Devon Cream

by Jet Mykles

  When Steven had all he could take—which wasn’t all, but it was more than enough—he let out an aching sigh, staring blearily at the ceiling.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Laughing softly, Steven sat straight and lowered his head. Devon was clearly holding back, containing himself. Steven smiled. “Not like you think,” he said on a sigh, tensing his thighs to start the slow glide up.

  Devon gasped, fingers kneading as much of Steven’s ass as he could reach. “Oh, man, that’s....” He swallowed, “...incredible.”

  Steven nodded, his eyes falling shut again so he could enjoy the friction within him. It had been so long, and Devon was so.... He longed to grab his dick, but forced himself not to. Not yet. Need to enjoy this a little more. It was a losing battle, and he knew it. He was going to have to succumb to some serious fucking soon. But until then, he’d torture himself.

  Devon’s neck arched back, burying his head in the pillows. He wanted to move; Steven could see that in the scrunched-up concentration of his eyes and mouth. But he held back.

  Steven started to rock faster. He’d never come in this position, but there was a first time for everything. Devon felt better than any of his other lovers. Devon felt right.

  Shit, don’t think about that.

  “Move,” he commanded, voice breathy. He braced on his arms above Devon, holding his hips up with trembling thighs. “Fuck me.”

  Devon’s eyes opened, pupils dilated. “Huh?”

  “Bend your knees and fuck me.”

  It took him a minute. He fumbled twice, but Devon finally got his legs into position. Steven held mostly still, loving even the little thrusts Devon’s actions caused. When he was there, Devon took one slow, experimental thrust.

  Steven threw back his head, felt sweat trickle down his forehead and neck. “Yes! Harder.”

  Devon thrust again, a little surer.

  “Can you keep that up?”

  Fingers bit into Steven’s hip as Devon pulled him into a better angle. “Fuck yeah!” He thrust. Hard.

  Steven nearly screamed, managing to stifle it by biting his lip. It came out halfway between scream and groan.

  “Shit, you okay?”

  “Yes.” Steven forced his eyes open, made himself look at Devon’s panicked face. “I’m fucking great. Do that again!”

  He did.

  “Yes! That’s what I need. Fuck me.”

  Devon’s inhibitions melted away. He planted his heels and thrust, shoving heat up Steven’s spine to burn his lungs. When he got comfortable, he gripped with his fingers and started slamming Steven’s hips down to meet his thrusts.

  “Perfect,” Steven gasped, gripping handfuls of the bedspread underneath Devon, unable to do anything but brace himself. His cock ached, bouncing between them, demanding attention, but he didn’t trust his balance over Devon. It didn’t matter. He was almost there. His hole spasmed, gripping Devon’s cock. Almost—

  He gasped as his world turned. One moment, he was on the precipice, Devon’s cock driving into him from below. The next, his ass was empty, and he slammed onto his back, pillows and bedspread puffing beneath him. “What?”

  Devon loomed over him, grabbing his thighs, pulling them up. “Angle’s bad,” he muttered, reaching down to reposition his cock. “Shit, condom.”

  Steven wiped sweaty hair from his eyes, watching Devon pull off the condom that must have come loose. Still kneeling between Steven’s legs, Devon leaned back and managed to reach the nightstand drawer. While Devon fumbled with the new condom, Steven reached down to finally stroke his own cock. It was great, but he needed more.

  Devon had more. He got the condom on in record time and picked Steven’s thighs back up. “More lube?”

  Steven shook his head. “Don’t need it. Just fuck—ah!”

  Devon took him at his word. He was back inside in one long, glorious shove that had Steven arching his back and screwing his eyes shut over tears of joy. Tears! Oh, yes, young man. Strong young man. Strong young man with jackhammer hips and a cock that might never give up its load. At this angle, he nailed Steven’s gland faithfully and hard with every thrust. He leaned in, bracing his arms on the bed beside Steven, Steven’s knees draped over his elbows. Unable to do much but receive, Steven frantically jerked his own cock and lost himself in bliss.

  He came hard, splashing over his own chest and belly, even managing to get his chin. He didn’t know—because he couldn’t open his sweaty eyes—but it might have been that sight that set Devon off. Breathing hard, he thrust even harder, but the rhythm was off. The big body over Steven shuddered. A groan bled from Devon’s lips as his hips gave those last few telltale thrusts.

  Devon managed to remember to let Steven’s legs down before he collapsed across Steven’s chest. He didn’t seem to mind the sweat and spunk that glued them together, nor did the press of Steven’s softening cock against his belly seem to bother him. Of course, he’d just come pretty hard, and it was rough to mind anything after such an experience.

  Smiling, Steven wrapped his arms around Devon’s shoulders and breathed with him. Steven’s mind was racing, his skin tingling. He hadn’t felt this blissfully happy in forever, and he gladly allowed it to bowl him over. He dug his fingers into Devon’s sweaty hair, cradling him close, cherishing the heated press of a heavy body on his. He could love a guy like this.

  Who are you kidding? You do love a guy like this. This guy.

  Panic sluiced away the warm calm of the moment before as the fact sank home. He was in love. Patty was right. He’d fallen in love with Devon and had just nailed the coffin shut on his heart by having sex. There was no way he could go back to just idly wondering about Devon’s gorgeous body. He’d felt it, tasted it, fucked it. He ached to seal the deal and make it and the brain and soul within it his, but he knew that he couldn’t.

  Ah, shit.

  Even if Devon did consent to have sex with him again, it would never be right. Eventually Devon would be the center of Steven’s soul, and Steven would just be a vessel for release. Not that the sweet boy would ever admit that, but it would be true, and one day Devon would have to break it off when he found the girl of his dreams.

  Steven screwed his eyes shut over a sudden blossoming of tears. He’d entertained hopeless dreams about a heterosexual man once in his life when he was young and stupid. He wasn’t going to do it again.

  He let his hands slide down Devon’s arms to the mattress. Where a moment ago Devon’s body had been a welcome blanket, it was now a stifling weight. When it didn’t look like Devon was going to move, Steven tapped lightly on his hip. “It’s better if you let me go get a towel to wash up now.” Good, his voice was normal and didn’t betray the lump in his throat.

  Devon grunted and rolled to his side off of Steven.

  Without looking at him, Steven rolled the opposite way off the bed. On slightly shaky legs, he padded into the bathroom and washed the spunk from his skin. He took the time to calm his breathing and splash cool water on his face, forcing his eyes to behave. He then rinsed the cloth and brought it back into the bedroom for Devon.

  Having discarded the condom, Devon sat on the edge of the bed, staring into the space between the bed and the blinds on the window. It was a thoughtful look. The regrets begin already. He looked up at Steven, the serious expression melting into a heartwarming smile.

  Allowing a small smile of his own, wondering if it looked regretful, Steven handed the damp cloth to Devon, then turned toward the hall door.

  “Where are you going?”

  Steven called over his shoulder, “I don’t know about you, but I’m thirsty.”

  He half expected Devon to follow him into the kitchen. It would be easier to do this outside of the bedroom, away from the sheets that still smelled of sweat and spunk. Easier to do what? he asked himself. Thank Devon kindly for being so generous with the loan of his body? Make the offer to lie back and spread his legs for Devon if he ever wanted to do it again? Geez, would he be able to resist the k
id if Devon came on to him again? Not likely. Steven wasn’t that strong, proven by what had just happened in his own bed. No, he needed to be open with Devon. He believed Devon did care about him, if not in the same way. If he knew he was going to rip Steven’s heart in two, he wouldn’t do it again. Would he?

  When Devon didn’t follow and Steven had dithered long enough, he took two bottles of water from the refrigerator back to the bedroom.

  Devon still sat on the edge of the bed, watching the cloth as he tossed it from hand to hand between his knees. His chestnut curls were sweat-plastered to one side of his face and oddly shaped toward the crown of his skull. He looked thoroughly fucked and utterly delicious, especially when he looked up and gave Steven a hesitant smile. “Did I do something wrong?”

  Steven’s jaw dropped, and he froze just two steps into the room. “Wrong?”

  Devon shrugged. “You’re upset.”

  Steven frowned. “I’m not upset.”

  Devon cocked his head to the side. “You aren’t?”

  Unable to deny it, Steven grimaced. “Shit.” Closing the distance between them, he traded bottled water for damp cloth, careful not to touch Devon. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Shit, now what?

  “Should I be sorry?”

  Steven eyed that gorgeous, earnest face. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  Damn, I believe him. He shut his eyes as he walked to the open bathroom door. “You will be.”

  “Huh?”

  He dropped the cloth into the sink, then turned back toward the bedroom. Uncomfortable, he stopped to lean in the doorway, sipping his water. “You will be sorry.”

  “What?”

  “Devon, you’re not gay. You’ve told me that yourself.”

  Devon glanced over his shoulder at the rumpled sheets. “Doesn’t what we just did make that a lie?”

  “No. One time with a guy doesn’t make you gay, just like having sex once doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship.”

  Devon winced.

  Steven grimaced at himself. “I’m sorry, Devon. What we just did was....” He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward for a moment. “...awesome. Truly. But we can’t let it be any more than what it was.”

  “What was it?”

  He shrugged. “Sex.”

  Devon thought hard a moment. “I enjoyed it.”

  “But it’s not your thing. And that’s okay.” Pushing from the doorframe, Steven stepped toward Devon. God! You’re being a prick. But it was better this way. His heart couldn’t withstand the hope that this could go any further. “I appreciate what you did. Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Devon stood, the neck of the plastic bottle crumpling a little in his fist. “You make it sound like I bought you groceries or something.”

  “It’s in the same vein, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  Steven knelt to pick up Devon’s discarded clothing. “You said it yourself, Dev. You wanted to do something for me, to make me feel good. You did. Thank you. But we can never do this again.”

  Devon stared at him, brows furrowed, mouth open as though to say something, but words didn’t come. He shook his head, lips moving with thoughts that didn’t get voiced.

  “I’m sorry, but I just can’t handle knowing that you’ll either get tired of it or, worse, freak out on me when you start to think you are gay.” Steven shook his head. “I’ve had some experience with that, and I won’t go through it again.”

  Devon finally found his voice when Steven handed him the bundle of clothes. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

  “Likewise.” Steven took the water bottle from him and crossed to the dresser. “So please understand why I’m saying thank you, but let’s not do it again.”

  In silence, Steven pulled open a drawer and took out a pair of boxers. A glance in the mirror showed Devon watching him, his look similar to that of a man trying to figure out how to pick a lock. Steven sighed. “I shouldn’t have even let anything happen, but....” He shook his head as he stepped into the boxers, feeling a little less vulnerable with just that bit of clothing on. “We need to both chalk it up as an experience and leave it at that.”

  “But if I enjoyed it, can’t that mean that I might be—?”

  “No.” Steven shook his head, nipping Devon’s argument in the bud.

  “But—”

  “Get dressed and go upstairs. You’ve got work tomorrow.” Thankfully, it wasn’t an early day, sparing Steven the need to wake him.

  Without another word, Steven walked back out of the bedroom. In the kitchen, with all but the one light over the stove turned off, he grabbed an orange and peeled it, mostly for something to do.

  He’d put the first juicy slice between his lips when Devon emerged, dressed. He stopped on the other side of the counter, spreading his hands on the tiles. “Steven, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m not. Not if we’re still friends.” Steven offered half of the orange.

  Devon frowned at him and didn’t take it.

  Shrugging, Steven popped another section into his mouth, willing himself to enjoy the burst of sweetness. “Don’t think too hard about it. Let’s just go back to what we were.” He waved toward the front door. “I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

  “Okay.” Frowning, confused, Devon left.

  The door closed behind him, and Steven dropped the dripping bit of orange on the counter. Shaking, he gripped the edge of the tile, closing his eyes. “You did the right thing,” he told himself.

  He had.

  So why did he feel like shit?

  Chapter Five

  Exhausted, Steven trudged up the steps to the building’s front door and paused to retrieve his mail from his mailbox. So tired that his fingers fumbled when relocking the box, he groaned at the very thought of having to fix something to eat. At least he’d called Patty earlier and asked her to tell Devon that he’d be out late with Larry...again.

  He felt bad about that. For over a week now, he’d bailed on them after being so good in the past about feeding them. Yes, it wasn’t his responsibility, but he still felt bad. But things were moving with Larry. The man was a thoroughbred with a bit in his mouth, and he’d charged out of the gate, dragging Steven along with him. That, in and of itself, Steven enjoyed, but along with still working full time, it was already wearing him down.

  Sighing, he passed through the building’s front door, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, tired thoughts tumbling over the prospect of either gutting the restaurant’s kitchen and building fresh or renovating what was already there. He didn’t notice the savory aroma of spiced beef and comforting tomato sauce until he’d opened his own front door. The familiar ring of Patty’s laugh laced with the sound of smooth jazz from his stereo.

  “Hello?”

  A knife clattered, feet shuffled, and then Patty’s head poked through the opening between kitchen and dining area. “There you are!” She waved, grinning brightly. “Welcome home.”

  Wearing a confused smile, Steven walked in far enough to see into the kitchen. Devon glanced up from the ground beef and onions sizzling in a pan before him. He smiled.

  Steven swallowed a lump in his throat. Since that night, he’d only seen Devon in passing and in the mornings when he’d gone to wake him up. He’d kept the latter visits intentionally brief and hadn’t offered breakfast, and Devon hadn’t pushed. Now, however, he stood in Steven’s kitchen, dressed in a thin, short-sleeved white dress shirt worn open over a blue tank top. The shirt was long enough to cover his butt, although the shapeless, relaxed jeans wouldn’t provide much of a view anyway. With familiar tousled hair and a slight shadow of stubble, he looked far more delicious than anything he was cooking. “What are you two doing?”

  Patty beamed, returning to the chopping board and the hunk of cheese she must have just cut off in order to add to the grated pile in the bowl before her. “You’ve been so busy, we decided to feed you.”

  Steven locked gazes with Devon. “Y
ou did?”

  Patty chuckled happily, concentrating on the cheese. “It was Devon’s idea. I want to kick myself for not thinking of it.”

  Too tired to avoid it, Steven was still gazing at Devon, who shrugged and looked down at what he was preparing. “You’ve fed us enough, and you’ve been busy.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” Patty abandoned her cheese to come stand before him, blocking the way with a menacing scowl. Only then did Steven realize he’d been walking into the kitchen. “You go clean up and do whatever work you still need to do, and let Devon and me take care of dinner. We’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  He didn’t smell much garlic. “But I—”

  “Scoot!”

  He hastened back, seeing Devon’s grin over her shoulder. Well, fine. If they wanted to take care of him for once, who was he to object?

  A half hour later, after a very quick shower, he sat at the table being served dinner in his own home, an event he didn’t recall ever happening before. The spaghetti and meat sauce was hearty and flavorful. Perhaps a bit heavy on the meat and skimpy on the garlic, maybe a tad on the oily side, but it was filling, and there was lots of it. Steven was far too tired and grateful to nitpick.

  “So, Devon,” he asked as he was dishing up his second helping, “you didn’t tell me you could cook.”

  Devon shrugged. “I’m not nearly as good as you. My mom taught me some,” he admitted, blushing a little. “I know how to make this and some other casseroles and chicken dishes.” He shrugged. “She wanted to make sure I ate more than fast food when I was at college.”

  “And did you?”

  He ducked his head. “I did cook some.”

  Steven and Patty exchanged a smiling glance, both remembering the fast-food-filled days of college.