In the Blaze of His Hungers (3 page)

“Ask for it,” says Javier, he’s looking into Ryan’s eyes when he says it, as if it’s important that he see Ryan’s expression when Ryan asks for it. “Go on.”

But Ryan’s had enough of Javier’s games. “Like hell I’ll
ask
for it, dickhead. If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear I’m gonna hunt you down and kill you when you least expect it.”

“Someone has to teach you how to beg properly.”

“Why?” Ryan stifles a whimper when Javier’s finger crooks inside him. “You volunteering?”

“Yes,” says Javier, and just… flips Ryan over.

Flips him
over
, like he weighs nothing, and Ryan doesn’t even have the time to yelp as his fingers are pulled out of his ass along with Javier’s, leaving him hollow and grasping. The hollowness doesn’t last for long, though, because soon enough Javier is draped over his back, penning Ryan in with his body, and there’s a dripping cock against Ryan’s ass, painting it with hot, sticky stripes. Ryan’s own cock is soaking the cottony sheets beneath him, because he’s that turned on. Javier might have tons of practice with this type of thing, but Ryan feels so close to coming that he’s terrified he’ll do it before they even get to the main event.

“C-condom,” Ryan gasps, and Javier grunts, shifting behind him, easing himself off Ryan momentarily. There’s the crinkling of a condom wrapper being torn open, and then Javier is on him again, crushing him into the mattress, nudging a leg between Ryan’s thighs until there’s enough space for Javier to settle between them. Ryan feels entirely covered, sheltered,
held
, the hair on Javier’s chest grazing his back and the wiry curls above Javier’s dick scratching his ass. The low snarl against Ryan’s ear when he tries to move makes Ryan feel like a large animal is poised to devour him, but rather than fear, all Ryan feels is a frisson of sharp, knife-like excitement. “Do it,” he says, muffled by the pillow. “Just do it.”

“Relax,” Javier commands, as though Ryan isn’t shivering uncontrollably. But Ryan can’t keep the quiver out of himself, even though he isn’t afraid, he
isn’t
. It’s an overload of sensation, that’s all, Javier’s exhalations against his nape and Javier’s arms caging him in, Javier’s heartbeat against his back and Javier’s scent surrounding him, drugging him.

And finally, there’s the blunt pressure of Javier’s dick, cleaving him open in a long, never-ending thrust. The slow, inexorable
force of it knocks the air right out of Ryan, so that he can only lie there and take it, too shocked to cry out. His vision whites out and comes back into blurry focus, and he waits and waits and
waits
for Javier to bottom out, the agony of it lancing up his spine and into his jaw, which he clamps shut so savagely he can hear his own teeth grind.

It’s a blazing eternity before it ends, only to
begin again. And again, till Ryan’s sure he’s dying, that Javier’s killing him, but Ryan’s still hard, still leaking. Somewhere in the middle of it he manages to unlock his jaw, and he means to ask Javier to stop, to let him get used to it, but the only word that escapes his mouth is “more”.

Javier gives it to him.
Just when Ryan thinks it can’t get any faster, it does, Javier pushing him down by the back of his neck and fucking into him, hitting Ryan’s prostate often enough for Ryan to start pleading, sobbing, clawing the sheets.  The color behind his eyes is a blazing, acid red, eating into everything, leaving him sightless and needy. As the momentum builds, so does the volume of Ryan’s moans, and soon he’s screaming himself hoarse, telling Javier that he needs to come, please, please,
please
.

In the end, Javier doesn’t even have to jack him off. Ryan comes all on his own, biting the pillow to bury his wail in it, hips surging, dick spurting against the already-damp sheets until they’re sodden, until they’re as ruined on the outside as he is on the inside, his hole making wet, obscene sounds around Javier’s cock.

Javier comes much later, plunging into Ryan’s lax body, groaning loudly as he rocks to a halt.

Ryan is barely
aware of Javier withdrawing, except for the feeling of being fucked loose and being left that way, primed to take any cock that wants in. Goosebumps break out on Ryan’s cooling skin. He sags into the bed, lifeless, and Javier joins him shortly, after tying off and throwing away the condom.

“How was it
?” Javier asks him, and his tone’s unreadable, for all that his voice is gravelly from his own orgasm.

“
Mmm,” Ryan says, because that’s all he
can
say. The energy has been bled out of him, and he can’t be expected to form actual sentences, surely.

Javier huffs – an abortive, exasperated chuckle – and lets Ryan rest.

It’s weird going back to school the next day (which happens to be a Monday), like nothing happened. The lingering pain in Ryan’s ass insists on reminding him that something
did
happen, though, and that it can happen again, whenever Ryan wants it to. Lo and behold – Ryan has joined the ranks of the sexually active. Hopefully. If Javier’s interested in seeing him again. Which he must be, right? Because the kiss he gave Ryan before sending him off was unmistakably, um, interested. And interesting. Very interesting, indeed, because Ryan keeps having inappropriate flashbacks to it during class, recalling the scrape of stubble against his chin, and how Javier had seemed just about ready to drag Ryan back into bed and fuck him a second time.

Ryan is
decidedly in favor of a second time. Or a third time. Or an nth time. His concentration is shot and he narrowly avoids getting a detention, but it’s worth it because he can visit Javier after school and find out what other uses Javier can put him to. Ryan likes being useful. It’s a virtue.

The trouble is that Pete’s in Ryan’s English Lit class
and
in his Math class, and that Pete usually meets up with him for lunch and then after school, when they walk home together because of being a) childhood friends and b) neighbors.

They live next to each other. Great.

Until yesterday, Ryan had genuinely thought it was great, being able to go to Pete’s place and spend a couple of hours playing
Super Mario Galaxy 2
on Pete’s Nintendo Wii. (Ostensibly while they’re supposed to be doing homework, but whatever. Pete’s smart enough to finish his homework quicker than Ryan is,
and
nice enough to let Ryan copy it.)

Now, though, Pete’s next-door status will make it damned difficult for Ryan to sneak off to see Javier without raising unwelcome questions. Javier lives all the way across town, and Pete will wonder where the hell Ryan’s wandering off to, when they
could
be playing video games like they’ve been doing for years.

By lunch
, Ryan has made up and discarded no less than five different excuses, and is coming to the devastating conclusion that he might not be able to get away to see Javier, after all. Basically, he’s feeling like shit. Not to mention the occasional but nonetheless crippling attacks of guilt, when Ryan remembers that the guy he wants to bone is Pete’s bastard of a dad. The man responsible for Pete’s self-esteem issues. And Fiona’s terminal phobia of relationships.

“You’re kinda distracted today,” Pete says, because Pete is far too observant.

Ryan pretends to be absorbed in getting his books out of his locker. “Really?” he says. “I, uh, I think I’m doing all right.”

“Dude,” says Pete, “you’ve been looking so constipated it’s starting to worry me.”

“I’m not – I’m not
constipated
, for god’s sake. I’m – ”
in lust with your father. Crap.

“You’re what?”

“I’m fine. Drop it.”

“Did you have a fight with your dad? You almost never have those, but when you do, it gets you down.”

The last thing Ryan wants is to be reminded that, while his dad is ten years older than Pete’s, he’s still a dad. Like Javier. Ryan does not need to classify his own dad and Javier in the same category. It’s disconcerting. “No. Nothing like that.”

“So what’s up?”

“Nothing,”
other than my dick
, “is up.”

“Man, you’re being
waaaaay too suspicious. You haven’t been like this since the day you came out to me and thought I’d stop being friends with you. Wow, you were such a moron.”

“Thanks, Pete,” says Ryan drily, slamming his locker-door shut. “I said it was nothing. I meant it.”

“Uh-huh.” Pete doesn’t look in the least bit convinced. “You aren’t seeing anyone, are you?”

“What? No!” But it’s too late; Ryan is already blushing, an incriminating blush that tells Pete everything he wants to know.

“You are!” Pete crows. “You’ve found a boyfriend, haven’t you?”

Oh, so be it, then. He’ll admit to half the truth, and hope that it’ll
prevent Pete from finding out the
other
half. “He’s not – he’s not a boyfriend. He’s just,” Ryan shuffles his feet and looks at the floor, not having to fake his embarrassment, “a… a fuck-buddy. I guess.”

“You had
sex
?” Pete says in a loud stage whisper. At least three heads swivel to stare at them from the other lockers.

“
Shh! Keep it down, will ya?”

“You. Got laid.
You
got laid.”

“Hey! I can so get laid! And technically, I’ve had sex before. Oral s
ex.”

“Yeah, while you were stinking drunk and didn’t know a hawk from a handsaw.”

“Quit quoting Shakespeare. It’s creeping me out.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m smarter than you are.”

“And you’re just jealous because I’m doing the nasty and you aren’t.”

“I’m not jealous; I’m smug by association. My best bud’s getting it on the regular, which means so can I.”

“I have no idea how that logic even works.”

“It works like this. Does that ‘buddy’ of yours have a hot sister?”

“No.” Not that Ryan knows of, since he knows next to nothing about Javier. Also, wouldn’t that mean Pete sleeping with his aunt? Gross.

“What about a hot female friend? Cousin? Classmate? Acquaintance?”

“I dunno.”

“Then
find out
. For my sake.”

“I don’t see why I have to disturb the delicate balance of my non-relationship just to find you a girl.”

“You wound me! You slay me! Are we not friends? Did we not swear a blood oath to be as brothers for the rest of our lives?”

“That was fake Halloween blood, Pete. And we were ten.”

“The blood may have been fake, but our loyalty was real. Or so I thought. Woe is me, for here I am, betrayed by my bosom friend!”

“Bosom… what? Since when are you an eighteenth-century girl?”

“Since you callously broke my trust. Pardon me while I go and weep into my daintily embroidered handkerchief.”

“No wonder people mistake
you
for the gay one.”

“No wonder people mistake you for the heartless monster.”

“They do not.”

“Well, they
should
.” Pete sniffs theatrically. “But because I still pray for your salvation, I’ll let you go on any future assignations with Mister Mysterious, no questions asked. So long as you promise to scope out his female relatives.”

“Even his grandma?”

“His young and fulsome relatives, you asshole.”

“Young and fulsome. Gotcha.”

Pete leans close. “Who
is
he?”

“You just said ‘no questions asked’.”

“I was hoping you’d answer them anyway.”

“I would if I was dating someone, okay? But I, I can’t – there’s nothing to tell.”

“Not yet.”

“Not
ever
.” Ryan can’t see himself – or anyone else – having a committed relationship with Javier “Love ’Em and Leave ’Em” Ferrera. Even if Javier is ridiculously good at sex.

“Why? Isn’t this guy dating material? Are you doing a
mafioso, or something? A drug peddler? An ex-con? Do I need to be concerned about your health and safety, Ryan?”

“And now you sound like my dad. Cut it out.”

“Hey, it’s only ’cause care about you.”

“I know,” Ryan sighs, feeling like a heel, like he
is
betraying Pete. Which he is. “I know.”

* * *

Turns out, talking to Pete isn’t anywhere near as awkward as talking to Pete’s mom. She’s the only other person Ryan has met that has slept with Javier; not only that, but she was
married
to him, until they separated for reasons unknown. All Ryan recollects – from old conversations with Pete – is that they divorced officially a few years into their separation, the divorce papers exchanged via post. Javier hadn’t even been decent enough to meet his wife prior to divorcing her. He’d just… stayed gone.

Before letting Ryan go on his ‘assignation’ (he has no clue where Pete gets his vocabulary), Pete insists on taking Ryan home and sharing his mom’s
freshly baked cookies. Like Ryan’s dad, Pete’s mom has exhausting working hours; she’s a nurse at the local hospital. But on the days she gets off work early, she tends to bake her stress away, laughing about how it’s cheaper than therapy.

Fiona Lopez is absolutely charming. She’s petite but ultra-competent, sweet but serious, lovely and yet wonderfully unselfconscious about it. She’s
a ‘pillar of the community’ type, except she’s too humble to see herself that way. She has rich brown eyes and soft, wavy hair that keeps escaping her habitual bun to curl prettily around her face.

Ryan can’t comprehend why Javier left her. He honestly can’t. She’s still beautiful, so she must’ve been downright stunning back then. She’s fair-minded and doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone, but she’s also unfailingly kind. Heck, maybe that kindness is why she could tolerate Javier for as long as she did.

But Javier was the one who left, wasn’t he?

What happened between them?

Ryan’s startled back into the present when Fiona materializes with a plate full of warm almond cookies, and Pete trailing behind her like a particularly bouncy puppy.

“So, Ryan,” Fiona says, her eyes twinkling. “Pete tells me you’ve got a boyfriend.”

“
Pete!
” Ryan kicks Pete’s shin, and Pete winces exaggeratedly.

“Mom! Shouldn’t you be telling this barbarian off for brutalizing your son?”

“You deserved it,” she says.

“Unfair! You were all giggly when I gave you the news, and now you think I deserve to be kicked for spilling it? Hasn’t anyone ever heard of ‘don’t shoot the messenger’?”

“You’re not a messenger, you’re a liar.” Ryan rubs his forehead. “Sorry, ma’am. I don’t, I mean, I’m not – there isn’t anyone.”

Fiona crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. It’s identical to Pete’s ‘you ain’t foolin’ nobody’ expression, and what Ryan can’t figure out is how the hell people can tell Ryan’s got a – not a lover, no. But a non-friend. With benefits. A
something
, at any rate.

“What?” Ryan asks, uncomfortably, after another excruciating interval of Fiona studying him and Pete snickering like a tool.

“Honey,” says Fiona, taking pity on Ryan, “you’ve been checking your watch once every minute. You wouldn’t be that antsy if you didn’t have… plans. With somebody. Somebody special, I take it?”

“There’s nothing special about him,” Ryan mutters, but his stupid face is reddening again, and his gut is churning with terror at the prospect of what Fiona would do if she knew the truth, whether that legendary kindness of hers would extend to Ryan, or if she’d never let him in her house again.

Actually, no – given how protective and motherly Fiona is toward Ryan, she’ll blame Javier instead, accuse him of using Ryan, abusing him, taking advantage of him. She’ll pity Ryan, and somehow, that’ll be worse than being hated by her.

It isn’t worth it
, Ryan tells himself.
Don’t go back there. Give it up. Right now. It’s just sex. You can find it somewhere else.

It definitely isn’t worth it. And yet, the moment he’s done with Fiona’s cookies and Pete’s ribbing, he’s out the door and in his car, turning the key in the ignition, heading for Javier’s place.

At least he never claimed to be a wise person. Now, he can’t claim to be a good one, either.

* * *

There’s someone at Javier’s repair shop – a middle-aged lady who is clearly as taken with Javier’s biceps as Ryan is – so Ryan tries to duck back outside, but the lady recognizes him and says, “Aren’t you the fireman’s boy? Will Carpenter’s son?”

Oh, damn. Ryan’s mind races to come up with an alibi for being here with a perfectly functioning car (not to mention a perfectly fu
nctioning libido), but Javier speaks up first.

“I’m thinking of hiring him,” Javier says out of nowhere. “Part-time. I need help around the
shop, now that my client list is growing. I’m training him to start work soon.”

“Isn’t that nice,” gushes Mrs. Fan of Javier’s Biceps. “Learning skills that’ll last you a lifetime, hm?”

“That, um, I,” Ryan stammers, because the ‘skills’ he’s learning from Javier aren’t, er. What she thinks they are.

“Your can pick up your car tomorrow,” Javier says to her, and with an unwanted, auntie-
ish pat on Ryan’s cheek, she’s gone.

Ryan glares at Javier. “What the fuck was that? You’re hiring me?”

Javier shrugs. “You have to admit, it’s better than telling everyone what we’re doing.”