Текст книги "The Haunted Pub"

Автор книги: Melanie Tushmore

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Oh, shut up, Ryan. He tried not to let resentment bubble up inside him, and told himself to do some

work. It was looking to be a nice day after all. The black clouds receded in the sky, and the sun blazed

down hot. Ryan stayed in the bar, to be near Fizz, and opened all the windows. The back doors to the

beer garden were already propped open. Fresh air breezed in. Along with the odd muted chuckle and

conversation from Fizz, who was probably talking to Ash right now. Ryan tried not to roll his eyes.

A little later, as he was cleaning down the bar, someone knocked on the window next to the front

door. A face peeped in. Ryan saw warm a smile, and a blonde head of hair.

Beth.

He unlocked the door, letting her in. “Hey,” he said quietly, locking the door after her. Seeing Beth

again, Ryan felt the weariness of all that had happened weigh on him.

Beth held his eyes, squeezing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Ryan.” Her eyes rested on his chest, to

where the wooden pendant hung, hidden under his t-shirt. Ryan swallowed, suddenly uneasy.

“Do...do you want it back?”

Beth smiled at him. “No, hon. You keep it for now. I’m going to find you an even better one as soon

as I can.”

“Um, better?”

“Yes. Think of them like...good luck charms.” Beth patted his arm, then glanced around the pub.

“There’s still some unrest here. I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to cleanse the air. It’s a good

thing I caught you alone.”

“Um, Fizz is in the garden,” Ryan said quickly.

Beth shrugged. “Don’t worry.” She opened her handbag of brightly coloured, woven wool, and

brought out a small wad of stemmed herbs. “I’m going to burn sage and, when I’m done, it should feel

a lot better in here.”

“Um...” Ryan wasn’t sure what to say. Beth didn’t wait for him, however, and moved through the

bar. She flipped out a zippo lighter, and used it to light her herb bundle.

“Um,” Ryan said again, glancing up at the smoke alarms and sprinkler system on the ceiling. He

hoped nothing would go off.

Beth must have noticed him panicking. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Not a lot of smoke comes from

this, but it’s enough. This is blessed white sage.”

“Uh, oh-kay.” Ryan conceded to let Beth do whatever she needed to do. In a way, her presence

calmed him. He tried not to think about the last time he’d seen her, when Beth had burst into the

pigeon loft in the midst of that terrible night. The way her blonde hair had lit up all white was burned

into his memory. Sheila had explained to him and Matt about spirits and visions. So, was Beth able to

cast visions too?

Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to know, not right now.

He watched Beth move around the bar, waving her bundle of lightly smoking sage. She hummed

under her breath, a soft tune Ryan didn’t recognise. The smell of sage reached his nose. Ryan knew

that if any of the others were here, they’d roll their eyes and make snide remarks.

Well, maybe not Matt, not now. As for himself, Ryan wasn’t sure what to believe.

Beth came behind the bar, wafting sage around. She approached the cellar door, and Ryan opened

his mouth to warn her not to go down there.

Beth smiled at him calmly. “Can you open the door for me?”

“I – I don’t think...”

“Ryan. It’s fine. Nothing down there will hurt me, or you.”

Flushing, his hands almost shaking, Ryan got his keys and unlocked the cellar door. Beth went in,

wisps of sage smoke trailing behind her. Ryan flipped on the light switch, and the lights blinked on,

illuminated the stairwell. Beth descended the stairs, rounded the corner, and disappeared out of sight.

Ryan hated that cellar. Should he go in? He didn’t want to leave Beth on her own. After a brief

hesitation, Ryan followed. Strange, but it didn’t feel as cold as it usually did. He looked around the

vast cellar, spotting Beth at the other end of the room, opposite the air vent. As Ryan crept up to her,

he caught the tail end of a few whispered words. Beth’s eyes were closed, and she held the sage out in

front of her.

“Um, are you okay?” Ryan whispered.

Beth looked at him, nodding. “She was more than willing to leave. It was only a little girl, poor

thing.”

“H-Huh?”

“The spirit that lived in here,” Beth explained. “She’s gone now.” Her eyes flicked to the small

window by the drop hatch. From the garden outside, Fizz’s voice filtered through to them. “Garden

next,” she said.

* * *

Ryan wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this. When he’d thought of spirits and exorcisms before,

he’d always thought it would be more...dramatic. The way Beth breezed through the pub, apparently

sending spirits along their way, all seemed very...relaxed.

Although, Ryan supposed this was a vast improvement on the dramas of last Saturday night. He’d

rather never have to go through that again. He let Beth wander through the rest of the bar on her own,

and she was outside in the garden. Strange, but he felt oddly calm. Instead of continuing his cleaning,

Ryan poured himself a soda, and spent a few minutes staring into nothing. Traffic whizzed by outside,

and a few pedestrians were about. The pub’s doors were still locked, and would remain so until Ryan

knew what his colleagues wanted to do. He’d wait until Pete or Ginger were awake, anyway. A glance

at the clock, reading quarter to eleven, suggested that wouldn’t be happening just yet.

Fizz bounded up to the bar, a smile on his face. “Ryan? I wouldn’t wake anyone up if I had a

shower, would I?”

“Huh?” Ryan blinked, trying to concentrate. “Um, no?”

“The toilet doesn’t seem to be making a noise now,” Fizz said. “That’s a relief. I always thought

those pipes were gonna break or something! Seem to be fine now.”

“Oh...yeah, that is good.”

“So, I can have a shower?” Fizz asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay. Thanks!” He shot Ryan a happy grin, squeezed past him, and disappeared through the staff

door. His light footsteps skipped upstairs. Ryan raised an eyebrow. Well, at least someone was happy.

Resentment clawed at Ryan’s insides, trying to turn his thoughts sour. Did this mean that he’d lose

one of his very best friends, Ash, to loved up coupledom? Bleh. Certainly seemed that way. But hadn’t

Ryan been the one to encourage it? All for his own gain, of course. Ryan wasn’t sure what he’d hoped

to gain. Things didn’t seem as clear as they had a few weeks ago.

“Ryan?” Beth’s voice startled him, and he jumped. “Sorry,” she said. She placed her hand on his

shoulder. Ryan almost wanted to snap at her, but managed to hold it in. It wasn’t Beth he was angry at,

after all. He wasn’t entirely sure who he was angry at.

Beth seemed to understand. After a gentle squeeze, she pulled back, and settled herself on a bar

stool. “Want to talk about it?”

“Hah.” A humourless laugh escaped. “Not really.”

“It might make you feel better?”

Ryan wasn’t so sure. Yet the images burned in his mind anyway; he couldn’t exactly ignore them. It

was like remembering the scenes of a particularly nasty horror movie. He sighed heavily.

“It...it sounds...kinda stupid.”

“Stupid?” Beth raised a blonde eyebrow, then smiled with understanding. “Ryan, this is me you’re

talking to. I promise, nothing will sound stupid. Just try me. Why don’t we have a drink? It might

help.”

“Hn.” Ryan nodded in agreement. At this rate, though, he may well end up being an alcoholic.

After choosing their drinks, a gin and tonic for Beth, a whiskey and Coke for Ryan, he sat on the

stool next to Beth, leaning his arms on the bar. He told Beth everything, from the weird noises when

they’d first opened the pigeon loft, to Fizz moving in, everyone acting out of character, up to last

Saturday night, when everything seemed to blow up his in face.

He gulped down his drink, then described what had happened in Fizz’s room, with the visions of

blood, the way he – or whatever had been in Fizz – had tried to take Ginger from him, and how Ryan

had reacted. The unexplained cuts on his face, the way that person had attacked him with visions.

Ryan told Beth that it had seemed like the spirit, or whatever he was, had been trying to justify his

actions and by showing Fizz, then Ryan, a vision, and hoped to gain sympathy.

Ryan wasn’t quite sure. “I think the guy was warped, but what they did to him was fucking

horrible,” he concluded, knocking back the last of his drink. “And now it’s all in my head, and I

can’t...I can’t not think about it.”

Beth nodded, placing her hand over Ryan’s. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I wish I’d known of this earlier, I

truly do. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Hah. Yeah, I guess. And Sammy’s arm is broken. I mean, God. And Fizz almost died.... I can’t get

over it. I’m just...I dunno. I don’t know what to think.”

“It’s okay.” Beth’s hand squeezed his tightly. “You’ve all been through a lot. I’m going to be here,

and I’ll keep a close eye on things from now on. This place had always been a hot-bed of energy. I

guess I hadn’t realised just how much, because...well, usually ‘cause I’m pretty drunk when I come in

here.” She winked at him.

Ryan smiled weakly.

“Seriously, though,” Beth said. “Sometimes bad things happen in life, and it’s all part of existence.

There are horrible things out there, and it’s crap that we have to experience them. However, it’s

important not to let it drag you down. I know it’s a cliché, but when they say count your blessings, it

really does help to do so. You’re all alive, you all made it through. With the exception of Sammy, who

unfortunately got a broken arm, but he’ll pull through. You’re all very strong people. Sometimes...”

She paused, breathing in. Her hand left Ryan’s, and made it up to his shoulder, rubbing gently. Heat

seemed to radiate in from her hand. “Sometimes,” she said, “bad things can make us appreciate the

good things in life. Know what I mean?”

A calming heat warmed Ryan’s skin. He nodded. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“Some of us have to see things we don’t want to see,” Beth said. “Sometimes it’s inescapable. But,

eventually, the memory of it fades, and we can get by without remembering. It’s fresh in your mind

now, but it will fade.”

“I hope so.”

“It will.” Beth smiled at him, a smile that told him she believed he’d be okay. “If you do find

you’re struggling, though, just come and find me. My door is always open to you.”

“Thanks, Beth.” Ryan managed to smile back. “You’ve...well, you’ve been great.”

“No probs.” Her smile became shy, and she hopped down from her stool. “Well, I have to get going.

I’m meeting some friends in the park. They’re doing poi. Wanna come?”

“Nah, thanks.” Ryan stood, picking up their empty glasses. “I think we’re opening today, so there’s

still a lot of cleaning to do.”

Beth nodded. “Sure thing. Well, when we’re done, maybe we’ll come back in here for a drink.”

“That’d be good. I think we owe you a few pints, at the very least.” After placing the glasses in the

glass washer, Ryan went to the door, unlocking it so Beth could leave.

“Beth...thank you.”

“My pleasure.” She stepped through the door, smiling over her shoulder. “See you later.”

Chapter Twenty-three

After eleven, Ryan went back upstairs. He stopped in on Matt in his kitchen, who was busy getting

everything cooked. Ryan noticed Matt was a little distracted, and decided to leave him be. He seemed

to be making a desert, which was strange, as the pub menu rarely had deserts.

On the second floor, Ryan went into the domestic kitchen. He disposed of his untouched coffee, and

set the kettle to boil anew. It felt calm in here, and not stuffy, which was a blessed relief. All the

windows were open, as it was a muggy day, and the breeze from outside blew in, fresh and sweet.

Ryan could hear the odd footfall on floorboards above, but he felt almost certain that was Fizz.

Nothing seemed to feel...creepy any more.

What a relief.

No one was awake though, besides Fizz and Matt. If the pub was going to open, they only had about

an hour to do so on time. As the kettle boiled, Ryan strolled out to the hall. He flicked a wary glance

left, at the pigeon loft. The door was shut; bolted and locked, with an official notice on it from the gas

board, deeming it safe, but still under further inspection.

Ryan hoped the damn place stayed shut. He tore his eyes away, and walked up the three steps, past

the bathroom – which smelt warm and freshly scented after Fizz’s shower – toward the living room.

Since being discharged from hospital, and having the pigeon loft shut, Ginger had insisted that Fizz

have his bedroom. Last night, Fizz had slept in Ginger’s room, and Ginger had slept in the living

room.

All while Ryan had slept alone in his double bed. It seemed like such a waste. The living room was

right next to his bedroom, and Ryan had stared at the wall for much of the night, wondering if Ginger

was asleep, or awake.

Peeping his head in the living room, he looked to the couch. The curtains were drawn, but sunlight

found its way in. Ginger was sprawled on the couch, one arm flung out, red hair all a mess and

hanging over the armrest. He wore a white vest, and his pyjama bottoms were visible, as he’d kicked

away the covers in his sleep. He snored quietly, from being in the likely uncomfortable position.

Ryan wasn’t sure what to do. He was less afraid of waking Ginger than he was of waking Pete, but

if Ginger needed the sleep, maybe he should leave him be? They’d just have to open the pub late, if at

all. Sighing to himself, Ryan left the room. This was Ginger’s first night home since leaving the

hospital, and a small part of Ryan worried that he might not wake at all.

In the kitchen once again, Ryan made a new cafetiere of fresh coffee. While it brewed, he turned on

the TV and tuned into a morning chat show. He just needed some bland and inoffensive chatter to

wash over him, make him stop thinking.

* * *

Using a rolling pin, Matt pounded the crap out of a packet of biscuits. It was a good way to release

some pent up frustration. He’d planned to make banoffie pie. It was Sammy’s favourite, or it was last

Matt knew of it. He hoped it still was. If he hurried, it would be ready in time for when Sammy came

back this afternoon.

His stereo played in the background. Matt couldn’t bear to listen to the radio right now, it seemed

too jolly, too inane. He’d forgone his usual loud black metal though, and picked out a CD of slower,

chilled-out music.

Biscuits thoroughly crushed, Matt threw down his pin, and set to shaking out the biscuit crumbs

into a dish. He’d already made the cake mixture from scratch, using bananas he’d bought that

morning, and melting the toffee fudge he’d bought especially from the sweet shop. He’d gone all out

with the double cream as well. Matt wasn’t usually into making deserts, as he didn’t have a sweet

tooth, but today, he felt a real passion for it.

This was going to be the best banoffie pie ever.

* * *

Tomorrow night, the text read. Meet me at Pavilion gate after your shift. I’m taking you to the pier

;p x

The winking face and kiss at the end of the text were enough to make Fizz almost pass out from

happiness. He simply couldn’t recall ever feeling like this, like he was walking on air, or not so much

walking as....soaring. Soaring with happy.

The pier. With Ash, like a date. Fizz waited for the anxiety to hit him, but...nothing. Small

butterflies in his stomach, yet they weren’t quite the same. He didn’t even mind feeling them, they

were so light. His heart thudded in anticipation of seeing Ash again. One whole day! How could he

possibly wait that long?

* * *

Pressing down on the plunger, the aromatic scent of coffee wafted up, hitting Ryan’s nose. Nothing

could beat fresh coffee in the morning. He poured some of the hot liquid into his favourite

Transformers mug.

Footsteps creaked along the hall, and Ryan heard the bathroom door shut. He wondered who that

was. Ginger, maybe? If it had been Fizz or Pete, surely he would have heard them coming down the

stairs first? Well, he’d find out soon enough. Ryan heaped two spoonful’s of sugar into his mug, then

added milk. He stirred, watching the coffee swirl from darkest brown to golden. The scent was rich,

and a little sweet.

The toilet in the bathroom flushed. No pipes rattled, however. Not a honk to be heard. Even when

the water rushed through the pipes behind the walls, it all sounded normal. Ryan breathed in relief. No

more foghorns, no more creepy laughing.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, creaking on the floorboards. Ryan’s heart pounded. He tried to

act casual. Just as he went to take his first sip of coffee, Ginger appeared in the doorway, looking all

sleep mussed and sexy. Ryan’s fingers trembled, so he lowered his mug to the counter. “Hey,” he said

quietly. “You, um, want some coffee?”

Ginger shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He strode into the kitchen, somewhat

dazed, and headed for the fridge.

“Or, um, tea?” Ryan offered weakly. He watched Ginger pull on the fridge door. Bottles clinked

together as the door was yanked, and Ginger left it open as he uncapped the litre bottle of lemonade,

and gulped straight from the bottle. His long hair hung down his back, sunlight catching all the

different shades of red. Ryan’s eyes roved over him, so relieved that Ginger was here, awake. His eyes

fell to Ginger’s hips, to those low-slung pyjama bottoms that hugged his figure so well.

Oh.

Ryan tried not to notice, then couldn’t help but stare at the tell-tale bulge of morning wood under

thin pyjamas. Oh, God. Ryan tore his eyes away, facing the counter and his coffee. Torture me, why

don’t you? His cock stirred as his mind raced away with images of Ginger naked. He tried to rein

himself in. It’s just morning wood. It wasn’t like he came in here to see me.

The fridge door slammed shut. Ryan dared a glance back, trying to keep his eyes aimed up, out of

the danger zone. He failed. As Ginger walked toward him, Ryan’s gaze skimmed over the man’s

figure, appreciating everything he saw. Belatedly, Ryan realised Ginger was headed straight for him.

Was he in the way? Maybe Ginger did want coffee after all.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not quite sure what Ginger needed at the counter. Ryan went to side step.

Ginger’s hand shot out and gripped his wrist, holding him still. Ryan froze, panicking. His eyes fixed

on Ginger’s arm, to the all too familiar tattoos there. Ginger came closer, pressing his body into

Ryan’s.

Ryan tried not to glance down, but couldn’t help himself. That bulge was beautifully obscene; how

he wanted to dip his hands into those cotton pyjamas and trail his fingers over the sharp hip bones just

peeking out. His cock throbbed at the thought. God, what’s happening here?

“Ry, look at me.”

“Hm?” Ryan obediently looked up. He gazed into hazel brown eyes, willingly losing himself in

their depths. Ginger looked back at him, with the slightest frown, like he was searching for something.

“Ry...I want...I mean, would you –”

The movement of lips as he spoke drew Ryan’s gaze to that pretty mouth. Ryan wasn’t sure what

came over him; heat flooded his senses. Before Ginger could finish, Ryan leapt forward, threw his

arms around Ginger’s neck, and kissed him.

This was it, then. The moment of truth. Ryan almost expected to be thrown off. Ginger was still

only for a moment, as if stunned. Just as Ryan began to pull away, convinced he’d made a mistake,

Ginger’s arms locked around him, and his mouth pressed hard against his own.

As he was kissed back, it was Ryan’s turn to be stunned. This was what he wanted, what he’d

dreamed about for three whole years, but his brain couldn’t process what was happening. It took him a

long moment to realise he wasn’t in a dream, that the mouth against his was real. A whimper escaped

Ryan’s mouth.

Ginger pulled back, still holding him close. “Ry? I’m sorry, I –”

“No, it– it’s okay.” Ryan dragged him back, fitting his lips on Ginger’s, where they felt like they’d

been made to fit. Clarity finally rang through his mind, swirling with lust. All that time spent

wondering if Ginger liked guys, if Ginger would like him, and now – finally – he had his answer. Ryan

wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste. Not ever.

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, seeking a deeper kiss with his tongue. As they kissed he

slid his hands around Ginger’s neck, fingers threading through soft, never ending hair. Ginger pressed

into him, pushing him against the counter. Ryan moaned when he felt Ginger’s hard on, his own cock

eagerly responding. Ryan hadn’t realised until now that he and Ginger were almost a perfect height

match for this. His cock hardened at the thought.

“Bedroom,” he breathed against Ginger’s lips. “Now.”

* * *

As soon as the bedroom door closed, they were kissing again. Ryan had always thought those

scenes in movies were total fantasy, where two people were so into each other that they knocked

things over in their bid to get to bed. Clearly, he’d been wrong. He heard his bookshelf rattle as his

backside bumped into it. A number of items fell off and crashed on the floor. Ryan couldn’t have

cared less. Ginger tried to stop, to check what had fallen, but Ryan wouldn’t let him. He pushed

Ginger toward his bed.

“Ryan, are you sure about this?” Ginger asked, their mouths close.

“Daniel, c’mon.” Ryan hands circled the man’s waist, pulling him close. He ground his erection

into Ginger’s, relishing the feel. “I – I just want....” I want something real, not dreams or nightmares

that aren’t even mine. I want you to make everything right, I want... Ryan took a steadying breath.

“Daniel, I want you.”

Ginger kissed him, and Ryan let himself be kissed. His hands delved under Ginger’s vest, feeling

smooth skin and the ridges of Ginger’s spine. Ryan felt like he couldn’t have this man close enough,

that even this close was too far away. The closer he was, the safer he felt. Ryan wanted skin against

skin, as much as he could get.

His hand skimmed around Ginger’s hip, down his lower belly. He delighted in the feel of the soft

line of hair that trailed down, and his fingers followed the line lower. Ryan toyed with the cotton

waistband of the pyjamas, worried that Ginger would ask him to stop, or wait. He could feel the other

man’s erection straining against his own, and he longed to touch. His fingers tugged on the waistband,

then paused. Ginger kept kissing him, didn’t stop him from touching.

Ryan slipped his hand inside, grasping the long, thick cock that awaited him. His fingers acted as

his eyes, feeling and marvelling all at once. Ryan squeezed the shaft gently, loving the groan that

came out of Ginger’s mouth. Breaking the kiss, Ryan glanced down between them. He watched his

hand inside Ginger’s pyjamas, stroking Ginger’s cock.

Oh, God.

This was like some sort of fantasy. His arm stretching the waistband allowed for a partial view, but

it wasn’t enough. With his other hand, Ryan tugged, pulling the pyjamas down. The tattooed wings on

Ginger’s lower belly came into view, along with tattoos on his legs Ryan had never seen. His eyes

quickly scanned over them, his senses on overload as he held Ginger’s cock in his hand. At the top of

each thigh, in perfect symmetry, was a tattoo of a classic pin up girl, and another tattoo of a wellmuscled

sailor, complete with a little white sailor hat.

Ryan’s eyes flicked between the pin ups on each thigh, then the angel wings above them, and the

blonde line of hair on Ginger’s lower belly. A darker thatch of blonde curls framed his perfect cock

and balls. Everything about him was beautiful, from the pale cream of his skin to the slightly ruddier

skin of his thick cock. Swiping his thumb over the tip, smearing the drop of precome, Ryan wanted to

tell Ginger how much he adored him, how beautiful he was. He opened his mouth, desperate to say

something, then faltered, instantly changing his mind.

“I– I like your sailor,” he said, inwardly cringing at how lame that sounded.

“Mm.” Ginger brushed his face over the side of Ryan’s head, and laid a kiss on the soft fuzz of hair

just above his ear. “I’ve got a cowboy on my bum.”

“Huh?” The surprise made Ryan forget his nerves. “A cowboy?”

“Yeah.” Ginger began to twist away from him, and Ryan gave up his hold on Ginger’s cock in

favour of seeing this promised cowboy. Ginger pushed his pyjamas all the way off, letting them drop

to the floor, and turned his back on Ryan.

“Oh.” Ryan couldn’t believe it. On his right butt cheek, Ginger did indeed have a tattoo of a

cowboy, cartoon style, like a pin up. The cowboy only had a dash of colour, and was holding a

whirling lasso. “Uh, it– it’s nice,” Ryan said, as Ginger turned to face him. This all felt too surreal, and

Ryan wasn’t sure what to do next. His cock ached with want, but his body was frozen in place.

Ginger afforded him a smile, somewhat shy, then reached for the hem of Ryan’s t-shirt. He tugged

on it and, when Ryan’s mind caught up, Ryan eagerly lifted his arms for Ginger to pull it off. The

pendant Ryan wore bumped against his collarbone, then fell back into place on his chest.

“What’s that?” Ginger asked, looking at the pendant.

Ryan reached for the pendant, covering it in his hand. “Oh– um, nothing, it’s just...” He quickly

pulled it over his head, taking it off. His hand shook ever so slightly, but nothing happened now he’d

removed it. The world didn’t fall in on itself, and he didn’t see any visions. Only Ginger in front of

him.

It’s going to be okay.

Ryan stared at Ginger as he let the pendant fall from his hand, landing softly on his t-shirt on the

floor. It’s okay, he told himself. This was real, and good. Most of all, this was his. Ryan felt his face

grow hot at the thought, but that didn’t stop his hands from tugging at Ginger’s vest, wanting it off.

Ginger removed it for him, his long hair swinging with the motion. Ryan’s eyes went to the pierced

nipples on Ginger’s chest, and he so wanted to touch, and taste, do everything he’d been thinking

about for so long, but he felt a little overwhelmed.

Almost warily, Ryan touched his fingers to Ginger’s waist, thumbs grazing the tips of the tattooed

wings on his hip bones. If Ginger had asked him if he still wanted to go through with this, Ryan would

have said yes. Always, it was always going to be yes. But there was no asking, only Ginger’s hands

running along the top of Ryan’s jeans, stroking the sensitive skin of his belly. Ryan’s skin shivered

into gooseflesh, and his cock beat in time with his heart. Ginger’s hands met at Ryan’s fly and, slowly,

began to unbutton him.

Terrified and exhilarated at the same time, Ryan was suddenly all too eager to get naked. He pulled

away, hands scrabbling to undo his fly while also trying to kick his shoes off. Why did laces have to be

invented? Before he lost his balance, Ryan collapsed on his bed, throwing off shoes, socks, jeans,

pants. Naked at last, he held his arms out for Ginger, who came down onto the bed with him. Ryan

stretched out his body next to Ginger’s, his mind going into meltdown at the delicious feel of skin

contact.

Lying side by side, their legs tangled together, Ryan claimed Ginger’s mouth in a fierce kiss. He

loved the taste of Ginger, would have kissed him forever, but his cock demanded attention. Ryan’s

hips thrust all on their own, grinding his cock on smooth, heavenly skin. Shifting slightly, Ryan

aligned his body, seeking to rub himself on Ginger’s hard and very gorgeous cock. When their lengths

slid against each other, slippery with precome, Ryan bit back a groan. God, that felt amazing. He was

going to lose it, and fast.

“Daniel,” he said hoarsely. “I – I want you inside me.”

There, he’d said it. Were they moving too fast? Ryan had wanted this for so long, he couldn’t be

sure. He pulled away and stared down at Ginger’s tattooed chest, which rose and fell as he breathed.

Ginger reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “If you want to,” he said softly, so quiet

Ryan almost didn’t hear.

Elated, Ryan couldn’t help a grin. If I want to?

“Hell, yes,” he said. Wasting no more time, he sat up, and reached over to his night stand. Opening

the drawer, he pulled out a strip of condoms, tearing one off. His eyes darted to his favourite sex toy,

the purple jelly dildo, resting idly at the back. An incredibly smug thought about having the real thing

entered his mind, and refused to budge. Ryan allowed it, if only for a moment. He snatched up the tube

of Sheer Glide lubricant, and slammed the drawer shut.

In his haste, Ryan forgot that the lube didn’t have a top, but was a self-closing seal. He squeezed the

tube too tight and a jet of clear liquid shot out. It hit the wall above his bed, spattering one of his

posters. They both looked at the mess on the wall, then at each other. Ryan felt his face flame up, as

Ginger smiled at him.

“Er, sorry,” Ryan mumbled.

Ginger’s smile grew. “It’s your wall, Ry.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out. “I know. Fuck it, right? I don’t care.” Ryan moved closer, holding out

the condom. “Put this on?” His eyes lingered over Ginger’s naked body, on the long, perfect cock that

rested hard on his lower belly. God, he’s beautiful.

Ginger took the condom, and Ryan lost no time in squeezing lube onto his fingers, then spread his

knees on the bed. This was going to be rough, but he knew he could take it. He wanted this, more than

anything. Fingers slippery wet, he reached behind him and lubed up his own hole. Ryan didn’t take his

eyes from Ginger, gaze flitting down his nude form to the cock he so desperately wanted to feel inside

him. Ryan moaned, shifting his hips as he rode his own fingers. His hard cock bounced in front of him.

“Daniel, hurry.”

Ginger tore open the condom, expertly sliding the latex down his shaft.

Ryan moaned again. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Lay back for me? I want to sit on you.”

Obediently, Ginger shifted to lie back on Ryan’s pillows. Ryan thought he’d come just from the

sight of Ginger laid out on his bed, naked, hard, and waiting for him. His red hair was a stark contrast

against the pale blue of Ryan’s bedclothes. He’d always remember this moment, this image, no matter

what happened between them.

Ryan took a deep breath to calm himself, and removed his fingers. He squeezed a generous amount