Forever Yours

by David Horne

  Carly harrumphed.

  A customer came in, an old woman looking for a new toothbrush. Carly helped her out before Dylan’s brooding face could put her off and sent her on her way.

  “You two are perfect for each other,” Carly informed him.

  “How so?” Dylan asked.

  “Simple.” Carly smiled in a way that told Dylan she was about to deliver a devastating blow. “You’re both a couple of namby-pamby pussies.”

  “Oh, great, thanks.”

  “You only have to abandon your little scaredy-cat lifestyle for five minutes, get back together, and then go back to living in fear or whatever it is you do.”

  “Easy for you to say. When have you ever had to get back with someone?”

  “Never wanted to, Dill Pickle. I make good decisions. Unlike the both of you.”

  Dylan muttered something under his breath that he didn’t care to repeat when Carly prompted him to.

  “Anyway,” Carly continued, “haven’t you guys started applying to places.”

  Dylan hummed. “I’m staying in the state. In the city, if I can help it.”

  “And Evan?”

  Dylan frowned now, recalling his brief conversation with Evan earlier. “Evan applied to Europe.”

  “Exclusively?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Does it matter?”

  “It does matter a bit,” Carly said. “I mean, if he didn’t apply here at all, then you’ve got no chance and—”

  Inexplicably, there were tears burning in Dylan’s eyes. His throat felt scratchy. “He said he found a place in France. He didn’t say much about it, but I think he likes it and I think that even if he got in here, he’d go to France.” He paused, and a horrible thought occurred to him: “Oh, God. What if I’m the reason he’s leaving? What if he just doesn’t want to be around me anymore? Because I asked where he was applying and he goes, ‘here and there’, so I’m thinking he applied here, too, just as a backup plan.

  “But then, he asked about me, and I said ‘mostly here’, and he nodded, like ‘Oh, great, guess I’m gonna have to leave after all because this fuckhead wants to stay in the city and I just can’t seem to get away from him unless I literally, physically leave. That explains the sex, too, right? I’m just someone to fuck around with until time comes to leave?”

  Carly was looking at him funny, and Dylan figured he looked a little wild—teary-eyes and crazed, ranting and raving. “You’re stupid,” she declared finally. “Really, really stupid.”

  It wasn’t the nicest thing to hear, but it did jar Dylan out of his mild panic.

  “Think about it—does that really seem like the kind of thing Evan would do?” Carly reason. “Now, I don’t know him as well as you do, but that doesn’t seem very Evan to me.”

  “I supposed not,” Dylan conceded. “Though maybe that was some…ulterior motive of his all along.”

  “How long’s all along? Since the dawn of your friendship?”

  “No, the dawn of our date…ship.”

  Carly nodded sagely, then laughed. “Because I can just imagine four-year-old Evan hatching this plan. Whiteboard and dry-erase marker, diagrams—the works. Endgame is settling in Europe with his favorite stuffed animal.”

  Dylan cracked a smile. He was thankful for Carly O’Connor.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a few days later and Dylan was feeling moody.

  Maybe it because he had woken up on the wrong side of bed after a night of stress over school and overthinking, but all he felt was pissed.

  He’d been up for a while trying to figure out some problems for his math course, and then had lain in bed a while longer, just thinking. His mind had obviously wandered to Evan. How Evan had been by his side, loved him as a friend, then loved him as a lover. But, but not enough, apparently, to listen to Dylan. Evan was so stubborn that he refused to hear Dylan out, to understand when Dylan was trying to speak.

  It made Dylan mad, made him feel like he wasn’t worth the time, like Evan thought he wasn’t worth waiting an extra ten or twenty minutes for. Like he couldn’t even be bothered to put Dylan’s mind at ease, even if his heart still hurt in the end.

  In the past, when Dylan got himself into a funk, he’d call Evan. Unfortunately, with Evan being the cause of his poor temper, he couldn’t do that. Then there was Carly. However, he just wasn’t in the mood for her company. She would nag and pull at him, force him into her pseudo-therapy until he was too annoyed and upset to continue.

  Then there was Luke, the Evan lookalike from the burger joint.

  Dylan hadn’t expected Luke to even cross his mind after their first meeting. He already had a best friend. What he needed was another male presence, not for sex, not for love, just for company. Somebody outside the sphere of his bullshit problems.

  Luke was that person. Plus, Dylan had thought about what Carly had said about leading the guy on. He was nice enough and definitely attractive, and Dylan didn’t feel right about stringing him along. This would be an opportunity to set the record straight, face to face.

  When Luke arrived at Dylan’s apartment, Dylan greeted him with a bright smile, one that hopefully didn’t look too forced.

  “I wanna say something, first,” Dylan said. He breathed deeply. “If you were coming here, expecting us to date or get it on or whatever, I’m not interested. I didn’t wanna tell you over the phone or text or anything. So there.” He paused. “If that’s chill with you, then great. If not…no hard feelings, right?”

  Luke laughed lightly. “Dude, I wasn’t expecting anything. You and that other guy who—” he gave Dylan a knowing look “—kind of looks like me? It’s you and him. That’s cool. We can still be friends, right?”

  Dylan heaved a great breath of relief. That had gone far better than expected. And thank God for that, because Dylan really needed someone around while he was in his shitty mood, to keep him distracted and to restrain him from doing something stupid.

  “Yes,” Dylan breathed. “Thanks, Luke.”

  Luke grinned. “No worries. You got a game system? Because I brought…” He held up a disk. It was a game that Dylan had never gotten around to buying.

  “Yeah, I got one,” Dylan told him, sidestepping to let Luke in.

  Dylan left Luke to set up while he fetched them drinks and junk food. He leaned against the counter, stalling.

  Luke had been a good choice. A good decision for where to place his friendship. He seemed trustworthy enough, though Dylan had barely just met him, so he shouldn’t have been making assumptions so soon. He was understanding, too, which was proven well enough just minutes ago when Dylan had steered their relationship onto the right path. And he was easy on the eyes, but maybe that was just because he strongly resembled Evan.

  Dylan exited the kitchen with his arms full and heart a little lighter. He laid the food and cans on the floor where Luke had set up camp, then settled beside him with his back against the sofa. Luke handed him a controller.

  Dylan quickly learned that he was pretty shitty at the game Luke had brought. Whereas Luke played with agile, experienced fingers, always knowing the right move and when to make it. In Dylan’s defense, he was a first timer. Even then, his efforts delved into the realm of pathetic.

  Luke was keen to help him out, which made Dylan feel both warm and pitiful. At the very least, he found himself learning and his mood lifting.

  “So,” Luke said, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. “What’s the deal with you and the other guy?”

  Dylan didn’t know what it was about Luke that made him want to blurt out his secrets. He just seemed like a steadfast guy, and one who wouldn’t frown upon him.

  “Uh, it’s complicated,” Dylan said. “I’ve known him since kindergarten, had a crush on him since seventh grade. We got around to dating last April, he broke it off in July.” Dylan shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant and unconcerned as possible. “Not a big deal.”

  Luke laughed. On screen, Dylan’s character died
. “Could’ve fooled me,” Luke said, though not unkindly.

  “Okay,” Dylan granted. “It’s sort of a big deal.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Well, I’m kind of in love with him? Only, when he was drunk—mind you, he was very drunk, so I don’t know how credible he was—”

  “You’d be surprised,” Luke interrupted.

  “Whatever. So, while he’s drunk, he tells me he broke up with me because he thought I’d be better off without him. But then when he broke up with me, he told me we’d be better off as friends. So, something’s not right there.”

  Luke hummed thoughtfully. “Which do you think it is?”

  “Honestly, the first one.”

  Luke grinned. “See? I told you drunk people have credibility. All they’re doing is saying shit they wouldn’t say sober.”

  “I suppose,” Dylan admitted. “Only reason I believe him is because he keeps—”

  “Having sex with you?” Luke guessed. It was a very good guess.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Been there,” Luke said

  Dylan looked over at him, intrigued. Luke appeared completely calm about it, not even glancing away from the screen. Dylan heard his character getting killed again but he wasn’t paying attention.

  Finally, Luke looked over at him. “What?” he questioned.

  It took Dylan a second to find his voice. “Well, what happened?”

  “What happened?” Luke echoed.

  “Yeah, you said you’ve been in my situation before. What happened?”

  “Oh.” Luke scratched his chin. “Well, the guy broke up with me for pretty much the same reason, but he kept coming back for my magic dick—”

  Dylan laughed at that, both because it was funny and because it reminded him of his own magic asshole.

  “—and I eventually talked it out with him. He said he was scared of committing but I convinced him, and we got back together. ‘Course, I dumped him later because I found out he was cheating on me, but that’s another story.”

  Dylan swallowed. “How are you being so calm about it?”

  Luke shrugged. “It was years ago. No point being hung up over it now.”

  “Huh.”

  Dylan leaned back and immersed himself in the game. But at the back of his mind, Luke’s words nagged him. Afraid of commitment. Dylan had already wondered that about Evan. If putting a romantic label on their relationship had been too much at the time, but he hadn’t been willing to give up the company and sexual intimacy.

  Perhaps Evan would need a little more wearing down before Dylan could finally get a decent conversation in with him.

  ***

  As soon as Luke left, Dylan called Evan. He made his voice rough and raspy, made his words sound desperate, as though he was begging—anything to get Evan over. They were doing this now, because the sooner Dylan wore him out, the sooner he would be more receptive to some nosing around.

  Since luck seemed to be on Dylan’s side, Evan was over within ten minutes, already hard from the phone call, at the mere thought of him.

  Dylan was going to be controlling things this time around, and he made sure to let Evan know. As soon as the door shut behind Evan, Dylan pushed him back forcefully, Evan’s head thudding against the door. Dylan kissed him hard. He rocked his hips forward, grinding their clothed cocks together. He took Evan’s wrists and pinned them to the door above his head.

  Evan was laughing and saying something, but Dylan couldn’t hear him through his determination and through his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He just kept kissing, prying Evan’s lips apart with his tongue, wandering inside, searching, exploring. He kept rolling his hips, unashamed of the little grunts that were escaping his mouth, reveling in the pleasure that shot through him like lightning bolts.

  Evan was so responsive—beautifully responsive, his own hips rising to meet Dylan’s, his own tongue playing tag between their mouths, teeth biting and lips bruising, head moving forward, pressing into Dylan, seeking more, needing more.

  Dylan pulled away. The sound of it was wet. He went for Evan’s sharp jaw, his throat, and Evan’s head tipped back, lightly thumping against the door, allowing Dylan access to the long, smooth column of his neck.

  Dylan left not a single inch untouched. His mouth traveled down the length of Evan’s throat, nipping and sucking and soothing over the bites with his hot, wet tongue. He went down to Evan’s collarbone, sharp and prominent, lips brushing, then back up again, up his throat, up to his Adam’s apple, teeth grazing.

  Evan whimpered and it turned into a laugh. “What’s gotten into you?” he said hoarsely.

  Dylan sucked hard under Evan’s jaw. “Shut up,” he answered.

  He was rough in the way he pulled Evan by the wrist to his bedroom. He threw him onto the bed and climbed on top of him.

  But, he was getting too ahead of himself. He was getting lost in the moment, in the pleasure and the lust, forgetting why he was doing this. He needed to take his time, to make Evan come apart first with his finger, then once again with his cock.

  He slowed their pace, but not before ridding the both of them before all their garments, stripping them bare.

  “You’re gonna lie there and let me do the work,” Dylan said softly. “Understand?”

  Evan nodded. He was lying on his back, cock standing tall and proud, looking painfully hard. It was drooling at the tip.

  Dylan lay down between Evan’s spread legs. He lightly traced his fingernail up the length of Evan’s cock, dragging it through the shallow pool of pre-come at the head, then back down, leaving a thin streak of wetness down the shaft. Evan mewled quietly and Dylan did it again, watching as Evan’s eyes squeezed shut.

  Dylan skimmed his fingernail up one more time and Evan’s cock twitched minutely. Dylan pressed the tip of his finger to the slit at the head. It was definitely leaking, and Dylan was taking great pleasure in making Evan wait.

  Gently, Dylan rutted against his bed sheets, briefly closing his eyes, letting himself feel a bit of friction before turning his attention back to Evan.

  He massaged the head of Evan’s cock between the pad of his thumb and his index finger, the pre-cum leaking out of his tip enough lubrication for his fingers to move smoothly.

  Carefully watching Evan’s face, Dylan moved his hand away, settling it on Evan’s thigh. He leaned forward and poked his tongue the slightest bit out of his mouth. He dug it into Evan’s slit, tasting salt. Evan’s right hand, which had been knotted in the sheets, came up to slap his own forehead.

  Dylan smiled. He licked again and again, opening his mouth and letting saliva drip down, to dribble onto the head and down the shaft. He latched his lips onto the side of Evan’s cock, spreading around his own spit. His hand came back to grasp the base, thumb rolling circles into Evan’s balls, fondling.

  He licked a thick stripe, and Evan groaned. In all their many times together, Dylan had noted that Evan wasn’t particularly vocal. It was always Dylan who was moaning and screaming, the one who turned Evan’s name into a mantra.

  That was all about to change.

  Dylan took Evan into his mouth, but only the head. His tongue moved tantalizingly slow, making languid loops. His lips held loose suction, enough to draw another bead of pre-come.

  Making a circle with his index and his thumb, Dylan circled the base of Evan’s cock and pulled slowly up, coating the shaft with the spit he’d let drizzle before, sliding with ease. His hand moved back down, and with it went his mouth, slowly taking more of Evan into his mouth.

  Evan felt hot and heavy on his tongue. He allowed his tooth to lightly graze Evan’s shaft. Evan audibly hissed. However, Dylan knew it was something he liked.

  He went slowly, inch by inch, feeling the tip eventually hit the back of his throat. He hummed around the cock, and Evan actually groaned this time. He smelled of sweat and soap. His pubes had been trimmed and were a little rough when Dylan rubbed his nose into them.

  Dylan came back up, hol
lowing his cheeks. His tongue never ceased its movements. It kept going, twirling and twisting, determined to taste every inch again and again. When Dylan popped off, he tilted his head again, lips attaching themselves back to the side of the shaft, moving slowly, the fronts of his teeth brushing Evan’s sensitive skin.

  When Dylan looked back up, Evan’s head was raised. He was looking at him with tears in his eyes.

  Alarmed, Dylan let Evan’s cock fall out of his mouth. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Evan’s face was red. “Yes, Jesus!” he cried. “Fucking go faster!”

  A smirk found its way onto Dylan’s face. He shook his head faintly. His lips didn’t return to Evan’s cock. Instead, he sat up and crossed his legs. He spat on his hand and wrapped it around the shaft. Slowly, he began to pump up and down, rhythmically, holding Evan’s eyes.

  Evan arched his back, rocking up into Dylan’s touch, but Dylan wouldn’t allow it. He drew his hand away. There were tears on Evan’s face now, slowly tracking up into his hairline as he tilted his head back into the mattress. “Please,” he whispered, and Dylan felt bad.

  “Just a little while longer,” Dylan whispered back.

  Evan nodded, eyes falling shut.

  Taking pity on Evan, Dylan hunched over, lips finding the tip of his cock and planting a tiny kiss. He took it in his mouth, hand returning to the shaft. In synch, he pumped and sucked, slow and deliberate, pulling up, tongue rubbing and swirling.

  In his other hand, Dylan took his own cock, which was still standing erect, though he had forgotten about it until then. He dropped Evan’s cock from his mouth long enough to spit on both hands, each of them now handling a different cock. His mouth came back down, sipping at the tip. He barely heard Evan’s warning cry before he was tasting salty bitterness and beautiful heat.

  He pleasured Evan through his orgasm, cock twitching in his mouth, cum leaking from the corners of his lips and falling down Evan’s shaft.

  When Evan’s cock began to soften, Dylan let it go. He smiled gently at Evan’s wrecked face. He could feel his own cock pulsing, begging for attention.