Page 15 of Stroke Rate

“Oh, alright didn’t know that either. I don’t know much about you, just the little tidbits Brooke has shared.” River tensed at that. Chris knocked his shoulder into River, sensing his nerves. “It was all good, don’t worry, she loves you. Wants me to love you as evidenced by how she likes to say weird things about how good we could be together.” River coughed a choking sound, making Chris look at him—his lips pursed and the bridge of his nose pink, making his freckles pop even more.

“Ummm ye-yea-yeah, so she says that to you too. L-lov-lovely, I’ve told her to drop it. Seems, she c-c-cannot.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you know this about Brooke, but she doesn’t drop shit. She’s like a dog with a bone. It doesn’t matter if it is finding a lost remote around the apartment, or a dude she has met and wants me to date.” River growled at that statement.

“Fucking Brooke, she never gives up. I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse. I-I-I guess on one hand I’m s-s-so thankful she never gave up on me. Maybe I wish she would have just given up. Moved on and lived her life, not worrying about me all the time. She never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself.”

“Brooke wants you to be happy. Apparently she thinks I could make you happy? At least that's what she has been insinuating forever; I never really got why. But I guess I do now. We kind of click. Don’t we?”

River nodded, his lips tilting slightly as Chris glanced up at him.

“Yeah, we click,” he murmured back, squeezing Chris’ shoulder. “Tell me about your family,” River said, making Chris cringe.

“Well, there's Mom and Dad; you'll have to meet them at some point—they will request us for dinner.”

“Okayyy, d-d-dinner. I can do dinner.”

“You say that now, just wait,” Chris grunted and moved on. “I live alone. Mom and Dad bought me a house for my college graduation gift.” Chris rolled his eyes and felt heat radiating from his cheeks. He hated talking about his parents and their money and their ostentatious gifts, which were never actually gifts. They were a way to manipulate Chris, to make him feel indebted to them, because they held the keys…literally. “I have two brothers. I'm the oldest, followed by Harrison, and Flynn, who is the baby.” Chris didn’t want to say too much about his family, too full of shame and embarrassment. Shame he'd rather keep hidden. Too full of sadness that his brothers—his best friends—didn't talk to him much anymore.

Part of Chris would have liked to spill it all, bare his soul right there on the sidewalk, and let River in, instead of dropping little pieces of himself as they continued getting to know each other. Sometimes Chris felt like Hansel and Gretel, dropping crumbs of information hoping to lead someone to his heart. Hoping someone would pick up the pieces and knit him back together. And maybe not even back together, because Chris wasn’t sure he had ever been “put together” correctly. Most of the time he felt like he was just a strange mishmash of pieces, squished together to resemble a person.

“So when do you get back to Colorado?” River asked, interrupting Chris’ internal meltdown.

The impact of those words sent a jolt through Chris' chest, like a sudden, unexpected blow. The thought of River leaving, of them parting ways, even for a few days, was unbearable. He didn't want the day to end. Chris wanted to spend the night with him—kissing his beautiful face and listening to his deep, stuttering voice. He was so tired of being alone; hating the endless lonely nights in his bed, random, meaningless hookups, even playing with Bran felt empty. No one ever wanted to keep Chris. He knew the feelings he was having for River were ridiculous. They had just met. They had one ‘non-date’, but Chris couldn’t let him go just yet.

“I, I um, head back to Boulder later tomorrow. You?” A nervous, awkward energy shifted around them as they approached the tree they had met under earlier.

“Ye-yeah, my flight is early tomorrow morning. Can I ge-g-ge-get your nu-num-num-number?” River stumbled over the words strongly, the stutter sounding painful, like he was choking just to get the words out. Chris looked up at him, wanting to get on his tiptoes and wrap his arms around River’s neck, pull him down, and devour his mouth. Nip at the sexy ass nose. What would River think if I bit his nose?

“Yeah, give me your phone. Here, put your number in mine,” he said, shoving his phone at River. They both sent a quick text—River a waving hand and Chris an eggplant with water drops—the text more confident than he felt. He wished to be more courageous; Chris wanted to ask River to stay. Stay with him just a little longer.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you then. T-t-text whenever you want." River's expression was a little sheepish, embarrassed even, as they stood. Both ‌lingered‌ a little too long, hands held, eyes locked. Reaching up, Chris tangled his fingers in the neck of River's shirt, pulling him close for a hug. Their size difference created an awkward intimacy as River arched his back, cat-like, to pull Chris close. River didn’t protest. Instead, he melted into Chris’ touch, a relieved sigh leaving his chest as Chris held on to him.

River smooshed his face into the crook between Chris’ neck and shoulder, his warm breath tickling the short hairs there. Chris mirrored River’s position, breathing in River’s scent; he smelled warm, with a subtle sweetness, a hint of spice, like a snickerdoodle cookie on a cold winter day. Chris wanted to draw his tongue up the length of River’s neck, savoring his flavor. He wanted to nibble River’s Adam's apple, and suck on the lobe of his ear, and wanted to whisper all the dirty ways he could take him apart.

Chris pulled back to look at River, their faces so close Chris could feel the little puffs of air leaving River’s mouth dancing across his own lips. He decided right then to face his fears head-on and leave himself exposed. Fear gripped him so tightly that he wasn't sure he could get the words out. Asking for what he desired terrified him and Chris felt like a raw nerve flayed open. But he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

“Don't go. I don’t want you to go. Not yet, come up with me,” Chris pleaded, his voice trembling. Chris buried his face in River's neck, whispering a muted “please” onto the warm, speckled skin of River's neck. River said nothing back, but Chris could feel the nod of his head against his own shoulder. With that, River stood up, Chris' arms wrapped around his neck, his legs tight around River's waist, holding on like a little koala.

River pulled back just enough to meet Chris’ eyes. “Ok-okay,” he said as he slowly lowered Chris to the ground.

“Lead the way,” River whispered against the shell of Chris’ ear, clasping his hand and nudging him forward. Chris bounced on his toes, excitement and nerves lighting up every ounce of his body, as he yanked River towards the dorms.

Chapter fourteen

Chris

Chris’ heart hammered against his ribs as he guided River to the dorms. The roughness of River’s skin did nothing to help distract him. His palms were sweaty, and he could feel a slight vibration running through his whole body. The overwhelming feeling of anticipation for what was to come was amplified by the palpable energy crackling between them. River seemed to be feeling the same as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and pinched that damn lip again. Chris leaned up, smirking at River as he snatched River’s hand away from his mouth, squeezing as he pulled him into the small space of the elevator. They stood pressed close together—each point of contact felt like a brand on Chris’ skin, shoulders, hips, thighs slotting together like puzzle pieces.

“Hey you, you okay?” Chris asked.

“Wh-wh-wha-tt are we doing? We really should…” Chris didn’t let him finish the thought, pulling River by the neck of his shirt, pressing his lips over River’s gaping mouth. River gasped at the contact, and Chris swallowed the moan River fed him.

The kiss was soft and tentative; the most tender pressing of lips Chris had ever experienced. Under his hands, River's frame was stiff with tension, his every gesture sharp and uncertain. Not ready to give in, Chris thought. He stroked across River’s bottom lip with his tongue, making them moan with the contact. River ‌opened for him, sweeping his tongue against Chris’, a sweet whimper reverberating through his mouth as their tongues tangled. Chris pushed River against the wall, River’s thigh notched between his legs as he rocked his aching cock against River while they devoured each other's mouths.

Chris' erection pulsed fluid against the fabric of his pants, yearning for release as he tried to stop himself from humping River’s leg like an untrained puppy.

“Fuck, Chris,” River moaned into his mouth as Chris stroked River’s impressive bulge over his joggers; River arched his hips, rubbing against the friction Chris' hand was providing. Panting heavily, a tangle of desire and desperation coursing through them, Chris fumbled with the room key as the elevator doors opened to his floor, ushering them towards the room.