Wallflowers (4 page)

"Mmm. Yeah." Ryan began licking his belly clean.

He started shaking hard, skin tingling. Ry grabbed hold of his hips like the man was trying to keep him from shaking apart.

"Damn. Damn, honey." His voice was raw.

"Fucking sex on legs, DJ."

He moaned, feeling about as hot as a man could be.

Ry's fingers and mouth slid over his body.

"I can't go three. I'm getting older."

"Shh. Just feeling you up."

"Feeling me?" Yeah. Yeah, that was exactly what Ry was doing.

"Yeah, feeling..." Every inch of him, like Ry was committing him to memory.

His legs spread, then Ryan's lips headed south, dragging down over his hips. Ry's nose slid along his prick, then the man nuzzled his balls. His legs spread, even farther, his heels digging into the mattress. Humming, the sound happy and pleased, Ry took one of his balls into the heat of his mouth. The wave of pleasure crashed over him, his body trying to tighten again.

Ry's fingers slid over his thighs, stroked the sensitive inner flesh as the man's tongue circled his nut. Fuck, that damn near hurt, it felt so good. Letting go of his left nut, Ry took the other one into his hot mouth. The sheets twisted underneath him, the room seeming to get hotter and hotter. Tugging, Ry pulled on his ball and then let it slide from his lips.

"Fuck. Fuck, you're good at that."

Ry made a soft sound and began to lick at the skin beyond his balls. His head and shoulders came off the mattress, his belly muscles burning. Moaning, Ry pushed his tongue down farther, swiping it across his hole.

"Ryan..." His fucking eyes were burning at the corners; he was trying to see this.

"Spread your legs, DJ." The soft words were almost whispered, a caress.

When he did it, Ry almost pounced, tongue slapping his hole before running along it over and over. He twisted, rolling over, offering Ryan his ass, his hole, almost begging for it. Ryan's hands grabbed his ass and separated his cheeks. He felt the heat of Ry's breath first, then that hot, wet tongue pushed into him.

"Oh, fucking hell." His head fell forward as he groaned.

"No, I'm fucking you." Ry' smiled against his ass.

"Butt...butthead." The word made him laugh, the sound almost hysterical.

"Oh man.
Man.
I thought my sense of humor was for shit."

"Using the term shit where you're sitting is incredibly inappropriate." The laughter got louder, both of them howling. They wound up lying next to each other, Ry pulling him into the strong arms.

"I'm so glad you made your flight." He was. Incredibly. Stupidly.

"Yeah, me, too." Ry wasn't just saying it, either, he could hear the truth of the words in his voice.

"You made me feel amazing." He'd been soaring.

"I'm glad." Ry's fingers slid on his skin, petting him.

"Me, too." Goofy, because Ryan wasn't interested in long-term, but it was true.

Ryan curled up around him, nuzzled and kept touching. It made him feel...safe, special. Whole. For the first time in years, he felt whole.

Ryan woke up at five thirty, like he usually did. What wasn't usual was being in bed with DJ. He spent about ten minutes debating whether to wake the man up or go do his usual morning work out and get ready for the wedding. In the end, he did indeed chicken out and slip out to follow his morning routine.

He worked out for an hour at the hotel gym, showered, grabbed some room service breakfast, which had nothing on their supper, though he was willing to put some of last's night's yumminess down to DJ. Maybe a lot of it. Then he dressed in his monkey suit and went and knocked on DJ's door.

"Who is it?" DJ sounded aggravated, almost grumpy.

"Me--Ryan."

"Oh, hey." The door was unlocked, opened. "I called myself a cab. I didn't know if you were coming back." DJ was dressed, except for his tie and jacket.

"Yeah, sorry." It had been chickenshit of him to leave without talking to DJ first. "You were still asleep and I needed to get my work out in." It sounded like a pretty lame excuse, even to his own ears."

"It's okay. No worries." DJ turned away from him, let him in. The room was cleaned up, the chaos of clothes and sheets completely disappeared.

Damn, DJ looked good and Ry found himself wanting to muss the man up a little. Okay, more than a little.

"You wanna share a cab over? I don't want to drive in case I decide to indulge."

"Sure." DJ checked his watch with his fingers. Okay, damn. That was fucking cool. "We've got about five minutes."

"That's enough time for a good morning kiss and a hello grope." He stepped up to DJ, hand sliding into the man's hair, tilting DJ's head to the side.

DJ looked surprised, which Ryan couldn't blame the man for--he was a little surprised himself. He just dived in, wanting to disturb that perfect calm that DJ wore. He slipped his tongue between DJ's lips, the taste of the man right there. It was already an addiction again. Already.

He groaned, his fingers sliding along DJ's chest, finding hard little nipples through DJ's dress shirt.

"Ryan...I can't spring wood."

Too late. He slid his hand down and cupped DJ's package. "I believe you can."

"Okay. I
shouldn't
spring pre-wedding wood."

"I don't know, seems to me like it's what weddings are about, isn't it?" He was having fun teasing DJ; he was having even more fun fondling the man.

"Not when you're the token disabled groomsman."

"I could take care of this for you in a jiffy." He let go of DJ and went to his knees, wanting another taste.

"Ryan?" Those empty eyes were wide, like DJ was fighting to see him.

"Right here, DJ." He worked open the tuxedo pants.

The heavy, long cock was pressing against the man's tightie-whities, begging for attention. He reached into the cotton briefs and pulled that hard cock right out. DJ widened his stance, spread, and Ryan groaned at the sight. Fuck. Fuck, that was...porn. Pure joyous porn.

Leaning in, he took the head into his mouth. DJ tasted fresh and musky and male. He moaned around the tip, flicking the man's slit with the tip of his tongue. Then he took a breath and went down on DJ.

"Oh, sweet Jesus." DJ's fingers found his head, the touch incredibly gentle.

He hummed, swallowed around DJ's tip and pulled slowly off again so he could lick at the tip.

"I..." DJ swallowed hard. "Please, baby."

At that plea, he began to bob his head, lips wrapped tight around the length he was going up and down on. Soft words poured down between them, DJ holding nothing back, hiding not one ounce of need back. It was the sexiest thing ever.

He pushed at DJ's balls through the tightie-whities.

"Oh, fuck. Again. Again, baby. Please."

He pulled DJ all the way in again, swallowed around the round head, squeezing it in his throat. Then he nudged those sweet nuts and bang. That was it. Spunk filled his mouth, while DJ's cry filled the air. He swallowed and swallowed, taking all of DJ in. Those fingers stroked through his hair, petting him, the touch trembling.

He let DJ's prick fall from his lips and rubbed his cheek against it.

"I... I... Damn."

How studly did the gaspy, husky words make him feel?

He carefully tucked DJ back into his pants, loving that he'd put that dishevelled look there. Then he stood and licked at DJ's lips, wanting in. DJ opened up, kissing him like the world was coming to an end. He cupped DJ's face and let the kiss go on and on.

DJ's room phone rang, the sound jangling and loud. "Oh, God. The cab."

He leaned their foreheads together for a moment. "Okay. You go stall him while I sort myself out in the bathroom."

"Save your hard-on for me? For later?" Okay, that was the hottest fucking thing, ever.

"Christ. Yes." He thumped himself a couple times. "Let's go then."

"Okay. Okay, Walter, come on." DJ grabbed a jacket, an untied tie.

Ryan straightened his own tie and decided he was good, so he followed DJ and Walter out the door, hoping his prick would go down faster than it was. Of course, watching DJ's ass move, it wasn't easy.

He sat in the front seat of the cab to give Walter more room, told the driver where they were going. Honestly, he wasn't paying that much attention to their surroundings, he just couldn't wait until "later."

* * * *

DJ stood, listening to the crowd, the reception line, the endless thank yous and congratulations just going on and on. It was crazy making. Boring. Still, he was able to lean, pretend to pay attention, and fantasize about Ryan.

The man was on his right, voice low and sexy as he spoke to all the guests, charming everyone. The ladies in particular seemed to like him.

No one shook DJ's hand--which worked for him. It was all a little weird, really, searching for the grip, trying not to poke someone right in the belly or something even less appropriate, so he was glad not to have to do it. Walter was next to his feet, a silent presence.

"We're almost done--you okay?" murmured Ryan.

"I'm great. You? Everyone happy?"

"Yep. Although Brian looks like he's flagging. Man needs a shot and then dinner."

"Cool. How many more in line?" He just wanted to sit quietly and let the bride and groom do their thing.

"Six more and they look like maiden aunts. Be ready for cheek pinching and kissing."

"I'm just going to lean back."

He could hear the rest of their frat brothers chuckling. Ry laughed right out loud. Fuck, he did love that sound.

Finally it was time to move to the table, listen to the endless speeches and congratulations, and move weird chicken in circles around his plate. They'd sat the bridesmaids next to the bride and the guys down along the other side next to Brian, so he had Ryan's quiet running asides to keep things from getting too boring. He'd forgotten how Ryan had a knack for quiet, hilarious commentary. At least he had someone to be a wallflower with at this wedding.

He could see Ry, in his mind's eyes, the chiseled jaw, the long nose. The hollow in the man's throat.

"Brian's mom is wearing the most, uh, elaborate dress. She's got all the colors and styles in one."

DJ snorted. "All the colors, huh? She always was...colorful."

"Uh-huh. Man, why do they always serve funky chicken at these things? Just once I'd like a wedding or work dinner that served fish or pork or anything other than funky chicken."

"Because it's the safest answer, baby. Bland, pale, normal chicken."

Ry snorted, foot nudging his hard under the table. He jerked, the kick surprising him, and he automatically reached for Ryan, feeling weirdly off-balance.

Ryan took his hand and put it on the table. "Your fork is at three o'clock, man. Right where you left it."

"Thank you." He didn't reach for it, though. Ryan's voice had been icy, firm, distant. Okay. Okay. He felt Walter shift next to him, obviously reading his upset, and he reached down, stroked one ear, murmuring softly.

DJ wasn't sure what he'd done, exactly, but he was obviously embarrassing people. The speeches finally ended and the plates were cleared.

"Can we have the bride and groom on the floor for their first dance as a married couple?"

There was a cheer and the music started up.

DJ needed to piss, to wash his face, and suddenly he felt incredibly lost and young, but he clapped politely. He was never traveling without Marlena again. Never.

"I'm gonna go do my duty with the bridesmaids on the dance floor, man," Ryan muttered before his chair scrapped against the floor.

"Have fun."

DJ sat there for about ten minutes, all alone and feeling as though he stuck out like a sore thumb. Then a waiter asked him if he needed anything.

"Actually, yes. Could you please help me get a taxi?" He would feed Walter and then check his email. Pack up. Order room service. In private.

"Of course, sir. There are several up front waiting for guests."

"Thank you so much."

He headed out, hand on the waiter's arm, when he heard Will. "DJ? You leaving?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Walter needs his dinner."

"Yeah, I saw you got deserted. We're all dancing, trying to get lucky, you know?"

"I do." Right. Ryan was passing as straight. DJ had to remember that. No sitting on the sidelines with the gay guy.

"So far some of us seem to be getting luckier than others." Will's voice had that suggestive tone in it. "You sticking around for the rest of the weekend?"

"I don't think so, no. I've got a lot of work at home. You go shake your groove thing, man." Go be a dude.

He wanted out, so bad.

"Yeah? You sure you're good to go on your own? You came with someone, right? I could..."

"I'm fine. Just put me in a cab."

"Sure." Will whistled and he heard a car pull up. "There you go. See you

round. Uh. Okay, going before I put my other foot in it." Will laughed.

"Uh-huh. Go. I'm glad I came, dude." He helped Walter in, gave the cabbie the name of the hotel and leaned his head back, his cheeks just burning.

God, he was tired. Like in his soul.

It was weirdly like the first time they'd broken up, except this time he was blind and no one had caught them and... Okay. So it wasn't anything like the first time. It still hurt, though.

It still made him vaguely ashamed of not being enough.

* * * *

Ryan finally got off the dance floor by claiming he needed the bathroom. If he wasn't careful he really was going to "get lucky." He looked around for DJ, but the man was clearly gone. Every one else was busy dancing or flirting at their tables and in corners and he thought maybe it was time for him to go.

He slipped out a side door and walked around to the front where the cabs were. God, he was tired of being fake. It was easier at home somehow. Maybe because he spent the majority of his time on the job where he could be himself. Well, mostly. At any rate, no one expected him to dance and try to get it on with bridesmaids back home.

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel and he handed over a few bills and climbed out. Pulling his keycard out of his pocket, he headed for his room, stopping when he reached DJ's door instead. The light was on under the door, so he took a breath and knocked. The man had promised to take care of his hard-on later, right? Besides, he didn't know if DJ had an early flight out and he wanted to say goodbye. He wasn't ready to let go yet.