Page 37 of Try Line Hearts
Kaine lifted his arms, letting Byrne yank the fabric off and toss it aside. Now skin met shirt, Kaine's chest pressing hot against Byrne's clothed torso, the friction making him hiss. Byrne's hands were everywhere—gripping Kaine's shoulders, sliding down to his ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
"Get these pants off," Byrne demanded, his breath hot against Kaine's ear, voice thick with lust. Kaine's fingers fumbled with the waistband, shoving them down his thighs and finally off. He kicked the clothes away, then turned to Byrne, tugging at his pants roughly. Byrne lifted his hips, helping as Kaine stripped him down to his tight briefs, the black fabric stretched taut over the thick bulge of his erection.
Pre-cum soaked a dark spot at the tip, the outline of Byrne's fat cockhead visible, veins pulsing under the thin material. Kaine's mouth watered at the sight. He rucked Byrne's shirt up, exposing the rugged planes of his stomach, the taut muscles flexing under his touch. Leaning down, Kaine dragged his tongue flat from the waistband of Byrne's briefs, up the salty skin of his abs, tasting sweat and man. He licked higher, over Byrne's chest, teeth grazing a nipple before sucking it hard. Byrne jerked beneath him, a choked moan ripping from his throat.
"Fuck, yeah—lick me like that, you dirty little slut," Byrne growled, his hand tangling in Kaine's hair, shoving his face into the crook of his neck. Kaine bit down on the pulse there, sucking a mark into the skin while his fingers traced the edge of Byrne's briefs.
He slipped his hand inside the waistband, feeling the heat of Byrne's thick cock, the velvety skin over steel-hard length. But he pulled back, teasing, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot on the fabric instead, pressing against the slit where pre-cum oozed. Byrne bucked up, a desperate whine escaping him.
"Touch my cock properly—stroke it, make me fucking leak for you." Kaine's own dick ached, throbbing against Byrne's thigh as he ground down. He palmed Byrne through the briefs fully now, squeezing the heavy shaft, feeling it jump under his hand. Byrne's hips snapped up, fucking into Kaine's grip, the fabric rasping against his sensitive skin.
"God, you're so fucking hard," Kaine breathed, his voice breaking as he watched Byrne's face twist in pleasure. Byrne's hand shot down, shoving into Kaine's half-lowered boxers, wrapping around Kaine's leaking cock. His fist pumped rough and fast, thumb smearing pre-cum over the head. Kaine choked on a groan, his body shuddering as Byrne jerked him off with aggressive strokes, nails scraping lightly along the underside.
"Like that? Feel how wet you are for me," Byrne rasped, his breath coming in heavy pants. "Gonna make you cum all over my hand, but first—fuck, keep rubbing my dick like that." They rutted together, hips grinding in a frantic rhythm, cocks sliding against each other through the thin barrier of Byrne's briefs and Kaine's tangled underwear. The friction was
delicious, the feeling electric. Kaine's hand sped up, stroking Byrne's cock through the briefs, feeling the heat pulse, the shaft thickening even more. Byrne's voice was low and words spilled out in a torrent. "Yeah, grind on me—feel my fat cock against yours.You want it inside you, don't you? Stretching that tight ass while I fuck you raw."
Kaine whimpered, his control shattering as Byrne’s words landed hard, each one knocking loose something he’d been barely holding together. He moved instinctively, chasing sensation, breath hitching as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter. Byrne felt it—felt Kaine falter—and for a split second it was almost enough to push him over the edge too.
Almost.
Byrne broke first. His body betrayed him, seizing as heat surged and cut off just short of release, a sharp, furious ache rippling through him instead. A guttural curse tore from his throat, raw and helpless, his head tipping back as if his body could will itself past the line it had been denied.
“Shit— I—” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, the sound dissolving into a startled, humiliating hiccup he couldn’t stop.
That was when Kaine froze.
He pulled back immediately, hands gone, space reappearing between them like a door slamming shut. “No,” he said quietly, the word weighted. “This isn’t right.” He looked stricken—almost guilty—like he’d just realized how close he’d come to taking something he hadn’t earned. “If we do this, we do this when you’re gonna remember it tomorrow.”
Byrne’s gaze dropped on reflex, jaw tight, breath still uneven. Frustration burned through him—sharp, undeniable, unfair. His body throbbed with it, with the instinct to reach out and demand more. He hated how much he wanted to curse, to argue, to say he didn’t care.
Kaine followed his line of sight and swore. A large wet spot had formed in his shorts.. He didn’t look triumphant. He didn’t look smug. If anything, it only made his expression softer, more certain.
“Yes,” Kaine said, steady now, grounding himself as much as Byrne. “I obviously want you.” A beat. Then, gentler still, “But not like this.”
He offered a small grin and a quick wink, humor sliding into place like armor, but his hands stayed where they were—off. “Consent is sexy,” he added lightly.
The words hit Byrne harder than anything else had.
The frustration didn’t vanish, but it shifted, tangled with something warmer and more unsettling. Care. Restraint. Respect, even when Kaine clearly didn’t want to stop. Byrne swallowed, stunned by the realization that being denied hadn’t made him feel small or used—it had made him feel seen.
He tucked Byrne under the duvet, left water on the table, switched off the light.
In the dark, Byrne’s voice came small.
“I didn’t imagine it, did I?”
“No,” Kaine whispered. “You didn’t.”
Tomorrow would be hell.
But tonight—the truth existed. And neither of them could unknow it.
Chapter Six: Fallout
Pain woke Byrne before the sun did.
Not sharp pain. Not injury pain. This was the slow, full-skull throb of a body that had been poisoned by its own choices. A pulse behind his eyes, heavy and rhythmic. His tongue felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. His stomach rolled. His spine crackled when he shifted.
