Sweat Read online

  "I ... um,” Daniel mutters. “I want to get well.” Daniel looks at the floor.

  I want to get well. The words Ryan has been praying to hear, all this time. Ryan smiles. “Daniel, that's fantastic! And you've come to the right place. Come on, let me introduce you to some people.” Ryan takes Daniel's hand. Cardio, yoga, proper nutrition. Ryan knows physical therapy will work much more effectively than pumping Daniel full of anti-depressants that numb his emotions and sap his energy. Not to mention kill his sex drive stone dead. But the first step is the desire to get better. Ryan is head trainer, he can pull strings, get Daniel seen straight away. Enough time has been wasted.

  Ryan breathes. He can live without for a little while longer.

  Fifteen

  Ryan watches. Daniel's first physical therapy session is with Jade Bradley, self-appointed holistic health guru and club queen. The staff and even some of the members secretly call him ‘Queen Latifah'.

  "Now doll, your first step is a mental cleanse,” Jade croons, leading Daniel by the elbow. “Where the mind leads, the body will follow. Now step into my parlor, darling."

  Daniel meekly follows the statuesque Jamaican into his wellness clinic, which looks more like Heidi Fleiss’ boudoir. The ambient music sounds like a cross between Shakira and Ravi Shankar. Ryan scratches his head as Jade settles Daniel into a bubble chair. Daniel looks a little lost. Middle Eastern meditation is really not Ryan's bag.

  Ryan leaves.

  Sixteen

  Ryan collects Daniel to take him home after a whole afternoon of introductory treatments. On the way out, Ryan stops by the change room. Patrick's locker is empty.

  Ryan holds the passenger door for Daniel like he always does. Ever the gentleman. The cars swish along the rain-washed streets.

  They drive home in silence.

  Seventeen

  Ryan runs. He runs to clear his head, to clean the toxins from his system. He runs to purge the scrambled feelings churning in his gut; to banish the memory of Patrick's gentle voice, Patrick's hands on his skin, Patrick's mouth on his cock—and the words that Ryan pretended not to hear.

  The warm-up lap over, Ryan steps up the pace. The evening air is cool and fresh; the smell of rain still lingers. Ryan dodges puddles, taking it steady, checking his heart-rate monitor. A good dose of cardio is what he needs. His feet hit the pavement, settling into a rhythm, heart and muscles responding to the challenge. Ryan takes measured breaths, matching the tempo of his feet, keeping control. Ryan's body slips into automatic, and his mind soars over the familiar neighborhood, the neat rows of tall, narrow brick townhouses, newspaper boxes covered with stickers, the house with the rainbow flag in the window, the spreading leaves of the maple trees, glossy with rain. Ryan runs past the corner store with the Korean signage, the vegan restaurant, the trendy coffeehouse. Rows of identical Cirque posters paper a fence. The endorphins kick in, and Ryan runs on euphoria, oblivious to everything but the burn in his quads, the pounding of his heart, the chill of the early fall air as it hits his lungs.

  Ryan forgets that Patrick runs too.

  Eighteen

  They stand silent, staring at each other. Ryan breathes hard, hands on his knees. Patrick mops his face with a small towel, then flops it over his shoulder. A bright red cardinal darts from a cedar and up into the clear evening sky.

  "Hey.” Ryan speaks first. His voice sounds flat.

  "Hey, Ry,” Patrick murmurs, looking at his shoes.

  "Pat, listen, I...” Ryan begins, straightening up.

  "No. It's all right.” Patrick cuts in quickly, shaking his head. He sounds scared somehow.

  "You know that I..."

  "Yes. I know."

  Everything happens so fast. Somehow Ryan is in Patrick's arms, and they are kissing, and Patrick's fingers are in Ryan's hair, raking the short brown strands, stroking the nape of his neck, his other hand flat against the small of Ryan's back, pressing, persuading. Ryan moans into the kiss as Patrick walks him backwards and around the corner into the alleyway between the deli and the Chinese restaurant. The rough stone of the wall is cold against Ryan's back as Patrick pins him against it. Ryan reaches around Patrick's shoulders and hangs on tight, the need too strong, the pain too close to the surface.

  Nineteen

  Ryan slides his hands down Patrick's back, to the waistband of his track pants and slips his fingers in between the elastic and the soft cotton of Patrick's boxers. His ring catches on the fabric, and Ryan remembers. He pulls his hand away, mumbling into the kiss for Patrick to stop, pushing on his chest with the flat of his palm. “I can't, Patrick, I just can't,” Ryan says, breathless.

  "Ryan, please...” Patrick pants, his face flushed. The clingy material of his track pants hugs the curve of his hard-on, leaving little to the imagination.

  "I can't leave him, Pat. I'm sorry. I'm not a cheater."

  "I know. It's all right. I'm an idiot."

  Ryan shakes his head. “You're not an idiot, Patrick—and it's not all right."

  Patrick closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “I'll wait for you, Ry. For as long as it takes. And when you're ready—I'll be here."

  Ryan bites his lip. Patrick's eyes are honest, unwavering. Steady. “I'm sorry,” Ryan whispers, as he turns and runs back onto the street. Ryan runs, on and on, pushing himself harder and faster, his legs burning, heart pounding. He runs until he reaches home.

  Twenty

  Ryan walks slowly up to the front door of the home he's shared with Daniel for the last three years. He hesitates, his key already in the lock, trying to still the wild thumping of his heart, not just from running. Ryan can't believe that he's actually thinking of leaving Daniel. He tries out the phrases in his head. 'I'm sorry. I met someone. I can't do this anymore.' No matter how he puts it, it doesn't sound like his voice.

  Ryan throws his keys on the hall table. There is a delicious aroma in the air, and Ryan follows his nose. His favorite AFI CD is playing. Who is here? The apartment is normally silent, sterile. Disused, like his dick. Ryan throws his running shoes in the closet and checks for a guest's coat. Nothing different, just his own assortment of jackets and Daniel's single aging leather one. No interest in clothes. No interest in anything. Ryan spots something bright on the dining room table, and pads along the hallway.

  A vase of Black-Eyed Susans and lavender sits on the table—Ryan's favorite flowers. In the midst of the blooms, a card. ‘Thank you', it reads. Ryan stares at it.

  "I made dinner. I hope you're hungry.” Daniel is leaning against the kitchen door, smiling sheepishly, wearing jeans and an apron that reads No Bitchin in my Kitchen. Under the apron are his bare, hairless chest, still brown from the summer, slender body, lean shoulders. Ryan's breath catches in his throat.

  "Who's here?” asks Ryan, stupidly.

  "No one. Just me,” Daniel shrugs.

  "The flowers...?” Ryan is still holding the card.

  "From me, to you,” Daniel says, simply. “For being so patient with me, all this time."

  "Are you ... are you feeling better?” Ryan asks. Daniel peels himself off the door and pushes it open. A waft of cooking fills the room.

  "A little. The queer guy at the gym really knows what he's doing.” Daniel busies himself with plates. “Come on, I made crêpes."

  The queer guy. Ryan is assaulted by a sudden urge to giggle, but stifles it.

  Twenty-One

  The crêpes are delicious. Ryan is starving and can't help but bolt them down.

  "Hungry?” Daniel remarks, with a smirk. Ryan looks up and smiles. For the first time in a year, there's a glimmer of his Daniel; the sweet, sparkling, funny Daniel he fell in love with. Ryan turns the silver ring on his finger—the promise ring that he and Daniel exchanged, two years ago this week. I promise to love you, forever, no matter what.

  "Do you love him?” Daniel says quietly, stirring his latte.

  "What?” Ryan swallows hard. Good thing he's sitting down, because his knees have just turned to wat
er.

  "Patrick. Do you love him?” Daniel stares into his coffee cup. As usual, he's not eating: loss of appetite, a side-effect of the drugs.

  "I don't know,” Ryan says. He closes his eyes, and rakes his fingers through his hair, then over his face.

  "Do you love me?” Daniel asks. Ryan dare not look up.

  "Yes,” Ryan whispers, into his clammy palms. As soon as the word leaves his lips, Ryan knows that it is true.

  Daniel gets up, walks around the table, takes off his apron and tosses it aside. He sits across Ryan's lap, straddling him. “Show me,” he whispers.

  Ryan looks up into Daniel's earth-brown eyes. The deep well of passion that took Ryan by surprise when they first met is still there, somewhere; just waiting for Ryan to drink from the cool water. Daniel shifts a little on Ryan's lap, and traces his finger down the side of Ryan's cheek, lips parted, dark eyes roving over Ryan's face, as though seeing him for the first time.

  Twenty-Two

  Ryan's limbs are heavy with the weight of desire unexpressed for so long. He sits, helpless, arms hanging at his sides as Daniel kisses him. Oh, those lips—Ryan has forgotten how soft they are, how their fullness captures Ryan's mouth, teasing his lips apart. Ryan opens his mouth on an in-breath, and lets Daniel in.

  Ryan closes his eyes. Daniel's tongue traces the line of his teeth, then gently pushes into Ryan's mouth, testing, tasting. Daniel reaches up and cards his fingers through Ryan's hair, down to the nape, then settling on his neck just above his shoulder line. “Please, Ryan...” Daniel whispers.

  Daniel's words wake Ryan from his paralysis. He wraps his arms around Daniel's waist and stands up, lifting Daniel bodily from the chair. Daniel clings to Ryan's shoulders, his thighs gripping Ryan's hips as Ryan walks him backwards, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot. Ryan lays Daniel gently down on the bed, being careful to brace his weight with his elbows, to not lie too heavily on Daniel's slender frame. Ryan runs an exploratory hand across Daniel's chest, brushing softly across his nipples. Usually this is when Daniel says he's tired, or his skin hurts, or he feels sick.

  "I want to feel again, Ry, touch me...” Daniel murmurs. He brings his leg up, curling it around Ryan's hip. A moan escapes Ryan's lips and he nuzzles Daniel's neck, kissing and stroking, moving down Daniel's chest, kissing each bit of skin as he goes. Daniel's skin tastes so good. Ryan feels himself getting hard, and wonders briefly where this is going. Will Daniel suddenly turn him away? Ryan sighs against Daniel's navel and kisses there, flicking his tongue into the dip of it. Daniel moans softly, and Ryan looks up. Daniel is rubbing his face, raking his fingers through his own hair, pulling and twisting at it fitfully.

  "I want you, baby,” Ryan murmurs, kissing a trail down Daniel's stomach to the edge of his jeans waistband. “I need you. I need to be able to love you.” Ryan is taking a risk, he knows, but he has to be sure. His hard-on pushes painfully against the fabric of his track pants.

  "I know,” whispers Daniel, moving his hips under Ryan. “I need you, too."

  Ryan takes a breath. His decision is made.

  Twenty-Three

  Ryan runs his palm over the front of Daniel's jeans. Daniel squirms and huffs, his eyes squeezed closed. Ryan kisses Daniel's fly, and nuzzles his crotch with his face. Under the denim, Daniel is beginning to harden—the first time since his diagnosis that he's been able to get an erection—the side-effects of those damn drugs. Ryan undoes the buttons, slips his hand in and palms Daniel. The fabric of his underwear is warm, stretched as his cock grows against Ryan's fingers. Daniel makes soft gasping sounds and twines his fingers into Ryan's hair.

  Ryan pulls off Daniel's jeans and underwear, and kisses the long, thick shaft that greets his eyes. He's forgotten how beautiful Daniel's cock was. Ryan kisses its length, pausing to run his lips over the pearl of pre-come seeping from the tip, then slicking it over Daniel's full crown, opening his mouth and taking it in.

  Daniel cries out.

  Ryan's mouth waters. He laps around Daniel's crown, tasting his flavor, relishing the size of him, the texture, the shape in his mouth. Ryan sucks Daniel's cock down. It fills his mouth, so good, oh so good.

  Daniel flails his arms this way and that, his legs seeming to move of their own accord, thighs falling open, knees bending up. He pushes his hips up, plunging into Ryan's mouth. “Oh, God, please ... oh baby please...” Daniel pants, clutching at Ryan's hair.

  Ryan sucks, harder now, deeper. Grasping Daniel's shaft at the base, cupping his balls, sucking hard. He wants to taste, wants to feel Daniel's release, wants to know him again. Ryan moans onto Daniel's cock as he feels it pulse and rear in his mouth. Daniel's balls tighten and he starts to thrash and moan, pulling and twisting Ryan's hair, moving his legs randomly, arching his back and thrusting into Ryan's mouth.

  "Fuck, ohh fuck baby, ohh...” Daniel gasps. Ryan seals his lips around Daniel's cock and sucks it down, swallowing onto the head, tasting the subtle change as Daniel's climax approaches. Ryan's own cock pulses inside his pants, craving release—but he must wait. He must be patient.

  "Oh Ry ... Ry love you ... ohh love you so much ... love you ... oh God, I'm coming...” Daniel babbles, twisting his fingers in Ryan's hair and pushing, thrusting. A wordless moan and Daniel comes, his cock rearing and pulsing hot cream into Ryan's mouth.

  Ryan swallows, the taste so good in his mouth, on his tongue, down his throat. Daniel's cock throbs in his mouth, come still pumping out. Ryan cleans him, sucking gently, licking up the last of it. It's been so long.

  Ryan holds Daniel tight while his resolution washes over him, rocking and soothing, their hearts pounding together. The sheet under them is rucked up, the pillows thrown to the side. Daniel clings to Ryan, panting for breath. Then suddenly, Daniel's asleep.

  Ryan nuzzles his face into Daniel's soft hair. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.” His cock is hard enough to drill concrete, but there's nothing he can do. Daniel is asleep. Ryan lays him down gently, and pulls the covers over them both. He closes his eyes, and wraps his arms around Daniel.

  Twenty-Four

  Ryan wakes. The light is still on, and he gets up and switches it off. The bedroom is hot, and Ryan strips off his track pants and t-shirt, then slips back into bed beside Daniel. Daniel stirs in his sleep, and Ryan presses against him. Ryan is still hard, and the deep ache, knowing he can't just wake Daniel for sex, is sheer agonizing hell. It wouldn't be like this with Patrick, Ryan thinks. He could just fuck Patrick, anytime, anywhere. It would be what he needed, all the time. It would be...

  "Fuck me, Ryan.” The whisper, like a voice out of a faraway dream, jolts Ryan out of his musings.

  "What?” Ryan says, almost to himself.

  "You heard,” Daniel murmurs, his voice rich with desire and a touch of amusement. “And don't pretend you're not hard, I can feel you. Just take me, Ryan, I'm yours. Fuck me.” Daniel turns in bed, onto his stomach and spreads his thighs, arching his bottom upwards.

  "Oh, God, baby,” Ryan breathes, rolling over and sliding his hand up the inside of Daniel's thigh. “Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. Surer than you are, I think. Jade said that sex would do me more good than all the anti-depressants in the world. Natural endorphins, you know—the best drug."

  "Baby...” Ryan whispers, his cock leaking at the sight of Daniel's spread legs, soft balls, gorgeous ass. He pats Daniel's buttocks gently, then strokes down his cleft, parting his cheeks and slowly fingering Daniel's tight pucker. It's been over a year.

  Ryan fumbles in the drawer for lube and a condom. His heart is pounding at the thought of coming inside Daniel. He wonders for a second if Patrick would bottom. Not likely. Ryan squeezes out a quarter-sized blob of lube and spreads it on his fingers, then strokes his middle finger around Daniel's rim. Daniel makes a low humming sound and parts his legs wider, arching his back and offering Ryan his ass. Ryan slides his middle finger in, and gently strokes the soft walls of Daniel's rectum. Daniel hums.

 
"Oh, Daniel...” Ryan sighs, trying a second finger. Daniel makes a mewing sound, cries out a little, then resumes humming. Ryan pushes his fingers in deeper, stretching Daniel, getting him ready. Daniel turns his face to the side, long sooty lashes brushing against light mocha skin. Ryan reaches up and kisses his cheek. Daniel smiles, and stretches like a cat, his exhale turning to a moan as Ryan strokes him deep inside. Ryan withdraws his fingers and rips open the condom package, squeezing out the air at the tip and rolling it on. His cock beads pre-come as he slides the latex down the shaft. Daniel is breathing fast.

  "Ry, please, I need to feel you, please...” Daniel pants, kneeling up now, his arms hooked around his pillow. Ryan kneels behind Daniel and slicks some lube onto the condom, then strokes Daniel's rim with the head of his cock. Ryan feels Daniel suck in a breath. Slowly, gently, Ryan presses into Daniel, listening to his breathing, pushing deeper as he breathes in, stopping as he breathes out. Ryan moans softly as his cock fills Daniel. So long, it's been so long. Oh, baby...

  Ryan pants, open-mouthed, holding Daniel's hips as he thrusts rhythmically in and out, his heart pounding faster, faster. Daniel's body sucks his cock in each time, squeezing and milking Ryan, the pleasure building at the base of Ryan's cock, his balls rising, tightening. Daniel moans wildly, clutching at his pillow as Ryan fucks him.

  Ryan tries to speak, tries to form words, to tell Daniel how much he loves him, how much he needs this. But there are no words; just pants and gasps and low moans and wild cries. The feeling hovers, waiting. Ryan moans, thrusting deep into Daniel, who pushes back against him, bucking and moaning into his pillow. Ryan rakes his fingers through Daniel's hair and down his back, around and over his stomach, everywhere his hand can reach. Just touching, stroking, loving. Daniel is moaning continuously now. The feeling rises, and there's no stopping it this time; Ryan cries out as it swirls through the root of his cock, then flows along the shaft, growing in intensity, oh so good ... ohh yes ... oh God ... oh fuck ... surging into his head and oh god, I'm gonna come ... baby coming ... oh I'm coming ... ohhhh...