The Backup Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) (11 page)

“No sense in pretending you don’t want me,” Dylan said, and Alec could hear the amusement in his voice. “Last night was kind of a giveaway.”

Despite everything, Alec smiled against Dylan’s shoulder. “Which part?” He lifted his head to peer down at Dylan again. “When I attacked you in Noah’s office or when I pinned you to my bed?”

“Yes to both. And then you went on and on about what bottoming felt like. You were rambling.” Crinkles framed his green eyes when he smiled. “You do that sometimes when you’re nervous.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He grinned. “I figured out one way to get you to stop, although the kiss kinda caught me by surprise. But, seriously? The blow job blew my mind.” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “You’re really good at that.”

Alec’s throat felt as dry as yesterday’s toast. “As Noah said, a guy’s got to have a hobby.”

Christ, what an inane thing to say.

Dylan faced forward, no longer meeting Alec’s gaze. “I’m not much for porno talk during sex, but during our, uh…”—he cleared his throat—“mutual grinding session, you went into explicit detail about exactly how you were going to fuck me.”

Alec closed his eyes. Thank God Dylan had used the word mutual. Alec hated to think he might have used Dylan as a humping post.

“I’m not too proud to admit the words were a total turn-on,” Dylan went on.

Alec’s lips twisted wryly. “I guess that means you don’t subscribe to the theory that taking it up the ass makes you less of a man?”

“Heck, no. It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything
.

Well, damn. The words weren’t comforting. Alec knew his crush had taken a nosedive into deeper levels the moment they’d kissed. He wasn’t ready to admit the truth, that he might have fallen a little for Dylan during his refreshing candor about his limited education and his refusal to feel less than because of it. Completely unselfconscious and at ease with his past, Dylan was proud of his life. That kind of self-confidence was endearing and incredibly sexy.

And apparently prevented any lingering hang-ups about sex.

Dylan leaned forward and opened the drawer on Alec’s nightstand, pulling out the lube and several condoms.

When Dylan looked over his shoulder and caught Alec’s surprised look, he said, “Last night you showed me where you kept your supplies.”

Of
course
he had.

Heat climbed Alec’s face. There was no time to dwell on the embarrassment because Dylan scooted backwards until Alec’s cock pressed along the crack in Dylan’s ass again, and the hit of pleasure paralyzed Alec.

Dylan seemed to notice Alec hadn’t moved.

“Do you want me to go away?” Dylan said.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Not what I asked. Do you
want
me to leave?”

Alec wanted lots of things, like Dylan’s lips opening beneath his in a
real
kiss. To trace that scar on Dylan’s shoulder with his tongue. To feel Dylan come in his mouth without the dulling effects of alcohol. Dylan on all fours, with Alec behind him. Yeah, he wanted a lot of things.

Dylan leaving wasn’t one of them.

“I want you to stay,” Alec said.

Dylan released a breath and rolled onto his stomach, spreading his legs. He folded his arms and planted his forehead on his wrists.

The beautiful sight of Dylan splayed before him in such a vulnerable position made Alec’s fingers clumsy. After two tries, Alec finally flipped the lid to the lube open. Mindful of Dylan’s relative inexperience, Alec applied a generous-to-the-point-of-messy amount of liquid on his fingers. Alec brushed his hole, and Dylan tensed.

Alec leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the scar, tracing the ridge of purple flesh with his lips. “Easy,” he murmured against Dylan’s skin.

And as Alec ran his mouth along the corded muscles of Dylan’s back and stroked the puckered hole with his thumb, Dylan slowly melted, his body going lax. A few minutes passed, and Alec felt confident enough in Dylan’s state to take the next step. He breached the ring of muscle with his finger, and a light shudder ran through Dylan’s body, as malleable in Alec’s arms as he was hard-nosed out of them. Humbling Alec with his trust. Empowering him with such complete submission.

For two years Alec had been happy letting Tyler take control in bed. But this…

Alec knew sex with Dylan didn’t line up with his long-term plans. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. For once Alec wanted everything, wanted to be greedy and careless and rash, despite the fact the need was equal parts scary and exhilarating.

Letting Dylan grow accustomed to the feel, Alec spent more minutes than necessary with just one finger, fucking him slowly. He watched as Dylan’s breathing grew more labored, his arousal obvious. The view left Alec feeling invincible, which only made him more determined to make this good for Dylan.

Alec advanced to two fingers, encouraged when Dylan remained silent, no protest in sight. In fact, Dylan began to thrust his hips against the bed, and the occasional whimper escaped, the sounds barely audible. All that changed when Alec brushed his prostate.

Dylan hissed, and his hands shot forward to grab the headboard. “Jesus,” Dylan groaned, arching his back.

“Feeling okay?”

Dylan’s answer came in the form of a moan, and he tipped his ass up in a silent beg, pushing against Alec’s fingers. Alec smiled. The man might not be much for talking during sex, but the noises that rumbled from his throat were sexier than all the explicit words in the world.

God, too bad last night’s memories were veiled by the buzz of alcohol.

“You’re description didn’t do it justice,” Dylan murmured.

“Description?”

“Prostate.”

Alec had no idea what he’d said last night. But he knew exactly what Dylan was talking about.

“You mean this?” he said, and brushed the sensitive bundle again.

Dylan stiffened and dropped his forehead to the mattress. “God, yes,” he said. “Just…
yes
.”

With the addition of a third digit, Dylan grew impatient. So Alec increased the pace, and Dylan seemed satisfied. But not for long. Soon the rock of his hips was as much about taking more of Alec’s fingers as seeking friction against the bed.

“Alec,” Dylan whispered hoarsely, his fingers gripping the headboard. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

Need and anticipation pounded through him, and Alec briefly pressed his lids closed. Struggling to rein in his emotions, he applied the condom and some more lube. With one hand he lined up his cock at Dylan’s asshole and, as gently as he could, eased inside.

The taut muscles gripped his cock, remained tight, and then Alec breached the ring, sinking deeper. His eyes nearly crossed from the pleasurable pressure and the heat and
damn, damn, damn
he needed to get his act together before he completely lost control.

He settled for low, shallow thrusts to get Dylan used to the sensation of being filled beyond capacity, gradually taking more as he increased the pace. Sweat glistened along Dylan’s back. Drawn by the sight, Alec tasted the salt-sweat of his shoulder. He couldn’t see Dylan’s face to gauge whether or not he was hurting. But the silence from Dylan was a change from before.

“Are you in pain?” Alec asked.

“No,” Dylan said, his voice tight. “It’s just not….”

Alec lifted Dylan’s hips, pulling the man to all fours. “On your elbows, Dylan,” Alec said, hand gently pressing on Dylan’s back.

Dylan complied, placing his elbows on the bed, ass high in the air. And, Christ, the sight nearly did Alec in. Once Alec controlled his breathing again, he pulled back, palm pressed between Dylan shoulder blades, and thrust deep.

“There,” Dylan yelped. “Right goddamn there.”

The new angle allowed Alec to hit Dylan’s prostate with almost every stroke. At least Alec thought so because the mewling sounds now escaping Dylan’s mouth with every thrust had the high-pitched, keening sound of one about to blow his load.

“Oh God,” Dylan said with a shaky breath, lowering his face to the bed. “I can’t…”

Everything about Dylan’s position—forehead pressed against the sheets, legs spread—screamed for more. The sight almost pushed Alec over the brink. But the words coming in pants from Dylan’s mouth now left Alec concerned.

“Can’t what?” Alec continued to pump his hips.

Over his shoulder, Dylan looked up at Alec. Eyes wild, cheeks flushed, mouth parted and gasping, Dylan looked like a man on edge. And the vision, the very fact that Alec was the one who could bring Dylan to such a state, thrilled Alec to the core. But the word
can’t
slipped from Dylan again, bringing Alec back to reality.

Alec pulled back until his erection almost popped free but couldn’t bring himself to withdraw completely. He hated the thought of disappointing Dylan as much as he hated the thought of bringing this to an end.

“Do you want me to stop?” Alec asked.

Sweet Jesus let him say no.

Too far gone to mutter a
hell
no
, Dylan reached back and pulled on Alec’s hip until his cock was buried to the hilt. The small bundle of hungry nerves went haywire again, as if they’d been waiting forever for this particular meal, and Dylan’s lids fluttered closed.

God, this was worth the initial discomfort. So
friggin
’ worth it.

Chest heaving, he kept his hand clamped on Alec, their bodies pressed tight as Dylan fought off the orgasm that threatened to come too soon.

Last night during their grinding session, Alec’s teasing fingers on Dylan’s hole had been a revelation. Between the sensation and Alec’s words, a picture of them in this very position had popped into Dylan’s brain, and he’d instantly shot his load. The fantasy had surprised the hell out of him.

Through the years, he’d enjoyed more than his fair share of blowjobs and rubbing one out with a woman. His past experiences made it easy to write off last night’s pleasurable activities as understandable, even familiar.

But this? Dylan dug his fingertips into Alec’s hip, holding him close. This he’d never considered before.

Dylan finally felt in control enough to groan out the words. “Don’t. Fucking. Stop.”

A breath
whooshed
from Alec, his hand steadying Dylan at his back.

“Thank God,” Alec rasped out.

And then he began to fuck Dylan in earnest, Alec’s lean hips digging deep, deep, deep.

Dylan’s eyes rolled back. Ditching any pretense of holding it together, he let out a long, low moan of appreciation. Or thanks. Or a plea for more. He didn’t know which. And he sure as heck didn’t care. Knuckles tight, Dylan fisted the sheets, now feeling so wide, so open he began to literally beg, blubbering out an embarrassing string of half-formed words.

He liked having Alec surrounding him. On top of him. Pinning him to the bed.

Holding him
down
.

“I…” Dylan let out a gasp.

Sweat slid down his temple. The intensity threatened to topple him, bigger than anything he’d ever experienced before. His knees grew shaky, his back straining to maintain a position that provided just the right angle for the maximum of pleasure. His muscles screamed for relief. His body screamed for release.

Alec gripped Dylan’s back tight, his hips driving forward with a forceful snap.

And the orgasm hit with a blindsiding blast, stripping Dylan of the last of his strength, and he collapsed. Alec followed him down, pushing up on his arms and ramming Dylan’s ass as he came too. Dylan pulsed and pulsed until he thought his brains had been liquefied and ejected from his body. Gone. Absorbed into the sheets.

Never to be found again.

He couldn’t have blanked out for more than a second or so, but it might as well have been a lifetime. When Dylan came back to his senses, he felt as if he he’d moved away years ago and then tried to return home… a home he’d left behind for so long that everything looked different when he got back.

Alec’s chest pressed against Dylan’s back, their sweat-slicked skin sliding against each other as they both struggled to suck in enough oxygen.

“Jesus, Alec,” Dylan croaked, “you forget to mention the part where I’d feel like I got hit by a speeding semi. A very
big
speeding semi.” He bit his cheek, hoping he wasn’t about to sound like a total slut. “When can we do that again?”

He felt Alec smile against his neck. “When do you think you’ll recover?”

Dylan gave a tired scoff. “Next week, if—”

The
clink
of glass on glass came from the living room, and they both froze. Before Dylan could process what the sound meant, Alec had vaulted from the bed, his cock making an impressive exit from Dylan’s ass and causing his muscles to spasm painfully.

Dylan hissed in protest.

“Christ, I’m sorry,” Alec said before crossing to look out the window toward the street. “Noah’s car is here.”

With a groan, Dylan buried his head in his arms. All he wanted was to enjoy the feeling of having the shit kicked out of him sexually before he had to deal with what this meant to his and Alec’s friendship. And now he had to deal with
Noah
?

The man who’d become Dylan’s foxhole buddy during the battle to keep Rick alive and then during Rick’s slow slip toward death. During those dark days, Dylan would have lost his friggin’ mind without Noah. But Dylan knew their shared history wouldn’t save him from his friend’s opinions.

Dylan reluctantly rolled over and pushed up from the bed, glancing at Alec. For some reason, he didn’t want Alec hearing what Noah was bound to say.

“You go take a shower,” Dylan said, looking around for his clothes. When that failed, he crossed the floor, grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and ran it under the tap to clean himself up. “I’ll handle Noah until you get done.”

Dylan knotted a second towel around his waist and waited for Alec to disappear into the shower. Tense, but determined, Dylan padded down the hallway, planning his defense in anticipation of facing his opinionated friend.

After Alec had passed out on the bed last night, Dylan had spent all of thirty minutes on the computer Googling bisexuality before giving up. He’d started out curious. Twenty-five minutes later, he’d been struggling not to freak the fuck out. He’d gone from a small sliver of self-doubt to a super-sized serving of batshit-crazy confusion.