Making Changes Ch. 04

I want to go some way to repaying his care, and I take his face in my hands, bending to compress his full lips against mine, tasting them like they're crushed strawberries, grinding lightly against his body. And they do taste like that, like fruit, and what is it with this guy, my guy; part boy with his energy and joyful silliness, part very, very man, who tastes and smells like fruit and freshness, all strength and vulnerability. He is a world of contradictions and I can't wait to explore.

* * * * *

It's later when I know I have to prove to Alex that he can trust me to be exactly as strong as I need to be.

At lunchtime I approach Maxwell in the cafeteria, paying no heed to the eyes on me as I approach. Maxwell is looking down, studiously avoiding contact, but I stop directly before him.

"Maxwell, come with me please, I want to talk to you."

He finally looks at me, panic in his eyes, one of which is still framed by a large fading bruise. I know he's wondering how he will explain to his girlfriend why I'm suddenly wanting private conversations with him, but it's not my problem. He also knows there's no point refusing me - I hold quite a lot of power over him right now, but I won't get drunk on it, I'd much rather not be in this position in the first place.

As we leave, I see Alex watching me with alarm. I look at him as calmly as possible, ensuring he knows I have this, and he manages to stay in his seat. Frankly, with the shadow of himself that Maxwell has been the last few days, I'd feel just as safe prancing along naked in front of him. This boy has had all the sexual aggression beaten out of him.

I lead him to the bathroom, and he backs into the wall when he sees Robbie is also waiting for him there.

"W-what do you want? Listen, Ryan, I'm sorry about last week. I, I read the signs wrong. I promise it won't happen again."

"You're damn straight it won't happen again you sniveling-"

I interrupt Robbie with the palm of my hand.

"Listen Maxwell, don't compound the problem by claiming there were any signs, misread or otherwise. You wanted something, and you thought you could just take it because I wouldn't be able to stop you.

"The reason we're here now, talking, is because I know that's not the first time you've considered that as being a good way to get what you want."

I gesture to Robbie, and Maxwell has the good grace to look ashamed. I'd phoned Robbie on Sunday, told him what had happened, and he'd admitted that his fling with Maxwell had begun in the exact same way. The only thing I hadn't liked about what Robbie had said was that he didn't consider it a big deal, because he'd been a willing participant after the initial pressure.

I'd reminded him that it didn't change how it had started, and he shouldn't have to put up with people considering him as something instead of someone, a something that could just be taken at their whim. That got his righteous anger firing.

"Whether you've come to terms with it or not, Maxwell, I think it's obvious that you're attracted to men. We're here to talk to you because we can't have people like you going about this completely the wrong way, giving the rest of us a bad name."

I hadn't really thought beyond the initial accusation, expecting some likely blustering, maybe some anger. What I wasn't expecting was for Maxwell to break down completely, collapsing to the floor, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Y-you're r-right," his voice is forced from his throat in gulping sobs, "I do like men, I just haven't known what to do about it. B-but, I can't be gay, I mean, look at me."

He gestures to himself, his broad chest, which I know is covered in thick black hair, his five o'clock shadow, that he's been cultivating since he was fifteen. Sure, he's a masculine guy, but I'm pretty dumfounded that there are still people in the twenty-first century who think masculinity is a barrier against homosexuality.

Robbie takes over, "Maxwell, do you find guys sexually attractive?"

Maxwell nods weakly.

"Then you're gay. How much of a big manly-man you are has fuck all to do with sexual preferences."

It's obvious Maxwell has issues, but, once we have his weeping assurance that he won't try to force anyone else to have sex with him, and that he'll present himself to the school counselor, I'm pleased to wash my hands of him. If I tried to personally guide every closeted, self-loathing gay guy in the world, I'd never get any sleep.

* * * * *

Alex

"So, Ryan, when are you going to let me train you up?"

"I'm working double shift on Sunday, and then Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday..."

"Do you have to work every day?"

I know I sound whiny, but, seriously, he works constantly. It's Saturday afternoon and I know he's exhausted - after a week of school, early-morning swim training, and working almost every day he had the early shift today, starting at six and not getting off until two.

"Yes."

That's all I'm getting. He did explain, a couple of weeks ago, when we first started this, that he worked a lot, to help his mum out, so I'm not going to argue with that, but god, do I wish I could spend more time with him, all the time with him.

We went for a run after his shift finished, through the beautiful city park that's close to his work. It's a glorious winter's afternoon, pleasantly warm, as it always is here, and the sun is out - no rain today. It's pretty much the weather I'm used to, so I'm comfortable laying back on the checked blanket I'd had the foresight to put in the back of my truck, along with the hamper basket of late-lunch goodies.

We had our picnic after we'd cooled down from the run, strawberries and mini sandwiches, apple spritzer and cupcakes. I have to admit, it's a bit beyond my usual fare, but Kev helped me sort it out this morning, and the look on Ryan's face when I got it from the truck surpassed 'worth it'.

I packed my camera too, snapping shots of him with the afternoon sun giving him the glow of an angel, while he laughs and tells me off, claiming himself as a big, sweaty mess. He couldn't be more wrong. He looks beautiful, tired but happy, delicate features that I just want to spend my day tracing with my fingers.

Now, we're laying side by side, arms supporting heads, as we talk about random stuff: the chances of the state basketball team, what we think we got on the last English assignment, what we're doing after school has finished.

I try to stay cool on this, when Ryan brings it up. We're lightly holding hands, I'm running my thumb softly over his knuckles and he's tickling my palm with his, but I tense, and he feels it immediately and turns on his side to look at my face.

"What is it?"

We've promised to talk about things, not let them fester, but this is something that has been quietly bubbling away in me since we started seeing each other.

"It's, it's just, Kev, his job. He's only on secondment for a year. We're meant to go back to Australia after that. Or at least, I am. He thinks they're going to send him somewhere in Asia next. I'm meant to be going to university."

I can't look at his face, focusing instead on a small terrier across the pathway as it sniffs a bush, pausing to cock its leg.

He leans over me, resting his hand on my face, lightly stroking, which is sending goosebumps down my neck. He gently kisses me, softly at first, increasing in pressure as he licks out, requesting entry, and I place my hand on the back of his dark head, pulling him closer, increasing the tempo of my tongue, lightly nipping at his perfect, soft lips.

When we part, I'm finally brave enough to look at him, and I see those gemstone eyes, sparkling with an untold emotion, but on his lips is a genuine smile.

"Alex, if we only have the rest of this year to be together, then so be it. Let's just make the most of what we have, no pressure, and no letting it ruin our time."

So be it.

* * * * *

Ryan

Alex invites me over to his place so he can teach me how to kick ass. It's Friday, and I realize this is only like our third date in as many weeks. And I'm not sure it counts as a date when you're wearing a cup, but I'll take any occasion where we're alone together.

Alex tells me that the cups are to protect our 'vitals' while we're sparring, but I decide not to embarrass him by asking why we would need them in particular, because he's already given me one of his gorgeous blushes when he handed it over. Muay Thai is sort of like kickboxing and he tells me it's sometimes called the Art of Eight Limbs because things can get pretty wild in the ring.

I've never done anything like this before - my only extra-curricular sports are swimming and running - any team sports were too pressured around fees and lack of them letting the side down, and most other single sports are too demanding in terms of resources and time. This would have been one of them - Alex's third garage is laid out like a training room, with mats on the floor, and a punching bag hanging from the ceiling by a heavy chain. He wraps bandages around my fists and ties on gloves.

We spar for a while and Alex teaches me some punches and kicks, before moving on to blocking and elbow work, which he tells me I have to use if I'm ever in a situation like I was with Maxwell. As he grabs me from behind I have to block out the 'himness' of him, the smell of fresh hot sweat, the feel of his hard body against my back, focusing on jabbing back, giving myself space to drive my elbow into him.

We go like this for almost two hours, and I am sure we will both be covered in bruises tomorrow, but I feel good, and strong.

* * * * *

Alex

I can barely focus training Ryan, watching his elegant body travel so naturally in moves that take others weeks or months to master. He's a total natural, the fluidity of his actions turning the fighting into a dance.

By the time we finish, my hardness is pressed uncomfortably tightly into my restrictive protection and I have had to call it to an end, although Ryan is buzzed, on a high from the power these new skills have given him. He demands one last routine and manages to send me onto my back with his perfectly executed move.

As I lay there panting, he drops onto me, straddling my hips, laughing wildly.

"Got you!" his joy is infectious, and I laugh right along with him, before twisting my body to fling him onto his back with an 'oomph' of exhaled air.

"Hey, no fair! I was distracted by your hot body," he giggles, reaching up to stroke my chest under my tank.

It's not helping my almost painful state of arousal and I lean down to give him a small kiss on the forehead, before jumping off him.

"Let's take a shower and we can watch a movie if you want?"

I don't want to watch a movie. I want to watch him, in that position, on my bed. I want to watch him in just about any position, actually. But I'm not going to rush this. I feel an innate sense of fury at Maxwell - if it wasn't for him I'm sure we would have taken it further by now, but it's constantly in my mind that I don't want Ryan to ever have any feeling that I'm taking advantage of him, so I have to let him make the moves.

We go up to my room and I take first shower while Ryan picks out something to watch. Or at least he's meant to be. I almost leap out of my skin when I turn, soap bubbles sliding into my eyes, and he's standing in the doorway, leaning nonchalantly, wearing nothing but a very small, very tight pair of red boxers.

I just stop, letting the flow of water run over my head, taking deep breaths as he gives me back the slightest smug grin. I know why he's smug. The moment I saw him, saw the way his lean muscles shift as he props himself against the wooden frame, the way his thighs are perfectly smooth and defined, the light layer of black hair on his lower legs, I was hard as a diamond.

I'm not a quick draw, but damn if I'm not going to struggle with this one. He moves toward me now, all sinewy grace, stripping his boxers in one smooth move as he steps under the water. He doesn't stop, putting his hands on my shoulders, stepping me back until my skin makes contact with the smooth tiles.

"So, Alex, just when are you planning on making a move?"

"Oh, I don't know, seems like you have the whole thing under control."

He gives me a knowing smile as he begins to lower himself down my body, averting his eyes for just a moment as he glances at the teardrop that's already formed on my tip, before lightly lapping it away with the point of his tongue and flicking his eyes back to mine. The moan from my throat is involuntary as I stare into his depths, watching as he runs his tongue along the underside, flicking and twisting it to devastating effect.

I gently push my fingers into his thick black hair as he suckles on the end, lightly at first, but increasing in pressure as he senses the effect it's having on me. When the glans is slick with both our moisture, he slides his mouth down slowly but steadily, and I feel the lightning storm of the pressure extend down my length until I'm fully encased and can feel the muscles of his throat quivering on my hyper-sensitive flesh.

It's too much, this electricity, shocking me into submission. I try to shift back, not wanting it to end too soon, but he grasps me, digging his long fingers into the muscles of my ass, pulling me into him, and I feel the groan of pleasure from his throat vibrating around me.

"Ryan, baby," my voice is a hoarse whisper, "you're going to make me come."

If his smiling murmur of agreement is lost in the sounds of me panting, the tremors it causes are not lost on me, as I feel it short circuiting my control, forcing my very being out of me, gliding into his welcoming throat.

I slide down the wall, my knees useless, slumping next to him in the base of the shower. He's grinning at me, licking his rosy lips, his eyes dark with lust. I pull him to me, wanting to taste myself on him, wanting proof that the out of body experience really happened.

We're being drenched by the shower spray, I can barely breath as it steals what little air I have spare, running over my nose and eyes, but I don't fucking care. This kiss could last forever and it wouldn't be long enough.

When we finally separate it's because the water is running lukewarm and I know we only have minutes before it's replaced by icy cold. I pull Ryan up and carefully wash him, stopping only to share sweet kisses, tasting his mouth and his neck, nipping at his skin.

When I have him tightly wrapped in the fluffiest towel I own, I guide him backward, gently pushing him to the bed, rubbing him through the soft fibers until I can feel his hardness against my palm.

"My turn," I can barely recognize my own voice, so filled it is with lust.

I unfold the towel from Ryan's body, unwrapping him like the perfect gift he is. I barely got a chance to see him in the shower, he'd been so hell-bent on my pleasure, but I see him now, stretched out before me. He's as incredible as the glimpses and my imagination had suggested, his lean but defined abdominals creating shallow shadows as his torso shifts under my gaze, his lightly furred treasure trail and the strong v's at his hips controlling my gaze toward my prize, his steel-hard cock, bobbing slightly with his breaths.

It's smooth, the skin looking like velvet, and I tentatively reach to confirm that, yes, it feels like hot velvet too, the hair around is neatly trimmed, and I want to have my nose buried in there, to breath in the scent of him, the aroma of warm spice that I know he gives off, from the time I have spent burrowed into his neck when we've kissed, needing to regain the air he steals from me.

I lean forward, wanting to make him moan under me like he made me moan, a desperate need that I can't wait for, swooping down and taking half his length without warning or further delay. I'm rewarded with a gasp of pleasure, and I swirl my tongue past the ridges of his glans and the long vein that runs down the underside.

I apply a vacuum of pressure with the flat of my tongue, walking it down his length until he's as far as he can be without me opening my throat. Now I'm getting my moans, with writhing that increases as I work his shaft with my lips and tongue.

It's as amazing as I'd hoped and I want to make it more so, done with the teasing, I want to make him come undone while I can feel it happen, with my mouth, with my hands that rest lightly on his hard stomach.

As I slide one hand down, to cup his soft sack, I instantly feel it tighten under me, and further when I push my head down, opening myself to his thickness, increasing my tempo until I feel him reach the point of no return, his voice lost to gasps and pants as he does what I've wanted more than anything, and falls apart under me.

* * * * *

Ryan

As we lay back on Alex's bed, my shoulders nestled under his strong arm, breathing in sync, our peace is broken by the sharp trill of his phone, set with an old-school ringtone.

I hear his side of the conversation, which isn't much, affirmatives and mumbles, but when he hangs up he turns to me, his dazzling smile wide and excited.

"Is your mum expecting you home early?"

I love the way he says 'mom', his accent has this really awesome mix of super masculine and a bit posh. I shake my head. Mom's on nights, a twelve-hour shift, and I'm not expecting to see her until tomorrow night, when I get back from the coffee shop.

"Kev's on a date, he's just rung to say he won't be home tonight. Will you stay over with me?"

He sounds almost tentative, and I know why. He's been adorably desperate to not push me into anything sooner than I've been ready, after the stuff that happened, and even before, because we'd agreed to take things slow, to not make anything official too soon. And I've been going along with that, genuinely enjoying spending time just getting to know him, without the layer of lust that I suspect, even more so after what happened in the shower and after, is going to become a pretty big part of our relationship.

But I've been having to hold myself back just as much as him, dying to leap on his strong form every time I see him, to wrap myself around his body and never let go. There's no way I'm passing this opportunity up, to do all the things I've wanted to, pretty much since the moment I first saw him, to fall asleep breathing in his scent.

"I need to be at work for nine but my uniform's in my locker there, so, yeah, I'd love to."

I can't help the smile that threatens to take over my face, and I'm sure is a mirror of Alex's.

He orders Chinese takeout, which is a rare treat for me, so I yum it down until I can barely move, tucked up against Alex's side on the couch in his room, some movie that we're not watching playing on the huge TV, chatting about this and that, my fingers lightly grazing over his tattoos, the dragon and 'citius magis melius' in cursive under his right pec.

I think we both doze off at one point, too sated in every sense to keep our eyes open - or that's true of me anyway, awakening when a message beeps through on Alex's phone. He reads it, happy.

"It's from my brother, Lockie. Him and Finn are coming over in about three weeks, for Christmas."

"Do you miss your brothers?"

"Yeah, I really do. Lockie is only just a year younger than me, and we've always been close. The way school works back home, he'll have finished his last year when he comes over, and he's starting uni in February. And Finn is just a little trooper. He's so smart, and funny. You're going to think he's great. And he'll think you're great too."

He pulls me in to kiss my forehead. I'm not so sure, though. If Alex's brothers are half as awesome as he is, I'm going to be left in the dust.

Alex checks his watch with a start.

"It's nine thirty, do you want to go for a swim?"