James frowned. “That’s not true. You’ve been together for half a year. It was the most serious relationship of your life.”
A laugh left Ryan’s throat. He turned his head to James and met his eyes. “No, it wasn’t, Jamie.” A wry smile curled his lips. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
James caught his lip between his teeth. “You’re angry with me. You’re angry with me for losing her.”
Ryan didn’t deny it. James forced out a smile and stood up, but Ryan grabbed his wrist. “Sit.”
James shot him a startled look. Ryan had never been so rough with him.
He sat down again.
“I am angry,” Ryan said, his voice low-pitched. “I wish I could say I’m not angry at you at all, but it wouldn’t be true.” Rubbing the inner corners of his eyes with his free hand, Ryan sighed. “A part of me blames you. I won’t deny it.” His grip on James’s wrist tightened. “But I know it’s not your fault. You gave me a fair choice.” He chuckled. “It’s not your fault I’m so hung up on you that anything else doesn’t matter as long as I get to keep you.”
Warmth curled in James’s gut, chasing away the guilt and hurt.
He looked down at Ryan’s strong, long fingers around his wrist. “I understand why you’re angry. I get it. And I’m sorry.”
Sighing, Ryan put an arm around his shoulders and pressed his forehead against James’s temple. From this close, the smell of alcohol on Ryan’s breath was more obvious.
“I feel like shit, Jamie,” he admitted quietly.
It broke James’s heart.
“I know,” he said, burying his fingers in Ryan’s unruly hair and stroking it.
Ryan’s lips moved against his cheek. “You’re the reason I feel like shit and the only one who can make me feel better. Pretty fucked up, yeah?”
Another silence fell. While he still wouldn’t call it comfortable, it was far less strained than the previous one.
“I still can’t give you what you want,” Ryan said suddenly. “You know that, right?”
James stared at the pattern of the carpet. “I know.”
“I wish I could,” Ryan said, his nose brushing James’s cheek. “They say sexuality can be fluid, but I don’t think it’s about me. I can’t do it, not even for you, Jamie. Maybe especially for you. I just don’t see you that way.”
James closed his eyes, trying to find the strength to tell Ryan that it was okay, that this was enough. Instead, he found himself whispering, “But you kissed me.” He hated how a part of him clung to that knowledge, even though the rational part of him knew that the kiss hadn’t been about lust at all. Why was it so bloody hard to accept that they would never be together that way? It was terribly greedy of him. And downright pathetic.
Ryan sighed and pulled back a little, looking discomfited. “It was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”
“Spur of the moment,” James repeated, deflating. “Okay.”
“Bloody hell,” Ryan said, frustration in his voice. “Fuck, I didn’t want to hurt you, but I think we have to talk about it, clear things up for once and for all.”
James’s stomach dropped. “About what?”
Ryan’s face acquired a look of determination. He gripped James’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I love you—I love you more than anyone—but not that way. I wish I could give you what you want, but I can’t. You’re like a brother to me. When I tried to imagine having sex with you, the only time it didn’t seem weird was when I imagined you as a girl.” A faint flush appeared on his cheekbones, but Ryan’s firm expression didn’t change. His voice softened. “I’m sorry. I really am, Jamie.”
James felt his lips tremble and locked his jaw. “It’s okay,” he said. “I understand.” Averting his eyes, he smiled. “I want a drink.”
An hour and two bottles of vodka later, they both were well on their way to being completely hammered.
“It’s not okay,” Jamie mumbled into Ryan’s chest.
“I know,” Ryan said, brushing Jamie’s hair with his fingers.
Jamie lifted his head and focused his eyes on him. “No, you don’t,” he slurred, suddenly mad as hell. He lunged forward and slammed his lips against Ryan’s. “I want you,” he muttered desperately against Ryan’s lips. “I want you.” Ryan didn’t get that ever since James had figured out what his dick was for, all he’d wanted was him. Ryan didn’t know that he wanked himself raw thinking of sucking his cock, of Ryan’s strong, confident hands taking care of him, of Ryan’s dick in his every hole, using him, because he was Ryan’s, body and soul. “I want you,” he whispered brokenly, pressing wet, greedy kisses against Ryan’s lips. “Please. I need—I need—”
Suddenly, a memory flashed to the front of his alcohol-dazed mind.
Suck his dick. Even the straight ones like it.