Ripped (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) (8 page)

Roman watched as Kyle’s eyes closed in pleasure as his husband’s body bucked against his own.

“Shit,” Kyle muttered as Roman quickly found himself flipped underneath his partner’s body.

From condom to ass, it had taken Kyle a matter of seconds before Roman felt the hard, even strokes inside of his own body.

“Is is going to feel this damn good every time I’m inside of you? I love you,” Kyle muttered as he shuddered in release.

Roman had to literally cover Kyle’s lips with his own to stifle his husband’s cries. There were other guests on the property.

“Were not done with you yet,” Kyle said. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I love you, too, Kyle,” Roman replied, nodding.

“Sit up.”

“What?”

“Sit up. I want to slide down your hard rod.”

“My horny boy wants to ride the white pony.”

Kyle’s movements were eventually quelled, as Roman thrusted hard into his husband’s ass. Their eyes met before they collapsed on the floor.

They had both woken about an hour earlier, and now Roman couldn’t remember how they had migrated from the bed to the floor. Not a lot had been spoken, as Roman recalled the versatility of their lovemaking: the insistence of their actions, their bodies beneath each other, the culmination of the bond that Roman craved. As he continued to look at Kyle, his partner smiled, brushing lips against his.

“I think you got what you wanted. I like knowing that your ass has only held my dick,” Kyle replied.

“You still have a smart mouth, silly boy! We got what we needed. Two messed up souls have found peace.”

“So what do you want to do today?” Kyle replied as the boyish tone returned.

“I thought we’d try rock climbing, since you did mention it. The lodge has some equipment we can rent.”

“I haven’t climbed since I was in college,” Kyle said, laying his head on Roman’s chest.

“I’m thinking about selling Ripped,” Roman said, changing the subject.

“You’re kidding me! What brought that up?”

“I’ve had some offers in the last year.”

“Why didn’t you tell me!” Kyle asked as his smile disappeared.

“Okay…watch your temper!” Roman replied, watching Kyle relax. “I want us to move to a state where we can be legally married. I was wrong…It does matter to me. It also wasn’t fair for me to minimize your desire for that. I know, and I think you do, too, that we are married in our hearts. However, if we are going to have a home and children, I want it to have legality, too. As you already know, Arkansas offers us nothing. If the blood test comes back positive, then I was thinking that New York might be an option. I plan to retire at fifty anyway. That’s only eight years away. I have invested well. In the meantime, maybe we can open another gym. With your degree and experience with physical therapy, the job market is pretty open for you.”

“I want to engrave your ring,” Kyle replied. “Would you think it was too corny if I said ‘forever and always’?”

“Nothing that you could ever say would make me think that,” Roman said, twining his legs with Kyle’s.

“Since you seem to have our lives all planned out, gay baby, I don’t want to wait for children. I’d like us to find a surrogate. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about holding your child in my arms.”

“There’s something else,” Roman replied, pulling Kyle beneath his body so their eyes made contact. “I want to take your name. We can be Kyle and Roman Stringer.”

“Isn’t this romantic,” Kyle said, chuckling. “The big boss man has the perfect plan for their lives. The silly boy wants to engrave a ring and have children, and the gay baby wants to share his partner’s last name.”

“I’m serious, Kyle. You’re the strong one.”

“That’s hardly true.”

“Let me finish,” Roman said, pulling Kyle closer, feeling the curves of their bodies conforming. “I’m yours completely. Roman Carter no longer exists anymore. He’s been replaced by someone whole. I keep asking myself how I can possibly deserve you. So whether or not you choose to believe in your strength, I cannot control, but I can control the fact that I owe you my life.”

“Dude, please…all I asked for was a honeymoon camping trip. You didn’t have to bare your soul to me.”

“Silly, silly boy, yours has been naked to me for such a long time.”

“We’re going to fuck
again, aren’t we?”

“That would be my guess,” Roman replied as their bodies connected. “Quit playing the innocent schoolboy. I might be able to pull it off, but certainly not someone with as smart a mouth as yours.”

It was almost noon before both men were dressed and walking toward the main office building.

“Wait,” Kyle said, stopping and taking Roman’s hand in his. “I kind of liked feeling you against me on the bike. We can’t do that rock climbing. On the ride up here, I saw some lookout points ten or twelve miles back.”

“I thought you wanted to rock climb?” Roman said, releasing Kyle’s hand, hoping none of the other guests had seen their affection.

“What?” Kyle asked, visibly upset. “I’m tired of hiding my feelings for you,” he continued, brushing his lips against Roman’s.

“This is not the place, Kyle! Be patient. That’s why I suggested that we move, but if you want to go bike riding, we’ll go, silly boy. I liked feeling you, too.”

Kyle against his body as they winded the highway was intoxicating. The cologne he wore mixed well with his scent, creating a musky odor that already had Roman thinking about their next encounter. Smiling, unknowingly to his lover, who had slipped his arms under his shirt, Roman recalled not only the incredible bond they shared, but the sheer pleasure of making love to Kyle. He marveled at Kyle’s experience. So jaded for such a gay baby of thirty. His husband was incredible sexy, knowing exactly where to touch and kiss, and breathe his sexual dialogue that often turned explicit. Roman knew Kyle could also be tender, remembering his husband’s patience their first night together.

Feeling Kyle’s arms so tightly that he could barely breathe, Roman could not avoid the jeep that had crossed the center line as they rounded a curve. Kyle’s deafening scream faded, as the bike was tossed into loose gravel, coming to rest against the guardrail. The tires of the black Wrangler faced skyward.

Roman had gripped the handlebars on impact, riding with the bike to its final resting place. Now pinned between the bike and the guardrail, he expected to see Kyle nearby. The smells of burnt rubber and gasoline were nauseating. He tasted blood, fighting consciousness as the pain in his head intensified. Freeing himself from the wreckage, he had to find Kyle. The silly boy had refused to wear a helmet. As Roman removed his, more blood stained his hands.

As he heard Kyle’s screams, he wished he had been hallucinating. His husband was lying under the jeep, pinned from the waist down. The driver, a young girl that Roman thought was barely old enough to be behind the wheel, was crushed against the steering wheel. She lay motionless, staring with hauntingly cold eyes.

“Don’t leave me, Roman! Please don’t leave me! It’s my fault! We should have gone climbing! I’m cold! I can’t feel my body!”

Roman removed his T-shirt, wincing from a sharp pain in his shoulder, to cover Kyle’s chest. The panic in his husband’s voice, as the color drained from his face, convinced Roman that whether Kyle lived or died depended on him. Fighting dizziness and drops of blood that kept appearing on his hands, he had to stay awake. He had to keep Kyle awake.

“I’m not leaving you, sweet boy!” Roman said, realizing that the cell phone attached to his belt was in three pieces. “Remember how you’re always taking care of me?”

“I can’t feel anything! I don’t want to die, Roman! Please don’t let me die!”

“Baby, you’re not going to die!” Roman said, suppressing his own panic at the possibility.

By now, several cars had stopped. The voices were garbled around him as Roman focused his attention on Kyle. He was so pale, his skin clammy and cold. Speaking uncertain words, Roman said anything that came to mind, just to keep those green eyes staring back at him.

As the sound of metal cutting threatened to muffle Roman’s words, he lay down next to Kyle on the bloody pavement, despite what he thought were gloved hands trying to urge him into a vehicle.

“I won’t leave you, silly boy,” Roman said against Kyle’s ear.

“I’m so cold, Roman!”

The deafening roar of a Medflight drowned out Roman’s words, but he spoke them anyway, continuing to caress his partner’s hand in his own. No one tried to remove it, either. He guessed they didn’t want a beating.

Hearing of a possible dislocated shoulder and a superficial facial wound placated Roman’s own health as he focused on the medical flight team working on Kyle. Still gripping his husband’s hand, Roman refused to move more than an inch from Kyle’s body, or to break eye contact.

“I love you,” Roman whispered, oblivious to those around him. At this point he shrugged off the hand that was placed gently on his back. He shook his head at the voices swirling around him. When a set was offered to him nearby, he refused.

Slowly processing the activity around Kyle’s body lying on a backboard, Roman recognized words, such as “ETA,” “five minutes,” and “crush injury,” followed by a string of medical terminology that meant nothing. Feeling the grip of Kyle’s hand in his was the only thing that was keeping him sane. He was quite sure that the validity of that had been questioned by those aboard.

“I love Rebecca,” he heard a voice say, feeling the same hand return to his back. “She’s my partner. I’d do the same for her. No one on board is going to judge you. Say whatever you think he needs.”

Staring back, Roman saw a young woman wearing surgical scrubs checking Kyle’s vitals. Almost as if she anticipated his question, she replied, “They’re okay. Better than what they should be, considering the nature of his injuries.”

“Roman!” Kyle cried.

“I’m right here, baby. It’s going to be okay. Focus on my voice.”

“I can’t feel my legs!” Kyle said as tears dampened his cheeks. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“Don’t cry. We’re almost at the hospital.”

“He’s in shock,” the woman explained, “sort of the body’s own natural defense.”

“His legs?” Roman questioned.

“Let’s just get him to the hospital.”

Kyle gripped his hand tighter as Roman focused his attention back to his partner’s face.

“I’m scared, Roman! I can’t feel anything.”

Shutting out the throbbing in his own head and shoulder, Roman brought Kyle’s hand to his lips. The panic in his partner’s voice tore at his emotions, as images from another day flooded through his mind. Lisa’s screams and desperate pleads for help invaded his thoughts. If he had to give his own life in the process, Roman was determined that Kyle would live. He had to. Roman’s life now flowed with his husband’s.

“You’re not going to die. You can’t. We’re one, remember?”

En route it was decided that Kyle would be taken to the medical center in Hot Springs, serving as one of the region’s few level two trauma centers. Upon arrival, the couple was immediately separated, as Kyle was taken into surgery. While Roman’s gash in his forehead was sutured in the emergency room, he could still feel the vise grip of Kyle’s hand as he had to pry it free. His husband had to be sedated to end the panic that their separation had caused. He could still hear Kyle’s pleading voice and the hands tugging at his shirt.

I can’t go with you, sweet boy…I won’t leave until you can leave with me.

Roman’s shoulder wasn’t dislocated, just badly bruised. Apart from that and the deep head wound, the attending physician said that he was in remarkably good shape considering the circumstances. Upon suggestion that he remain twenty-four hours for observation, Roman declined, signing his waiver. Grabbing his bloodstained T-shirt and discharge information, he ended up in a chair in the surgical waiting room.

He must have appeared a madman as he later visited a restroom down the hall. Splashing cool water on his face, he wished that it could be that simple to wash away the events of the last few hours. His body ached, but he felt incredibly numb. Bruises were appearing near the wound above his left eye. Slipping the shirt over his head, he tried to correct his disheveled appearance, knowing that he would be speaking with doctors soon. He had realized somewhere between the crash scene and the hospital that all of their belongings were still at the lodge, including his Demerol.

After pressing the waiting room volunteer for information about his husband more times than he should have, Roman was finally told that Kyle was alive and in surgery, and that the surgical staff would speak to him soon.

Roman alternated between sitting and pacing the floor, eventually finding a pay phone in the hall. Hearing his mother’s voice on the other end, he was barely able to explain the situation. Roman gave a fragmented sketch of the events before coming to rest on the floor, sobbing, as he thought he heard his mother say she was on her way.

As his mother sat next to him, holding his hand, he fought the urge to collapse uncontrollably in her arms like a child, oblivious to the man standing a few feet away.

“I didn’t make him come, Roman. He said he wanted to when I told him what had happened.”