back.
“Augh. Get off me,” Pres hissed with his cheek flat against the cold metal door.
“Open the door,” Ric growled in his ear, his voice thick with anger.
Pres was hoping that Ric wouldn’t turn violent, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t. Pres grew angrier, and damn it, there was another lump forming in his throat at the possibility of never being able to have a real friendship…or relationship.
“Don’t try to pretend like you want something with me. You probably want to see if you can turn out the hopeless straight guy—jerk him off, make him come and beg for more. Get cool points if you can bang the blind man and brag about it to all your suave doctor friends.”
“Open. The. Goddamn. Door. Prescott.” Ric pushed so hard against his back he could barely turn the knob. When he did, he fell into the apartment, but was grabbed by Ric before falling face first onto the hard tiles in his entryway. Ric put a death grip on both his arms, spun him around, and pulled him hard against his chest.
“Tonight I got a good glimpse of the relationships you’ve been in, Prescott Vaughan, and I refuse to let you place me right alongside those other assholes that have hurt you in the past. You don’t know what my fucking intentions are because you didn’t ask. Don’t assume that I have some ulterior motive for wanting you. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to you, Pres. I just am.” Ric’s voice was raw and strained as he spoke.
Pres suddenly felt bad for saying what he’d said in the elevator. He was so screwed up inside that even when a good thing presented itself, he didn’t know how to receive it. Pres began to think that maybe he was destined to be alone. He closed his eyes tight as the tears started to fall. The last couple of weeks began to catch up to him, and Prescott was so emotionally drained that he couldn’t even think straight.
“Look at me, Prescott.” Ric held his arms tight. His breath brushed across Pres’s face with every word he spoke.
Pres kept his eyes squeezed shut and bucked against Ric’s tight hold.
“Look at me, damn it!” Ric yelled.
“I can’t see you!” Pres yelled right back as he tried to force his way out of Ric’s punishing grip.
Ric’s voice lowered to barely a whisper. “Yes, you can, baby.” He wrapped his arms around Pres’s waist and squeezed him tight. “Yes, you can. Come here.”
Pres was pulled into his den and positioned to sit on his couch. He thought Ric was going to sit next to him, but he didn’t. To Pres’s surprise, Ric dropped down to his knees and wedged himself between Pres’s legs. He felt Ric lift his uninjured hand and place it gently on his face before he dropped his hands to rest on the top of Pres’s thighs. Pres instinctively moved to the edge of the couch, his groin pressed against Ric’s hard abs as he began to explore every inch of his face.
* * * *
Ric let the beautiful Prescott Vaughan have a look at him. He felt Pres’s shy fingers start in his hair. He ran them all way through to the ends at the nape of his neck. Pres finally opened his pretty blue eyes, his long, spiky eyelashes wet from his tears.
“What color?” he whispered so softly that Ric barely heard him.
“Light brown,” Ric answered. “It’s too long. I need a haircut.”
“I like the length.” Pres smiled at him.
God, he’s so damn pretty.
Pres brought his hand back up and ran it through Ric’s hair again, his fingers gliding easily over his soft brown locks. He leaned in to have a smell as well.
“Feels so soft,” Pres said while rubbing his cheek against the waves. It was as if he wanted to linger there longer but chose to continue his exploration instead.
He grazed his fingertips over Ric’s smooth, average-sized forehead, not staying there for long, then stilled his fingers at Ric’s open eyes. He tenderly felt the thin eyebrows and fingered his long lashes. Ric let his eyes flutter close and open again so that Pres could see
“Augh. Get off me,” Pres hissed with his cheek flat against the cold metal door.
“Open the door,” Ric growled in his ear, his voice thick with anger.
Pres was hoping that Ric wouldn’t turn violent, but deep down, he knew he wouldn’t. Pres grew angrier, and damn it, there was another lump forming in his throat at the possibility of never being able to have a real friendship…or relationship.
“Don’t try to pretend like you want something with me. You probably want to see if you can turn out the hopeless straight guy—jerk him off, make him come and beg for more. Get cool points if you can bang the blind man and brag about it to all your suave doctor friends.”
“Open. The. Goddamn. Door. Prescott.” Ric pushed so hard against his back he could barely turn the knob. When he did, he fell into the apartment, but was grabbed by Ric before falling face first onto the hard tiles in his entryway. Ric put a death grip on both his arms, spun him around, and pulled him hard against his chest.
“Tonight I got a good glimpse of the relationships you’ve been in, Prescott Vaughan, and I refuse to let you place me right alongside those other assholes that have hurt you in the past. You don’t know what my fucking intentions are because you didn’t ask. Don’t assume that I have some ulterior motive for wanting you. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to you, Pres. I just am.” Ric’s voice was raw and strained as he spoke.
Pres suddenly felt bad for saying what he’d said in the elevator. He was so screwed up inside that even when a good thing presented itself, he didn’t know how to receive it. Pres began to think that maybe he was destined to be alone. He closed his eyes tight as the tears started to fall. The last couple of weeks began to catch up to him, and Prescott was so emotionally drained that he couldn’t even think straight.
“Look at me, Prescott.” Ric held his arms tight. His breath brushed across Pres’s face with every word he spoke.
Pres kept his eyes squeezed shut and bucked against Ric’s tight hold.
“Look at me, damn it!” Ric yelled.
“I can’t see you!” Pres yelled right back as he tried to force his way out of Ric’s punishing grip.
Ric’s voice lowered to barely a whisper. “Yes, you can, baby.” He wrapped his arms around Pres’s waist and squeezed him tight. “Yes, you can. Come here.”
Pres was pulled into his den and positioned to sit on his couch. He thought Ric was going to sit next to him, but he didn’t. To Pres’s surprise, Ric dropped down to his knees and wedged himself between Pres’s legs. He felt Ric lift his uninjured hand and place it gently on his face before he dropped his hands to rest on the top of Pres’s thighs. Pres instinctively moved to the edge of the couch, his groin pressed against Ric’s hard abs as he began to explore every inch of his face.
* * * *
Ric let the beautiful Prescott Vaughan have a look at him. He felt Pres’s shy fingers start in his hair. He ran them all way through to the ends at the nape of his neck. Pres finally opened his pretty blue eyes, his long, spiky eyelashes wet from his tears.
“What color?” he whispered so softly that Ric barely heard him.
“Light brown,” Ric answered. “It’s too long. I need a haircut.”
“I like the length.” Pres smiled at him.
God, he’s so damn pretty.
Pres brought his hand back up and ran it through Ric’s hair again, his fingers gliding easily over his soft brown locks. He leaned in to have a smell as well.
“Feels so soft,” Pres said while rubbing his cheek against the waves. It was as if he wanted to linger there longer but chose to continue his exploration instead.
He grazed his fingertips over Ric’s smooth, average-sized forehead, not staying there for long, then stilled his fingers at Ric’s open eyes. He tenderly felt the thin eyebrows and fingered his long lashes. Ric let his eyes flutter close and open again so that Pres could see
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