Pride of Place (Mitch & Cian Book 3)

by Helena Stone

  “Were you in the scouts?” Cian sounded bemused.

  Blood rushed to Mitch’s face as he turned to face Cian. “Fewer interruptions later on,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant. He dropped the items he held on the duvet.

  Cian approached the bed, his gaze fixed on the covers. “And what have we got here?”

  Suddenly convinced he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, Mitch turned his back to Cian and slowly folded his towel.

  “Mitch?” Cian sounded serious and confused. “Look at me, Mitch.”

  Mitch placed the towel on the chair in the corner of the room before facing Cian.

  “Condoms?” Cian asked.

  “I got them from your cabinet,” Mitch said, far more defensively than he meant to be, as his erection dwindled.

  Cian stared at him, his head slightly tilted. Then he nodded before lying on the bed with his left arm stretched out in invitation. “Come here.”

  The three steps between where Mitch stood and the bed felt like a mile. With his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, Mitch joined Cian, snuggling close as soon as Cian’s arm tightened around him.

  “Tell me what you want,” Cian said.

  Mitch swallowed, and when that didn’t dislodge the huge lump in his throat, he did it again. “You,” he whispered. “I want you.”

  Cian went still while his eyes appeared to want to bore holes into Mitch. “You want me to…”

  “Fuck me.” Mitch blurted it out, unable to deal with the tension any longer.

  Cian inhaled deeply, held his breath for so long Mitch started to worry, then blew it out with such force it brushed Mitch’s chest.

  “You know I’ve never done that.”

  Mitch nodded. When he’d first admitted to himself that he wanted to feel Cian inside his body, the fact that it would be a first for both of them had made his idea seem romantic.

  “We don’t have to,” Mitch said, afraid he’d misjudged the situation terribly and suddenly far more scared than excited.

  “We don’t have to do anything, but…”

  Cian turned on his side, taking Mitch by surprise. He cupped the back of Mitch’s neck with one hand while wrapping the other around Mitch’s half-hard cock.

  “But I’m more than happy to experiment.”

  Mitch got a glimpse of Cian’s almost predatory grin before he captured Mitch’s mouth with his own in a bruising and demanding kiss.

  Nerves and insecurities melted away in the heat of Cian’s onslaught. The combination of soft caresses against the sensitive skin behind his ear, Cian’s tongue making love to his mouth, and the rhythmic tugs on his cock provided the fuel needed to reignite Mitch’s arousal.

  He pushed closer, moving against Cian, needing the connection and cherishing the still damp naked body pressed against his own that set his blood alight and made his skin come alive.

  A needy moan escaped him when Cian released his cock, only to morph into a shuddering breath when he slid his fingers along Mitch’s balls to the sensitive skin right behind them and lower again…Oh.

  This wasn’t entirely new. They’d reached this point before. In the past, he’d experienced these intoxicating sensations as Cian alternated between stroking across his hole and softly tapping. This time it was heightened, because he knew it wouldn’t stop there.

  Cian stilled and pulled his mouth back from Mitch’s. “I need you to promise me something.”

  “Anything,” Mitch said instantly. There wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t grant Cian.

  “If it stops feeling good, if it hurts too much, you tell me, and we stop.”

  Mitch wasn’t stupid. He had done his research. He knew there would be pain before pleasure. “But…”

  “No buts.” Cian kissed him, probably to take the sting out of his harsh interruption.

  Mitch giggled; he couldn’t help himself. “I thought it was all about my butt.”

  “Very funny,” Cian muttered, sitting up at the same time.

  For a moment, Mitch feared he’d managed to kill the mood. He opened his mouth to plead with Cian when the sound of the lube bottle opening put his mind at ease and sent excitement coursing through his veins.

  Cian shuffled back on the bed on his knees, placing himself between Mitch’s spread legs. Mitch watched breathlessly as Cian squirted lube onto his fingers, his gaze fixed on Mitch’s face.

  “Cian. Please!” He had no idea what exactly he was begging for. When Cian bent forward and took the head of his cock into his mouth while simultaneously pushing against his hole with a lubed finger, Mitch surrendered, trusting that even if he couldn’t formulate his need, Cian would figure out how to meet it.

  “Fuck.” The exclamation escaped Mitch when Cian pushed the tip of his finger past the tight muscle. It burned and hurt, and a gasp followed Mitch’s curse.

  Cian withdrew his finger and lifted his head, releasing Mitch’s cock too.

  “Too much?” Cian’s concern filled Mitch with warmth while frustrating him at the same time.

  “No.” He shook his head to emphasize his point. “It hurts a bit.”

  Cian frowned.

  “Only a bit,” Mitch said, not entirely truthfully. “Not enough to stop. Please.”

  Cian nodded before taking Mitch’s cock into his mouth again and resuming the preparation of Mitch’s hole. The tip of Cian’s finger entered him, and the burn was already less. Cian withdrew and pushed in again, repeating the action over and over, pushing his finger in deeper every time.

  Mitch surrendered to the sensations. It was as if his whole being—the entire universe—was centered in that one tiny opening behind his balls. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when discomfort morphed into pure pleasure. All he knew was that it sang in his blood.

  “So good.”

  “Fuck, but you’re tight.” Cian’s mouth returned to Mitch’s cock as soon as Cian finished speaking.

  Mitch wanted to laugh at the way they spoke over each other, but his merriment died on his lips when Cian added a finger, spreading him wider. The discomfort was still there, as was the burn, but less pronounced. Or maybe it was just that Mitch had experienced it before and was no longer taken by surprise. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care; he just wanted more.

  Time became meaningless as Cian pumped his fingers in and out of Mitch’s body, spreading them while inside of Mitch, pushing deeper and—

  “Oh.” A pleasure unlike anything he’d experienced before surged through Mitch. As if electrified, his body tensed.

  “That’s where it is,” Cian muttered before making sure to hit the same spot, what Mitch figured had to be his prostate, over and over while adding a third finger. It drove Mitch out of his mind and filled him with fear that he’d come long before Cian would penetrate him with his cock.

  “Now.” His plea sounded breathless. “Cian. Please. I need you.”

  Cian sat back, severing all physical contact with Mitch, who could only stare as Cian carefully opened a condom wrapper and took his time to secure it over his straining cock.

  Mitch chewed on his lip. He’d always known Cian’s dick was well formed. He’d never thought of it as particularly big. He’d never been moments away from it filling his body before either.

  “Remember,” Cian said as he spread lube over the condom, sounding as if forming the words was a struggle. “This stops if it is too much.”

  “Do it.” In that moment Mitch didn’t care about the possible pain.

  He focused on Cian’s face as he lined up his cock and pushed.

  “Holy fuck.” Obviously even three fingers didn’t match the width of Cian’s dick. The burn raged through Mitch’s body. Mitch swallowed the words to tell Cian to pull back, the memory of the earlier discomfort transforming into pure pleasure keeping them inside.

  “God, you’re tight.” Cian’s expression was a combination of awe and concentration. “It’s not too much?”

  Mitch vigorously shook his head, not sure if he could fo
rm even the smallest of words.

  Cian took his time, pushing into Mitch’s body at a snail’s pace with his gaze fixed on Mitch’s face, the brown in his eyes almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

  Cian bottomed out, and Mitch expelled a harsh breath. He felt so full, stretched to, if not beyond, the limit of what his body could take. The ache lingered, and he was grateful Cian didn’t move. He just needed a moment. Surely his body would adapt any second now.

  When Cian pulled back, only to push in again, a bit faster this time, it was different. Not that the burn was gone; just that it now triggered pleasure as well as discomfort. With each movement Cian made, the shift from pain to pleasure or turning pain into pleasure, Mitch wasn’t sure, strengthened. Then the moment came when all Mitch experienced were overwhelming waves of physical delight, as if his whole body was one big nerve, being stimulated by Cian’s glorious cock.

  Unable to keep still, Mitch moved with Cian, chasing the sensuous vibrations rushing through his body. His cock, which had shrunk during the first penetrations, came back to life. He reached for it and tugged, falling into Cian’s rhythm.

  “So fucking good.” Cian moved faster. “Fuck, Mitch. Too much. I won’t last.”

  Neither would Mitch, although he couldn’t find the breath to say as much. Then it didn’t matter anymore as his body tensed and cum erupted from his cock.

  “I feel you. Mitch!”

  Still shuddering from the strength of his orgasm, Mitch watched in wonder as Cian’s movements became erratic. Cian stiffened and threw back his head. His cock swelled in Mitch’s arse.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” The words fell from Cian’s lips before his body relaxed and he seemed to slump. Mitch wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad when Cian fell to the bed beside him rather than collapse on top of him.

  Time passed in silence as they lay there, their hands touching and both of them breathing erratically.

  “You okay?” Cian turned his head and studied Mitch.

  “Perfect.” Mitch wasn’t ashamed of the wide smile spreading across his face. “Thank you.”

  “Any time,” Cian said, grinning.

  “Works for me.” Mitch moved closer to Cian and rested his head on Cian’s shoulder. “Happy Pride.”

  Chapter Six

  Cian

  Cian kept himself busy while Mitch packed his bags, getting ready for his journey back home. The four days they’d just spent together had been amazing—who was he kidding? They’d been so much more than that—and he wasn’t ready to watch Mitch leave again. They’d spent all of Sunday in bed, snuggling up together when they weren’t engaged in lengthy making-out sessions, or bringing each other to as many climaxes as they could squeeze into one day.

  Sighing happily at the memories, Cian considered the logistics of one more intimate encounter before Mitch would go, rejecting the idea almost as soon as it hit him. They would have to leave for the bus station in thirty minutes.

  He hated the thought of more time without Mitch. But with Cian starting his temporary job in Dublin the following day and Mitch doing the same back home, they didn’t have a choice. The fact that they would resume their old pattern, with Cian coming home for the weekends, didn’t help. The more time he spent with Mitch, the more Cian became convinced they were meant to be together full-time.

  He slowly made his way through the house, doing the dishes they’d left in the kitchen, getting rid of fast-food containers, and making sure the place looked more or less presentable. His housemates were due to return later that day, and since he would hate coming home to a mess, he didn’t want to leave one for Ray and John either.

  He was about to join Mitch in his bedroom when he spotted his backpack on the small table next to the front door. He didn’t remember the envelope Mitch had found on the stairs until he lifted his bag.

  This can’t be good. The three names handwritten across the front ruled out the possibility of it being junk mail. He couldn’t think of many reasons a letter would be addressed to him and his housemates, and none of those were encouraging. For a moment he considered just throwing the letter into the bin and pretend he’d never seen it. Then common sense took over. He probably needed to know what it was, even if it turned out to be bad news. The moment he unfolded the piece of paper and scanned its contents, he wished he’d followed his first instinct.

  “Bollix!”

  He read the words again, hoping against hope he’d gotten it wrong the first time, that they didn’t say what he thought he’d read.

  “Fucking greedy bastard.” Anger and frustration surged through Cian, making his eyes burn at the unfairness of it all.

  “What’s wrong?” Mitch’s voice barely penetrated the anger churning in Cian’s mind.

  “Cian? What’s the matter?” The worried note in Mitch’s voice registered, and Cian pulled himself together.

  “This.” Cian waved the piece of paper in the air. “This is what’s wrong.”

  “Is that from the envelope I picked up on Saturday?” Mitch asked, his voice soft.

  Cian nodded.

  “What does it say?”

  Cian stared at the words again. “Surely he can’t do this. There has to be a law against this,” he muttered the words, momentarily forgetting Mitch was waiting for an answer.

  “Tell me,” Mitch demanded, his voice tight.

  “What’s wrong? You want to know what’s wrong?” Cian all but shouted the questions. Mitch’s startled expression had him taking a deep breath and reaching for whatever calm he could find. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just—"

  “It’s okay,” Mitch said, which was sweet because even Cian knew shouting at his boyfriend was anything but fine. “Just tell me why you’re so upset.”

  “This.” Cian gesticulated with the letter, his actions wild. “This is an eviction notice, telling me, John, and Ray that we have to be out of here no later than the fifteenth of August.”

  “You’re having me on.” The disbelief in Mitch’s voice perfectly matched Cian’s incredulity. “Show me.” Mitch pulled the letter from Cian’s hand and studied it, the frown on his face getting more pronounced with every passing second.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Fuck only knows,” Cian growled.

  “Is that legal? Can he just kick you out?” Mitch’s voice betrayed both hope and despair.

  Cian deflated. “Yes. Unfortunately, he can. It’s his house, and he can do with it as he pleases.”

  “Fuck,” Mitch muttered, and Cian suddenly realized that this turn of events had consequences for Mitch too.

  “I guess my mother can stop worrying about me moving in here with you,” Mitch said, his attempt to lighten the situation ruined by the devastated expression on his face. “What do you reckon our chances are of finding somewhere else together?”

  Cian thought about the question, not knowing the answer but fearing it might be harder than either of them could imagine.

  “That is if you want to look for a room we could share, of course.” Mitch’s voice was small and filled with uncertainty.

  “Of course, I do,” Cian said while silently berating himself for being caught up in his own misery and forgetting Mitch was in the same boat. “And to answer your question, I have no idea, but I imagine it’s going to be hard.” If not impossible. Cian kept that thought to himself. Mitch would find out soon enough that finding a rental with space for two boarders would be difficult enough before taking into account that either the owner or future housemates might have objections to a gay couple moving in.

  A loud buzzing sound, emitting from Mitch’s pocket, interrupted Cian’s thoughts.

  “We need to be off,” Mitch said, looking and sounding deflated. “I’ll get my bag.”

  The alarm had been Cian’s idea after they’d come uncomfortably close to missing their bus once too often. The fact that they needed the reminder usually made Cian smile. Today the buzzer had a sinister vibe, as if it was
warning them about bigger threats than being late.

  Mitch was a picture of dejection as he walked down the hallway toward Cian. With his head bowed and his shoulders slumping, he personified how Cian felt: frustrated, upset, worried, and angry.

  “Of course, this only strengthens our mothers’ case,” Mitch said after they’d walked in silence for about five minutes. “I can hear her now, explaining to me how it’s probably for the best.” He’d raised the pitch of his voice, sounding almost exactly like his mother. “Isn’t it wonderful both of you will get to meet new people?”

  A snort escaped Cian. No matter how dire his current situation was, Mitch imitating his mother was funny. Then he sobered, wondering whether it actually mattered what their parents thought and wanted. Given the state of the housing market, they would be lucky if either of them managed to find a bed somewhere in Dublin. Each of them finding a place would be remarkable, whereas finding something together would probably require a miracle.

  For the second time since he’d opened the envelope, Cian refrained from sharing his pessimistic thoughts with Mitch. Mitch would come to the same conclusions soon enough. It didn’t have to be now. Cian saw no reason to add to Mitch’s burden. Not when he was the image of desolation.

  It was almost a relief when they arrived at Bus Aras, Mitch’s coach waiting with its doors open and several passengers already seated.

  “I’m sorry,” Mitch said when they faced each other a few steps away from the bus. “I didn’t mean to be so quiet.” He shrugged, looking helpless. “I just didn’t know what to say.” He averted his gaze before looking Cian in the eye. “This is not how I imagined this weekend would end. And it’s not fair because until an hour ago, it was amazing.”

  A smile tugged at Cian’s lips. For a moment there, Mitch had looked and sounded like a petulant twelve-year-old. Then again, he couldn’t argue with him; none of it was fair.

  “Our weekend is still as amazing and”—he smirked—“mind-blowing as it was. I refuse to let that greedy bastard take that away from us.” He squeezed Mitch’s shoulder while mentally wishing for the freedom to wrap him in his arms and kiss him. “We’ll figure something out. You’ll see. Something will pop up.”