Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (13 page)

Tyler knew he was going to regret this, but he couldn’t see a way out. Not one that included him getting any sleep tonight.

“Okay,” Tyler said, straightening. He did his best to remain outwardly unaffected as he crossed his arms. “What’s your question?”

Memphis crooked his arm under his head and blinked, heavy-lidded and with a curious expression on his face. “Earlier, in the bathroom, why didn’t you yell at me about the way I left?”

Sonofabitch.

The surge of memories hurt.

For a full year after his mother had left, Tyler had been convinced she’d come back. For a full year after Memphis had disappeared from his life, Tyler had lived each day on a brittle ledge. Every ring of the phone, every knock on the door had produced a heart-pounding anticipation and a sickening, desperate hope that whispered
maybe now, maybe this time…

But neither had ever come back.

Tyler rubbed his chest with a fist, trying to ease the pressure.

In both instances, it had taken a good twelve months before the Pavlovian-like response had finally begun to dim and fade away. Slowly, the rings and knocks had produced a weaker reaction. After Memphis, by the time the process was over, Tyler had felt numb.

He’d also developed the ability to shut down at will—a skill that came in handy now.

Tyler kept his tone as bland as possible as he studied Memphis. “I’m not angry anymore.”

In truth, he didn’t know what he felt. Memphis had gotten sick and then left in order to save Tyler from the pain of watching him die. Which was a noble and honorable
idea
, but it didn’t change what Tyler had gone through after he’d left. And what was Tyler supposed to do with his resentment after learning the truth? How was he supposed to handle the feeling now? It still existed. He still
felt
it inside.

It was just that now, the emotion had nowhere reasonable to live.

Memphis blinked up at him, his eyelids looking heavy again. “You’re definitely still pissed as hell. You’re just good at hiding it.” He rolled onto his stomach and planted his cheek on the pillow. “You wanna know what else I think?”

Feeling beat, Tyler said, “I’m quite sure that I don’t.”

“I think you’re afraid to admit you still enjoy my company and want to keep me around.”

Keep him around?

“More important,” Memphis mumbled against the pillow as his eyelids drifted closed, “I think you’re afraid to admit you still
want
me, just as much as you used to. God…” He groaned without opening his eyes, a small grin tilting his lips. “Our sex life was fucking
hot
.”

Jesus Haploid Christ.

Sweat prickled the back of Tyler’s neck, and his stomach did a slow, heated roll as he watched him drift off to sleep. He wished the encounter had left him more confident in Memphis’s medical condition. His own condition now? Partially hard. Because after the man’s words, Tyler’s mind filled with memories of the two of them…

Ten years ago, Meadowville, California

Tyler pushed the duffel bag from Memphis’s bed and collapsed onto the king-sized mattress. For weeks, he’d been worried about meeting his boyfriend’s parents. Now that the moment had gone well, he felt beat, mentally whipped by the whirlwind events of the day. He stared up at the ceiling of the bedroom, a spacious area that consisted of the entire basement of Memphis’s childhood home.

“Nice room,” Tyler said.

“Yeah.” Memphis crossed the floor and flopped onto his back next to Tyler. “My parents renovated it for me when I first got sick in high school.” He let out an amused snort. “A consolation prize for feeling like shit during chemotherapy, I guess. By the way”—he rolled his head to look at him with an apologetic expression—“I’m sorry about my mom.”

Tyler’s smile was so wide it made his cheeks ache. “She’s great.”

She was everything his mother
hadn’t
been when he’d come out to his family: supportive, warm, and fiercely protective of his feelings. Traits she’d obviously passed down to her son. And when she’d introduced Tyler as Memphis’s boyfriend to her family and followed the announcement with an
and if anyone has a problem with that, come see me and I’ll set you straight,
something in Tyler’s chest had shifted.

Like a wide crack had filled in and grown smaller.

He studied Memphis. “You don’t need to apologize for your mom.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But she didn’t need to spend Thanksgiving dinner grilling you about my health.” He lifted his eyes in a God-save-me gesture. “She’s convinced I’ll push myself so hard at soccer practice that I’ll drop dead or something.” A grin hijacked his face. “Think I should tell her I’m more at risk of overexerting myself in our bed?”

Ignoring the predictable surge of need, Tyler struggled for a serious look. “You’re ridiculous.”

Memphis rolled over, pinning Tyler beneath him. The spark in his boyfriend’s pretty eyes and the partial hard-on pressing between Tyler’s thighs sent heat flushing up his chest.

Holy shit.

How did his boyfriend do that? He went from thoughtful and concerned to hot and turned on in less time than it took to blink. And, as usual, Tyler’s body responded in kind. Having sex on the brain was a normal part of the college experience, he supposed. And, yeah, he wanted to spend every free moment discovering new and creative ways to get his boyfriend to come.

But…seriously? Here?

“We’re in your parents’ home.” Chuckling, Tyler placed his hands on Memphis’s shoulders, trying to push him off. His words were more fond than firm. “Get off me, you big doofus.”

Apparently Memphis had no intention of moving, dipping his head to nuzzle at Tyler’s throat. “My mom and dad took all my nieces and nephews to the movies, so we’re practically alone.”

Tyler tried to ignore the heated breath and the goose bumps popping along his neck.

Stay strong. Stay
strong.

“But your sister and her husband, not to mention one of your brothers, are still upstairs,” Tyler said.

“That’s alone enough.”

Memphis began to thrust his erection against Tyler’s, and Tyler groaned, instinctively spreading his legs and arching his hips in return. His dick responded predictably, growing hard in greeting as the erect cock pressed insistently against his. As the delicious friction continued, a pleasurable thrill and a
hell yeah
raced along his veins.

“That’s what I like about you most,” Memphis murmured in his ear, the ever-present tease easily detectable. Despite the tone, he continued to rock his hips, grinding their cocks together and curling Tyler’s toes as his eyes rolled back in his head. “You’re so easy.”

“I’m not easy.” Unfortunately, Tyler already sounded winded. “I just don’t want to make the one-nut wonder work too hard.”

Memphis let out an amused breath. “You’re so full of shit,” he said. “One touch from me and you turn into my submissive bitch.”

Submissive bitch?

“Christ, Memphis,” he said, laughing so hard and so long his belly began to hurt. Finally, with a large shove, Tyler pushed him off, and the guy slid to the floor. His boyfriend landed on his butt with a boner tenting his jeans and a surprised look on his face, all of which only made Tyler laugh harder. “Serves you right,” he said, dodging Memphis’s hand.

Grinning, his boyfriend lunged for him again, and Tyler darted across the room—an awkward process with a raging hard-on, he found—and locked himself in the bathroom. No way could he remain in the same space as Memphis and continue to say no.

“I’m tired and I want to take a shower,” Tyler called through the door.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by the barrier. “I’ll take one with you.”

God
, the offer sounded so good. Tyler let out a quiet moan and dropped his forehead to the door with a
thunk
. He closed his eyes, struggling to ignore the need rushing through his body, because, dammit, he really liked Memphis’s mom. And he didn’t want to do anything disrespectful.

“I’m not screwing around under this roof,” Tyler said.

There was a two-second pause before Memphis spoke. “My mom put us in a room together. She’s not stupid. She knows we’re already having sex. Besides, I promise I won’t make you scream,” he said, and Tyler could hear the amusement in his voice. “Not too loudly, anyway.”

A silly surge of affection had Tyler rolling his eyes, and he shed his clothes, still grinning like a fool as he stepped into the tile shower and turned on the water. How he’d managed to land the campus hottie as his boyfriend, he’d never know. Since the first time they’d hooked up, his sex life had gone from practically nonexistent to kick-ass amazingly wild and out of control.

For some reason, Memphis seemed intent on getting Tyler to come as often as possible—a goal he thoroughly supported. Memphis was a good guy, too; he’d helped Tyler through the worst time of his life, which made the man that much more impossible to resist.

Tyler adjusted the temperature of the water and tipped his head under the spray. As he rubbed shampoo into his hair, he contemplated changing his mind and letting Memphis in. But his boyfriend already got his way on a daily basis. Tyler needed to draw the line somewhere, and the Haineses’ home seemed like a good place to start.

He was so lost in the conflicted thoughts he almost missed the sound of the shower door behind him. The next thing he knew, Memphis spun Tyler around and forced him back against the cold tile, pinning his hands above his head and shorting out his brain. Memphis grinned, their naked bodies pressed together from chest to hips. For a moment, all Tyler’s mind could process was Memphis’s heavy cock sandwiched against his lower belly, the rub of scratchy-soft hair against his skin, and his own half-assed erection returning to full salute.

Tyler blinked, so turned on his voice cracked. “How did you get in here?”

“All it takes to unlock the door is a straightened paper clip.”

With one hand, Memphis kept his wrists immobilized—and, God, that was
hot
—and slowly leaned in for a kiss. Tyler watched the forward progress, heart pounding and eyes wide, until he remembered his vow.

He shifted his head, dodging the kiss and dying a little on the inside as he did. “I told you,” he said, hoping he sounded firm. “Not in your parents’ house.”

With his free hand, Memphis held up a tiny bottle of lube and a condom. “Not even if I promise to fuck you?”

My God…

Tyler’s mouth dropped open and a humiliating, high-pitched squawk slipped out. His heartbeat slowly thudded to a stop as he stared at his boyfriend’s irresistible dimples, the lemony scent of shampoo and heat and steam billowing around them.

Seven months had passed since the first time Memphis had crawled into Tyler’s bed. They’d had sex almost every night since, and most every morning, too. Toss in their regular afternoon blow-job sessions, and Tyler figured he spent a significant portion of his life either on his back, legs spread, or on his knees—or in a blissful, post-sex daze. They’d enjoyed everything but anal. And even though Tyler had been dying to take things further, he hadn’t wanted to push. After all the teasing about popping Tyler’s cherry, when they’d finally reached a point where Memphis could do the deed himself, he hadn’t.

Tyler wasn’t sure if his boyfriend was disgusted by the thought or still worried his cancer treatment would affect his performance, despite massive evidence to the contrary.

Not even if I promise to fuck you?

Tyler tried to speak again, but the words
ohmygodwhatthehell
came out in a garbled, indecipherable mess.

Smiling, Memphis set the lube and condom on the ledge. “I thought that would get your attention.”

Still stunned, Tyler didn’t move as his boyfriend ran his hand through the shampoo in Tyler’s hair, tugging on the strands like he loved to do. Tyler resisted the urge to close his eyes, lean in to the caress, and purr like a smitten kitten. His favorite pastime involved him on his knees while Memphis gripped his hair—his boyfriend definitely had a fetish for the hair—and held his head still as he pumped hard and came down the back of his throat. Tyler had been highly motived to perfect his deep-throating skills early on. And how many times had he wished that Memphis would fuck him from behind? How many times had he come picturing the event as his boyfriend used his mouth instead?

Judas Priest, he was so hard it hurt. But wasn’t he supposed to be saying no?

Tyler squeezed his lids closed and tilted his head under the spray, rinsing out the soap and preparing to put an end to this. He’d taken a stand. Seriously, he should be able to follow through. But then Memphis slid his soapy hand down Tyler’s chest and over his happy trail. Tyler’s breath caught.

“Memphis,” he said in warning. “Please st―”

His boyfriend’s hand landed on Tyler’s gung ho cock, and the word ended on a strangled sound.

“Ah, Ty,” he said, freeing his wrists. Memphis’s grin grew bigger as he began to stroke Tyler’s dick, his palm pumping until Tyler felt too tight for his own skin. “You know I love it when you beg.”

“I don’t beg.”

Tyler had tried to frown as he’d said the words, but anticipation and pleasure took over his face without consulting his brain. The need was growing, and he couldn’t help thrusting up into the hand that,
Christ
, was doing more to him than a simple jerk-off should do.

“Yes, you do beg.” Memphis leaned in, smiling against Tyler’s shoulder as he stroked him harder. “All the time,” he said, and then nipped the skin of his collarbone as he slid his hand under the sensitive skin of Tyler’s balls. “Every night.”

With a single soapy finger, Memphis circled Tyler’s asshole, and the electrical impulses nearly shut the rest of his nervous system down. He bit his lip to stop the groan but failed, gripping the showerhead above him and spreading his thighs a bit. Memphis spent a moment exploring, light touches to the puckered skin that sent skin-tingling sensations scattering in all directions. When Tyler began to whimper for more, Memphis applied some lube to his fingers and proceeded to slowly press one inside. The delicious pressure and the determined look on his boyfriend’s face—the one that said,
yeah, I’m definitely making this mine tonight
—were almost enough to undo Tyler.