Hellion

by Rhys Ford

  “I do too.” Ivo made a face, thinking about the ghosts living in his head and the crap he dragged along with him. “You do okay.”

  “Thanks,” Ruan replied, then hissed at Ivo’s pinch of his nipple. “Stop that. I’m trying to be serious.”

  “Serious usually means shit changes, and that’s usually never a good thing for me,” he confessed. “There’s been too many times I’ve heard ‘Sit down, we’ve got to talk’ and everything good in my life was taken away from me. You’re something—someone—really fucking good in my life, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  It hurt to be so open. To be so vulnerable. To crack open his chest and hand to Ruan his heart, hoping it wouldn’t be dashed to the floor and broken into a million pieces. Ivo was tired of patching himself back together, holding his breath for the moment someone told him to get out. He’d lost count of how many families he’d been shuffled through before finally gaining a foothold with his brothers. That uncertainty never went away, and his chest clenched and spasmed with fear, testing his faith in the people he loved.

  Just as it was being tested right now.

  “Baby, you’re not going to lose me,” Ruan whispered, lifting Ivo’s hand to his lips, kissing Ivo’s fingertips. “You asked me where we’re going? I don’t know, but I know I want you with me every step of the way. No matter where we end up. No matter where we call home. I knew I’d fallen for you the moment I came across you holding those guys off with a baseball bat. As stupid as that sounds, it’s true. I love how you’re a fighter but you want to know and explore everything. You challenge my perspective without challenging me, and that’s the kind of man I need in my life. You’re the man I want in my life.”

  They undressed slowly, but neither had much to take off. Ivo laughed when Ruan got his foot caught in the waistband of his sweats, then broke out in a fit of chuckles during Spot’s kamikaze launch onto the bed, the heavy feline determined to do battle with the furiously moving body parts beneath the covers. Ivo rolled onto his back, watching a disgruntled and slightly scratched-up Ruan carry the muttering cat to the hallway, then close the bedroom door behind him.

  “Remind me again why I love that cat?” Ruan asked, a naked Irish warrior standing proud and defiant in silhouette against the bedroom wall.

  “Because he reminds you of me?” Ivo wished there was more light in the room, but a quick tug on the curtains took care of that. “I want to see you.”

  “Then you better hope our neighbors across the street don’t have binoculars, because they could probably look right in.” Ruan padded across the room, stopping short of the bed when Ivo held his hand up. “What?”

  “There’s condoms and lubricant in my duffel bag.” He nodded toward the dresser. “On the left side. In the corner.”

  “Pretty sure of yourself there,” Ruan teased but made quick work of opening the bag. “Wait, you weren’t supposed to see me today.”

  “I’ve been carrying those around in my bag for the time we finally got together,” Ivo grumbled at him. “Don’t be an asshole and ruin it.”

  “I was just teasing. Promise.” He held up the sachets he’d found. “And as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been meaning to grab some for a while. I just haven’t had time.”

  “You’ve got a pretty brutal life, detective.” Crooking his finger at Ruan, Ivo gave him the cockiest grin he had. “Come over here so I can kiss and make it better.”

  SEX WAS always something Ivo enjoyed, but it’d become a distant memory, buried beneath long hours of working the shop and digging into old tattoo techniques. He’d enjoyed the act, his body satiating its lust for a long moment, enough to bring him off the edge of crazy. Sex gave him a brief glimpse into the world he always felt distant from. Touching another man’s body anchored him, or so he once thought.

  Ruan lying on top of him, finding the soft skin along his throat with his teeth and running callused hands up Ivo’s thighs brought him closer to the earth than he’d ever experienced before.

  Most people wanted to fly. They envisioned wings made up of everything from feathers to metal, the wind lifting them up from the ground to dance among the clouds and feel the rush of wind against their faces. Ivo longed to feel the dirt beneath his feet, the solidity of another soul next to him, and to plunge his fingers into long grasses, wrapping them around his hand until he finally became one with the world around him. He knew the storms lurking on the horizon, felt their fury and moods up close, coming away from the uncertainty of the winds with his skin bruised and his bones broken. He’d learned to temper his flights, the sky through his art and through his dreams, but Ruan holding him gave Ivo a touchstone to grab on to and embrace.

  “You feel so damned good,” Ruan whispered, his tongue coursing over Ivo’s nipple. His hands felt as if they were everywhere, or maybe they were. Either way, Ivo twisted beneath them, needing to be touched again when they ghosted away to explore another stretch of skin. “I love the way you taste.”

  Lightning storms played across Ivo’s body, crackling nerves and tightening muscles responding to Ruan’s touch. He was on fire, his cock rigid and demanding to be touched, its tip wet with anticipation, then quivering when Ruan’s tongue finally found it. The rasp of his teeth along Ivo’s head was nearly enough to bring Ivo over the edge. He was too close, too primed from Ruan’s explorations to do anything other than writhe and beg.

  Even as his hands kneaded at Ruan’s shoulders, half begging his lover to bring him to completion.

  The sensation of hovering there was sharp, a metal razor stropping over his skin, his shaft painfully tight and aching. Ruan pulled back, blowing on Ivo’s wet skin, his breath ghosting a brush of cold air over the heat but not enough to soothe away the throbbing need burrowing into Ivo’s core.

  “Jesus, if you don’t get me off soon, I’m going to lose my mind,” Ivo muttered, reaching uselessly for Ruan’s hard cock. “At least let me touch you.”

  “You touch me and I’m never going to have the chance of being buried inside of you tonight,” he grumbled, laughing as he stretched over Ivo’s chest to grab at one of the condom packets they left by the pillows. “I’m an old man, remember. I’m probably going to pass out from exhaustion once we’re done.”

  “You’re not old,” Ivo snorted, suppressing a small laugh as Ruan fought with the packet. “And haven’t you opened enough ramen packets to be able to do that? Shit, give that to me. I’ll do it.”

  “Good. I’ve got other things to take care of.” Ruan tossed the foil square onto Ivo’s stomach, then grabbed at the plastic tube of lubricant to snap off its end. “Lift your knees up. Let me see you.”

  It was wanton and exciting to plant his feet on the mattress, parting his knees for Ruan. The pillows were enough of a prop for Ivo’s shoulders to be lifted up so he could watch Ruan coat his fingers with lube, but the man moved slowly, drawing out each motion until Ivo forgot he was supposed to open the foil. It sat pinched between his fingers, slightly torn open but not nearly enough to be of any use, and the moment Ruan’s slickened, warm fingers touched his taint, Ivo forgot all about everything entirely.

  Ruan knew what he was doing. That much was certain. Leaning over Ivo’s torso, he put himself within reach, and Ivo grasped at the heavy length rigidly pressing against the V of his hips. He opened his mouth, accepting Ruan’s kiss with an eager enjoyment, sliding into the rush of pleasure at Ruan’s body on his. Then came the insistent push of Ruan’s fingers at the ring of muscle between Ivo’s cheeks, and he fell hard, arching into Ruan’s touch.

  “Jesus,” he ground out, pushing through the slight punch of ache stretching across his ass. “Fuck, your fingers are long.”

  It’d been a long time since he’d shared a bed with someone. There hadn’t been anyone who captured his interests or his mind to want to do anything more than dance with, maybe flirt. Ruan kept him intrigued, comforted, and now was taking his sweet damned time with Ivo’s body, making him reach for every ounce of self-control h
e had to not spill his balls out all over Ruan’s hard stomach.

  “Got that open for me yet?” Ruan stroked along the inside of Ivo’s body, curling his fingers up into the curve he found there. “Because I can do this all night, if you want.”

  “Fucking asshole,” Ivo swore softly. “Hold on. Shit. Not like that. I can’t fucking think when you do that.”

  Tearing the condom wrapper open with his teeth, Ivo fumbled it, nearly losing the latex ring in the sheets. Ruan’s laughter didn’t help. The gravel-harsh rumble traveled through Ruan’s hand, flexing his fingers, and Ivo felt its ripple through his flesh and up his spine. The thumb stroking at his balls wasn’t helping, and his cock hurt, needing release so badly Ivo wasn’t sure he was going to last more than a few strokes when Ruan finally penetrated him.

  “Come here. Let me put this on you,” he ordered, stretching his hand out to cup Ruan’s shaft. “You’re driving me nuts.”

  The pull of Ruan’s fingers against his ring left Ivo gasping and empty. He’d grown too used to the heat of Ruan in him and needing more, but the condom proved wily, refusing to roll down over Ruan’s cock despite their best efforts. The second packet gave them a much more willing participant, and Ruan was about to chuck the other one across the room in disgust when Ivo stopped him.

  “You want your son to find that? Because with our luck, we’re going to end up down at the emergency vet’s on a Saturday night trying to explain how your cat got a condom in his belly.” He grabbed the recalcitrant latex from Ruan’s fingers, then shoved it into one of the open packets. “Not my idea of a good night out.”

  “I hate that you’re right,” Ruan grumbled back. “And yeah, I can think of a hell of a lot better things to be doing on a Saturday night. Things like seeing you riding me or bent over the couch. I like the idea of you naked for hours while I find new ways of making you crazy.”

  “Thought you said you were old,” Ivo reminded him, sniffing at the strong vanilla scent of the lubricant Ruan was coating over his cock. “Change your mind about that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things,” Ruan murmured, bending down for another kiss. “But I haven’t changed my mind about you. Quit squirming. You’re making this difficult.”

  “Quit kissing me,” he shot back. “You’re making it hard not to squirm.”

  The first push into him was a shallow one, the burn nearly impossible to take but delicious enough for Ivo to want more. He got what he wanted a moment later when Ruan rocked into him, stretching his muscles out to swallow Ruan’s thick head. With Ruan’s hands beneath his thighs, Ivo inched down the bed, hooking his legs around Ruan’s waist, and the shift in position pushed Ruan’s cock even deeper, parting Ivo’s cheeks. A few short strokes and Ruan was buried up to his hilt, his balls brushing the curve of Ivo’s ass, his narrow hips anchored into the V of Ivo’s legs.

  Ruan groaned, closing his eyes for a moment, and sighed. “Fuck, you feel so damned good around me. God, your legs. Your damned legs drive me crazy.”

  Ivo had a response, some snappy comeback burbling up in his mind, but then Ruan began to move, tilting his hips up to drive the length of his cock as far into Ivo as he could. The long, slow pace broke him, too tantalizing of a stride for Ivo to crest anything past the delicious tingle building up in his coiled nerves. Urging Ruan on did no good, but clenching down on him seemed to spur him on, his hips beginning a hard drive into Ivo’s ass, Ruan’s hands digging into Ivo’s hips.

  The sweat on his belly beaded quickly, and the air in the room grew hot and sticky with their panting. A pillow slid out from under Ivo’s shoulders, dipping him farther down into the mattress, and Ruan’s angle shifted, sliding the length of his cock down into Ivo, pushing in sharper.

  His balls were tight, pulled up into his hollow, and Ivo didn’t think he could go any further when Ruan began to slow down again. Panting hard, he curled up his spine, hooking his heels into Ruan’s hips, and bit his lover’s shoulder. Ruan’s laughter only spurred Ivo on. Then the silky touch of Ruan’s fingers along his cock pulled Ivo’s attention to a sharp point.

  A few tugs was all it took, and the storm brewing in Ivo broke him open, spilling out over Ruan’s fingers. His body went stiff, clamping down hard on Ruan’s thrusts, but he rode the sensations, stroking his hips up and down on Ruan’s pounding cock, reveling in the tenderness forming on his hip, where Ruan still had one hand clenched into his flesh. Sharp teeth nipped at his throat, and Ivo tilted his head back, coming harder at the slight pain working over his skin until he forgot to breathe, his chest finally jerking in some air to fuel his cries.

  Their bodies were now moving slower, easing back away from the brittle too-much edge of their tender cocks rubbing against flesh. And with one final grunting push, Ruan filled Ivo’s core with a heat he could feel down to his toes. Ruan lay across him, his hands supporting Ivo’s thighs and his cock buried into Ivo’s cleft. He made no effort to move, his thick girth still wide enough to stretch Ivo apart, the tingle of their sex curling about Ivo’s ring.

  “How many of those condoms did you bring?” Ruan whispered, stroking damp hair from Ivo’s brow. His cock was still semihard, nested into Ivo’s heat, and the ache in Ivo’s belly stirred with the promise of more. “Because I’m thinking if you give me a few minutes, I’d really like to see you on your knees with your shoulders against the bed, and maybe if we’re lucky, I could still be there when the sun finally gets its ass out of bed.”

  Nineteen

  “WELL, FUCK me,” Ruan growled, looking up at the long-legged man striding into the living room. “I… shit, I don’t even know what to say.”

  Nothing prepared Ruan for how Ivo looked. The retro-throwback of naughty Catholic schoolgirl had been left behind, replaced by a powerful statement of Ivo’s masculinity wrapped up with traditional feminine embellishments. His kilt was long and plaid, a Black Watch tartan paired with a simple white T-shirt left untucked but snug enough to hug Ivo’s sculpted torso. The black leather jacket Ivo brought with him slithered and whispered, a buttery soft and rich classic motorcycle cut, matching the black leather boots he wore. The boots weren’t deadly high but added a good solid two inches to Ivo’s height, their heels a thick chunky curve of black trimmed in silver.

  But it was Ivo’s face that left Ruan confused and breathless.

  His eyes were a vivid blue set inside of the smoky landscape. This was no delicate line or discreet touch of beige eyeshadow. Ivo had come out prepared for battle, a dusky ebony slash smudged under his eyes and his lids draped in matte bruised tints. At first all Ruan saw was the dark—a smear of black—then the edges of purple and blue slid out when Ivo blinked.

  “You’re staring,” Ivo remarked, shrugging on his jacket. “You okay?”

  There was no denying Ivo’s beauty. Or his fierceness. Ruan sat back on the couch, picking at the swell of emotions rising up from his belly. His instincts rebelled against Ivo’s blend of traditional styles, an uncomfortable prickle creeping up to his throat and sinking its poisonous fangs into his brain. As if he could see Ruan’s conflict, Ivo strolled over to where he sat, settling down on the coffee table in front of Ruan, his kilt draped down between his knees.

  “You should know, I’m not going to change,” Ivo said quietly. “But I’m willing to talk you through things. Or you can stay here.”

  “You and I both know if I stay here, you’re never going to come back to me, and I will be losing out on the best thing—the best person—that’s ever happened to me,” Ruan admitted. “I’m trying to figure out why I’m bothered, because it doesn’t really make any sense. It doesn’t matter. I mean, you look great, and I can see that.”

  “We’ve got time,” Ivo replied. “What’s going through your head? Why the hiccup? ’Cause I can see it in your face. Or rather, I can’t. You’ve gone all closed up. That cop face of yours.”

  Something festered in Ruan, something dark and whispery, a bit of shame stabbing needles through him to punct
ure his thoughts. Talking was probably a good idea. Or at least it would give him something to do while he hammered past that something.

  Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’m trying here. I am. I think a lot of it has to do with years of hiding how I was attracted to other men. There was a lot of fear and anxiety wrapped up around being gay, and I don’t think I’ve ever really shaken it off.”

  “Okay, I can see that,” Ivo replied, leaning back on his hands. “And you’re wrong about me walking away from you if you can’t go out with me like this today. You might need time. And I’ve got to give that to you, within reason. It’s about situations, and even I know how sometimes I have to be more appropriate. I wouldn’t go to court dressed like this, but that’s not to say I wouldn’t wear heels.”

  Ivo’s hair was a little bit wild, framing his face, and he looked exquisitely fuckable, his long, muscular tanned legs on display, his T-shirt hugging his taut abdomen. He was masculine in a way Ruan knew challenged the world, but Ivo was effortlessly wearing who he was as he went through life. Ruan had to be good with that. Loving Ivo meant loving all of Ivo, exactly as he was, however he presented himself on any particular day, because it didn’t change the man inside. His appearance simply was what he was feeling, and sometimes maybe gave him a bit of armor on the days he needed it the most.

  “So, I’ve got to ask you, are you dressing like this today because it makes you feel good?” Ruan ventured, placing his hands on Ivo’s bare knees. “Because for me in the past, a man would dress like this for attention and usually regretted what he got, because other men reacted badly to it. I know I’m not making any sense. I’m trying to work out my words.”