Page 40 of Ring Rust

“Do you remember when you bought me that watch?” Jasper asked.

“Not the specifics…” Ryan wasn’t sure why now was the time Jasper was choosing to get into the history of the stupid watch he apparently didn’t like. “I know I bought it for you years ago, when I found out I was going to win my first Heavyweight title.”

“Do you remember what happened after that?”

“What do you mean what happened after that? I won the title at the end of the tour.”

Jasper smiled grimly. “What I was going to say is that I graduated with my master’s degree that year. You sent me that watch from the road because you missed my graduation.”

“Is that a problem? I’m not allowed to give you gifts for your achievements?”

Jasper sighed again. Ryan was missing something, he could tell, but he was still reeling inside—whatever Jasper wastryingto say wasn’t coming through, not after the embarrassment of seeing the watch regifted to someone he’d never met. He stepped closer, until Jasper’s back pressed up against the wall.

“Just tell me why you’re here.”

“There’s no big reason. I saw you leave, and I followed.”

Jasper swallowed. Ryan watched his throat move. A shaky breath passed through Jasper’s lips and Ryan closed his eyes, letting the warmth of it brush against his neck like the countless times he’d felt it in the dark, in their bed. Hidden from everyone in this corner of the deck, he shifted his body until he could feel the fabric of Jasper’s coat against his own shirt.

Jasper cleared his throat, and when Ryan opened his eyes, he braced a hand on the wall—not to trap him, but maybe to prove he could if he wanted to.

“The truth this time,” Ryan said.

“You looked sad. And lonely, and I didn’t want you to be. That’s it, Ryan.”

Ryan let out a dark laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Jasper said.

“For what?”

Jasper shook his head.

“You’re here with a date,” Ryan said.

“I know how it looks. But it’s not like that?—”

“You don’t have to explain it. It seems like you’re doing fine. Better than me. I’m happy for you.”

“I’m not, really.” Jasper’s voice was barely a whisper. Their lips were so close Ryan could feel each word brush against him. Jasper’s eyes darted to Ryan’s mouth for a brief moment before flicking back up, and Ryan could almost see his restraint failing. Breaths coming fast and uneven, hands hovering over Ryan’s waist like they wanted to reach out.

“Ryan…”

“Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll back off.”

Jasper didn’t say a word. He just shook his head gently and looked back at Ryan’s mouth—and that was all it took. Ryan closed the final inch between them. Their lips met in a gentlekiss, soft and ruinous, achingly familiar in the worst way. Ryan pressed a little harder, because his body remembered, because he’d been craving this, and because he’d been dreaming of it in ways he’d only admitted to himself.

Jasper widened his stance and Ryan moved forward, shuffling his feet so they were the same height. He pressed their bodies together, the familiar heat of their touch waking Ryan’s body in a way he hadn’t felt in months, because he’d been too forlorn to remember how good it could be.

They kept kissing until they were hard against each other. They rubbed against one another selfishly, taking what they needed. Eventually Jasper lifted a leg to wrap around Ryan’s thigh, shifting them into a position where their cocks could grind against each other. They moaned into each other’s mouths and Jasper grasped at Ryan’s shirt, which was thin and not nearly warm enough for the temperature outside. The cold was worth it, though—he’d missed the feel of Jasper’s frantic fingers pulling him close.

Early in their relationship, every week they spent apart ended with a feverish need to touch each other. It was impossible to count the number of times Ryan had felt those fingers grasp erratically at his body, tearing off his clothes and clawing through his hair.

Things had changed so much since then. Some of it was expected, of course. They’d aged. They’d stabilized. They’d grown distant. But Ryan was desperately lonely for what they once had.

Ryan pressed his cock harder against Jasper’s, but it wasn’t enough. Even through the bulk of their clothes, Ryan felt it—the simple shape of Jasper’s body, perfectly formed for his own, unchanged in any way that mattered.

Jasper’s calf pressed harder against the back of Ryan’s leg, and he let out a soft whimper—a sound Ryan loved and ached foroften. He wished things weren’t so frantic so they could get their pants out of the way and Ryan could feel the heat of Jasper’s body, the soft skin of his cock, the wetness from the pre-cum leaking into their underwear. The thought of it was enough to make his mouth water.