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A/N: It’s been forever since I last posted a story on here. And…this is going to be the last one 🙁
For my old readers, and new, I am still writing (and still writing for free as I haven’t, as of yet, made that jump to pro). See my profile for details on where you can find me, if you’re interested.
The story below is my latest. I’m sharing with you guys as a parting gift since you all have been so awesome to me throughout the years with your support and feedback.
Love you all (but hopefully this isn’t goodbye ¦),
Seventeen. That was how old the kid looked. At the most.
In all honesty, that was probably being entirely too generous.
With his long, gangly limbs, messy spikes of dark hair, juvenile wardrobe and general appearance of being uncomfortable in his own skin, it was more likely that he was only fifteen or sixteen. Regardless, however old he was, it was apparent that the kid was months away from the minimum age of eighteen required for admittance to Wolf’s Den.
Ryder, however, didn’t show the kid to the door and then push him through it into the parking lot beyond like he normally did with the underage. The teens of Felix, and the surrounding towns, those who weren’t preoccupied with gaining access to the twenty-one and up clubs, liked sneaking into the first sex shop to ever open up in ultra conservative Rixley County. Six months and the thrill still hadn’t worn off for them yet. Like clockwork, a handful showed up together in a sniggering, giggling group every Friday night after the high schools all played their football games, whether the team they had been rooting for won or lost and whether it was foul or nice out. It said something that Ryder was on a first name basis with quite a few of them despite never having seen any of them outside of the store, being significantly older than them all and there also being less than zero appeal for him when it came to getting acquainted with very much illegal ass.
This kid, though, this kid Ryder had never seen before. And it was only Wednesday. And the kid was by himself. It was also hours past curfew. All of that right there was almost enough to pique Ryder’s curiosity into letting the kid stay. But what really tilted the scales in the kid’s favor was the fact that he seemed very engrossed by the backs of two bottles of pills, both of which guaranteed to enlarge his penis.
Yeah, Ryder didn’t always understand what went on in his mind. Didn’t even try to.
Both of the pills were crap, neither worked. Pipe dreams sold in neat packaging. Worse yet, they weren’t even a money maker for Wolf’s Den. Only reason they carried them in the first place, along with all the other herbs, vitamins, hormones, and lotions in the same family, was because Ryder’s little sister Avery had insisted on ordering them. Under the guise that there were bound to be some men around in need of such desperate remedies. She had voiced a very strong opinion on those men being able to find what they wanted as easily as the other men who came to Wolf’s Den (who favored pornos with big breasted women, the bigger the better), the female population in general (who really liked their bullets) and the straight/gay/bisexual/bicurious boys and girls (who seemed to all want the big, enormous, stretch your ass ’til it splits open, fuck yeah dildos).
Considering she was a silent partner in Wolf’s Den (You have to let me in on this with you, Ryder, whether you want to or not, because you know that werewolf owned businesses are also family and pack owned businesses), Ryder unfortunately had to cater to some of Avery’s whims. Despite her reasoning, at times, being complete bullshit, like on this particular matter. Ryder hadn’t called her out on it, because there were certain things he refused to think about when it came to his baby sis, but their older sister Taylor sure had. Plain and simple, Avery just wanted an easy way to know who to avoid when she prowled the streets looking for a dude to give her a good, hard fuck.
Well, Ryder had to give credit where credit was due. Avery had actually been right about there being an interest. At least when it came to one person.
Another few seconds passed and Ryder had just about reached the point of approaching the kid to see if he maybe needed some assistance. Of course, that was when the kid nodded to himself, a firm up and down of his head, and returned the bottle of pills in his right hand to the shelf. He approached the counter Ryder stood behind and set his choice down on top of the backlit glass case which displayed a variety of miscellaneous objects from sex cards to penis shaped lollipops.
Rather than complete the transaction, Ryder stared at the kid.
Unaware, the kid looked down, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray hoodie as he rocked back and forth on his feet. Probably going over and over in his head the promises Zytenz made of Maximum Strength Male Enhancement Lara Travesti and a A Better Sex Life.
Eventually, as they both continued to stand there, silent, an embarrassed flush crept up the kid’s neck to stain his freckled jaws and cheeks. A pink tongue darted out to moisten slightly chapped lips that belonged to a wide, generous mouth. Questioning bluish-green eyes rose to meet Ryder’s gaze.
And, just like that, it hit Ryder.
Jesus, jailbait was not his style. Never had been. But, damn, if this kid wasn’t the reason behind Ryder’s cock getting so hard it pressed up painfully against the back of his zipper.
“Is, um, is something wrong?” the kid asked, voice surprisingly deep, just an octave or so higher than Ryder’s.
Arms folded across his chest, and Ryder didn’t miss the way the kid eyed his muscles for just a little too long or how he flushed even more red afterwards or how his heart rate picked up before he jerked his attention down towards his feet, Ryder said, “Interesting choice there.”
The kid looked up at Ryder again, eyes all pretty and wide with animation. “It was this or Ron Jeremy’s line and, I don’t care if he does actually have a nine and three-quarter inch dick, I just can’t make myself trust him, know what I mean? Have you seen him? He—” Mid-sentence, the kid broke off from continuing with that line of thought. “Sorry, don’t mean to ramble on about, well, uh, about penis enlargement products.” His shoulders rose up and down in a sheepish, self-conscious gesture. “It’s just, y’know, this one seemed to be the best out of all the options available.”
“This stuff doesn’t actually work.” Ryder didn’t even bother picking up the hand scanner, he just bagged the bottle without ringing it up. He slid the bag across the counter until it sat right on the edge, in front of the kid.
“I was planning on paying for that,” the kid said. He yanked his hands out of his pockets, his wallet in one. He flipped it open and pulled out two twenties. “I didn’t come in here expecting freebies, man.”
“I’m not going to charge you for this crap.” Ryder folded his arms across his chest a second time (just so he could see the kid react again and the kid did not disappoint), then took a step back, away from the proffered bills. “Already told you, they don’t work, so, really, you’re doing me a favor by taking them out of here. Less stock I have to keep up with.” After thinking on it for a brief moment, Ryder added, “But I do need to see some ID.”
If Ryder’s request was just for the purpose of verifying exactly how off limit the kid was, well, no one had to know that but Ryder’s dick.
A smile played at the edges of the kid’s mouth as he put his money away. “I know I don’t look it, but all this right here?” He made an up and down motion to encompass his entire body. “Totally legal.”
“Good for you. ID.”
The driver’s license the kid placed in the center of the counter caused Ryder’s eyebrows to shoot up. Jailbait was actually not jailbait. At twenty-one, Seraphin J Testa was five years younger than Ryder’s own twenty-six, but he was also very much of age.
And one sniff was all Ryder needed to establish the existence of a mutual attraction.
Ryder cleared his throat. “Sera—”
“Whoa, stop right there. It’s Ace, okay. Just Ace.” Broad hands equipped with long, slender, capable fingers picked up the ID and put it away. And a pained grimace flittered across the kid’s—Ace’s—expressive face. “I will never forgive my parents for slapping that atrocity on me. Especially not since the damn sadists still think it’s hilarious that they named me Serpent, but that everyone under the sun thinks my name is one letter off from meaning Angel, which is freaking annoying because, in the literal sense, Seraphim also means Burning Ones and Serpent, just like Seraphin does.”
“Uh-huh, I get all of that, but Ace?”
“Seraphin, man, do I really need to say anything more?”
“Point,” Ryder said, amused. “Are you a Testa as in—”
“The Mayor’s kid? Yep, that would be me. Mayor Testa’s son. The not Angel.” Chirps sounded from the pocket of Ace’s hoodie resulting in him pulling out his cell. He swiped the screen, then spent a few seconds reading before stuffing it, along with his wallet, right back where he had pulled them both out from. “Hey, look, I gotta go.” Ace grabbed the bag from the counter. “The Supreme Serpent Master himself requests I stop by tonight for dinner with him and my mother.”
Whole body lighting up and leaning towards Ryder, Ace asked, “You a fan?”
Ryder shrugged. “Casually.”
“Dude, you could so be my new forever bro. Because, man, I’ve been trying to get my best friend Walker into Star Wars for years and he still has yet to watch the movies, much less read the comics, and with him off in Massachusetts living with his girlfriend now…” Ace walked to the shop’s exit and pushed the door open. Manavgat travesti He stepped over the threshold. “Yeah, I guess sometimes I just find myself wishing for a friend who still lives right here in Felix with me and who shares some of the same interests that I do.”
As the door slowly swung shut behind Ace, ushering him out into the night, Ryder said, “No matter what you think, what you have is more than enough to satisfy someone somewhere.”
Ace paused for a moment just outside of Wolf’s Den before finally making his way over to a beat up black POS, unsurprisingly the sole vehicle in the lot this time of night other than Ryder’s mustang. Ryder suspected he had been thinking on Ryder’s parting words. Just as Ryder was currently thinking about what Ace had last said to him.
There was no part of Ryder that wanted to be Ace’s friend.
Get to know him better? Yes. Possibly start something meaningful with him. Yes. Fuck him? Jesus fuck yes.
But to just be friends? That’s it? Not happening. Ace’s scent, his arousal, was a heady and intoxicating spicy sweetness that was way too tempting for Ryder to not want more.
Ryder had spent the first fifteen years of his life in Felix. In a big, sprawling house that was still there, another family now claiming it as their home. So he had a passing familiarity with how things worked in Felix even though he’d left for New York eleven years ago to make a new life with his two sisters and Uncle George, the four of them needing change after having survived the horrific car accident on a road covered with black ice that ended up killing Abigail and John Cunningham, Ryder’s parents.
Felix was, essentially, a small city. And life in the small city meant gathering information on Ace was simple as Ryder mentioning him to the right people. In this case, the right people turned out to be the friends Ryder had made since moving back. The next time they all showed up to his loft, located right above Wolf’s Den, for a night of beer, movies and poker, Ryder picked their brains to see just what all they knew about Ace.
“As in Testa? The Mayor’s son?” Wesley asked before taking a healthy swallow of his beer. “We all went to high school with him. Hey, Amy, you remember Ace, right? Talked non-stop. Spastic. Arms and legs were always flying all over the place.” A wide smile broke out across Wesley’s face. “Oh, man, of course you remember him. I almost forgot that you used to have the biggest crush on him.”
Amy reentered the living room from the kitchen, a bottle of water in hand. She plopped down on the couch next to Wesley. Punched him in the leg to make him move over. “Yeah, I liked Testa a little bit back in the day, so what. I wasn’t the only one.” A pointed look was directed towards Rustin. “I just went about my crush in a little less pulling pigtails kind of way than some other people who are also in this room with us tonight and who shall remain nameless.”
“Ugh, Ace, he was, like, asexual or aromantic or, I don’t know, something,” Rustin complained from where he was sprawled out on the floor, one hand lazily rubbing circles on the skin of his stomach exposed by his rucked up shirt. “I knew that there was something going on with him, something odd, but I never knew what that something was exactly. Hey, fun fact, Ace was actually the one who encouraged Walker to go after Eva Smith when she broke shit off with Jason that last time. Walker told me that himself when I ran into him at the mall a couple years back. And that’s just—”
“Strange,” Amy interrupted. “Ace worshipped not only the ground Eva walked on, but the combat boots she wore while doing it. She was the only person he ever looked at that way.”
“So what about you two, then?” Ryder asked. “And anyone else who was interested in him?”
“Didn’t exist, at least not sexually,” Amy said at the same time Rustin answered, “Friend zoned.” They hadn’t even exchanged a glance with one another before reaching that almost accord.
Two weeks later, as Ryder watched Ace enter Wolf’s Den again, he had to wonder if he maybe had an understanding about Ace that Ryder’s friends did not despite them having known him for years longer. Ace outwardly appeared to be friendly and outgoing. Engaging. Quick to laugh, fast to smile.
Ryder was also willing to bet that he had some serious insecurities which ran deep.
“Dude,” Ace said, marching right up to Ryder. He dropped the bottle of Zytenz onto the glass counter which separated them. “These don’t work. Like, at all. And there’s a ninety day satisfaction guarantee, I Googled it, so I want my money back.”
“You didn’t pay for them.”
“You’re not supposed to argue with the customers. That’s the number one rule of good customer service.”
“To say you’re a customer implies that you actually bought something.” Lips quirked up at the corners, Ryder said, “You? Did not. Pay for them.”
“Bad business, Side travesti man, bad business.” Laughing, Ace turned around and headed to the back of store. Stopped in front of the furthermost wall.
And Ryder rubbed a thumb and forefinger over his eyes to clear his sight. Which—nope, didn’t help. Not one bit.
“Master gauge. Finger grip. Jackmatic.” From where he stood in front of all the penis pumps, Ace yelled, “Hey, big guy, lots and lots of choices back here, so you mind letting me in on which one of these will give me the best bang for my buck? Just so you know, best bang in this scenario is me gaining an inch or, y’know, enough to impress a chick when I helicopter dick.”
“Jesus Christ, just pick one. They all do the same thing.”
“Just pick one, he says,” Ryder heard Ace mutter under his breath, the comment clearly not meant for Ryder’s ears. “They all do the same thing, he says. Easy, coming from a guy who’s probably lugging around a Boeing 747 in those tight ass jeans of his.”
Thinking about Ryder’s “airplane” must have been enough to turn Ace on, because his spicy sweet arousal filled the air. Ryder’s dick reacted predictably. It lengthened and thickened. Reduced the space in Ryder’s jeans and forced him into taking advantage of Ace’s preoccupation to reposition himself in an effort to make things a little more comfortable below the belt.
“All right, I’m going with the Precision Pump.” This time Ace spoke loud enough that it was obvious Ryder was supposed to overhear what he’d just said.
And when he approached the counter with his selection in hand, Ryder said, “Take it, it’s yours.”
“Not charging me for this one, either?” The expression on Ace’s face was skeptical.
And Ryder was glad for it. Much softer landing on the ass from there down to reality than from way up on hopeful. “This pump,” Ryder warned, “while it may make your penis appear larger temporarily, overusing it can cause potential tissue damage that ultimately ends with you and erection problems.”
Ace visibly recoiled. “Jeez, never let it be said that you’re not a buzzkill, Buzzkill.”
“Ryder,” Ryder replied, earning himself a smile. “I’m just saying be careful, that’s all.” And as the door to Wolf’s Den slowly swung shut behind Ace Testa for the second time in as many weeks, Ryder said, to himself, “I really hope whoever you’re doing all this for is worth it.”
Because Ryder didn’t think they were. Not if they didn’t appreciate Ace the way Ryder knew he would if given half the chance, just the way Ace came, no changes required.
A week and a half later, when Ace showed up for the third time, with a bowed head and wide shoulders hunched all the way up to his hairline projecting some serious dejection, all Ryder said was, “My loft is right upstairs and I have an unopened bottle of Absolut.”
Two shots of Vodka loosened Ace up enough for him to start emoting all over the place. His eyes weren’t glassy and his speech wasn’t slurred, meaning this wasn’t a case of impaired drunk talk, so Ryder didn’t deflect when Ace opened with, “I shouldn’t even be thinking about telling you this.”
“Tell me anyway.” Ryder was sitting on a high stool, his back to the bar height counter which designated where the living room ended and the kitchen began. His bent elbows were propped behind him on the granite surface of the counter’s top.
Ace was slouched down on the couch, long legs splayed open. His head was tilted to the side, laid against the plush, microfiber cushion of the arm. “I’m an embarrassment. To myself.”
“Hmm.” The choice to not saying anything more was a calculated move. This was Ace’s story and Ryder was going to let him tell it. At some point, though, sooner rather than later, Ryder was going to take over. Instinctual demands.
“I’m a twenty-one year old virgin, the only one in Felix probably.” Ace blew out a long, frustrated sigh. “Sad, right?”
“I said unusual and that’s what I meant.” Feet unhooked from the bottom rungs of his seat, Ryder hopped down and crossed the short distance to the couch. He removed the empty shot glass from Ace’s lax fingers, then placed it on the coffee table, safely out the way. As he sat next to Ace, he was careful to leave some space between them, even if it was only a couple inches. “You dating someone right now?”
“Besides my right hand?” Ace scoffed. “Yeah, my left.”
“Then who are you going through all of this for? Who’s made you so unhappy with yourself?”
“No one but me, just me.” Long, thick lashes brushed Ace’s cheeks when his lids fluttered shut. “My dick? Teeny, tiny, man, microscopic, minuscule. Diminutive even.” He snorted. “Lilliputian. Yeah, that’s it exactly, my dick is lilliputian.”
“Dude, don’t even try and change my mind. It’s way too late for that. Me and my dick have decided, okay. Of one mind, we are. And we have recognized that he is descended from the land of Lilliput.”
And Ryder was done. He didn’t care what was, or wasn’t, between Ace’s legs. Ace was untouched and his smell, his want, his need, it was all so fucking right. Ace smelled like he belonged to Ryder.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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