Page 7 of Heart of the Race

SEVEN

M y house was cozy and I loved it: the warmth in the soft browns and creams, uncluttered but not sparse. I could tell he liked it when he closed the door behind him and inhaled deeply.

“Feels like home in here.”

He could have said nothing better. “Lemme show you?—”

“Where’s your room?”

I walked him from the living room, which was the center of the house, past the guest bathroom, by the guest bedroom, and five steps down what was not even a hallway. I pointed out my office and finally got to my bedroom with the tiny bathroom attached.

“So where is your job?”

He put his duffel and garment bag on the overstuffed wingback chair next to the window. I sat in it sometimes and watched the rain.

“It’ll be all over the world. I’ll travel a lot. Lots of courses, lots of conditions, but all of them closed. I’d be the only guy on whatever road I was on. They’d make certain.”

“And this builder is going to make a bike to rival Honda and Yamaha, Ducati or Kawasaki? That’s their plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Where is the company based out of?”

“Spain.”

I nodded. “I see.”

“Corsica Elemental.”

“Okay.”

“They named the bike the Arrow.”

“So the Arrow by Corsica Elemental.” I considered the sound of the name. “I like it.”

“Me too.” He took a step forward. “It was like the answer to everything. Who knew one good thing would so quickly lead to another? Everything’s falling into place.”

“Why do they need you to run the TT?”

“Just to make sure I’m the guy they want.”

“Fearless.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll have the ability to what, invest?”

“Take payment in stock options, yeah.”

“If the company goes public, that could be a lot of money.”

“And money’s good and helpful and you need it to retire on, but—” He moved again, closing the distance between us. “I’m thirty-one, you’re thirty-two. We have time to figure that out too.”

“Jesus, Varro,” I said after a moment, when I realized he was staring into my eyes.

“Jesus, Varro, what?” he asked, taking the final step, reaching me, lifting his hands to my face and tilting it back so there was no looking away.

“You were running away from me.”

“I thought you were happy. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

“I am happy.”

“You’re pleased with the stability because you need that, but you’re not happy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you.” His smile lifted the edge of his lip. “And you need me with you for you to be all-the-way happy.”

Some would call him cocky. “You think?”

“’Course,” he groused, the scowl adorable. “You’re in love with me.”

Yes, I was. “And you’re okay being bi?”

“I’ll get to be with you, right?”

I couldn’t answer; I was barely pulling air into my lungs.

“Bri?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. I’ll be whatever as long as I can be that.”

“Giving up women, you’re sure?”

“It’s not about giving up, it’s about getting.”

God. “You know there’s still prejudice and?—”

“You know me,” he interrupted. “When have I ever cared what anyone thought of me, besides you?”

“Never.”

He shrugged. “So I’m going to start now?”

“You’re not worried or scared? What about your new boss?”

“I explained that when I saw them at the TT, I’d have my partner with me.”

The man was always so sure of things. “That’s what you said?”

“Yeah. I mean, if Del Toro was a homophobic asshole, I had to know, right?”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he was looking forward to meeting you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He yawned suddenly, turned away from me, and walked around the bed to sit down. I watched as he pulled off his motorcycle boots. “It’s funny, ya know, you always worry what other people think, but really, why would you care what anyone else thinks but me?”

“So you’re the focus of my world, is that it?”

He turned to meet my gaze over his shoulder. “Aren’t I?”

“God, you’re so vain.”

Quick shrug of his shoulders. “Why vain?”

“You’re not everything. I have a life now.”

The quizzical arch of his eyebrow told me he wasn’t convinced.

“I do .”

“You fight so hard, Brian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your life is fine, but it’s not great. How can it be great without me?”

I wanted to crow at him that he was so very full of himself, but it was the absolute, raw, soul-baring truth. I had missed him like crazy. My heart ached for him every single day.

“You always think there has to be some grand gesture, but really, there doesn’t even have to be words. Just knowing something should be all the truth you need.”

I felt completely exposed, as though my heart was on the outside of my chest, right there on display.

He stretched out on my bed, crossed his sock-clad feet, and grinned at me. “So are we sealing the deal or not?”

“What?”

“Am I getting laid?”

I crossed my arms. “That’s so romantic, how can I resist?”

“I dunno, how can you?” He waggled his eyebrows at me, and that combined with the rakish grin on his kiss-swollen lips and the dark wet eyes… who was I kidding? I tried to stifle the low moan, but it was out before I could.

“Yeah, you want me,” he growled, folding one of my pillows in half and shoving it under his head. “Come kiss me some more, ’cause that was hot.”

I could have played hard to get, but he looked so incredibly good on my bed, and I wanted all of him. I toed off my shoes and crawled onto the bed and over him to settle above his waist.

He chuckled as he lifted his hand to my face, and I realized every fantasy I’d ever had was not how things were going to happen between Varro and me. The whole torrid, hungry, desperate scene, the holding down and manhandling—that was not us.

Because he knew me. He really, truly, deeply knew me, and so it would be us , a joining, and it would change my life.

“I should have known just from your eyes,” he sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re so gorgeous all the time,” he whispered, tracing his fingertips over my eyebrows, my cheekbones, and finally my bottom lip. “But when you look at me, they shine.”

“Green eyes do it for you, do they?” I asked, shivering under his hands, my own finding his chest, holding tight as I moved against him like I had earlier, pressing my ass along the length of his erection outlined through the denim. He was so hard.

“Only yours, Brian. Everything about you is perfect because it’s you and you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours, Varro.”

His breath shook, coming out in puffs as it hitched and caught before I bent and ground my mouth down over his.

He rolled me fast to my back, and his arms went under and around me as my own coiled around his neck. I sucked on his tongue as it invaded my mouth, wanting more, whimpering and whining, writhing with the need to be closer.

“Brian,” he groaned against my lips, “get—what we… I think I know all we need, but I don’t wanna be wrong.”

“Hey.”

His eyes, clouded with passion, stared down at me.

“Tell me if we need a condom.”

“Uhm, no.” He shook his head, and it was adorable. “I don’t have sex without one. I—never have, Bri, I swear.”

“Me neither,” I said, pointing toward my nightstand. “Get in there and grab my lube and I’ll tell you how to make me ready.”

His brows furrowed above his long, straight nose. “You? Won’t I be the one taking your cock up my ass?”

Just the visual flooded me with heat, blood pooling in my groin. “No.” I swallowed hard. “If you want, down the road, we can… I can… but I like to bottom, and I want you inside me pretty much more than I want air right now.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was hoping, but I didn’t want to assume. I never want to be a selfish prick, okay?”

I laughed softly. “No, we wouldn’t want that. Get the lube.”

He moved, and I took that opportunity to yank and tug my clothes off as fast as I could, needing to be naked. When I looked up, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Varro was pulling his cashmere crewneck sweater up over his head, and the number of marks on the man’s chest and abdomen stunned me: some deep gouges, crisscrossed thin ones, and still others thick and raised and puffy.

“Ugly, huh?” he said, straightening to his full height so I could look my fill.

His gorgeous olive skin was highlighted by the scars. Each was noticeable, each could be traced and licked and— “No,” I said sincerely, sliding closer across the top of my comforter. “You’re beautiful, you know that. Now let me see the rest of you.”

He was fast, out of his jeans and socks in seconds, standing in front of me with smoldering eyes. I had not seen Varro naked in years, but his cock had been a constant in many a dream. It was huge, long and thick and cut, with a wide vein running along the side.

“Please,” I begged.

He moved to the foot of the bed and took hold of my legs. I shuddered at the feel of his hard, callused hands on the backs of my thighs. “Wait,” he groused suddenly, glaring at me. “That was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“What?” I gasped as he ran his hands up to my ankles.

“I actually have been a selfish prick. You were being funny.”

It took a second for my head to clear. “Ohmygod, can you focus ?”

He started laughing, and then I was, and it was nice. It was a relief, and I was good and happy until he bent forward at the same time he put my ankles on each shoulder. Once he stilled, I heard him open the cap on the lube.

“Varro,” I groaned as he slid his finger around the outside of my hole.

“You’re so pretty, Brian—your skin and your body—I’m sorry I never told you before.”

“Now is perfect,” I panted.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, the look in his eyes pure evil.

“Yes.”

“I want that,” he said as he rubbed in circles before adding a second finger. “I want that sound in your voice.”

“What—” I gasped. “—sound?”

“Like you’re gonna die if you don’t have me,” he answered, his own voice deep and low.

I bowed up off the bed, reaching, grasping for some part of him, whatever I could reach.

He dipped his fingers inside of me at the same time he captured my hard, throbbing cock in his fist, milking it as precum slowly leaked from the slit.

“Varro!”

“You’re gonna be ready for me,” he growled, and the sound, primitive and possessive, chilled and then warmed me, the intervals seconds apart.

“I’m ready now!” I swore.

“Not yet,” he ground out, curling his body forward so that my feet slid over his shoulders to his back.

I lifted, offering, opening myself to him as he bent and touched his tongue to the crown of my weeping shaft.

“You’re gonna make me come!” I cried softly. “I don’t—I can’t… I want to know what it is to be loved by you.”

“Brian.” He uttered my name, and I heard the catch and the hunger.

“No.” I shivered hard, not caring that he was a blur as hot tears filled my eyes. “I’ve spent so long holding words in, being quiet, not telling you what I wanted and felt and had to have. No more!”

I heaved out a breath, and he let me go, hand gone from my dick, fingers sliding free of my fluttering hole.

“No!”

“Yes,” he yelled and covered me with his long hard body, mouth slanting down over mine, claiming me before I flew apart.

He ravaged my mouth and I writhed under him, legs around the backs of his thighs even as I felt his hand moving between us, capturing his own dick, guiding it to me.

“Please,” I panted against his throat. “Forgive me for being a coward.”

“Forgive me for being blind,” he murmured, lips moving on my skin.

“You’re right; we’re never supposed to be apart.”

“No, we’re not,” he decreed, and I felt the press of the enormous flared head slide between my ass cheeks. “Never again.”

“Varro!”

“I can’t— Brian!”

He couldn’t wait. He had to have me.

“Yours,” I promised.

He lifted off me and thrust forward, all his weight behind the hammering movement.

I roared his name.

“Yes?” he gasped.

“Yes!”

And that was all.

He knew me. I knew him. No more words needed.

My hands scrambled over smooth, sweaty skin as he bent me in half, tops of my thighs to my chest now before he pounded down into me, then leaned back, in and out, over and over, the motion powerful, each thrust deeper than the last, until he was buried to his balls in my ass.

“Can you feel me?”

I could probably taste him.

“You’re so tight and hot,” he rasped.

The feel of him, pushing, stretching, filling me, overwhelmed me. “Varro,” I cried.

“Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.

“We should have been doing this for years,” I half yelled, the sizzling in the base of my spine starting to lick its way higher, setting fire to nerve endings, tightening my balls, and causing my muscles to clench around the long, hard, thick length of him.

He pulled out, and I would have screamed, but he moved me too fast, grabbed me, flipped me over onto my stomach, and shoved me facedown into the bed, ass in the air.

“Say you want me, Brian.”

“Oh yes.” I surrendered as he breached me and slid home.

One hand held my thigh tight in a bruising grasp, and the other was pressed, palm open, to the small of my back, holding me as he thrust.

When he suddenly stilled, pressed his chest to my back, wrapped a strong, lube-slicked hand around my cock and squeezed tight, I moaned out his name.

“Show me,” he ordered, face pressed into the back of my neck.

The angle, the push, the stretch, his skin plastered to mine was all there was. I came, spurting onto the comforter beneath me, with his name, the chanting of it, sounding like a prayer.

“Brian,” he barked gruffly.

My muscles tightened around him like a vise, clamping down, and he came deep inside of me. His climax made him clutch at me, his arms curling underneath mine, almost like we were wrestling and he was holding me down.

We didn’t move. There was only him emptying, me being filled, and him holding me as aftershocks rippled through us.

When he finally eased slowly from my stretched and slippery channel, I felt the warm trickling of fluid down the insides of my thighs.

“Don’t move,” he said tenderly, pushing my sweat-dampened hair back from my face and kissing my forehead before he bolted into the bathroom.

I stayed where I was, and he came back to drop a hand towel over the mess I’d made on the bed and then used a warm washcloth to wipe me down. He had never, ever, been so gentle with me.

“I’m not gonna break,” I said shyly, unable to look at him.

“I know,” he said hoarsely before he was gone again.

I straightened up, feeling the twinge in my ass from the pounding I had just taken, loving the fact Varro had done it, used me, taken pleasure from me. The act could never be undone, never forgotten, even if he walked back into the room and announced it was all a big mistake.

He had been mine. It was all the truth I would ever need.

I was pushing the comforter down to the end of the bed when I heard him behind me. There was not even enough time to turn before I was on my back under him.

“What’re you— Oh,” I uttered as I took in the gleaming-eyed man above me. “Hi.”

“You just gave yourself to me like no one ever has.”

“Because I trust you,” I murmured as he flopped down close by.

Strong arms wrapped around me, and he draped a thigh over my hip so I was enfolded, pressed tight to his heart.

He kissed my eyes closed, and the bridge of my nose, my cheeks, my jaw, and finally my mouth, running his tongue along the seam of my lips to get me to open them.

What started languid and sweet became rough and bruising so fast. I was breathless, digging my hands into his back as he parted my thighs.

“I’ll be so gentle.” He whispered the promise.

I was still stretched and slick with lube and cum, and he slid in easily before rolling to his back, bringing me with him, impaling me on his shaft. I let my head fall back as I lifted up only to slide back down, loving the feel of him moving inside of me.

“I love you, Brian.”

I leaned forward to meet his dark gaze and whisper the words he needed to hear and I needed to say. “I love you, Varro, so much.”

“Swear it,” he said and held out his pinky with his right hand as he fisted my cock with his left.

“What’re we?” My voice dropped off. “Ten?”

“I am. You’re nine. Now swear.”

I hooked his pinky with mine as he pushed up from under me.

“Jesus, Varro, you feel so good.”

“So do you.” His voice sounded like sandpaper as he reached up and hooked a hand behind my neck, drawing me down to him. “Come here.”

I closed my eyes when he kissed me.