Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
There is no hope of controlling it now.
Mouths locked, kissing feverishly, Kyle grabs Elias by his jeans, opens them. Elias grunts when Kyle slips his hand inside and takes hold of him, finding his cock hard and throbbing. Elias slides his good hand down the front of Kyle’s shorts, discovering a similar situation. Without prompt, the kiss ends, and Elias takes hold of Kyle’s chin again, thrusting his thumb into Kyle’s mouth, feeding him the intoxicating nectar again, eyes locked, hands stroking one another below.
Elias’s face contorts with elation as he reaches the brink.
Kyle can’t restrain himself another second and bites down on the finger, breaking skin.
Elias groans, bearing it, and his hand moves faster.
Together, they reach the peak, then bask in the pleasure that floods through their bodies as they let go. It happens too fast. Then silence takes over the room, disturbed only by the sound of their breaths as they become themselves again. The men grow quiet when the rush ebbs, both still gripping each other below, Elias clutching Kyle’s face, thumb willingly locked in the cage of his soft, red lips, their eyes upon each other.
Kyle frees Elias’s thumb from his mouth. A bead of blood slowly draws a line down to the wrist, then drips.
The two gaze in wonder into each other’s eyes.
Neither says a word.
Until the corner of Elias’s lips curl up. “Guess I’m a little bit of a masochist. Would it weird you out if I said this actually isn’t the freakiest thing I’ve done?”
Energy continues to flow through Kyle like a drug.
Invigorating, filling him with power and pleasure.
“No,” Kyle decides, lets out a strange laugh, then slumps to the floor with a smile on his face, overcome.
They lie together just like that for the rest of the night. In the semidarkness of the house, Kyle relishes in the prickles of joy that bounce around inside him as the men make small talk, laugh, enjoy each other’s bodies, as well as simply lie there in a warm and peaceful silence, content to say nothing at all. It’s the first time in a while that Kyle has felt truly himself.
“What’s your middle name?”
Kyle turns his head. “Huh?”
“Your middle name,” repeats Elias. “You never told me.”
Kyle shrugs. “You don’t need to know. The less you know, the better, remember? I don’t ask about you, and you don’t—”
“My mom’s Middle Eastern,” says Elias. “Dad’s Mexican. Hence the Asad Trujillo, which you already know. Your turn.”
Kyle turns his head to Elias. They at first were cuddled on the floor of the dining room for a while, then relocated to the foot of the couch, backs against it. He gives in. “Bentley.”
“Kyle Bentley Amos? Really?”
“Yep. I’m not really sure where it comes from. Maybe just a name my parents liked. Think it means ‘dead grass’.”
Elias snorts. “That doesn’t sound right, Kyle, and I suggest you look that up again.”
“If you say so. It’s been a long time since I’ve given much thought to my real name, anyway.”
“Oh. Would you rather not talk about it?”
“It’s okay.” Kyle nudges him. “So what does yours mean?”
“Asad? It means ‘lion’.”
Kyle glances at him, surprised.
Elias smiles back, almost sweetly. “Rawr,” he says coyly.
Kyle finds himself thinking of a night not too long ago, he was standing at the counter of the bar, no customers for half an hour, and he took out a napkin and a pen and began to draw. In the space of ten minutes, a blue lion sat on that napkin as proud as a true king of the savannah, perfectly proportioned, complete down to the individual claws. His skill has vastly improved over the years. It showed. When the door shook upon the arrival of the next customer, Kyle balled up the napkin, pitched it at the nearby bin, and put on his customer service smile.
A noise at the front door stirs Kyle from the memory. He and Elias turn their heads to find a cat slowly prancing toward them. From her mouth hangs a limp, hairy thing. She comes up to Kyle’s side and drops the gift from her mouth.
A dead mouse.
Kyle stares at the carcass, now on the floor next to him.
“What the random fuck …?” grunts Elias.
Kyle doesn’t find himself disturbed by the comically timed return of the cat. She’s in and out when she pleases. Neither is he repulsed by the gift she brought him, which is admittedly a first for their rather peculiar on-again-off-again relationship.
Instead, he finds himself thinking of Tristan, of all things. Something he said a long, long time ago. Something about gifts being delivered by cats.
And a rather dramatic gift of his own: a jock menagerie, in the locker room of a half-remembered high school.
Then of the letter Tristan left him on a pillow.
And his pinky ring.
“Where is it?” asks Kyle suddenly.