Kerry Sanderson’s life is falling apart. He’s crushing himself to fit into the boxes others have put him in: dutiful son, good boyfriend, real man. But even the small rebellions he’s fought for himself—moving into a sketchy part of town and becoming an exotic dancer—aren’t giving him the freedom he needs. Ewyn Garrity, a security guard at the gay club where Kerry dances, has found himself in protecting others. Everyone thinks he’s straight, but Ewyn doesn’t fit into simple boxes, either. When he meets Kerry, he makes a not completely innocent offer of company after work.
Ewyn and Kerry hit it off, each finding something he desperately needs in the other. But when Kerry is forced to confront the pain and self-doubt that keep him crushed in his boxes, he’s afraid that no one, not even Ewyn, will be able to love who he is when he finally, truly becomes Kerry. (M/M, M/GQ)
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Dried off and dressed in a pair of black briefs, Kerry sat on Ewyn’s bed with his knees drawn up, holding a big, red-gold honey crisp apple. Seeing the unsettled quality of Ewyn’s expression, Kerry swallowed his bite of food and asked, “Should I put more clothes on? I usually sleep naked, but I figured…”
“No, that’s fine. You should be comfortable. I can be a gentleman. You wear more at work, so I should be used to this by now, shouldn’t I?”
Kerry kept glancing up at Ewyn, just to check, to anticipate. Ewyn was pacing. Kerry liked facing away from the mirror behind the bed. It helped him convince himself he was in a normal bedroom instead of a display case.
“If you’d prefer I sleep on the couch…” Kerry offered.
“No, you’re the guest. I’ll take the couch.”
“You don’t have to. It’s your house. Your bed. I don’t mind,” Kerry said. Even his terror of his own lust was unable to hide his sense of disappointment.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And seeing you like that, in my bed, makes me….”
“Horny?” Kerry guessed.
Ewyn laughed, but it turned into a groan. He tried to discreetly adjust himself and it made Kerry grin behind his apple.
“It’s okay. Come on. I don’t bite.”
“Don’t bite? I don’t even think you have teeth.”
Kerry screwed up his face, scrunching his nose, then broke out laughing.
Ewyn hesitated a moment, then pulled his shirt off. Next he opened and pushed down his pants, leaving on his boxer briefs which hinted at every inch of his pierced cock and the heavy swell of his balls. Working only on instinct, though fighting the urge to tense up and over-think what he was doing, Kerry let his legs fall open as Ewyn knelt on the bed, then crawled up it. The closer he got, the more Kerry spread. His heartbeat sped up, his breath quickening.
With a moan, Ewyn moved on top of Kerry, pressing him back to lay on the bed, the apple still loosely held in his hand. Nudging Kerry’s chin with his nose, then nipping at it, Ewyn thrust lightly against Kerry’s groin, provoking a small gasp and a counter-thrust from Kerry. He felt as helpless as a lamb pinned down by a ravenous lion, but in ways that only excited him. Shouldn’t he be more scared? Shouldn’t he want to fight back or say no?
Caressing up the outside of Kerry’s thigh, up the side of his torso, over his chest, Ewyn exuded ravenous hunger that nothing as simple as an apple would sate.
“I keep thinking of you as a kitten,” Ewyn admitted, breathing harder, speaking in a gruff whisper. “All soft, playful and innocent, with your wide, pretty eyes and that purr of a voice. Drives me fucking mad.”
“Are you saying you want me to be your sex kitten?” Kerry smirked.
“God fucking dammit,” Ewyn moaned, his brogue thickening along with his cock which pressed against the inside of Kerry’s hip.
“I did intend for us to talk, you know.”
“That scares me more than this does,” Kerry admitted.