanted to give him a second to brood over shit, and he needed to put his dirty shirt in the wash and change his pants, so he left Sloan alone for now. He stopped in the kitchen to grab a fork before Sloan decided to eat with his hands and dropped it off on his way by, chuckling when his effort earned him a scowl.
Riley was undeterred by Sloan’s moodiness. He wished they could have talked things through before jumping into physical stuff, but he didn’t regret it. Sloan looked sexy as hell wearing Riley’s bruises, and the sounds he had made had his cock thickening just thinking about them.
He was so caught up in reminiscing that he accidentally stubbed his toe on his dresser as he walked by, and the pain was sharp enough to make his eyes water.
“Fuck,” he groaned, breathing hard through the intense throbbing. Toes were needed to play hockey, so he bit his lip and stopped thinking about Sloan and his noises long enough to get his shit together.
Once he was cum-free and wearing a clean pair of sweatpants, Riley hurried to the living room to find Sloan. He didn’t want the guy to get any crazy ideas that Riley was trying to avoid him, especially since Sloan had been so anxious when he had scurried to the living room.
