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Mel was basking in that contented feeling.

"Wondering, hoping, wishing, wanting, romanticizing, if only, more wondering..."

I think my mouth hung open a little, because I was shell-shocked.

He seemed to shake himself out of it.

"Come on," he said and took my hand.

"Let me put the flower in water," I said.

"Leave it," he said.

I did.

*

The music was amazing. I'm not usually a jazz guy, being more of a classic rock and roll guy myself, but even I could see why these guys were the super famous of the super fame. The weather cooperated and the springtime and open air venue and the light breeze were wonderful but it was Ryan's holding my hand the whole time that made it romantic. Of course it was how he started brushing his thumb over the 'v' of my hand about three quarters of the way through the show that made everything heat up. Holy Bic lighter, did it make everything heat up.

Nobody looked twice at us holding hands or him wearing a gorgeous tux to a casual concert in the park.

But it wouldn't matter if they did, we were in our own world, clear air and the sunset, music wafting over us, and my heart beating faster then it should.

Then when it was nearing the finale he leaned over and spoke right into my ear. He said, "If you've been wanting to hold me for over a year, then it's okay if you don't make me wait any longer before I show you what I can do with my tongue, right?"

My head snapped around to look at him.

"I mean I can do mean things with a cherry stem," he drawled.

I shook my head.

He smiled at me.

We walked the long, long way around the park and the city on the way back to my house. I wasn't hungry for the kind of things you could get in a restaurant so I didn't suggest dinner for our non-date and neither did he. We did less talking then you would think we would have considering how much we were both talkers, it was more like we spent the time drinking each other in.

Ryan held my hand as he walked me to my door. He gave me a wonderful, if somewhat restrained and slightly chaste kiss on my doorstep. Our tongues mingled and there was beauty in it. He hesitated, like he was thinking about work and the world and the consequences and whether or not he should ask himself in.

Fuck that.

I grabbed both his lapels and gave him a huge yank, bringing his chest up against mine. I let go of him only long enough to open my front door and then I yanked him to me again, hard. I grabbed him so hard that we both fell through the threshold, toppled down onto the living room floor. Thank God I sprang for that plush rug last spring. Because we fell hard. Sprang, hard, yum.

"Fuck!" he cursed.

"Yes, let's," I said.

"I don't put out on the first date," he said.

"Me either," I said. "And luckily, this is not a date."

I pushed the door closed with my foot.

I bit his neck. I ran my hands over his chest. "Come on Ryan, help me. Please. Hurry." I pulled his tuxedo jacket off. We kissed. The drugging wonder of it slowed us. We rolled. Him on top, me on top, him on top.

"Mnnnn," I said.

"Yes," he said and there was a growl to his tone. "More." He tugged at my shirt. Ripped it hard, popping some of the buttons. "Get this off."

I pulled it out of my pants and it flung it down next to me faster than an Olympian. Then he was kissing his way down my stomach and I groaned.

"Me first," Ryan said. "I get to suck your cock first," he said.

My eyelids sunk down to half-mast. Yes. Do it.

He had my pants undone and then my cock in his mouth and, God, I knew he'd be like this. Perfect. I grew harder and harder.

"Yeah," I said. "Use your..." but I didn't have to finish the sentence because then he had both his hands in the action. He was using one hand on the lower half of my cock and the other one on my balls. I was going crazy, not only from what he was doing, but from the sight of him, the sight of his head going up and down over my hips, that gorgeous head of brown hair, doing me.

"Wait, Ryan, slower," I cried out. "I don't want to lose it too soon. Shit."

He stopped and smiled up at me.

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