Handle Me

Ronan

The moment my back hit the mattress, everything around me blurred. The low hum of the air conditioner, the faint music from the bar below, the flickering shadows on the wall—it all disappeared under the weight of Liam’s body as he leaned over me.

His hands, hesitant at first, pressed to my chest. I felt the tremble in his touch, not from fear but restraint. We were both holding back in different ways—for different reasons. My pulse thundered beneath his fingers, a frantic beat that betrayed how far gone I already was.

He looked at me, eyes searching mine for something—permission, maybe. Or assurance that I wasn’t about to throw another fit and shove him away. I gave neither. I just lay there, still and silent, letting the moment drag out.

Then his hand slid down, slow and deliberate, leaving heat in its wake. I clenched my jaw, biting back a groan as his fingers brushed the waistband of my shorts. My body bucked slightly, the drug still pulsing through my system, making me hypersensitive to every damn touch.

"This doesn't mean anything," I ground out, my voice hoarse.

Liam let out a breath that was half a laugh, half a sigh. "I know," he said quietly.

He moved lower.

Liam's hand finally slid beneath the waistband of my shorts, his fingers wrapping around the hard length he found there. I hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Why the fuck does this feel so good? This is supposed to be disgusting for fuck's sake!

My cock throbbed in his tight grip, already leaking precome. Every stroke had me spiraling. The straight guy act was crumbling fast, and fuck if I could stop it. But I don't need to worry since today will be the last time. Wait, at the same time, I do want to stop. I want to stop this disgusting shit.

"Stop," I gasped, but my hips betrayed me, thrusting into his hand.

Liam's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more confident and deliberate. He knew he had me right where he wanted me—hard and desperate.

I hissed, watching his hand work my length. His thumb spread the bead of precome around my crown, making me buck like a damn virgin. My body was taut, muscles clenched.

"This doesn't make me gay," I told him sharply.

"Right, because getting off to a guy's touch definitely doesn't make you gay," Liam muttered, rolling his eyes but never breaking rhythm.

"I'm not gay," I gritted out, hips pumping into his tight grip. "You can touch a guy's dick without being fucking homo."

Liam threw his head back and laughed, his thumb rubbing the tip of my length, making my hips jerk.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Liam said, still chuckling. He leaned down, his warm breath ghosting over my length. "Let's see how straight you are when my mouth is on your dick." Before I could respond, he wrapped his lips around me, sucking me deep.

I threw my head back, biting my lip to suppress a moan. The sensation of his hot mouth enveloping me was overwhelming. His tongue swirled around the sensitive head, and I could feel my resolve crumbling with every suck.

"Fuck," I muttered.

"Certainly not a gay sound," Liam murmured around my length, his hands gripping my thighs to pull me closer.

He could feel me hitting the back of his throat, and he swallowed around me. "Still straight?" he asked, lifting his head briefly. "Still not gay? Or maybe not bi?"

From the look on his face, I could tell he was just pulling my legs but I swear, I wasn't in the mood for that. I was tired of him saying it already! But I certainly won't be tired of denying it.

"Fuck you..." I panted out, my hands tangling involuntarily in his hair. Every thrust into his mouth destroyed the walls of my denial. How could something this wrong be this good?

"I'm... not..." my voice broke as he hollowed his cheeks, creating delicious suction "Shit..."

"Not gay," Liam repeated sarcastically, taking me deep again. His nose nudged my lower abdomen, his fingers massaging my balls. "But you like this, don't you?" He pulled back, letting my length slap against his chin. "Me sucking your dick off."

I sat up straight, heart racing. The sight of Liam's face, glistening with spit and precome, nearly made me unravel. I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him back. "I'm married," I ground out, panicked. "To... to your sister. Let's just get straight to the fucking point and leave here already."

Liam stood, slow and sure, and began to undress—peeling off each layer like he wanted me to feel it, not just see it. My eyes didn’t leave him. Couldn’t. His movements were unhurried, deliberate. He knew what he was doing, and fuck, I was letting him.

When he was just in his briefs, he came to me quietly, confidently and climbed onto my lap like he belonged there. His skin was warm against mine, and he smelled like danger and something sweeter underneath.

He leaned in, lips brushing my ear as he murmured, "I hope you can top well."

I went rigid.

The fuck kind of question was that?

My jaw ticked, and I met his gaze, hard. "I top anything I damn well want."

Liam didn’t flinch. He just smiled, slow and wicked, like that’s exactly the answer he’d been hoping for. Then, as if sealing the deal, he whispered—

"Good… because I’m a bottom. I like getting fucked hard. Just never thought I'll be making a straight guy in there."

I didn't know why that almost made me come right there and then. 'I like getting fucked hard.'

My hands slid down to his hips, gripping him harder than I meant to, but he didn’t flinch. He just stared at me like he knew exactly what kind of fire he’d just lit.

"You like pushing buttons, huh?" I muttered, voice low and tight.

Liam tilted his head, eyes full of something too confident. "Only the ones that get a reaction."

I leaned in, brushing my mouth close to his jaw, not kissing, not yet—just hovering in that space where breath meets skin.

"You think I can’t handle you?"

"Yes," he replied, lips twitching, "I’m hoping you can shut me up."

That did it.

I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in, kissing him like it was a fight, not a promise. His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to make me growl.

"Try me," I said against his mouth, my voice rough with want—not need, never that. Just raw, unfiltered lust.

No feelings. No confusion. Just this. But damn! I was... kissing him. A fucking gay...