Bitter Taffy (18 page)

There was no pulling away, no backing down, no stopping to think or banter or discuss. There was only Derek pushing him back against the entryway closet, grinding against the crease of his thigh through his cargo shorts.

“Want,” Derek said gruffly. “Now.”

“Yes,” Rico breathed, and all of the irritating soul searching vaporized in the heat of Derek’s hands on his skin.

Derek fumbled with Rico’s fly and the cargo shorts dropped to the floor with his underwear, and Derek dropped to his knees right there on the thick entryway rug and took Rico into his mouth with a groan of hunger.

“Oh God—so fast!”

Derek pulled back and wrapped his fist around Rico’s cock, looking up to meet Rico’s eyes. “Fast. This time’ll be fast,” he promised, blue eyes deadly serious. “God…,” he breathed, his gaze all for Rico’s body. “So pretty.” He closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, rubbing the rough of it over the dripping cap.

Rico grunted roughly and pressed back, his head making a hollow thunk on the closet door. His world, which had been a complicated, slightly painful tangle just hours ago, had shrunk, simplified, down to Derek’s hand around the base of his shaft and his tongue licking the ridge.

Oh God.

And his other hand cupping Rico’s balls, distributing spit behind them, tickling his pucker. Rico widened his legs a little, then reached behind himself, grabbed his cheeks, and spread.

Derek’s eyes widened and he suckled on the head—just the head—of Rico’s cock. “You want it,” he whispered roughly.

Rico nodded, squeezing his eyes closed. His stomach muscles fluttered as he clenched and released. He and Ezra had taken turns, gentle, always so sweet. But Derek
wanted
, and oh, God help him, Rico wanted Derek.

Specifically he wanted Derek to take him, fuck him roughly, own him. All of that blazing confidence, that brilliant excitement, pulsing inside Rico’s body….

Derek squeezed and stroked, the pressure whirling in Rico’s gut, his groin, and Rico groaned, spurting a brief burst of precome into the darkness of Derek’s mouth.

Derek’s tongue and throat worked, soft and stroking, teeth carefully shielded, as he swallowed.

He pulled back and spoke, his breath fanning Rico’s engorged, sensitized head. “Turn around,” he commanded. “Spread your legs.”

Rico did, leaning his chest heavily against the door, expecting Derek to stand up and fumble with his jeans, but instead Derek spread him, one hand solidly on each cheek.

Breath fanned his crease for a moment, and Rico’s chest shuddered in and out as he waited.

“You showered,” Derek whispered against his buttcheek.

“Everywhere,” Rico told him, because he’d been
dreaming
about this moment for more than a month, wondering what Derek would do with his body if they ever touched like this. He’d showered, rubbing the washcloth behind his balls, in his hole, in his creases, dreaming about Derek touching him.

And now Derek spread him wide and slicked his tongue gently between Rico’s cheeks. He brushed Rico’s entrance and Rico’s whole body twitched.

Derek laughed, vibrating against his skin. “Like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rico answered, willing to give him anything—willing to beg, after all this time.

He didn’t have to beg.

Derek lapped at him, played with him, penetrated him, and Rico found himself whispering encouragement.

“Yes, yes, God, Derek, it’s… oh God, need more….”

Derek’s finger, just one, slid inside, and Rico clamped down on him hard. Derek pulled in a mouthful of Rico’s flesh in response, and Rico pounded the closet door lightly, shaking with desire.

Derek pulled out and grabbed his hips, using them as leverage as he pulled himself slowly up, kissing Rico’s spine and his ribs as he rose. He covered Rico’s body with his own and undulated, a powerful stroke of his body on Rico’s.

“You ready for this?” he asked in Rico’s ear. “Up against the wall?”

“Quick,” Rico begged.

Derek stayed close enough for Rico to feel him as he fumbled in his pocket and then with his belt. For a moment they separated, stepping out of their shoes and pants, shucking their shirts over their heads and letting them drop at their feet. Just that quickly Derek pressed him against the door again, his bare groin hard and prodding against Rico’s buttcheek, the coolness of lubricant slick against Rico’s skin.

“You ready, Rico?” Derek asked, breath hot in his ear.

Rico’s hands were sweaty and shaking, braced against the door. “Derek,” he said helplessly, thrusting his bottom backward, begging.

“Say it.” Derek kissed his neck, licking, and Rico tilted his head to give him access.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” Rico admitted, knees so weak he almost worried he couldn’t do this.

Derek reached down, grasping himself, and Rico felt the head of Derek’s cock against his entrance. His eyes popped open.

“Oh God,” he said, breath coming faster. “Derek—”

“Sh….” Derek wrapped his free hand around his chest. “We’ll go slow.”

Slow… so slow…. Derek pressed against him, stretching, stretching, and Rico’s stomach trembled as he fought the urge to push against him and take him in, or clench against him, keeping him out. Derek licked his hair and his neck, and pinched his nipples. That last one did it, and Rico melted, relaxing, thrusting backward as his asshole gave way, let Derek in.

Both of them groaned as Derek’s head popped inside, and Rico’s body shook as he shoved back again, taking more in, more, more—oh God….

“Jesus, you’re big,” he gasped.

“All the better to fuck you with,” Derek chuckled and then rocked back and forward, back and forward, a little bit pulling out, a little more thrusting in, again and again, his rhythm slow and sweet and…

Driving Rico crazy.

“Augh! Promises, promises,” Rico moaned.

“Want more?” Derek teased, pinching his nipple.

“Of you? Oh God, please.” He couldn’t have been plainer, or needier, if he’d lain on his back and lifted his ass in the air.

He’d do that. He’d do that in a second, grab his thighs and spread his legs, giving Derek permission to ravage him and fuck him and….

The image alone, while Derek was plowing him from behind, made his balls ache.

“Grab yourself,” Derek commanded, pulling back and giving a minithrust, teasing him. “It’s gonna be quick.”

Little patters of sweat from Derek’s forehead hit Rico’s bare shoulders, and their bodies schwacked together, sticky from the warm day, from the exertion, from the torture of being close, so close, of pounding each other until their bodies exploded into orgasm.

“I’ll come on your closet,” Rico threatened, barely able to form words.

“Better than being locked in one,” Derek cracked, then threw himself forward hard.

“Augh! Amen!” Rico squeezed his own cock at the base, then stroked up while Derek thrust hard inside him, not teasing anymore, fucking, fucking mercilessly, hard and fast and huge.

Rico beat his hand faster, his balls bouncing off the bottom of his fist, his cheek bruising against the closet door, Derek’s member stretching his ass so hard he could feel the throb in his thighs, in his spine, in his taint. “Oh God—
Derek
!”

Derek grasped hard, managed a grip on Rico’s short hair, and Rico tipped his head back, exposing his throat, his chest, barely keeping his grip on the closet door.

And that dominance was all he needed. His vision washed white-blind and his muscles screamed in pleasure as his body convulsed, orgasm hitting him like a freight train, balls first. He clenched, squeezing Derek’s cock with all his strength, and Derek cried out behind him, his next thrust deeper, harder than the others. He stayed there, buried inside Rico, shaking and spending deep in Rico’s body, even as he leaned forward and rested his cheek on the back of Rico’s shoulder.

His climax went on, the come sliding from Rico’s stretched asshole, slipping down his thighs.

Rico moaned a little, his brain aroused by the feeling of Derek’s semen, his body still recovering from the sex they’d had in the entryway, barely after they’d shut the door.

“Sore?” Derek asked, concerned.

“Turned on,” Rico confessed, releasing his deflating cock and wiping his sticky hand on his stomach. His nipples tingled—hell,
everything
tingled. “I… God… ohhh….”

Because Derek apparently read his mind, dropping to a squat again and licking delicately at Rico’s cheek, at his thigh, at his dilated entrance. Rico shook hard and begged some more. “A kiss,” he pleaded. “Let me—”

Derek stood, whirled him around, and claimed his mouth again, letting him taste everything, all they had done, that he hadn’t seen, his eyes filled with the closet door while his body had been ravaged by Derek’s rough need.

By the time this kiss ended, he’d melted into Derek’s arms, helpless against the sweetness and safety there.

Derek pulled away and nuzzled his temple. “Let me wash up,” he said softly. “I’ll make you dinner. We can do this again on the bed.”

Rico licked the salt off Derek’s neck, smiling to himself. Oh, the things he would do to Derek’s body, sprawled beneath him, spread for pleasure. “I am
so
down with that,” he murmured.

“Even if it means you get the shower second?” Derek asked fondly.

Rico tilted his head so he could see Derek’s eyes. “Not together?”

“No.” Derek bit his lip, looking abashed. “For one thing, my bathroom is pretty fuckin’ small. For another, I… I
really
want to cook you dinner. That, uhm, wouldn’t happen. You know. If….”

Rico laughed and kissed his cheek, then straightened and started picking up his clothes—and his overnight bag. “Show me the way. The naked tour it is!”

Derek laughed self-consciously, like a gawky teenager, and picked up his clothes. “Yeah. Well, get used to it. I never did get the hang of bathrobes.”

Rico gasped, pretending to be shocked. “Blasphemy! It’s like walking around in your underwear with a blanket on!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s like daring yourself not to get a boner when you’ve got easy access! I’d never get anything done!”

Rico chuckled as he followed Derek’s perfect ass down the hall. “Buddy, the
last
thing you need is to be more sexed up.”

D
EREK
GRILLED
hamburgers and Rico made the salad—well, all the fixings were bagged; it was no big deal—and they sat on his little porch and ate dinner in the fading light.

Rico appreciated the misters as the concrete and brick held the heat in the backyard, even as the sky turned purple, and Derek filled his wineglass with just enough regularity to keep him mellow.

“I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me,” Rico joked as they savored the last of the bottle. “But we both know
that
cow escaped.”

Derek’s chuckle sounded absolutely sinful. “We could catch her again and have even
more
fun letting her out of the barn,” he said, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Rico nodded. “Wow. Sex and cows. I can’t believe I’m turned on!”

“But you are, right? Turned on?” Derek looked at him slyly, and Rico could tell he didn’t have any uncertainty whatsoever.

“Yeah, Derek. I’m pretty sure the barn door’s gonna go flying open and that thing’s escaping again—”

“Can it make more noise this time?” Derek asked avidly. “You did
not
make enough sex noises!”

Rico choked on his wine. “Holy God, Derek—what do you usually bang? Farm animals?”

It was Derek’s turn to choke, and for a moment they were twelve years old, and they’d just cracked their first dirty joke.

When they’d recovered, Derek stood up and took Rico’s wineglass. They’d cleared off the rest of the table already—this was the signal that the dishes needed to be done.

“Here,” Rico said, making to rise. “Let me help you—”

“No,” Derek replied, smiling a little. Those hidden moments of shyness in his own home were becoming more and more potent, twisting the wire of yearning tighter in Rico’s stomach. “I mean, you know, eventually I’ll be like, ‘Jesus, clean up your own damned water glass,’ right? But right now I sort of, you know. Want to make an impression.”

Rico watched him take stuff into the kitchen and barely remembered to close his mouth.

Make an impression?
Make an impression
?

The wire of yearning that Rico had chalked up to lingering sexual tension snapped tight, and Rico swallowed.

He stood and walked into the house, then closed the glass door behind him, because it was still hot outside and the air-conditioning was running. Derek was bent over the sink, rinsing out the glasses. Rico waited until he’d put them into the dishwasher along with the other dishes and turned it on.

He was hosing out the sink when he realized Rico had walked in, and he looked up and smiled. “I was going to be out in—”

Rico took two steps into the kitchen, came up behind Derek, and put his hands on his hips. Oh Lord—his body heat alone was intoxicating.

“What’s up?” Derek asked, but his voice had dropped in timbre, and he sounded sultry. Breathy.

Ready.

“You know how some shit just hits you?” Rico asked, running his lips down the side of Derek’s neck.

Derek tilted his head to give him access. “Like, uhm, you’re ready again?” Derek asked, his voice light.

“Like, I’m ready for everything,” Rico whispered, licking his ear. “I… I am so gone on you, Derek,” he said, pulling Derek into the cradle of his hips. “You… you don’t ever have to impress me.” He shuddered, wanting to engulf Derek, swallow him whole, wear his heat and his joy and his fierce, funny intelligence under his skin.

“No?” Derek asked, pushing back. Oh yeah. Rico wanted to top this time. Not fumbling or shy or shaking because he was afraid of hurting Derek. He wanted to
top
,
to pleasure Derek until he was begging for Rico and Rico alone.

“I’m impressed,” Rico told him. His hands shook on Derek’s hips, and his body sang, begging for skin-on-skin like they hadn’t just had screaming sex in the entryway not three hours earlier. “I’m….” His breath shuddered, and he shoved his hands under Derek’s T-shirt. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he confessed, because if he didn’t, his skin would shake off his body.