I’m continuing with Summer of History. Today’s piece follows a little later and provides a peek at one of the cracks in Ryan and Scott’s relationship:
Rolling onto his back, Ryan opened his eyes.
Moonlight washed the room in mercurial light, pouring over Scott like liquid silver. Ryan admired how the light flowed across the ridges of Scott’s muscular body, was strangely jealous of the moon’s touch, as it highlighted a latissimus, rippled past his tricep, as he searched through the drawer for a condom. If only I could be that close to him.
Entranced by the play of light and shadow across his lover’s muscled frame, Ryan stroked his dick, only slightly softened by the break in their lovemaking. Even the feel of his own hand was enthralling to Ryan. Why am I feeling this way? What is going on?
Usually he wasn’t that into sex. Not in the down and dirty physical sense. He craved the emotional intimacy, the vulnerability inherent in being naked and alone with another man, not just the physical release of an orgasm. That was an essential difference between him and Scott—for him sex was more than just rubbing body parts together until someone came.
The cold shock of lube on his ass brought Ryan back from his musing.
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‘Til next time!