Chapter 50: Shameless And Not Complaining About It!

Harolin said nothing after that question.

The room stayed quiet. Just the hum of the AC unit and the distant sounds of the facility at night and Harolin’s breath against the back of Ruaan’s neck, warm and slightly uneven in a way that it hadn’t been before.

Ruaan lay completely still.

He could feel it against his lower back. Still there. Still very present and not going anywhere.

He stared at the wall in front of him and remembered that he was going to fall asleep immediately but this situation happened.

He thought about how thirty minutes ago he had been pressed against a tile wall with a cafeteria knife pointed at him and how his body had apparently processed all of that stress and arrived at a completely different conclusion about what it wanted to do with the evening.

His face was hot.

He was tired. He was genuinely tired. His shoulder hurt and his neck hurt and he had been awake too long and he had every reason in the world to close his eyes and go to sleep.

He was also very awake.

And getting more awake by the second.

He thought about Harolin behind him and the hands that had grabbed Finn’s wrist and twisted it once and made him drop the knife without any visible effort. About the soft moan that had come out of Harolin’s mouth when Ruaan’s hand had found the right place.

He knew he had not always been the kind of person who did things like this.

He had been that person before Blackmere. He had been the person who avoided and redirected and found reasons to be somewhere else. He had been the person who had told Dominic no every single time for two years and meant it every single time.

He did not feel like that person right now.

He reached back again.

Harolin’s breath caught. His hand closed around Ruaan’s wrist immediately and held it.

"Are you having fun?" Harolin said. His voice was lower than usual and doing something to the back of Ruaan’s neck that was not helping with the sensible situation.

"Uh... not yet," Ruaan said.

A pause.

"Do you want to feel it in you that badly?"

Ruaan’s face was completely red. He knew it. He could feel the heat of it without looking. He thought about saying something smart or deflecting or making it a joke.

"Yes," he said shamelessly.

He felt Harolin go still behind him.

Then Harolin’s grip on his wrist shifted. His thumb moved once against the inside of Ruaan’s wrist.

"As you wish," Harolin said.

He was smiling. Ruaan couldn’t see it but he knew it was there. The one that appeared when Harolin had decided something and was done negotiating with himself about it.

Ruaan exhaled as Harolin let go of his wrist and reached for him instead.

The room stayed quiet for another short moment. Just the hum of the AC unit and the distant sounds of the facility at night and Harolin’s breath against the back of Ruaan’s neck.

Then Harolin’s hand moved.

It slid down from Ruaan’s wrist, across his hip, and stopped at the front of his uniform pants. He pressed his palm flat against Ruaan’s cock through the thick fabric. Ruaan’s breath hitched.

"Look at you," Harolin said. His voice was low and rough, right against Ruaan’s ear. "Already hard. Already wanting. You aren’t even hiding it."

Ruaan’s jaw clenched. "Just do it."

"Do what?"

"Touch me."

Harolin’s hand moved. He rubbed Ruaan’s cock through the pants, slow circles with his palm. The fabric dragged against Ruaan’s shaft, rough and frustrating. Ruaan’s hips pushed into his hand without permission.

"You like that," Harolin said. "You like being touched through your uniform like a dirty little slut."

Ruaan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Harolin’s hand found the head of his cock through the pants and pressed his thumb into it, rubbing small circles. The friction was too much and not enough. Ruaan could feel his precum starting to soak through the fabric.

"You’re leaking already," Harolin said. "I can feel it. You’re wetting your pants like a desperate whore."

Ruaan’s face burned. He grabbed the pillow and held on.

Harolin undid the button. The zipper came down slowly. He reached inside and wrapped his hand around Ruaan’s cock through his boxers. The cotton was damp. His fingers curled around the shape of it and squeezed.

"Fuck," Ruaan breathed.

"Yeah." Harolin started moving his hand. Slow at first. A loose grip sliding up and down over the boxers. "That’s it. You’re getting harder, Ru."

Ruaan’s hips started moving. Fucking into Harolin’s fist. The friction was damp and warm and perfect. He was so close already. The pressure was building in his balls, hot and tight.

"I’m gonna come," Ruaan said. His voice was desperate. "Harolin. I’m gonna come."

Harolin’s hand stopped mid-stroke. His palm rested against Ruaan’s cock, warm and still.

"No," Harolin said.

"What?"

"You don’t get to come yet."

Ruaan made a frustrated sound. His hips jerked, trying to find friction. Nothing. Harolin held him in place.

"You think I want this to be over in two minutes?" Harolin said. "You think I want you to spill in your pants while I’m still dressed?"

Ruaan’s head fell back against the pillow. "Then what?"

Harolin moved. He sat up and pulled at Ruaan’s hips. "Turn over."

Ruaan turned onto his back.

Harolin looked down at him. His eyes travelled over Ruaan’s body. The hard cock was straining against the uniform pants. The wet spot near the tip.

Harolin’s hand found the waistband of Ruaan’s boxers. He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled. Not down. Just pulled, letting the fabric snap back against Ruaan’s hip.

Ruaan sucked in a breath.

Harolin pressed closer. His chest against Ruaan’s back. His breath against Ruaan’s neck. His hips against Ruaan’s ass, and between them, his cock still hard and covered by his own underwear and Ruaan’s.

"Ah... Right there," Harolin said. His voice was quiet.

He moved his hips once. A slow roll. His cock slid against the fabric of Ruaan’s boxers, pressing into the cleft of Ruaan’s ass through both layers.

Ruaan’s hands gripped the pillow.

Harolin did it again. A little faster. A little more pressure. The friction built through the cotton, warm and damp and not enough.

"You feel that," Harolin said like it wasn’t a question.

Ruaan nodded against the pillow.

Harolin’s hand came around Ruaan’s hip. He found the front of Ruaan’s boxers and palmed him through the fabric. Ruaan was still hard. His cock pressed against the cotton, leaking a wet spot near the waistband.

"You’re really shameless," Harolin said. He said it as he approved.

He pushed Ruaan’s boxers down. Just enough. The waistband caught under his balls. His cock sprang free, red and wet at the tip, and the cool air of the AC hit it and made him hiss.

Then Harolin pushed his own underwear down.

Ruaan felt it. The heat of him. The bare skin of Harolin’s cock slide against the back of his thigh. Thick. Heavy. Hard.

"Like this," Harolin said. He shifted. He lined himself up, not to enter, but to slide. His cock pressed alongside Ruaan’s, both of them trapped together between Ruaan’s thighs.

Ruaan’s breath stuttered.

Harolin moved.

The first slide was dry and rough. Just skin on skin, the friction catching. Ruaan’s cock twitched against Harolin’s. Harolin’s cock jerked in response. It was clumsy. Raw. Still not smooth yet.

Ruaan reached back and grabbed Harolin’s hip. His fingers dug in.

"Spit," he said.

Harolin laughed. A low sound against Ruaan’s neck. "Bossy."

But he did it. He leaned forward and spat over Ruaan’s shoulder. The saliva landed on Ruaan’s lower back and slid down into the crack of his ass, warm and slick. Harolin used his hand to spread it, then pressed his cock against Ruaan’s again.

The second slide was wet.

Ruaan moaned. He couldn’t help it. The sound came out of him, open and slutty, and he didn’t care. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Harolin’s hips started moving. A steady rhythm. His cock slid against Ruaan’s, shaft to shaft, the heads bumping together with every thrust. The wet sounds filled the room. The slap of skin. The creak of the bed. Ruaan’s own breathing was ragged and loud.

"Faster," Ruaan said.

Harolin grabbed Ruaan’s cock. He wrapped his fingers around both of them, holding them together, and thrust into his own fist. The pressure was perfect. The heat was perfect. Ruaan’s cock slid against Harolin’s, slick with spit and precum, the heads rubbing together with every stroke.

Ruaan’s hips started moving too. He pushed back into Harolin’s grip, chasing the friction. He was close. He could feel it building, hot and tight in his balls.

"Look at you," Harolin said. His voice was rough. Broken. "Taking it. Begging for it."

"I’m not begging," Ruaan said.

"You are." Harolin’s grip tightened. His thrusts got sloppier. Faster. "You’re begging with your whole body. You want to come. You want to come on my cock."

Ruaan’s mouth fell open. He was close. So close.

Harolin bit his shoulder. And then he came.

Ruaan felt it. The hot pulse of Harolin’s cum against his own cock. The way Harolin’s body jerked and tightened. The sound he made, low and broken, pressed against Ruaan’s skin.

That was enough.

Ruaan’s orgasm hit him like a wall. His whole body tensed. His cock twitched and spilt against Harolin’s, mixing with the cum already there. He heard himself make a sound, high and desperate, and then he was boneless, collapsing into the mattress.

They lay there. Breathing hard. Sticky and wet and covered in each other.

Harolin’s hand stayed wrapped around them both, loose now, not moving.

"Shameless Ru," he said again. This time it was almost soft.

Ruaan didn’t answer. He just pressed his face into the pillow and let the AC hum fill the silence.