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Hayes nodded and followed his boyfriend to his bedroom.
Climbing into the huge, comfortable bed, he checked his phone on the nightstand as Ryan turned off the light and climbed in on the other side, beginning to slide his way over next to Hayes.
There was one notification.
TK had shared his location.
It was a thing they did sometimes to let each other know that they might need help.
Are We Clear? (29)
Unable to sleep, Ryan got out of his bed and went into his closet, closing the door behind him. He approached the safe, entered the combination, used his fingerprint for two-step verification, and reached inside for his vape pen before closing and locking it again.
His anxiety was currently beating his ass, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn he was in the throes of a heart attack. The thumping in his chest almost unbearable, he tiptoed quietly out of the room, down the hall, and into the living room, where he opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto the balcony. He was wearing only pajama pants, quickly regretting not having thrown on a sweatshirt when his nipples hardened and he got goosebumps.
It was about 3:00 a.m., and the darkness of this complex was one of the things he loved most about it. The only light outside was from the moon and its reflection as it rippled against the bay and it alone provided him with a little relief.
The few puffs of weed he proceeded to take provided him with the rest.
As he felt his heartbeat begin to return to normal, he leaned against the railing and replayed the night’s events in his mind.
The feel of TK’s lips against his, the sight of his boyfriend’s cock in TK’s mouth, the sounds of TK’s whimpers as Ryan fucked into him repeatedly, the sight of TK’s face defiled with both his and Hayes’s cum.
Fuck.
His cock threatened to get hard again just thinking about it. The sound of his boyfriend sobbing, begging him to stop bringing up the mistake he’d made with TK.
Fuck.
Boner averted.
He was going to do better. Hayes deserved better. If Ryan said he was ready, if he claimed to forgive him, then he needed to nut up and own it. Constantly throwing it in his face was wrong, and he was going to make every single effort to make sure it never happened again.
And now that they’d shared TK, that Ryan had gotten what he’d wanted from him, it needed to stop. After this weekend, there could be no more sharing him. And it had nothing to do with Ryan being jealous of him and Hayes.
It had everything to do with the way something had leapt inside Ryan’s chest when he’d pressed his lips to his after blowing all over his face.
The kid was a beautiful, highly addictive drug and Ryan was already fiending for his next hit.
And it wasn’t like…
A light from inside the apartment immediately lit up the entire balcony, which snapped Ryan out of his thoughts. He stuffed the pen in his pocket and headed back inside, unable to see anything because of the reflection on all the glass.
When he got back into the living room, he saw the light was coming from the kitchen. He headed down the hallway to find a shirtless TK sitting on the floor next to the island, his arms wrapped around his knees and breathing wildly.
“Travis?” he asked, as he noticed the tears streaming down his face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s…panic attacks. I…ever since I…stopped, I can’t…I’m sorry,” he choked out between breaths, then dropped his head into his arms.
Ryan lowered himself onto the floor next to him, wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other underneath his bent legs. He lifted the young man onto his lap and spread his legs, leaning back against the island and letting TK’s back fall against his chest. He reached his hands around TK, who gasped. “Sorry, they’re cold. Hey, listen to me. I want you to breathe with me, OK? Listen,” Ryan instructed, as he grabbed one of TK’s hands, placing it on his chest, and grabbed the other, placing it on his stomach. “Deep breath. In for five, hold for five, out for five. Ready?”
Ryan led him through 10 deep breaths, feeling the hand on his stomach rise and fall, just the way Dr. Gephart had taught him. He also could feel that his heartbeat had slowed significantly and his breathing wasn’t as labored. “How do you feel?”
TK let his head fall back onto Ryan’s shoulder and exhaled. “Better. Thanks, baby.”
Baby.
“Ty’s been getting it, too. It’s a side effect from the withdrawal. The buprenorphine and naloxone are supposed to help you wean. ‘Might experience mild anxiety’, they tell you. Meanwhile, it feels like…” TK stopped, as his breath hitched. “You’re being hit by a fucking freight train.”
