Page 47 of Lost Boy
As he should be around me.
I press two slippery fingers against his taint, teasing him and testing his reaction. He closes his eyes and pushes his bare feet against the bed, trying to make me touch him where we both want. I chuckle, excited for future possibilities, but I’m not sure he’s ready for that yet.
I return to his cock, stroking fast, while I rub my other hand all along his inner thigh, massaging him, making him feel good like I said I would. He’s so comfortable, so open with me. He closes his eyes, letting out a long, low moan as his hips thrust up in one last move, spurting load after load onto his stomach and my hand.
“Fallon.”
His eyes pop open, glassy and bloodshot.
I lift my hand to my mouth, his cum dripping between my fingers. I stick two of them into my mouth down to the knuckles, dragging them out.
His throat bobs as he swallows thickly.
I release them with a pop, grinning wickedly. “Happy birthday.”
* * *
Once I’m certain Fallon is asleep, his soft snores sounding like an adorable little puppy, I sneak out of my bed and over to my jeans, grabbing Fallon’s dad’s letter. I respect his wishes, not opening it and keeping it safe instead.
I pad over to my mahogany jewelry box with the little glass doors that house my St. Christopher chain and the few nice watches I own. I open one of the small drawers and lift the false bottom, tucking Fallon’s letter there for safekeeping.
He opened up, just a little, like I asked him to. I wasn’t sure of the circumstances of his dad’s passing, but now that I know he got sick and Fallon feels like he wasn’t there for him, it makes me hurt for him.
He carries all of this blame and self-hatred because of it. Add in an unsupportive, absentee mother, and my stomach turns thinking about how alone he’s felt for the last five or six years. I hope he talks to Joel about it. He can’t go on like that.
I turn around and peer at the boy occupying my every thought and all of my worries. He’s fast asleep on his stomach, arms tucked under his pillow, mouth slightly parted. Slivers of moonlight pierce through the closed blinds and illuminate his creamy, unblemished skin. The bedding is pushed down to his knees, and the delicate curve of his bare ass tempts me.
His looks captured me, his aura ensnared me, and now his soul calls to mine.
He barely speaks, yet I’m fascinated by every word. He’s the most interesting person I’ve ever met, regardless of the fact that his uncle and my dad might get married.
I tiptoe back to him as quietly as I can and brush the blue hair out of his face, peering down at the serene look on his delicate features. He’s usually so somber, so indifferent.
Smudges of black eyeliner darken his under eyes, along with some bruising. I pull the sheet and comforter up to his neck, tucking him in and making sure he’s warm.
I can’t sleep right now. Not after everything that happened tonight. The good and the bad. My mind won’t turn off, won’t settle. It’s exhausting.
Fear takes hold of me; its grip is so tight I can hardly breathe. I need him closer to me. Need to feel him.
I crawl back into bed, even though I’m restless and antsy. I tug Fallon to me, cocooning his smaller body with mine and attempting to relax.
“Ry?” he mumbles, half asleep.
“Yeah. Shh. I just need to hold you.”
Fallon sighs contentedly and settles into me. I let his deep, rhythmic breaths attempt to lull me to sleep.
I can’t change what happened tonight. I can only move forward.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
RYDER
Another week of school passes in a blur of basketball and studying. I’ve had to focus on getting to the championship while keeping my grades up, so I feel like I haven’t seen Fallon in a while. And we haven’t stayed over at his uncle’s place all week. Dad’s been at his new restaurant in LA handling some kind of major meltdown, and Georgie and I have been holding down the fort here.
I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to ghost him. Most nights, I’ve passed out after basketball, homework, and dinner. But now that I have Fallon in my life, I want to make hisfriendshipa priority too.
“There’s another party this weekend. Wanna go?” I ask, dipping some fries into ranch and shoving them into my mouth. It’s Friday, and the cafeteria is bustling with gossip and excitement before the weekend. The playoffs start next week, so it’s going to get wild like it always does.
