Break Away

by Van Barrett

  “Hey, that's actually goo--” I cut myself off when her joke sunk in. “Oh. I get it. Har har. Yeah, I'm toootally in love with him …” I trailed off and rolled my eyes sarcastically.

  “I'm just kiddin', Lane.” She paused. “But uh, seriously? Is something up?”

  “With what?” I quickly answered – too quickly.

  “With you and River.”

  “How do you mean?”

  She stifled a laugh. “You know, it was just a week ago, Lane, that you were talking about how you felt like River wanted you to make a move. And you couldn't shut up about him, or his God-like dildo. And now, strangely, you are dead silent on anything River.”

  I looked at her and blinked. Shit. She had me there.

  “Uh.” I chewed my cud like a damned cow.

  “So? No comment?”

  “I uh.” I clicked my tongue. “Huh.”

  “Oh, Lane,” Devon sighed.

  Should I tell her? I should tell her. She already knows. At this point, not telling her is more stupid than telling her! I'm just making things worse!

  Just when I worked up the nerve to come clean, my phone vibrated on the table. Bzzt. I opened a text from River and my heart jumped into my throat.

  “Hey dude. Whats up?”

  I quickly fired off a reply. “Hey! Not much, just getting some work done in the comp lab, you?”

  “Been so busy. First free night in a while. Wanna watch hockey at my place? This guy misses you.”

  Attached was a picture of Deke sitting next to River on the couch. Not sure why he thought Deke looked like he misses me – he looked more like he was on the verge of growling at me through the phone. More interestingly, River wore a thin pair of cotton gym shorts in the picture that showed plenty of thigh. And, might I add, he was obviously going without underwear.

  My throat ached at the glimpse at his hairy and built thighs. And the obviously fluffed-up, half-mast bulge that inched down the inner thigh of his shorts and threatened to peek out from the leg.

  I replied. “Which one misses me? The dog or the cock? 'Cuz one looks happier than the other …”

  Bzzt, River's response: “Lol. Both I think. So? You wanna come?”

  “I'll be there in a bit. Did you eat? I'm starved. I could pick up some food if you wanted?”

  “Sure. See you then.”

  Devon chimed in. “Wow, you're texting up a storm over there.”

  “Ha. Yeah.”

  I tried not to grin like a fool – I had a great idea for take-out dinner that I thought was really gonna knock River's socks off. But before I put in that order, I had to let a reasonable amount of time pass so River didn't think I'd just drop everything and rush over to his place the second he invited me.

  Even if I totally would.

  There was something else I knew River would like me to bring with me: information.

  “So,” I grabbed Devon's attention. “Are you and Jono still …?”

  She looked at me and chuffed. “No. We're not.”

  “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “What happened?”

  “He's kind of a jealous creep, Lane. He pushed the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing way too hard. Plus he hinted that he knew how to check my texts and e-mails and shit to 'check up on me.'”

  “Oh. Oh. I had no idea it was like that.”

  “Yeah, well, it's not anymore.”

  “Damn,” I muttered quietly.

  She shook her head and we didn't say another word.

  When the time came to pick up the food and head to River's, I packed up my things in a hurry. And Devon took note.

  “Oh? You're leaving already?” she asked as I shut my computer down.

  “Yup,” I said, keeping my eyes low.

  “So who are you meeting up with?”

  “Uhhhh. No one, really,” I stammered. Yeah. Yeah, I'm that bad.

  “Oh, I see.” She bobbed her head. She almost looked like she knew I'd disappoint her, and that wrenched at my heart. “Well, have a great time with No One Really.”

  “… Thanks.”

  Gulp.

  I felt awful about it on so many levels. For one, I wasn't fooling anyone. She knew I was seeing somebody and she probably had a preeeetty good idea that somebody was River. The fact that I'd kept that information a secret from her was, at best, a burden on our friendship. And, at worst, it was a betrayal of her trust.

  ***

  With a piping hot bag of take-out food, I knocked on River's door. He answered, still in those sexy gym shorts, and a muscle tee.

  “Hey bud,” River smiled and welcome me in. Hockey was on the TV.

  “Hope I haven't missed too much,” I said.

  “Nah. We've got games all night.” River took the bag from me. “Thanks for bringing food, man, that's really nice of you.”

  “My pleasure! You eat yet?”

  “Yeah, but I'm always hungry. What'd you get?”

  “Toasted Frog, actually.” I grinned.

  “Haha! Toasted Frog again? I love it!” His face lit up as he dug out the two take-home boxes from the bag. “You got me the burger and fries, right?”

  Shit. I tried to do something sweet and symbolic and all I did was let him down.

  “Nooo – sorry. I got fish tacos and the lobster tail instead …”

  In one instant, the excitement was wiped from his face and replaced with a crestfallen disappointment. But he was quick to hide it.

  “Sorry, the wha'?”

  “Fish tacos and lobster tail. Remember?” I fidgeted with my hands, trying to hide my disappointment too. “You said you always order the burger and fries, even when you'd rather try other things but were too afraid to branch out … so I thought I'd, you know,--” I cut myself off.

  What was the word I was looking for? Force? Force him to branch out? Good job Lane. Very symbolic indeed.

  “Ohhh.” River nodded. “Right, right – yeah, I did say that, didn't I!” He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for that, bud. Very thoughtful of you.”

  Oh, God, I thought to myself. River was a good sport and I could tell he didn't want me to feel bad for this blunder but I did. It was inevitable that I'd fuck up somehow. I let out a heavy sigh and plopped into the couch.

  Deke gave me an oddly disturbed stare. I could've taken a picture of his face, given it the caption 'u dun goofed!' and turned him into an internet-famous meme dog.

  I gave him a pat on the head. “Hey Deke buddy.”

  River got two plates and went to work on splitting up our entrees so we could share. “Mm. This looks good, Lane. Smells good, too.”

  “Ha. Yeah. I hope so.”

  River set up two trays in front of the couch. “Can I get you something to drink? Water?”

  “How about that protein shake?” I asked.

  “Really?” River seemed tickled. “You really want one?”

  “Yeah, why not. I'm making you eat weird seafood, I might as well try something new, too.”

  “I don't think you want one with dinner, dude. It wouldn't taste right.” He chuckled quietly while he filled a glass with water instead.

  “Fine. You can give it to me later.”

  “Deal.” He took a seat next to me. “Alright. Let's dig in, man. Thanks again.” He put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed me with a half-hug.

  “My pleasure, River. Hope you like it.”

  River took a bite of the fish taco first. His eyes fluttered and rolled back. “Mmm! That's delicious.”

  “Yeah? You like it?”

  “Yeah, bud. Lemme try the lobster.” He took a bite of the lobster tail and freaked out. “Oh my God. That's good! Ha! Wow. You know, I don't think I've had lobster before.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “I was worried you'd hate it.”

  “Nah, man. Like I said, I appreciate it. If it weren't for you, I never would have tried this.”

  Yeah … well … there's all that symbolism I was going for.

  I swallowed down a bite
and pointed at the TV. “So tell me about these two teams.”

  “Gladly! Tonight's match-up is between the Ottawa Senators and the Minnesota Wild, and …”

  ***

  After we'd scarfed down our food and cleaned our plates, we watched the rest of the hockey game. Once again River acted as my color commentator and made sure I was current on all the latest story lines and in-game happenings.

  I loved to listened to him talk about something he obviously cared for … hell, it's one of my great hobbies in life – listening to people rant about the things they care about. I'm not so much listening to the actual content of their words rather than I'm delighting in their enthusiasm and what it says about them.

  If you wanna learn about somebody, ask them about their interests. Let 'em geek out and info-dump all over you. It doesn't matter if you actually know what they're saying, or if you agree with them or not. Just listen. It's one of the best ways you can get close to somebody, and find out how they tick.

  And so I let River geek out on me. He told me about why he looks up to this one player, because of his impeccable work-ethic … he explained to me just how that one Swedish player is revolutionizing the way defense is played, but completely misunderstood as a player because of it … and he told me (for the hundredth time) the importance of standing up for your teammates after a big hit.

  The stuff he said made sense. I could see the logic in it. I didn't know if he was objectively right – as in I don't know if 100% of hockey fans would agree with him – but I liked the way it sounded. It all made sense and illustrated his values. Undoubtedly, it painted a picture of River.

  And sure enough, with each theory and recitation of trivia or strategy, a funny thing happened. We were pulled closer over that couch. Maybe that's ridiculous – a hockey player bonding with a non-sports nerd like me over, well, hockey. Especially considering so much of my enthusiasm to learn these things was, well, not quite a farce, but definitely exaggerated for his benefit.

  But I swear that was what happened: hockey brought us closer. Until our shoulders bumped.

  He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. Just as quick, River's attention was immediately sucked back to the TV. Horn blaring, crowd cheering, a goal had been scored.

  “Oh, sick move on that goal. Check it, Lane.” He pointed, and I watched the replays. I'd been turned down, but I knew not permanently. A minor set-back. I'd go on the attack again.

  Soon the puck dropped and play started up again. And as those hockey players raced up and down the ice, trading chances, I slowly slithered back into River. We melded together. First at the shoulders. Then our knees touched. Our thighs followed, coming together like two attracted magnets. Soon I let my hand onto his bare leg, as if it were a common thing, and let it linger there. He didn't shoo it off, nor did he pull back in disgust.

  I made small, smooth circles on the inside of his thigh with my fingertips. I heard River's small, quiet gasps. Gently, slowly, his legs parted. He opened for me.

  River kept his eyes glued to the TV, but I turned my focus on him. My head on his shoulder. I moved closer, my breath warming his neck. His legs opened wider still as my fingers slid higher.

  His manhood hardened with my light touch, and the bottom hem of his shorts raised like a draw bridge. I laughed softly at the sexy sight. I let my burning breath warm the nape of his neck.

  And then I leaned in and whispered into his ear.

  “… Hey River.”

  He stiffened. “Hm?”

  “Be honest. That picture you sent me today?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You looked … well, you looked a little hard.” He shivered as my hand crept higher up the inside of his thigh. “Not as hard as you are now, though.”

  “Oh God,” he whimpered as my hand walked right into the open leg of his shorts. The heat from his cock sweltered and emanated out in blistering waves.

  “Were you playing with yourself before you took that picture? Tell the truth, now.”

  He panted with a touch of shame. “… Yeah.”

  “So? What were you thinking about?”

  He swallowed. He couldn't get the words out. His breath was slow, shallow, his eyelids flickering like a light-bulb about to burn out.

  “Was it … me?” I tenderly ran the flats of my nails up and down his shaft. His manhood heaved against my touch.

  Like air slowly leaking from a tire, he hissed – “Yes.”

  “Mmm. Good. Tell me what you were imagining. Tell me what you want.”

  “Oh, oh God,” he whimpered again.

  “I'll be your slut, River.” I wrapped my fingers around his hard, humid arousal. “Anything you want, River.”

  “Oh, fuck,” River grumbled, thrusting his hips at my hand involuntarily.

  “Such a sensitive boy.” I chuckled. “Aren't you gonna tell me what you want?”

  “I … I …” his lips trembled. His eyes begged me to put him out of his mercy.

  “Come on. You can do it.”

  “I want … I want you to play with my ass.”

  “Oh!” I bit my lip. “Well!”

  Gladly.

  33

  Branch Out

  – River –

  Lane's power over me was unreal. I've never felt anything like it in my life.

  The way he seduces me? It's like a storm on a beautiful, cloudless day – you never even see it coming. It starts with a gentle breeze. A draft so subtle you're not even sure it's really there, you might even try to ignore it. But suddenly, without warning, it's arrived. The trees start to bend and lean, their leaves rustling. Suddenly these brilliant purple clouds just roll in and blanket the sky – now you know you're gonna get caught in it. There's a charge in the air. Every last hair on your body stands up and tingles, wavering in the wind. The wind just keeps picking up – it won't let go. Won't let go until it's blown you off your feet.

  And that's where I found myself. The tiny neck hairs on my neck raised, and I panted for breath as I stared down the storm.

  Lane had made short work of me. He'd peeled my muscle shirt over my head and climbed into my lap. With his ass teasing my bulge, we kissed. We kissed and shared tongues and he pulled away too soon. I wanted more but he wouldn't let me have it. He pressed his finger to my lips and shushed me when I grumbled.

  Instead he pinched my nipples between his fingers and tugged them until they raised into tight little points. When my pink buds did his bidding and stood tall, he leaned in and sucked. He sucked until they grew tender and swollen and sensitive in his mouth.

  “Aaah!” I moaned from the pleasure that he milked right through me. Hell, I didn't know a man could feel anything in his nipples.

  I grunted and gasped, goosebumps all over. I squirmed under Lane, panting again and again – please! Please!

  And then, when he thought I'd had enough, he dropped to the floor between my legs. He tugged my gym shorts off. Once again, I was bare before this man. He pulled me with long, deep strokes. He tongued my balls until they tingled, too. And when the tingling grew and he had me gasping and squirming on that couch, he took my nuts into his mouth and sucked. Sucked each ball until it rang with a bright, shining ecstasy that rippled through my body.

  God. Damn. Was he ever good.

  My ass dangled over the edge of the couch. Lane had hooked his hands under my knees, lifted my legs until I spread open for him, and then he pulled me – pulled me to the edge of the couch. I kept my legs up. What a feeling it was; of exposure, of vulnerability, of trust. To open myself like that. For another man, no less.

  And there, with my nether-regions splayed out before him, he stroked and petted me. He whispered sweet nothings into my thighs about how cute my asshole was; what a nice, thick cock I had; how big and round and heavy my balls were. “So full of cum, aren't they, River?”

  Every last thing he said and did chipped away and sapped me of my strength, like blows from an ax chopping into a solid tree trunk. Before I knew it, I wa
s a helpless, panting pile – ankles over my head, my pelvis thrusting at him. I quivered under his touch, yet I begged him for more.

  Two hands grabbed my ass cheeks. He spread me apart. Made me open for him. My pucker parted, trying in vain to squeeze shut and hide from him. He waited me out. Until I loosened – “ooh” – and he grinned. “Such a pretty pink opening, River.”

  He spanked me. Slapped me. When I tightened again, his thumb glanced across my ass.

  “Oh!” I squirmed, sinking deeper into the couch's cushions.

  I'd been thinking about this. Ever since the first night – when I caught Lane in my bedroom playing with the dildo. He'd shoved me back on the mattress and pulled my shorts down my legs and then he'd set his tongue at the rim of my ass. I wasn't ready for it then. I was still overwhelmed by the taboo of it. That a guy wasn't supposed to enjoy anything around that area. No matter how good it felt, no matter what your neurons were telling your brain. You weren't supposed to enjoy it.

  But I had. Still. I wasn't ready. And Lane must've known that. Because he didn't push it. Instead he'd dragged his tongue higher.

  But that was then – and this is now. Ever since that night I'd been thinking about it. What if he'd moved his tongue a touch lower? What if he tongued my ass? And that question is what had me hard all day and night – the question that had me jerking off for hours before I stuffed myself into those gym shorts, let myself calm down just enough to take a picture so my hard-on wasn't too obvious, and send it to Lane.

  “Yes yes yes yes,” I panted as Lane leaned closer.

  His tongue danced in circles around my inner thigh. Closer and closer he moved. My ass, too eager for his wet warmth, squeezed tightly shut. As much as I wanted it, I feared it, too.

  And then it happened. He gave it to me. The tip of his tongue tenderly touched my rear.

  My eyes widened and I gasped – “hah.” The hard part, the anxiety, was over. I felt myself loosen for him. Light and careful, his tongue fluttered around my rim. I relaxed more, ready for whatever he could give me. And soon his tongue flicked and batted my ring.

  Lane was eating me out. And I was loving it.