by R. J. Moray
Yeah, this was pretty good.
This time Ewan didn't talk as much, seemed content to rub his cheek on the back of Nate's hand or trace ticklish patterns on his knuckles. Nate tried to pay attention to the movie but he was too acutely aware of Ewan's warmth, the lean weight of his body, how simultaneously dangerous and fragile he seemed now, wrapped in Nate's arm.
When it was over, Ewan peeled away with obvious reluctance.
"Okay?"
He nodded, looking sleepy, but then he bit his lip. "Popcorn's such a stupid food," he said. "I'll be hungry in like half an hour."
"That's good. We can get burgers from the Moonlight Diner."
"Burgers?" Ewan looked puzzled and then skeptical. "Do you even eat burgers?"
"I eat these burgers."
"Are they hipster? Do they have beetroot and cress on them?"
Nate laughed, offering Ewan a hand. "I think they're probably the opposite of hipster.
They were more like the platonic ideal of a burger, its archetype. They came in classic, cheeseburger, or bacon-and-cheese, with fresh lettuce, tomato, finely sliced onion, and pickles. The ketchup was home-made, though, more like a relish, and the spicy mustard was one Nate had never been able to find anywhere else. He got an extra tub of it for their fries and onion rings, and more ketchup too, and apparently committed some kind of sin by asking for a cherry ripe shake.
Ewan was aghast. "What is that? Why does that exist?"
"Chocolate and strawberry," Nate told him, and then, when Ewan still looked skeptical, he added, "You can try it, if you want."
Ewan ordered vanilla, which was just…no. Where did he get off criticizing anyone when he chose vanilla?
"It's pure," Ewan said, gesturing wildly. He'd left his jacket in the back seat of the car along with the last of the candy, and was guarding the milkshakes in his lap while Nate drove and stole fries from the bag sitting between Ewan's feet. "It's…you don't appreciate simplicity."
"Well, I guess we'll have to agree to disagree," Nate said mildly, winding the window down to get a faceful of cool night air. He felt good. Clean and empty and good, like this was a wholesome thing to be doing, driving up to the bluff to look out over the bay. There was a sign that promised them a fine for trespassing, but Nate just hauled the gate open and closed it after them, and pretended not to notice the look Ewan shot his way.
If they got fined Nate could pay for it. They probably wouldn't, anyway.
The road up to the bluff was dirt and rocks, and Nate took it slowly, navigating the trees while Ewan played with the radio.
"You can hook your phone up to the bluetooth if you want," Nate said.
Ewan did. Then he put on Frank Sinatra.
"Jesus fucking Christ! Are you kidding me?"
"Because you're old," Ewan said, giving Nate an innocent look that lasted all of a second before he broke into a snicker. "Gawd, your face."
"I mean if you like Frank Sinatra—" Nate said.
Ewan snorted. "No."
"—then I can sing along if you want—"
"No!"
"—to My Way. Cue it up."
"No-ooo," Ewan groaned, his face scrunching up like a cabbage. "Don't do it!"
"Regrets, I've had a few," Nate droned over the top of the music, deliberately off-key. "But then again, too few to mention…"
"Oh my Jesus," Ewan protested, stabbing at his phone. "No, no, this is horrible."
"I did what I had to do, and saw it through without exemption," Nate warbled, turning off the path and up onto the grass at the top of the hill.
"Aaaaaaaaauuugh," Ewan groaned. The music switched to something acoustic and inoffensive, and Nate grinned at him.
"Aw, c'mon. I love singing."
"That was not singing."
"I could serenade you. What's your favorite song?"
"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to tell you that," Ewan said darkly. "Where are you going?"
Nate had unbuckled his belt and opened the door. "We're going to sit on the hood."
"Is that why you have this shitty car? So you can sit on the hood and not worry about the paint?"
"She's not shitty," Nate said, petting his poor sedan. "She's loyal."
Ewan accepted a hand up onto the bonnet, and Nate spread out the food and shakes between them. Then he looked out, taking in the whole view below, the bay arching dark up to the horizon and the lights of Santa Rita glittering around it like a tiara, a constellation trailing comets and stars into the black.
"This isn't bad," Ewan said thoughtfully.
Nate glanced at him. "The view or the date?"
"Both." Ewan looked coy for a moment, and then— "The date's pretty good, actually. 'Exceeds Expectations'."
"I was going for 'Outstanding'," Nate said, sighing. "I'll have to lift my game."
Ewan snorted, and then took another sip of shake. "I meant this drink isn't too bad."
"Are you—is that my shake?" Nate demanded, snatching for it. Ewan pulled it out of reach and nearly rolled off the bonnet, laughing.
Nate liberated his shake. "Well, you liked it enough to drink like a third of it," he mock-complained. "Let me try yours."
Ewan opened up his takeaway cup and dipped a fry into the vanilla mixture inside. "It's good," he said, eating it like it was ranch dressing.
"Well, I don't want any now," Nate said mildly.
Ewan grinned at him. "Your loss."
The burgers were good, just good fresh ingredients well cooked and perfectly matched. A hint of sausage meat in the patties. A little Italian herbs. Perfect sea-salt fries. Onion rings in beer batter. And yeah, even Ewan's vanilla milkshake was rich and creamy and unmistakably vanilla.
"What are we listening to?" Nate asked. It sounded indy, the kind of thing where he should probably be listening to the lyrics in case they were completely at odds with the tone.
"Mountain Goats," Ewan said.
"I know those words."
"They're okay. You can change it."
But Nate didn't.
It was cool up there, the wind broken by the trees but still cold enough that Nate was glad he'd draped a blanket over the hood before they climbed up on it. With the food gone and the trash balled up and propped on a windscreen wiper, Nate changed the music and then pulled Ewan in, tucking him into his shoulder and lying down to look at the stars.
It felt good to be full, to have salt and sugar on his lip, the warmth of Ewan against his chest, Ewan's hand splayed across his ribs. Ewan felt bony, fragile in his arms, a little stiff still.
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
Nate kissed the top of his head. His hair was stiff and wiry and stubborn, no surprise. "Anything I can do to make it better?"
Ewan breathed out, relaxing consciously. He slid his hand down to the waist of Nate's jeans, fingers skittering over the leather of his belt. "Are you going to fuck me tonight?"
Ah. Nate scuffed Ewan's hair with his chin. "That depends on how you feel about it."
"Do you want to?"
"I do."
Ewan swallowed, turning his face into Nate's shoulder. "Me too." His fingers found their way under the hem of Nate's t-shirt, tickling against his bare skin. "Will you kiss me?"
"Now?"
Ewan nodded, turning his face up. He looked nervous, and Nate was overwhelmed by the trust in him. Ewan, who trusted no-one, who had come out here to this dark, remote place, in secret, trusting Nate not to hurt him. He looked vulnerable in the moonlight, his skin pale and luminous, eyes grey and light-lashed, blinking in faint shudders.
Nate kissed him. It was small and slight, just the brush of his mouth to test the waters, so to speak, but Ewan came open for him at once, craning his neck to press himself up. He tasted like salt and pickle and vanilla icecream, and Nate licked the taste of it out of his mouth, marveling at how good he felt, how willing here, in this moment.
Ewan's hands curled into the lapels of Nate's blazer, tugging them together. Nate sucked on h
is lip, licking it over with his tongue before nipping it gently, and Ewan made a deep, needy sound that went straight to Nate's cock.
And yet. It felt innocent in a way, just this innocent thing they were doing, making out on a car on a Friday night, all the time in the world and nothing pushing them toward more. It felt like school, or rather it felt like he wished school could have been instead of furtively sneaking around to grope closeted jocks in the dark, everyone pretending to be straight by the light of day. They hadn't had 'no homo' back then, but still, that's what it had been like.
And now, here he was, arched over Ewan's body, one hand curled in his hair, stroking him because he was lovely, because he was delightful, because Nate wanted him. For this, if nothing else. For kink too, sure, but for this especially.
Ewan whined, digging his teeth into Nate's lip and squirming. Nate loosened his grip on Ewan's hair, petting him as gently as he could. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Ewan sighed. He tipped his head back, blinking up at the sky. "Fuck, I think…I think I just saw a shooting star."
Nate grinned at him. It was unlikely, even this far out from the city, with all the light noise. More likely just a bit of moisture on an eyelash but still, it was possible. "Make a wish."
Ewan looked furtive for a moment, and then he leaned up to bite Nate's throat. "Okay. I can't tell you, or it won't come true."
Nate wondered if Ewan had wished for him to slide down between Ewan's thighs and unbuckle him, just suck him off here, on the hood of a car under the open sky. It was appealing, but a little more exhibitionist than Nate had intended for this evening, with the risk of discovery somewhat above zero.
Instead he kissed Ewan's cheek. "Should I drive you home?"
Ewan's sigh was almost silent. "Yeah. Yes."
He was quiet in the car, let Nate choose the music without protest. Nate wondered if it was the good kind of quiet.
"I know this song," Ewan said eventually.
"It's a Velvet Underground cover."
"I think…this is on the Natural Born Killers soundtrack?"
Nate glanced at him. "Yeah. Good catch." The song wound sweet and slow around them, and Nate remembered getting high in college and lazing around the apartment, wheedling Jack into sucking him off and closing his eyes as this track ran through their cramped, grubby lives, and he'd felt like he could live forever and ever, and Jack would be there with him.
But now Jack was sleeping next to his perfect boy, and Nate was…driving Ewan home. Maybe Ewan was going to invite him in. Maybe he'd changed his mind, but either way, Nate would smile and accept whatever the universe chose to give him right now. Open hands, he thought. But then, Open hands are hard to hold on to.
He parked and walked Ewan to his door. Ewan hesitated on the threshold. "Are you—" he said, at the same time Nate said, "Shall I—"
Ewan shook his head, amused. "You go."
"Shall I kiss you goodnight?" Nate asked. Ewan blinked up at him, looking like a lost thing. "Or not?"
"You should kiss me," he said, sounding irritated. Nate braced a hand against the door, tucked the other under Ewan's chin, and tilted him up to be kissed.
This time Ewan sighed into his mouth, tugging at his lip. Nate let him, let him get his teeth into it, just held his chin up and steady, giving Ewan access to his mouth.
It made Ewan whine in his throat, and then he whispered against Nate's mouth, "Are you coming inside?"
Nate grinned, and followed him in.
Once the door was closed Ewan leaned up against it, his breath gone shallow, looking everywhere but at Nate. "Are you…do you want coffee?"
"No," Nate told him. He tucked his fingers into Ewan's belt, tugging him gently. "Do you?"
"No." Ewan came to him, tugged right up against the front of him, and Nate pressed them into a warm line, just enjoying the warmth of Ewan's body, the tightness of his muscle and his slender limbs. Ewan snatched at Nate's blazer, tucking his hands inside and seeking out ways to get at him, up under his sweater, pushing back his t-shirt to rake sharp nails against his ribs.
Nate breathed out, nuzzling Ewan's ear. He liked Ewan like this, still dressed but eager, his fingers catching in Nate's belt and unbuckling it. Nate let him, and then pinned him up against the door with a hand before lifting one foot and then the other to tug off his shoes. He pulled the belt free of his jeans; he had to let Ewan go in order to take off his blazer and hang it over the back of a chair. Ewan tolerated it, staying where he'd been put, but when Nate tugged his sweater off over his head and his t-shirt came with it, Ewan moaned in his throat, hands coming up to smooth over Nate's ribs, running fingertips through his chest hair.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ewan muttered, followed by something garbled Nate couldn't parse, and then he dropped to his knees, tugging at Nate's fly with both hands.
Nate grabbed them, flattening them against his crotch. "Slow down."
Ewan looked up, his expression crumpling. "I—"
"No, no," Nate said, lifting one of Ewan's hands to kiss his knuckles. "You're good. This is good. I want to take you to bed."
Ewan shuddered, ducking his head. "Nate—"
"Can I do that?" Nate kissed his knuckles again, tipping his hand to open it up and press a kiss to his palm. "Do you want that?"
"Yes," Ewan said, and he meant it, Nate felt certain. This time. Yes.
Chapter 5
It felt as natural as breathing for Ewan to sink to his knees, scrabbling at Nate’s jeans to try and tear into them. He’d been fantasizing about this, about Nate’s cock in his mouth, about sucking him off and feeling Nate’s come drip down his throat, but when he tried it Nate fucking stopped him and it felt—
It felt awful.
“Slow down,” Nate said.
It hit Ewan like a freight train. Nate didn’t want this. This was something Ewan wanted and Nate didn’t, not the same way. Nate hadn’t fucked him the first time, had rubbed off between his thighs the second. He didn’t want Ewan’s mouth or his arse, didn’t want to fuck him. Why? What the fuck was going on?
Maybe, said an insidious voice, it’s because you’re such a fucking slut. Gagging for his dick, aren’t you? Pathetic.
God if that was it…”I—” he whimpered, I’m sorry.
But Nate was kissing his knuckles, shushing him with reassurances and Ewan believed him, God help him. “I want to take you to bed,” Nate said, and Ewan felt it arc down his spine like something electric.
“Nate—”
“Can I do that? Do you want that?”
With the pressure of his mouth in Ewan’s palm, how could he say no?
“Yes,” he said, and it felt like a promise.
Nate raised him to his feet. He tipped Ewan’s head up to find his mouth, and Ewan lost the ability to think straight.
Nate was in his apartment. Nate had him pinned against the door. Nate was kissing him like he meant something, like he was worth something.
It was completely wrong and somehow completely right. This had been what Laurence had tried to do to him, what Ewan hadn’t been able to give him. Poor Laurence. It wasn’t his fault. Ewan had just been waiting for this, and his body had known it even if his mind had refused to admit the truth.
Nate pushed his way into Ewan’s mouth and claimed him with his teeth and his tongue, and the scratch of his beard felt raw on Ewan’s smooth-shaven chin. He felt plundered, pinned and pillaged and the thrill of it wound around him like smoke, wreathing him in this hot, vibrant want.
He arched up, tried to get his body to press down the front of Nate’s like they were made to be together, seamless, and Nate wrapped an around around him, pulling him up. Ewan had left his jacket in the car. He’d have to get that later. But for now it meant that the only thing between him and the searing heat of Nate’s heavy chest was one thin layer of t-shirt. Nate’s hand slid under it, pushing it up to expose the small of Ewan’s back, and his fingers were strong and firm and possessive and Ewan felt faint.
He tore hims
elf away, licking his lips and shivering uncontrollably. “Take me to bed,” he pleaded, and Nate hummed low in his throat before leaning down to bite—no, to kiss Ewan’s collarbone. Tenderly. Like he mattered.
“Bed,” Nate agreed, winding their hands together, and then he tugged Ewan toward the door.
Ewan had a heady moment of panic in the doorway, because he hadn’t exactly been banking on this. He had done a little tidying up just in case, but now…
Nate was in his room. Nate was kissing him in the doorway of his room, and Ewan had Nate’s thigh between his, was grinding up against him like, like a slut and Nate was going to judge him, call him embarrassing, humiliating things, when all Ewan wanted was his dick, just for Nate to fuck him and not, not make this hard.
But Nate pulled him in, running his hands over Ewan’s back, under his shirt, over his skin, feeling out the bones of his spine, and kept kissing him even as he drew Ewan toward the bed. He pushed Ewan onto it, on his back, and Ewan let himself lie flat, his legs over the side, feet on the floor. He was expecting Nate to roll him over, jerk his jeans down and fuck him, but instead…
He blinked and pushed himself up on his knees. “Are you…taking those off?”
“You have a lot of laces,” Nate said, sounding amused more than anything, as he loosened Ewan’s boot. He lifted it up. “Pull,” he said, and slid it off Ewan’s foot. Then he knelt down again to get the other one and Ewan couldn’t do this. Nate was too nice, and he— “Hey,” Nate said, stroking his thigh. “You okay?”
Ewan realized he had his hand over his mouth, like he was trying to keep everything inside, and Nate looked concerned but not, not pitying. “I’m fine,” he managed. Nate didn’t look entirely convinced. He ducked his head to press a kiss to Ewan’s hip.
“I’m going to take these off for you,” Nate said gently, fingering the belt of Ewan’s jeans, and Ewan nodded, letting Nate unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip him, and unpeel his jeans and socks. Nate climbed up between his thighs, stroking the waistband of his pants. “These are cute.”
They were black with blue trim, low cut and tight and not a jock this time. Ewan took a deep breath, trying to get some equilibrium back, but Nate had tipped him completely off his axis. He didn’t know what to do here, if Nate was going to be nice to him. He didn’t know if he wanted that.
