Puzzle by Nora Phoenix
30
Ryder woke up like he always did. One moment he was asleep, and the next he was awake, his brain firing on all cylinders—which was why he realized instantly that something was off. He wasn’t in his own bed. This mattress was too soft, too comfortable. Too warm, courtesy of the body that was wrapped around him from the back. Branson Grove was a snuggler. Who would’ve thought?
What was more surprising was that Ryder didn’t mind being his little spoon. Paul hadn’t been a fan of cuddling, especially in bed. Too hot, too sweaty, he’d always complained to Ryder. And if Ryder had hugged him nonetheless, if he’d even so much as taken his hand, he’d been told he was too clingy and needy. It was easy to see in hindsight that had been all about Paul. He’d probably felt guilty. Or it had been too intimate for him, considering he hadn’t been in love with Ryder in the first place.
Ryder had always been a tactile person. As much as he loved a rough fuck, he could equally enjoy a cuddle on the couch while watching a movie. Or simply holding hands while walking. What had happened to that? When had he accepted that Paul never touched him anymore? When had he decided that crumbs of affection were good enough for him? He wasn’t sure if it made him sad or pissed off. Maybe both.
Regardless, he was in no hurry to get out of bed, not when he loved the sensation of waking up in another man’s arms. Even better, it was Saturday morning, so they had the time to sleep in. No early vacuum cleaner for him today, thank fuck. He much preferred this way of waking up, though he hadn’t planned to spend the night in Branson’s bed.
Naïvely, he’d thought he’d go back to the guest room after their rather spectacular fuck, but that had never happened, of course. How could he have when he’d been exhausted, fucked into complete oblivion? He’d considered their first sexual encounter a bit of a fluke, their chemistry fueled by high sexual needs on both their sides. But the second one had been even better, though how it was possible, Ryder had no clue.
Behind him, Branson stirred, his body going tense before he relaxed again. “Mmm, morning,” he said, his voice deliciously low and sexy.
“Morning.” Ryder wasn’t sure what else to answer. Did he need to say something? Do something? What was the etiquette here? It had been ages since he’d been in this position.
“Did you sleep well?”
Small talk, okay. He could do small talk. “I did, thank you. Your bed is very comfortable.”
“It is. I don’t give a crap about a lot of material things, but I spent good money on the most perfect mattress.”
“Worth every penny.” If Branson wanted to talk about mattresses, Ryder would oblige. “Much better than my bed at my parents’.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to share my bed…”
Oh. Wow. What did he say to that? Was Branson serious? Or was it one of those flirty, supposed-to-be-sexy things that were more of an empty gesture? “I wouldn’t mind a repeat at all,” he said, deciding that something similar in tone was the appropriate reaction. Why was this shit so hard?
“You in a hurry to go home?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause I’m in the mood for a little protein…”
Before Ryder had even processed what that meant, Branson had let go of him, pushed him onto his back, and ducked under the covers. Oh shit, Jesus fuck, he was… Branson’s hot, wet mouth suckled on Ryder’s semihard cock, then took him in.
The most embarrassingly loud moan ever rose from inside him, and he mentally apologized to any neighbors who might be listening in. But fuck, the way Branson was sucking him, having him rock hard in no time… He’d dreamed of things like this, of his boyfriend being so hot for him he’d take care of him spontaneously, without Ryder having to beg or even ask. Branson wasn’t his boyfriend, and he never would be, but he was sure as fuck fulfilling erotic fantasies Ryder had had for years.
Branson let go of him for a moment and mumbled something that Ryder couldn’t make out. “What?”
Branson whipped the covers back. “Fuck my mouth. Don’t hold back. I like it.”
He liked it? Oh fuck, did he even understand what those words did to Ryder? Branson took him back into his mouth, and Ryder didn’t even hesitate. He put his hands on Branson’s head and pulled him on his cock, pushing into his throat until it gave way. A few seconds, then he retreated. “Okay?” he checked.
“Fuck, yeah.” Branson’s voice was raw. “Again.”
Ryder didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as Branson’s mouth closed around his cock again, he surged in deeper, fucking his mouth, his throat until he gagged. That sound shouldn’t even be remotely sexy, but it was, and so was the way Branson gazed up at Ryder with tears coming out of his eyes…looking hotter than ever.
Ryder gave him a breather, then went right back to it, and within a minute, he was on the edge. “I’m close,” he warned Branson. “Can I…?”
Branson held up his thumb, and Ryder moaned as he let loose, letting go of the tight grip he’d had on his release. Branson gagged as Ryder thrust in deep one more time, then pulled back as soon as he felt his balls unload. The first spurt was in Branson’s mouth, but he pulled even farther back for the second, spraying his lips and chin, even his cheeks.
“Ungh… Fuckfuckfuck, so good…”
He lay panting for a moment, his rapid breaths mixing with Branson’s shallow, raspy ones. A dirty idea popped into his head, and where before, he would’ve suppressed that shit as soon as it came up, he now let it roam free. “Let me clean you up,” he whispered to Branson.
With one shove, Branson tumbled onto his back, and Ryder climbed on top of him, licking his own cum off Branson’s cheek, smacking his lips once he tasted it. He didn’t even want to know why he liked this so much. He cleaned up Branson’s lips, then followed the trail of cum into his mouth. One thing led to another, and before he knew it, Branson had flipped them and was on top of him, kissing Ryder as if he’d be graded for it while rutting against him with his steel cock, smearing his precum all over Ryder’s body.
The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, and Ryder breathed it in between Branson’s passionate kisses. Fuck, he’d missed this. He’d missed spontaneous sex. Hell, he’d missed sex in general. Feeling wanted, feeling beautiful and desirable. Branson might’ve wanted to give Ryder just great sex, but he’d gifted him with something deeper and more important. Maybe Ryder could make Branson feel the same.
He slipped his hand between their bodies and curled it around Branson’s cock, causing him to gasp into Ryder’s mouth. “You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t blow you in the expectation that you’d do something for me.”
“Shut up and enjoy the ride.”
From the way had Branson fucked him, Ryder deduced his cock wasn’t too sensitive and that he appreciated rough stimulation. So he wasn’t too gentle as he squeezed the tip.
“Oh, fuck,” Branson grunted.
Happy he’d been on the right track, Ryder repeated his move. Maybe if he…? He used his middle finger to drag his nail over Branson’s wet cockhead. A sharp hiss flew from Branson’s lips, and for a moment, his body froze. Then he blew out a long breath and relaxed again.
“Good?” Ryder checked.
“Fuck, yes. Perfect.”
He pushed against Branson’s shoulders, and the man got the hint and turned onto his back. “Widen your legs,” Ryder told him.
He’d always been a visual person. As important as touch was to him, he loved watching during sex. And even though he’d had sex with Branson twice now and had even taken a shower with him, he hadn’t taken the time yet to study him. He settled between his spread legs, sighing with admiration at the man’s massive cock, which lay on his stomach, wet and occasionally twitching.
“I can’t claim to have looked at hundreds of dicks, but I’ve seen my fair share, including in porn, and yours is by far the most perfect one.” He stroked it with his index finger, reveling in the satiny softness of the skin.
“Yeah?” Branson’s voice croaked. “What do you like about it?”
“The size, but that’s obvious. I guess I’m a bit of a size whore, and with you, that itch is completely scratched. I’ve never been as full as when you’re inside me.”
He rubbed his finger over the slit of that gorgeous cock, then gently lifted it, creating a thick string of precum upward.
“Fuck, you’re killing me here, chéri…”
Funny how much he’d come to love that nickname for him. Someone who was treasured, cherished. He shouldn’t attach meaning to it, and yet every time Branson said it, Ryder’s belly fluttered.
“But it’s also your shape, that perfect angle, not crooked even in the least. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but if I did, I would immortalize it in art… In pictures, like Michael Stokes does. Or draw it. Make a dirty manga out of it. Or a sculpture.”
While talking, he kept stroking him, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of that cock in his hand. How weird that he was waxing poetic about a dick. Maybe he’d been more sex-starved than he’d even realized. That had to explain all those funny, tender feelings inside him. Not something he wanted to spend time on right now. Not when he had said dick in his hand and Branson was moaning so beautifully with every move Ryder made.
He’d forgotten how much pleasure it could bring to take care of someone else. Not forced, not out of obligation or habit. But like this, when it had been his own choice, born out of a genuine desire to make Branson feel good, feel wanted, it was deeply satisfying.
He scooted closer and went to work, taking his time to fist him, tease his slit with his thumb, scratch him some more, then circle his base as he jerked him off hard. As soon as Branson started fucking into his hand, he stopped, grinning at the loud moan of protest.
“Fuuuuuck…” Branson groaned. “Dammit, do you want me to beg you?”
Ryder just grinned harder. Hmm, would Branson like anal play? He’d said he was a strict top, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate his hole played with. Many people underestimated how much ecstasy a single finger in your ass could bring if the person knew what he was doing.
He drew a careful trail with his thumb from Branson’s balls backward, giving him every opportunity to protest. Branson met his eyes. “One finger,” he said. “Anything more is not comfortable for me.”
Ryder nodded. “Okay. Just say stop if you need to.”
Some people felt conversations like that took them out of the mood, but Ryder thought that was bullshit. Consent was sexy, and knowing what Branson was comfortable with and what wouldn’t bring him pleasure only made things easier. He grabbed some lube—the bottle was still on the nightstand from the night before—coated his right middle finger, and squirted some into his left hand as well, then went back to work.
Now that his hand was slick, he could squeeze Branson’s cock even tighter, and judging by the sound Branson made, he appreciated it. Good. Let’s see if he could find his prostate and bring some ecstasy to his ass. He’d never been ambidextrous, but he could handle a cock and a hole at the same time, even after years of not practicing that particular skill. Paul’s loss for sure. Not that Ryder would spend a second longer thinking about Dr. Dick. Not when he had this sexy-as-fuck man right in front of him.
Branson definitely had experience with anal play because after a gentle pressure, he let Ryder’s finger in. Ryder went slow, sliding in and out until he was certain Branson had relaxed. Only then did he twist his finger, curling it as he sank deep inside him, searching for that spot. Sometimes, it was easy to find because the texture was slightly different, but that wasn’t always the case.
“Little deeper,” Branson said huskily. “Right…there…oh, yes, fuuuuck.”
Within seconds, Ryder had him thrashing on the bed as he rubbed that sweet spot inside him while fisting his cock tightly. He’d been teasing Branson for a while now, and he wasn’t surprised when Branson’s body stiffened in the telltale signs that his orgasm was about to hit. Ryder kept going, squealing with excitement when Branson let out a low moan that seemed to come from his toes, then jerked as his cock spurted out his load.
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…don’t stop. Please don’t stop…fuck me through this…keep going. Keep going…”
Ryder didn’t even catch all Branson was babbling, but he understood the gist of it. He wasn’t to stop. That was easy enough. He slowed the intensity down but kept going until Branson let out the longest grunt and shook with a heavy tremor. Ryder had never excelled at reading body language, but that one, he knew. That was the signal for being boneless after an amazing orgasm when even the slightest touch would hurt.
He let go, pulled his finger out of Branson’s ass, and wiped it on the sheets. Branson would have to wash those anyway, considering they’d both sprayed their loads partially on them. He dropped on his back, wincing when he hit a wet spot. Oh well, a shower would fix that.
“Holy shit, that was epic,” Branson said after a while, his panting breaths returning to a more normal rhythm.
“I agree.”
Branson angled his head toward him, and Ryder did the same. “Yeah? You liked…pleasuring me?”
“Mmm. I was just thinking that it’s satisfying to see someone experience ecstasy. Plus, you’re nice to look at. Especially naked.”
Maybe he should stop talking now, though the smile that spread over Branson’s face didn’t look like he’d minded Ryder’s remarks. “I enjoy looking at you as well.”
“Thank you. Glad it’s mutual.”
That was awkward, right? But again, Branson didn’t seem to mind. “Did you have anything planned for today?” he asked.
“Not really. Laundry at some point, but it’s not urgent. Maybe hang out with my friend, Dorian. Why?”
“It’s almost eleven. I thought we could maybe do brunch together?”
Everything inside Ryder was screaming that brunch didn’t sound like casual sex at all but like much more, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was “Sounds good ‘cause I’m starving.”
