Page 72 of Lost Boy
“I gotta go. Nice to meet you guys!” And then he’s tugging his beanie back on as he heads back to his mom and little sisters.
As soon as he’s gone, I turn toward my broody little boyfriend. “You smiled. You laughed. You rocked my fucking world, Blue.”
Fallon rolls his eyes and snorts, gracing me with another little smirk.
Score!
“Holy shit! Another! My heart can’t take it.” I clasp my chest dramatically. “And that raspy little laugh of yours? Curls my toes, dude.” I glance around and squint my eyes down the road. It looks like no one’s around, and no one’s coming.
“Come on,” I say urgently, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward my truck.
He knows what I want. What I need. We both scramble into the vehicle and lock the doors. My windows are dark, so no one can see in.
“My lap.Now.”
Fallon straddles me, whimpering as I waste no time spearing my tongue into his mouth, taking charge and owning this kiss.
I pull back, needing him to hear something. To believe it.
“You’re allowed to be happy, Fallon. It’s beautiful when you are, and I don’t just mean the physical. Although trust me, baby. You’ve got that in the bag too. Your joy is infectious, and your soul is unique. You’re worthy of happiness. Worthy of love. And worthy of attention. Fuck, Fallon. I need to hear you laugh and see you smile every fucking day.Please.”
I’m hanging on by a thread. The passion swirling inside is urging me to take him here and now. But I don’t want either of our first times to be cramped in the backseat of my truck, no matter how large the cab is.
“I’ll try,” he whispers against my lips, and that’s all I can ask of him.
I reward him with a soft kiss, and he weaves his fingers into my hair, tugging on my curls.
“Thank you,” I breathe into his mouth, rocking my hips up into his and making him groan.
We get lost in the moment, making out and grinding against each other in the front seat.
“We should stop,” he says, trying to be the voice of reason for both of us.
“We should,” I agree, running my hands down his ribs and squeezing his hip hard as I pull him down. “Wanna fuck you so bad, Blue.”
Fallon whimpers, and his words are barely audible. “I want that too. I’m ready.”
I groan, so turned on yet extra annoyed that we’re forced into this trust-building weekend. Because there’s no way I’m taking his virginity in a tent in the woods with a bunch of pranking douchebags nearby.
It doesn’t mean blowies are off the table, though.
“When we win the championship,” I whisper, kissing my way across his jaw and over to his ear, pressing my lips directly to it. “I’m going to celebrate by claiming your tight little hole and filling you all the way up with my cum.”
“Ryder, shit,” he whimpers. “Are we coming in our pants? ’Cause fuck, I’m gonna.”
I chuckle, lifting him off my lap and depositing him back in his seat, to our displeasure. “We can’t show up with jizz pants, dude. Maybe we can suck each other off when the tent’s set up. My dad got us some fancy-ass kind that’s basically a little house with a zipper door.”
Fallon presses the heel of his palm to the boner straining his jeans. “I didn’t know being gay and having a boyfriend meant having near-constant blue balls. Damn,” he whines some more, and a low laugh rumbles out of me.
Every day he opens up a little more and shows me more of who he really is under all that sadness. Thatgrief. It weighs on him, and I want to help lift it.
The letter resting in my jewelry box back home is taunting me with its potential to harm or help. I know it will be devastating for him; there’s no doubt about it. No matter what his dad wrote in that letter, reading words written for eighteen-year-old Fallon, it’s fucking heavy. But I know he’ll feel much lighter once he does. The reality won’t be as burdensome.
And I’ll be there for him when he’s ready. This letter is important, but I won’t push it. I’m looking forward to the day he can truly be himself. And I can too.
After basketball. Maybe.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
