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The bass from the party still thrummed through Ryan's skull as he rounded the corner of the frat house, away from the noise and the crowd and Will's smug fucking face.
He'd watched it happen. Watched Will parade around with some other girl just to get a reaction out of Mack, watched Mack's eyes go hollow and his shoulders slump, watched him slip out the back door alone.
Enough.
Ryan had been done for years, but he'd never had the spine to say it. Will had been his friend since they were kids, but friendship was a two-way street, and Will had been acting like a selfish prick for way too long. He'd watched Will pursue Macklin just to win, not because he gave a shit about him, and Ryan had kept his mouth shut, because what could he say? "Hey, you know I'm in love with him, can you at least treat him right?" Pathetic.
But now… Now he found Mack slumped against the side of the dumpster behind the house, knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms. A half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey dangled from his fingers. The green of his eyes was lost behind a sheen of tears and alcohol, and he looked so small under the flickering light of the alley's single bulb.
"Mack." Ryan's voice came out rough. He crouched down, ignoring the stench of garbage and spilled booze. "Hey. Sweetheart, look at me."
Mack lifted his head slowly, blinking as if he couldn't quite focus. "L-Len?" His words slurred. "Did you s—see him? With... with her?"
"Yeah, I saw." Ryan's jaw tightened. Saw Will grind on some random blonde while Mack watched. Saw him laugh when Mack turned away. "Fuck him, Mack. He's a piece of shit."
"Don't—don't say that." Mack's voice cracked. "He's... he's my..."
"He's your what? Your boyfriend? News flash, Mack, boyfriends don't treat you like garbage." Ryan's hand moved before he could stop it, brushing a strand of hair off Mack's forehead. Mack flinched, then leaned into the touch like a starving kitten inching toward a meal.
"'M sorry," Mack whispered. "'M sorry you had to see..."
"No more apologies." Ryan's chest ached. The desire he'd buried for so long clawed its way up his throat, hot and aching. "Let me take care of you, okay? Just... let me."
Mack's eyes searched his, bleary and vulnerable. "Why?"
Because I love you. I've always loved you. And I'm done pretending I don't.
Instead of answering, Ryan slid an arm around Mack's waist and hauled him to his feet. The whiskey bottle clattered to the ground. Mack swayed, his body pressing flush against Ryan's, and the scent of his skin—sweat and whiskey and something clean underneath—hit Ryan like a freight train.
"I'm taking you home," Ryan said. "My place."
Mack didn't argue.
-
His apartment was quiet. Ryan guided Mack to the couch, but Mack stumbled halfway there, catching himself on the kitchen counter. His breath hitched.
"'M sorry," he repeated, voice breaking. "I'm so stupid. I know he's bad for me. I just—I thought maybe if I was good enough..."
Ryan crossed the space in two strides. He cupped Mack's face in both hands, tilting it up, forcing their eyes to meet. The dim light of the kitchen caught the tear tracks on Mack's cheeks, the red rimming his eyes, the raw, open need in his expression.
"Don't be stupid," Ryan said, his voice low and rough. "He's the one who's not good enough for you. And I'm done watching him hurt you."
Something shifted in Mack's gaze, and he looked so lovely and broken it was like taking a hundred knives to the chest. How the fuck had he let this go on for so long? "Len—"
Ryan kissed him, hard and desperate, years of pent-up frustration and longing and silent suffering pouring out through the press of his lips. Mack gasped against his mouth, and Ryan tasted the whiskey, tasted the salt of tears, tasted the faint bitterness of a boy constantly torn apart by someone who didn't deserve him.
Ryan pulled back just enough to breathe. "Tell me to stop," he breathed, even as his hands slid down Mack's sides, even as his fingers found the hem of Mack's shirt. "Tell me no, and I'll stop. Anything you want."
Mack's answer was to grab Ryan's shirt and pull him back in.
Mack was a really good kisser, a little clumsy with his hurt, but earnest, sweet. So desperate to please. Ryan pushed Mack's shirt up, over his head, and Mack let it fall to the ground with a soft thump. Ryan's mouth traced down his jaw, his throat, the hollow where his collarbones met. Mack gasped, his head falling back, his fingers tangling in Ryan's hair.
"Bedroom," Ryan groaned against his skin. "Now."
They stumbled through the doorway, shedding clothes as they went. Mack's belt buckle clinked. Ryan's zipper rasped. By the time they hit the mattress, they were both half-naked, panting, desperate.
Ryan pinned Mack's wrists above his head, looking down at him, at the flush spreading across his chest and the way his cock already strained against his boxers. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that nearly had Ryan breaking, because someone that beautiful should never have to look that scared.
"You're so fucking perfect," Ryan whispered. "He never told you that, did he?"
Mack shook his head, lips trembling.
"Fucking idiot." Ryan lowered his mouth to Mack's nipple, circling the bud with his tongue until it peaked, hard and sensitive. Mack's back arched off the mattress, a broken moan spilling from his lips. His hands, freed from Ryan's grip, flew to Ryan's shoulders, nails digging in.
"L-Len—oh god—"
"Yeah," Ryan breathed against his skin, dragging his mouth lower, tracing the trail of hair that led down Mack's stomach. "That's it, sweetheart, say my name. I want to hear it."
Mack's hips bucked, his cock straining against the damp fabric of his boxers. Ryan hooked his fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, slow, deliberate, revealing Mack inch by inch. The sight made his mouth water. Mack's pretty little cock, flushed and leaking, the head slick and swollen, the shaft thick with need.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this." Ryan's voice was rough, almost a growl. He wrapped his hand around Mack's length, stroking once, twice, watching Mack's eyes roll back. "How many nights I lay in bed thinking about your mouth, your skin, the sounds you'd make."
Mack whimpered, head thrashing on the pillow. "P-please—Len, please—"
Ryan lowered his head. He took Mack into his mouth in one slow, wet glide, savoring the gasp that tore from Mack's throat. He tasted like salt and heat, and Ryan hummed around him, sending vibrations through Mack's entire body. He worked his tongue along the shaft, sucked the head, let his hand stroke what his mouth couldn't cover.
Mack's fingers twisted in Ryan's hair, tugging, pleading. "That's—oh god, that's so good—don't stop, please don't stop—"
Ryan took Mack deeper, relaxing his throat, bobbing his head in a rhythm that made Mack's hips thrust up to meet him. The sounds from Mack's mouth were raw, desperate, broken, the sounds of a boy who'd been denied real pleasure for far too long. Did Will ever do this for him? Ryan doubted it, and the thought made anger burn hot in his chest.
He pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting his lips to Mack's cock. "Not yet, sweetheart," he murmured, crawling up Mack's body, positioning himself between his thighs. "I want to be inside you when you come, okay?"
Mack's eyes went wide, hazy with alcohol and lust. "I—I don't have—"
"Bottom drawer." Ryan leaned over, yanked open the nightstand, and pulled out a bottle of lube and a packet of condoms.
Surprise flickered across Mack's face, and he swallowed thickly. "I-I didn't know you… I m-mean, I thought you only liked girls."
I've only ever liked you. "Guess we're both full of surprises, huh?" Ryan coated his fingers, then reached down, circling Mack's entrance. "Tell me if it's too much."
He slid one finger in, slow. Mack's body clenched, then relaxed, his breath hitching. Ryan worked him open with careful, practiced patience, one finger, then two, scissoring, stretching, finding that spot inside that made Mack cry out and buck. By the time he added a third, Mack was begging.
"P-please, Len, please, I need you—"
Ryan rolled the condom on, slicked himself, and lined up. He paused at the entrance, meeting Mack's eyes. Those gorgeous green eyes, now clear and focused, full of trust, only on him.
"You're sure, baby?" Ryan asked, his voice barely a whisper. "You can still say no if you don't want this. If you aren't sure."
Mack reached up, cupped Ryan's jaw, and pulled him into a kiss. Deep, slow, full of everything words couldn't say. When they broke apart, Mack's lips curved into the first real smile Ryan had seen all night, a little small and shaky, but absolutely breathtaking nonetheless.
"I'm sure," Mack whispered. "I—want you, so please? P-please take me?"
Well, how the fuck was Ryan supposed to say no to that?
The stretch was exquisite. Mack's heat, his tightness, the way his body yielded inch by inch, swallowing Ryan whole. They both groaned, foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged. Ryan stayed still, letting Mack adjust, his thumb stroking Mack's hip.
"L-Len," Mack whined. "Why are you—move, please. Please."
Ryan almost choked on a laugh. God, he was just so fucking cute.
Ryan's movements were slow at first, long strokes that dragged against Mack's walls, hitting deep. Then faster, harder, the bed creaking beneath them, skin slapping against skin. Mack's legs wrapped around Ryan's waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on.
"T-that's—oh fuck, yes, right there—Len, please—"
Ryan's rhythm became frantic, primal. He drove into Mack with everything he had, all the years of silence, all the nights of wanting, all the rage at Will's casual cruelty. Each thrust was a promise: I'm here. I see you. You're mine now.
Mack's hand found his own cock, stroking in time with Ryan's thrusts. His body trembled, his gasps turning into cries. "I—I'm so close—please, I—"
"That's it, come for me, baby." Ryan's voice was shredded, desperate. "Let me feel you."
Mack's back arched, his mouth opening in a silent scream as his orgasm ripped through him. Cum spurted across his stomach, hot and thick, and his ass clenched around Ryan's cock, dragging Ryan over the edge with him. Ryan buried himself deep, groaning Mack's name as he came, waves of pleasure crashing through him like a tide long held back.
They collapsed together, sweaty, trembling, tangled in sheets and each other. Ryan's face pressed into Mack's neck, breathing him in. Mack's hand found its way into Ryan's hair, stroking gently.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Ryan shifted to pull out so he could clean them up and take care of Mack, but Mack latched onto him in a panic, his heart suddenly going so fast.
"W-wait, not yet," Mack begged, his voice cracking. "Can you just—p-please stay? Just for another minute? I kn-know it's selfish, but I'm not—I d-don't want to be alone yet. Please. Just another minute."
Ryan's heart broke. Was that what Mack was used to? Someone fucking him then rolling off to leave him there, used and vulnerable, like a cheap, disposable napkin?
Ryan lifted his head to meet Mack's eyes, cupping one hand against Mack's cheek, needing him to see him. "Baby, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, okay? I was just gonna grab a cloth to clean you up, but I'm staying right here."
Mack's bottom lip trembled, and he searched Ryan's face with such a soft, fragile hope that it nearly ruined him. "Y-you'll stay?"
"Of course." Ryan pressed a kiss to Mack's forehead, then his cheek, then his lips, light and tender. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. I'm never gonna leave you again."
Mack exhaled a tiny little breath, and then he was kissing Ryan too, as if he couldn't find the words to express how much that meant to him so he was desperately trying to show it through this.
Ryan knew this didn't solve everything. There was a huge part of Mack's heart that was still under Will's command, and it was gonna take a shit ton of work to get Mack to see he deserved better and to actually leave him.
But Ryan had always been a quietly patient guy. He didn't need to flaunt a flawless image like Will did, always crafting the perfect mask, telling the perfect story, faking the perfect life. He didn't care about what other people thought about him.
All Ryan wanted was to take care of Mack. And no one, certainly not someone like Will, was going to stop him. Not anymore.