Puzzle by Nora Phoenix
38
All Ryder could do was fist the sheets and hang on. God, would he ever get used to that glorious feeling of eight inches splitting him wide open? It burned, and it stung, and it felt so goddamn good he never wanted it to end. Until Branson moved, battering into him with precise, forceful thrusts that had Ryder’s body shaking. Hell, the entire bed shuddered and creaked, and the neighbors were getting another earful again.
He closed his eyes, focusing on his ass, the way Branson’s cock hit his happy spot every time he surged in, sending sparks throughout Ryder’s body. If he kept that up, Ryder would come in under a minute. The tension built in his body already, his balls clenching against his body, and his belly tickling on the inside with the need to come. But he wasn’t ready yet emotionally. He needed it to last this time. He needed…
“Stop,” he said, and Branson froze. Ryder’s heart warmed at the man’s immediate response to that word.
Branson slowly pulled out. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I want to ride you…”
As soon as Branson was out, Ryder crawled to his knees, then pushed the man onto his back, smiling at the baffled expression on Branson’s face. He straddled him, reached back, and held Branson’s cock with one hand. “I want to fuck myself on your cock…come all over your chest and face…show you how good you make me feel.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Branson growled.
Ryder sank down, careful at first, then with more confidence until he was fully seated. Jesus, Branson’s cock was so fucking big, so deep inside him. He felt every inch, his channel stretching so wide it made his skin too tight for his body. It ached, stinging and twitching and building. He couldn’t hold still any longer, and he raised his hips, then lowered himself again.
“Oh, fuck, chéri… You’re beautiful like this.”
In the back of Ryder’s mind, an alarm bell went off. Branson sounded different. Emotional. Sappy, almost. But he pushed it down. He had to be imagining it, and even if he wasn’t, it didn’t matter right now. Not now when he was riding that perfect cock, giving himself the sweetest torture.
He leaned back, letting Branson sink into him until he couldn’t go deeper, until all Ryder felt was Branson. A daze came over him, a floating sensation as if he detached from his body, his mind separating itself. His body chased the pleasure while his mind roamed free on a high of ecstasy, climbing and climbing until he rose above the clouds. His muscles burned and ached, but then Branson’s hands grabbed his hips, helping him lift and lower himself again and again.
His cock throbbed, begging to be touched, but he wouldn’t. It required self-discipline, forcing his body through the buildup toward a hands-free orgasm, but it would be worth it. If he came like that, his orgasms were ten times more intense.
“Chéri…” Branson grunted between clenched teeth, as much a plea as a warning. His body trembled underneath Ryder’s, sending all the telltale signs he was hanging on by his fingernails.
“Help me,” Ryder begged him. “I need you to help me.”
His body was about to give out, and he was so close. So fucking close his balls were tingling already.
Branson let out a growl, then snapped his hips and drove upward into Ryder, filling him with a force that made their flesh slap together. Ryder’s body shook, bringing him to the precipice. One more, maybe two.
He didn’t have to beg this time. With another grunt, Branson thrust upward again, then again, and Ryder fell. He soared, his skin itching, the breath whooshing from his lungs as his balls unloaded. His cock sprayed its load, and he couldn’t even lift his hand to direct it anywhere, so it hit Branson’s chest and chin, the sheets, and even Ryder himself. He didn’t care, couldn’t muster the brainpower to think, let alone act. His body went rigid, then slack, and he dropped down on Branson’s chest like a sack of potatoes.
Still floating from his high, he reveled in how deeply sated he felt. Not even a spark of energy left. Mmm, and how perfect was that sensation of cum dripping out of his ass. It had been—
Wait. Cum dripping?
He froze. “You forgot the condom.”
Underneath him, Branson’s body jerked, and a gasp flew from his lips. “Shit!”
Ryder rolled off him, panic clawing at his insides. “D-do I need to get tested? When was your last test?”
Branson sat up straight, his face edged with the same despair Ryder felt inside. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I swear, Ryder. I would never—
How could he think Ryder would ever accuse him of that? “I know you didn’t. The thought never even crossed my mind.”
“I’m so sorry, so sorry. I wasn’t thinking… I’ve never forgotten it. Ever. But I was… You were… I have no excuse. I’m sorry.”
Ryder had never seen Branson like this, so raw and vulnerable, stripped of all his usual swagger and confidence. He clutched his hand. “Hey, take a deep breath. It’s okay. I didn’t think of it either, and I damn well should’ve noticed you weren’t wearing a condom.”
“My last test was three months ago, and it was all negative…but I haven’t slept with anyone else but you.”
Ryder blew out a long breath. “Okay. Then we’re good. I was tested after I found out about Paul screwing around. I was fucking terrified he’d infected me with an STD, but it all came back negative. Apparently, he’d been good about using condoms with others… Something to be grateful for under the circumstances, I suppose. And I haven’t been with anyone else since either.”
Branson’s face slowly regained color. “Oh, I’m glad to hear that. I’m sorry for the scare. I should’ve—”
“Stop apologizing. We both forgot in the heat of the moment. This is not on you alone.”
“Thank you. Jesus, what a way to come down from a spectacular round of sex…”
Ryder rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let’s not do this again.”
The mood to cuddle was ruined, and the drying cum on his body was starting to itch. “Wanna grab a shower?” he asked.
Branson raised his eyebrows. “Together?”
“Well, yeah. To make up for scaring each other shitless?”
“I’m down with that.”
It wasn’t until they were both in the bathroom, waiting for the water to heat up, that Ryder realized they’d only showered together once before…the very first time they’d had sex. He’d suggested it spontaneously, more because he figured Branson would like it, and he wanted to make up for making him feel guilty. But he’d forgotten—again—how intimate showering was.
“If you’d rather I waited until you’re done…” Branson said softly, and Ryder looked up. Branson was studying him.
He sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who’s as good at reading body language as you are. It’s a little scary.”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“I always forget how…intimate showering is. More so than sex.”
“It is. It’s much harder to hide. Do you want to hide from me, chéri?”
“I don’t know. Yes, I’m a little uncomfortable, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I think it’s… I don’t know the rules of this, the framework. We’re friends but also roommates who have sex on occasion. My goal was to keep things simple and casual, but showering together is anything but simple and casual.”
He wasn’t even sure how it had happened, but he was in the shower now, the perfectly hot water raining down on him. Branson patiently waited for his turn, and Ryder stepped aside to soap his hair and let Branson have the water.
“Do you want us to come up with some rules?” Branson asked. “Would that help you? Or would you rather let it run its course?”
Ryder pondered it as he rinsed his hair while Branson washed his. “What kind of rules?”
“For example, whether you’d want us to be exclusive or not.”
Exclusive… That was something that fit boyfriends more than their arrangement, and yet Ryder liked it. It would mean ditching condoms, which might not be a big thing but did make things sexier. He only had to focus on the cum still dripping out of his ass and the wonderfully dirty feeling that gave him to realize the benefits.
“I’d never cheat on you if we agreed to being exclusive,” Branson said.
“I know.” He didn’t even hesitate with that response. He trusted Branson, maybe more than he’d ever trusted Paul. “I think I’d like that.”
“Yeah?” Branson’s happiness made Ryder’s insides flutter.
“I like not having to use a condom. It’s… It’s dirty, somehow, and I like it.”
“Good. I like it too.”
Ryder took a washcloth and some shower gel and starting washing himself. “What else?”
“Hmm, let me think… I’d be okay with you sleeping in my bed after sex or just in general. I kinda like waking up with you.”
Sleeping in Branson’s bed? Like, as a routine? “You mean, like, every night?”
Branson shrugged. “Not necessarily. Just if and when you’re in the mood. All I’m saying is that I’m okay with that.”
Ryder liked the idea, which surprised him at first, but when he thought about it a bit more, it made sense. He was a tactile person, and so was Branson. They both liked to cuddle, so to give explicit permission to do that, to state it was allowed under the rules of their relationship, was smart. It set them free to fulfill their need without having to worry about either getting rejected or facing repercussions because it would lead to misunderstandings about the underlying intention.
“I’m on board with that.”
“And other than that, I think we’ve discovered this week that we’re well matched as roommates. I cook…”
“I do the dishes and keep the kitchen tidy…”
“I take out the trash…”
Thank fuck for that because for some weird reason, even the smell of trash made Ryder gag. Paul had always bitched about it, calling him a wimp. Seriously, who the fuck cared? As if taking out the trash was, like, the absolute peak of adulthood.
“And we already agreed to split the costs for groceries, so we’ve got all that covered.”
Ryder rinsed the last bit of soap off his body, feeling much better now that he was clean again. Cum was super sexy, but not when it was dry. “You’re right. We do really mesh well as roommates.”
“And as friends.” Branson turned off the water.
“And as friends.” Ryder smiled at him.
“But especially with the benefits.”
“Those are pretty spectacular, yes.”
“Good.” Branson leaned in, then kissed Ryder on his cheek. “I’m glad we’re on the same page that we’re perfect together.”
Wait, what?
