Page 38 of Stroke Rate

Frozen in place, River’s chest seared with the realization. For so long, he had been detached and untethered; his heart floating around like a balloon without a string. And now that he had found Chris, his chest felt full and tethered with a sense of belonging and weighty responsibility. River had missed being a ‘we.’ Since the moment River watched the life drain from Coop’s eyes, he ached with the loss of feeling important to another, the loss of tending to another's needs, the loss of fretting over someone else's wants. To be honest, River was tired of being wrapped up in his own little world. He had spent four years sad and lonely; living in a world of 'me' and not 'we' had been exhausting.

He loved Chris…deeply. The emotions felt alive in the space between them as he watched Chris at the stovetop sauteing vegetables. It made him feel like someone had taken a knife and split him wide, leaving him open, raw, exposed, and gasping with the need to tell Chris how he felt. To pull him close and whisper the words into his mouth. He must have made a noise, because Chris peeked up at him as he checked the chicken and stirred the veggies.

“You okay over there?”

And all River could do was stare, lost for words at the beauty of Chris’ ocean-blue eyes, sparkling and bright, as the late summer sun streamed in through the skylight. River wanted to drown in them, to stay just like that, settled and permanent, cooking dinner together, ‌reading books, talking, laughing, and dancing. God, I am such a fool, River thought as he watched Chris care for him as if it was the easiest thing he had ever done. This sweet man, who had known nothing but anger and manipulation, abuse and strife, but had let none of that tarnish him, meant everything to River.

“Come here, baby.” River stood, making grabby hands over the kitchen counter.

Chris looked over at River and clicked the stove off. “Baby? You haven't called me baby in a bit,” Chris said with a smirk, a little minx of a smile, as his eye danced with a playful glint from River's eyes to his mouth and back again. Humming the familiar tune, Chris swayed his hips as he made his way to River, stopping only when he was right in front of him.

“Dance with me,” River said as he took Chris’ hand and snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him close, letting his senses take over. The scent of Chris’ hair, the softness of his quickened breaths, and his thumb rubbing rhythmically down River’s spine urged him to do what he had longed to do for a month.

“Dance?” Chris laughed as River pulled him closer, kissing his dimple. “What? Riv,” he sighed, and Chris’ warm breath feathered across River’s lips, so close they were breathing the same air.

River whispered, “Dance with me” again as he nosed his way up Chris’ neck, placing little kisses along the tendon that ran to his ear. Chris shivered as their bodies swayed together, moving as though they had done this a million times, and maybe they would. Maybe one day River would look back and remember that moment as the first of a million dances over a lifetime. Please let me keep him.

“What…what’s going on?” Chris said as he melted into River’s embrace, as he squeezed his fingers and laying his head against River’s chest.

“Please. Can we not talk about it?”

“Talk about what, Riv?”

“This, whatever this is. Whatever we are doing, can we just not? Just dance.” River hummed into the crown of Chris’ head.

With a quiet nod, Chris sank further into River’s arms while the gentle melody switched to Bon Iver’s “Skinny Love” playing around them. “What is this music, Riv? It's such old man music,” Chris asked, laughing as River pinched him in his side.

“It's Bon Iver. We've listened to him before. Remember?”

“Ouch, that hurt,” Chris huffed good naturedly, rubbing his hip where River had pinched him. “Oh yeah, he’s the one that recorded this album in a basement in Wisconsin, like some weird hermit? No wonder you like him so much. Ouch!”

“Well, don't be such a little beast and I won't pinch you. This is good music. It's relaxing,” River said, as he met Chris’ gaze, which had a flicker of unease, his eyes appearing to search River's face for something.

“Your voice, Riv. Your voice is getting better,” Chris said, getting onto his tiptoes as he kissed River’s throat. “It's louder, not as whispery," and then River felt the wet heat of Chris’ tongue licking his Adam's apple, causing goosebumps to erupt down his back and his cock to thicken. “It's pretty close to when we met,” he said before sucking over River’s pulse point.

“Is it?” The two words came out breathy and needy, almost squeaky, and River had to restrain himself from grinding his hard length against Chris’ hip.

Chris breathed a soft “hmm” into River's neck, pulling their hips fractionally closer, just enough that their cocks nudged one another. Just enough to make River repress the groan that tried to slip past his lips. Fuck, it felt so good to have him this close again. To feel Chris’ weight against him, to feel the warmth of his body, to breathe in the scent of him this close. Notes of oranges and patchouli and chlorine invaded every bit of air he breathed in.

Pulling back a smidge, just enough to peer down at Chris, River watched as he bit the tip of his tongue and smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was the same thing he had been doing all month. He had tortured River as he teased him with barely there speedos, showing glimpses of his ass and almost revealing his cock. After a month of tender touches, fleeting hand brushes, and comforting embraces, Chris was finally where he always should be. Held in the safety of River's arms.

“You’ve been doing this all month, you know.”

Chris’ eyes danced with laughter; his lips pulled in as if he were trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh. “Doing what, Riv?” He did laugh then, a full belly laugh that vibrated against River’s chest, and oh, how he loved that feeling of Chris being free and silly and young. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it always. Keep it locked away, so on hard days, he could replay it over and over just to hear the pure joy that filled Chris when he laughed.

“This,” River said as he took Chris’ hips in his hands and pulled their groins together. Grinding as he whispered in his ear, "You've been teasing me. All. Month. Long.”

And Chris let out a half-moan, half-laugh as he wiggled his hips and locked his hands around the back of River’s neck, pulling them face-to-face, foreheads and noses resting against one another. “I have,” Chris breathed. “I knew I could wear you down,” he giggled as River growled against his lips. Not kissing, just a press of lips.

"Thank you,” River said.

“For what, Riv?”

“For being patient with me. I'm sure you have been very frustrated,” River said as he pressed his forehead to Chris. “Can I kiss you?" River asked, as Chris nodded his permission. The music faded, and only Chris' sweet moans and whimpers, along with the heavy breaths leaving River’s throat remained. His fingers dug into River’s neck, a desperate grip, as if fearing River would bolt if he loosened his hold. "Shhh, baby, I'm not going anywhere. It's okay," River said into Chris' mouth, as Chris shook his head and pulled them even closer. River let his hands wander under the hem of Chris' shirt, fingers dancing over his flanks and up each ridge of his ribs, feeling the breadth of his muscular shoulders, and down every knob of his spine, before digging his fingers into the dimples at the base of Chris' back.

“Mmph,” a harsh breath left Chris’ lips as he continued his assault on River’s mouth. “More,” he said as he hiked a leg up to River’s hip. “More,” he panted as he ground his erection against River’s. The pleas made River want to drop to his knees right in the kitchen and worship his boy, teasing him just the way he had been teased. Instead, he grabbed Chris’ ass in his hands and lifted him off his feet. Chris ‌locked his legs behind River’s back. “Bed,” he said against River’s lips as he walked them down the hall.

“Yes, bed, you needy little thing.”