Street Love: A contemporary standalone hurt/comfort romance

by Rhys Everly

  “Do you guys want to get a drink at Marcy’s before you go shack up?” Vance asked, looking at their hands instead of their faces, the creases around his eyes making it obvious his mind was now somewhere else.

  Rafe looked back at Pierce and nodded knowingly. Vance wanted to talk or take his mind off something, and they’d be total pigs if they didn’t help their friend. “Sure thing, Vance.”

  Vance shook his head as if waking from sleep and nodded in agreement. “Cool,” he said.

  Rafe downed the remainder of his soda and helped Vance close down the bar.

  Once they were done, they walked across the street and around the block, where Marcy’s was situated under flashing lights and risqué posters of drag queens and go-go dancers. One of them was of Conclabia and her Pubescent Pubes. Tonight was live rock music, so they didn’t have to endure the waxing act of the sexually deprived drag queen and her sexually charged dancers.

  They walked in and climbed the stairs to the mezzanine where Vance had a table reserved on a nightly basis. Their waiter, a nicely dressed young man with a terrible fringe covering half his face, took their order for a dry martini and two virgin mojitos and left them to their peace, where Vance could finally pour his heart out about whatever was bothering him.

  “So you wanna tell us what happened or wait for the drinks to do so?” Pierce asked with a discernible grin. Rafe nudged his arm next to him.

  Vance looked up at them and crossed his hands on his lap. “What are you talking about?”

  “Come on.” Rafe rolled his eyes. “Something is clearly bothering you, boss.”

  Vance winced. “Oh and you know me so well, don’t you?”

  Pierce chuckled and held his stomach to restrain himself from laughing any harder. “Dude, the fucking singer can tell you’ve got the blues, and he ain’t even a blues singer.”

  “Okay, okay. You got me. I just had a stupid night yesterday so I’m just not feeling very… myself,” Vance admitted, holding his hands up in surrender.

  Rafe tapped his hand on the table, demanding the beans. “Spill them,” he shouted over the music.

  Vance huffed and looked at the ceiling. “Well, you know the friend I was supposed to spend my New Year’s Eve with?” They both nodded. “Well, he was sort of a date.”

  Pierce and Rafe turned to look at each other while Vance was being coy with them. “No joke,” Pierce commented.

  “Anyway,” he ignored both of them and continued, “we went out last night, I put on my new suit, we went somewhere nice and expensive, and as we were talking he started mentioning his boyfriend. You know, ‘my boyfriend this, my boyfriend that’… ”

  “I thought you said it was a date,” Rafe said.

  “I did too,” Vance retorted. “I hadn’t seen him in ages. When he got back in touch with me he was being very funny and flirty, and I genuinely thought he was interested. But he was only interested in business tips and how to get started in New York. He wants to open his own restaurant, and apparently I’m the only one he knows who’s got a business,” Vance sighed.

  Pierce whistled. “What a Debby Downer. Sorry, dude, but please… ”

  “… don’t tell me you’re down because of him?” Rafe interrupted to also scold at Vance.

  Vance nodded. “Well, I really liked this guy. I mean I’ve known him for like ten years, but I met him when I was with my then-boyfriend. By the time I became single again, he moved out to L.A. and stuff. So when he contacted me, I really thought he was interested. Our message history certainly read as such. And, I don’t know guys, I’m sick of all the fucking frogs I have to kiss. When is my prince gonna arrive? I’m not getting any younger.” He pursed his lips and the waiter arrived with their drinks. Vance took hold of his before it was given to him.

  Rafe and Pierce spent the rest of the night consoling their depressed boss, trying to convince him that his life hadn’t ended and that he would find his soulmate, if such thing existed. At around two a.m. they decided to make their way back to the apartment and got on the subway.

  “He’s only thirty-six for crying out loud,” Pierce exclaimed. “Gay guys are such big, fat drama queens.”

  Rafe laughed. “Come on, give him a break. He’s been through a lot of relationships. It’s natural to lose hope. Especially when guys have fucked him up so badly.”

  “Yeah, I know. And he’s such a catch as well. I don’t get it,” Pierce said.

  “I know. Me neither,” Rafe agreed.

  Pierce found Rafe’s hand on the seat between them and held it. “You’re not gonna fuck me up, are you?”

  Rafe looked at him and put his forehead on Pierce’s. Those damn eyes. Blue like the morning sky, lit with such glimmering desperation, hanging off Rafe’s reply as if they depended on him to keep their spark. Rafe couldn’t believe he was even asking him that.

  “Never, you stupid,” Rafe told him and gave him a gentle kiss.

  Pierce’s cheeks puffed up and blushed despite the smile.

  They got off at their stop and got to the apartment in no time. Wang wasn’t back still, so Rafe sneaked his laptop into his bedroom so Pierce could show him all the beautiful pictures he’d taken. Pierce inserted the SD card and clicked the camera folder that popped up on the screen.

  The first few pictures were urban shots he’d seen before. The kind of pictures tourists took. There were a few that were stunning in their perception, especially for a photography fledgling like Pierce, but nothing of note.

  But then something magical happened.

  The pictures were no longer about inanimate or animated objects but of people of every color and walk of life. He’d managed to get shots of people doing private things in the ever-so-public and always-busy streets of the Big Apple.

  The shot of a woman in a red suit lighting a cigarette while holding a cell phone with her shoulder. A man picking oranges to put in a grocery bag. A young girl blowing a bubble. A boy’s attempt at a skating trick. One by one those pictures revealed a talent he didn’t know Pierce possessed.

  Not only had he taken nice colorful pictures, he had also taken soulful pictures.

  And then they got to snapshots of a life he knew well. He saw the homeless with their carts, scavenging in trash; men, women, and children sleeping on carton boxes. He even saw the street he’d spent a year at, picking up customers for a dirty business he wished he’d never have to go back to.

  “Those are so beautiful, chulo,” he told him, snuggled up next to him in the single bed, with only the peaceful light of the fairy lights casting a warm tone to the room.

  “You mean that?” Pierce asked in a hushed voice.

  Rafe smiled. “Yes,” he confirmed, and Pierce’s shy look made him give in.

  He’d been feeling it all night, since he saw him walking in Les Fourches with his sapphire coat and camera in hand, like a model posing for a magazine cover.

  He’d felt it whenever he held his hand and his fingers massaging the back of it. He’d felt it sitting next to him at Marcy’s, consoling Vance, but doing so with such happiness he couldn’t help but feel like a hypocrite during Vance’s heart-to-heart. He’d felt it in the subway train, casting away Pierce’s fears, and he was feeling it now, seeing the talent that oozed out of him.

  He wanted this man. This bruto who had patched his heart back up after his parents had shattered it to pieces. This tough guy who had gone out of his way to help him get back on his feet. This vulnerable soul that needed more love than Rafe could possibly give him. He couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to be one with him.

  And so he kissed him. Pierce kissed back while placing the laptop on the floor between the bed and the wall, and his hands came back more triumphant, grabbing Rafe’s waist as he went in for a deeper kiss.

  Rafe could almost chuckle at how inexperienced this big, muscular guy was compared to him, and how badly it showed on Pierce’s delicate moves, who touched Rafe as if he was afraid he’d break him.

  But instead of findi
ng it funny, it turned Rafe on. It was sexier than someone who knew his way around the game like his clients. Most of them were so seasoned in sexing-up that they’d forgotten all the good bits and skipped straight to the action.

  But Rafe didn’t want that with Pierce. Pierce wasn’t a money machine, nor a bed until the next morning. With him, Rafe wanted to explore the art of lovemaking. An art he’d only explored with one other person: the guy who took his virginity and his health.

  He shook the image of his first boyfriend out of his mind and focused on his current one who was still afraid to touch anywhere but the waist and face.

  Rafe took Pierce’s hand and put it on his ass, placing his own on Pierce’s. His hand squeezed the firm, full buttock, and his cock in his jeans ached as it grew harder. The closeness was already making him sweat, and they hadn’t even started yet.

  He put his hand under Pierce’s jeans so that he could feel the smoothness of his ass and pulled him closer where his cock could rub against Pierce’s, and from the feel of it, Pierce was as painfully hard as he was.

  Rafe wanted to touch it, but he was sure if he did, he would shoot a load in his jeans. So instead he turned Pierce on the mattress so that he was lying fully on his back and sat on his lap.

  Pierce’s cock pulsed under his groin. Rafe moaned. Pierce couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Rafe. He felt his stare heating up his face.

  Rafe grabbed Pierce’s T-shirt and took it off so that he could admire the body he’d been craving for months. He saw the bandaged wound on the left, under his ribs, and made a mental note to not go any rougher on him. He’d probably have to do all the work while Pierce lay down, but he didn’t mind. He wanted to worship the body of his boyfriend—he was his boyfriend, right?—like he deserved.

  He dived in for another kissing session, which Pierce starved for. His lips and tongue were on fire with longing on Rafe’s mouth. This man could kiss!

  Rafe moved his tongue to Pierce’s cheek where he felt the roughness of a growing beard and licked up to the temple where he placed a kiss with his wet lips.

  Pierce closed his eyes and groaned. Rafe continued his journey to Pierce’s ear and sucked on his lobe, licking the neck behind it.

  His man tasted damn good. He couldn’t wait to taste the rest of him. At that thought, his penis pushed against his briefs. He wanted to fuck him so badly, he didn’t know how he was going to hold all the desire any longer.

  Twenty-Five

  Pierce

  Pierce felt peculiar when Rafe started navigating other parts of his body with his tongue—especially his ear, of all places.

  He’d been kissed in a few spots while making out, but never there, never like that. He’d never gone sexual with anyone; it was always tender making out he was after, always too scared to move to something more erotic.

  His family had definitely done a number on him if, in his twenties, he still hadn’t done foreplay, let alone fucked someone. It was always nudging at the back of his brain, every time he kissed a guy he really liked, an activity he enjoyed so much. That nudge would tell him what he was doing was wrong. That being so intimate with another man was inappropriate. Sinful.

  They’d done a number on him, all right. He always ran off with guilt overpowering his emotions, making him feel gross, disgusting. It was exactly the same every time he’d try to beat off on his own, watching porn or fantasizing about the hottest guy in school or college, and the minute he’d reach absolute pleasure, depression would hit, depriving him of any lasting feelings of happiness.

  And yet, despite all that, the craving for a male touch never went away, only became stronger, as did his thoughts. But all those combined prevented him from ever moving forward with anyone.

  It was cute in high school when being with someone sexually meant doing something unthinkable. It was okay for the straight kids to step up their relationships, but for kids like him? Holding hands and sneaking kisses past the parents was the deal.

  And it was cute, despite the urges creeping up every time his skin touched someone else’s skin. But when he got to college? Holding hands was flirting and first date was sucking cock in public restrooms.

  All this, all these past experiences faded when he sensed Rafe’s breath in his ear and his tongue wetted him. His temples pulsed and his erection begged for release from the prison of his zipper.

  As if knowing what he was feeling, Rafe bent down and rubbed his body on Pierce’s, their cocks grinding next to each other, separated by layers of clothing that were so unnecessary he wanted to tear them apart, burn them into ashes and never again be encaged in anything but Rafe’s steaming body.

  If having Rafe on top of him working his magic wasn’t enough, Rafe’s tongue continued its journey down his neck giving him goosebumps that traveled from his collarbone to the rest of his body.

  Rafe didn’t stop there. He placed wet kisses on Pierce’s chest until his teeth gripped on his right nipple. A sharp pain shot through him and impaled his dick with an unquenchable thirst to come.

  Rafe had no mercy; his hand found its way to his crotch and massaged his dick with his palm while the other hand played with his free nipple, twisting it with his fingers.

  Pierce couldn’t hold it anymore. His throat was dry. He was doing his best to keep the gasps inside, but the further south Rafe went, the stronger his insides trembled. He let out a loud moan as Rafe left a trail with his tongue, sucking on his belly button and licking at the top of his pubes protruding from his trousers.

  Rafe unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off slowly. He threw them over his shoulder and hunched back down, biting on Pierce’s cock through his briefs. Pierce groaned. What the fuck was he doing? He was going to come before they’d even started.

  “Fuck, you’re so good,” Pierce groaned, surprised his voice had any volume when his mouth felt so coarse.

  Rafe chuckled. “You ain’t felt nothing yet, cariño,” he said and then pulled on the elastic of Pierce’s underwear and placed his tongue on Pierce’s throbbing dick. “Someone’s happy to see me,” he said, and put his lips around the erect penis, pulling the foreskin down with his fingers, the head of Pierce’s cock immediately salivated inside Rafe’s warm mouth.

  Pierce let out another groan, a “fuck” escaping his lips.

  On one hand he was wondering why he’d never done that before, but, on the other hand, he was glad he had saved himself for Rafe, because it made him love him even more, going the next step with the guy he loved. And he did love Rafe. It was impossible not to. They’d been through so much together in the past three months, he couldn’t imagine where and what he’d be without him.

  The thought of Rafe’s kindness was cut short when Pierce felt his shaft swallowed up, Rafe’s nose touching his pelvis. Rafe moaned, and the vibrations around his penis made Pierce gasp. Rafe pulled the dick out of his mouth and tried again, tightening his lips as he sucked with much more vigor.

  Pierce’s blood pumped in his groin, heat pinching at the top of his urethra, his cum begging to shoot. He put his hand on the back of Rafe’s head and pulled on his short hair. His dick felt cool when Rafe took it out of his mouth.

  “I’m gonna come,” Pierce whispered.

  Rafe sat up and moaned. He took hold of Pierce’s cock, rubbing it gently, his thumb pressing at the top of his head.

  He fell on top of Pierce and kissed his mouth, his breath a fire that burned Pierce’s senses. Rafe was still stroking the dick with his right hand, the left placed next to Pierce’s head, supporting him over Pierce while giving him enough space to jerk Pierce off.

  Pierce couldn’t stand seeing Rafe with his shirt still on, so he took it off for him. “You’re so fucking hot.”

  Rafe smiled but didn’t stop pumping. He whispered in Pierce’s ear. “I want you to come, come right now, cariño,” he said.

  Pierce wanted to hold it longer, he didn’t want to last so little, but his entire body was shaking. Desire was pouring out from his every pore, and
the feeling of Rafe’s lips back on his mouth weakened him. His load shot between them, sprinkling Rafe’s stomach and his. Rafe gasped.

  He took his hand off Pierce’s wet dick and unzipped his pants, whipping his dick out. It was red and throbbing. He stroked it quickly and panted, and surely, not too many seconds later, another hot load doused them both. Rafe let out a long sigh and fell on top of Pierce’s right side, their mixed come daubing their stomachs. Rafe came back for a softer, much more relaxed, kiss.

  “That was… ” Pierce started to say, but he didn’t know if he could describe what had just happened with anything other than the three words he’d been holding on the tip of his mouth for what seemed an eternity.

  “I love you,” he whispered and touched his nose to Rafe’s.

  Rafe lifted his head and stared at Pierce, his lids heavy over his brown eyes. He blinked and breathed on his face, but he didn’t speak. Had he made a mistake? Had he just fucked everything up by saying the three formidable words that everyone always seemed so afraid of?

  “Uh—” He opened his mouth to apologize or take it back, although taking such words back felt like the biggest sin he could ever commit.

  Rafe’s fingers touched his lips and shushed him. “I love you too,” he said in a long sigh, taking pleasure curling the words in his mouth.

  Pierce smiled. Rafe smiled. He now knew why he’d never been able to shake the guilt off of him when he’d tried to be with other guys. It wasn’t his Christian background or the strict parenthood he had endured or the fate of his beloved gramps and what his family had done to him.

  No.

  The guilt had been there because his soul couldn’t allow anyone else touching what was rightfully and universally Rafe’s. Only Rafe made him feel at peace with himself.

  Rafe.

  His soulmate.

  Twenty-Six

  Pierce