Don’t. The word had been playing over and over in Clifford’s
mind all through lunch, and it was getting so distracting that he was sure
even his grandmother was going to notice eventually. He'd known that agreeing
to have lunch with her and her friend was a bad idea, but when she'd asked
his mind had still been so clouded by a mixture of hormones and confusion
that he hadn't been able to think of an excuse that would get them out of
it. Ricky hadn't been any help either; he hadn't tried to leave again, but
he'd just stood there and let Clifford speak for both of them.
At the time he'd been almost relieved to get out of that room long enough to shake off the tension between them, but instead of making it better lunch had made things even worse. A thousand times worse, because he was pretty sure even his grandmother had noticed the tension between them, and in the half hour they'd been sitting there Ricky hadn't looked at him once.
"You boys," his grandmother said suddenly, making the color in his cheeks blaze all over again when he realized she was staring at him. "Both of you, picking at your food like a coupla birds. What's wrong with you two?"
And he had no idea how to answer that; he was afraid to open his mouth at all, because what was he going to say? Sorry, Gramma, I was too busy wondering why my boyfriend doesn't want to have sex with me. His grandmother was pretty cool, but he knew that wouldn't go over very well. Not to mention that if he actually said something like that out loud Ricky would never speak to him again. He opened his mouth to mumble some excuse, but before he got the words out he heard Ricky's low, quiet voice from across the table.
"It's the heat. Makes you feel kinda sick."
He hadn't expected just the sound of Ricky's voice to make him feel so much better, but the wave of relief that washed over him made him blush even harder. He stole a quick glance across the table, just catching Ricky's gaze before the other boy looked away again. Even that was enough to make him feel a little better, although he wasn't exactly sure why he felt so much better just because Ricky was willing to look at him.
"Why don't ya go swimming or something?" Gramma suggested, raising an eyebrow at Clifford when he looked up at her. "Bet all your friends are already at the lake."
"Yeah, maybe we will. See you later, Gramma," he said, nodding at her friend before he stood up and gave Ricky a meaningful glance. For a second Ricky just looked at him and Clifford wasn't sure if he'd gotten the hint or if he just wasn't planning to follow, but before he had a chance to panic Ricky stood up. He didn't wait for his grandmother to answer; he didn't even bother to check whether or not Ricky was following him, because he knew if he looked back now he'd lose his nerve. And what he needed his nerve for he wasn't sure, but there was no way they could just leave things the way they were now. He knew they had to talk about what had almost happened, but he had no idea how to bring it up, or even where they could talk about it without being interrupted.
In a hotel as big as the Ambassador they should have been able to find someplace to be alone, just for a little while, but the only place he could think of to get any privacy at all was in his room, and his grandmother had ruined that by coming home early. There was nowhere else, though; he'd been over every inch of the hotel in his head, and even the closets weren't safe. There was no telling when one of the maids – or worse, Griffith – would open the door and surprise them. Even if they were just talking they'd still have a lot of explaining to do, and that wasn't really a conversation he wanted to have with anybody who might tell his father.
He finally looked behind him when he reached the elevator, part of him surprised to find Ricky still following him. He managed a weak smile before he turned away again, forcing his legs to carry him into the elevator and pressing the button for his floor. And he didn't think it was possible for things between them to be more tense than they had been before his grandmother showed up, but the ride back up to his floor was almost unbearable.
"That was a pretty good save back there," he said, more to break the overwhelming silence than because he had anything to say. "I think Gramma actually bought that thing about the heat."
Ricky glanced over at him, the shoulder closest to Clifford shrugging noncommittally. "It was the truth."
"What, that you're sick?" Just saying the words out loud made Clifford feel a little queasy, because he knew if Ricky was sick it didn't have much to do with the heat.
"No, would you…look, Cliff, you're the one who said you wanted to eat."
The elevator door slid open as Ricky finished speaking, and he pushed himself off the wall and brushed past Clifford into the hallway. It was obvious what he was thinking, and for a second Clifford considered just letting him go. It would be easier if Ricky just kept walking past his door and all the way down the hall to the stairs; Clifford wouldn't go after him, he'd just let him go home without a word and tomorrow they could pretend none of this had ever happened. They were pretty good at pretending; well, Ricky was, anyway, and most of the time Clifford didn't push it because he was afraid if he did Ricky would finally decide he'd had enough.
For a second he thought about letting Ricky off the hook, but with every step the other boy took Clifford got a little more angry. He didn't want to spend the rest of the day trying to figure out what he'd done wrong, and he didn't want to pretend that none of it had happened. What he really wanted…well, he might not get what he wanted, but the least Ricky could give him was some kind of explanation.
"Would you wait a second?" he called after the other boy, jogging down the hall in an effort to catch up before Ricky reached the stairs. He reached Ricky just as the other boy opened the stairwell door, reaching out with one hand to stop him before he started down the stairs. "Where are you going?"
"Home." Ricky stopped at the top of the stairs, his shoulders sagging as though the effort of holding himself up was suddenly too much. Then he turned to look at Clifford and God, his face…instantly Clifford knew exactly what Ricky meant when he said he felt a little sick. It was like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he was sure if he hadn't already stopped breathing that he wouldn't be able to catch his breath. "Look, Cliff, this is a bad idea, okay? I gotta go."
"Can't we even talk about it?" Clifford asked, although he already knew the answer. If Ricky wanted to leave there was no way Clifford could stop him, and he knew the last thing Ricky wanted to do was talk about whatever wasn't happening between them. "I mean don't you think we should? I meant what I said before; we don't have to do anything."
"Don't you get it? That's not the problem." Ricky's expression told Clifford that he should be able to figure out what the problem was, but he had no idea what it was he was supposed to know. All he'd figured out so far was that Ricky was freaked out by the idea of Clifford touching him, and if they couldn't get past that then they weren't going anywhere.
"No, I don't get it," Clifford answered, frustration creeping into his voice. "Would you just give me a straight answer for once in your life?"
Ricky scowled and Clifford expected him to disappear without another word, but instead of taking off again Ricky grabbed the front of his shirt. He didn't feel Ricky move, but the next thing he knew he was pinned up against the wall and Ricky's fingers were digging into his arms tight enough to leave marks. And just like that they were right back in that subway station in the middle of the night, Ricky's eyes flashing with frustration and fear and Clifford's heart beating so loud the whole city must have heard it. It was just like that, only this time Ricky wasn't crying for his brother and Clifford wasn't afraid Ricky was going to kill him.
"You don't even know what you're doing, Cliff. I don't wanna hurt you."
He had a feeling that Ricky was really worried about that for some reason, but his voice was low and throaty and distracting in a way that made the meaning of his words seem secondary to the sound. It made his brain short circuit momentarily, and when he finally found his voice again he forgot all about pointing out that Ricky didn't know what he was doing either. "You won't," he managed to say. He wasn't sure exactly what Ricky meant, but he had a feeling it was important to the other boy to hear those words. "You won't, Ricky. I know you."
Adrenaline coursed through his veins, but for once it had nothing to do with fear. His body strained against the hands holding him firmly in place, trying to get closer to the heat he could feel pouring off Ricky's body. He forgot all about the fact that anybody could walk in on them; his whole world condensed to the space between them, everything in him focused on erasing as much of that space as possible. Evidently Ricky was thinking the same thing, because his gaze was locked on Clifford's mouth and his grip tightened even more as he swayed closer. Before Clifford had time to register the uncomfortable tightness of fingers digging into his arms Ricky's mouth was on his, kissing him with that intensity that made his mind wander to all sorts of places he was sure would send Ricky running. Even if he wanted to say them out loud he couldn't, though; not while Ricky was kissing him as though his life depended on it.
Somewhere above them a door opened; it took Clifford a few seconds to process the sound, but as soon as he did he flattened his palms against Ricky's chest and pushed hard enough to get the other boy's attention. "We should go back to my room," he breathed, glancing in the direction of the stairs as the sound of footsteps drew nearer.
"Yeah, alright." Ricky was breathless and too dazed to remember that he'd been planning to go home just a few minutes ago, but Clifford wasn't about to remind him. Instead he swallowed a grin and led the other boy back into the hallway, part of him praying his grandmother and her friend hadn't come back upstairs and the rest of him hoping they had. When they reached the suite it was empty, though, and even more stifling now that they'd been in the air conditioning for awhile. The nerves in his stomach threatened to bring him to his knees before he ever made it to his room, but at the same time he couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face. Part of him wanted to run far and fast the same way Ricky had been trying to do, but there was another, stronger part of him that wanted to finish what they'd started an hour ago.
He heard his bedroom door close but didn't turn around to look at Ricky; instead he reached for the hem of his shirt again and pulled it over his head, dropping it on the floor before he sank onto the edge of the bed. And suddenly they were right back where they'd started, only this time Ricky wasn't asking what he was doing with that slightly hysterical edge to his voice. He probably still wanted to bolt, but Clifford was almost sure that he wouldn't this time.
When a minute passed without any noise at all Clifford started to wonder if maybe he was wrong about that, but when he looked up he found Ricky staring intently at him from just inside the door. Too late he wondered if maybe taking his shirt off again was a bad move, but there was nothing he could do about it now. "Are you just gonna stand there?"
And maybe it sounded a little more defensive than it needed to, but he was the one who was sitting there half-undressed, letting Ricky stare at him like he'd never seen him before. He half expected Ricky to nod, or maybe say something defensive back, but instead the other boy shook himself and crossed the room to sit next to Clifford. "Look, Cliff…"
But they weren't starting this all over again, not if Clifford could help it. The trick, as far as he could tell, was to get Ricky to stop thinking altogether. He knew there was only one way to do that, and even though he wasn't sure if he could pull it off he was more than willing to try. He didn't give himself time to talk himself out of it; he twisted to face Ricky, lunging forward and up to plant a clumsy kiss on the other boy. It took Ricky a moment to realize what he was up to, but by the time he did Clifford's hand was gripping his shoulder to hold him in place. He felt Ricky tense against him for a second before he relaxed enough to return the kiss. Clifford swallowed a sigh of relief and let his free hand come to rest on the center of Ricky's chest, his fingers opening and closing against the damp cotton of his t-shirt.
Ricky was right about one thing; Clifford had no idea what he was doing, and now that he'd made the first move he wished that Ricky would take over. The chances of that happening were practically nonexistent, though, so if he wanted this to go anywhere he was going to have to do the leading. His fingers clenched around Ricky's shirt as his other hand left Ricky's shoulder to slide around the back of his neck, stroking the sweat-damp hair along the other boy's nape. The urge to lick Ricky's skin hit him again, but he wasn't sure he'd be brave enough to do it even if Ricky stopped kissing him long enough to let it happen.
He settled for tightening his grip on the taller boy as he leaned back, somehow managing to tug Ricky down onto the mattress with him. It was a lot warmer underneath Ricky than it had been when they were sitting up, though, and without thinking Clifford reached for the other boy's shirt and tugged it halfway up Ricky's chest. That was as far as he could get it without actually breaking the kiss, so he gave up when most of Ricky's skin was exposed. It was enough to feel hot skin against his, anyway, and he didn't want to run the risk of reminding Ricky of what they were doing. His skin felt good under Clifford's fingers, though, and his solid weight pinning Clifford to the bed felt better than he ever could have imagined.
And maybe this was that missing piece that Clifford hadn't quite been able to put his finger on before; they'd kissed plenty of times over the summer, but it had never been like this. It had never been so intense, for one thing, and until this moment Clifford hadn't known that kissing could involve more than lips and maybe a little tongue. This kiss involved every part of them, from the skin under Clifford's fingers to the thigh wedged between his legs to the roots of his hair. He could feel it in every nerve ending, and if the way he was rocking against Clifford was any indication, Ricky could feel it too.
It was wild and unfocused and a little frightening, but it felt better than anything Clifford had ever done by himself in his room late at night. They still had most of their clothes on and he couldn't remember ever feeling this good, so he could only imagine what it would be like once they knew what they were doing. The thought made him gasp against Ricky's mouth and arch up hard, unconsciously seeking the pressure of Ricky's thigh against his aching groin. An answering groan made him a little braver, so he arched up again and this time Ricky met him halfway. And suddenly that felt better than anything he'd ever experienced before, so he did it a little harder this time.
He had a feeling it would be even better if he could find a way to work a hand between them, but the thought of touching Ricky like that scared him as much as it thrilled him. Then again, it might be the only time he got the chance, because it was possible Ricky was never going to look at him again after today. He had no idea what this was going to do to them, but he wasn't going to think about it now. He was having enough trouble remembering how to work his arms, but somehow he managed to disentangle his hand from Ricky's hair to slide it down his back. When he touched the other boy's bare skin again he paused, nerves and the fog in his brain making him indecisive. If Ricky would do something – anything – this would be easier, but he seemed even more clueless than Clifford about what they were doing.
Clifford had a feeling he knew what Ricky meant when he'd said he was afraid of hurting him; he weighed easily twice as much as Clifford, and Clifford could tell his mouth and possibly his arms were going to be bruised in the morning. He didn't care about any of that stuff, but he knew why Ricky worried about it. There was no way Clifford was letting Ricky's brother get wrapped up in this, though, no matter how hard Ricky tried to use it as an excuse to back off whenever things got too intense. So he'd just have to make sure that Ricky knew he couldn't hurt Clifford, not like this, anyway. There were other ways he could do plenty of damage, but Clifford knew he didn't have to worry about that.
Finally he worked up the courage to move his hand again, sliding it along Ricky's side and over his stomach, shifting his own hip just enough to give him room to slip his hand between them. And now he was definitely out of his element, but he knew what he liked and he told himself that Ricky couldn't be that different. It was clumsier than he expected through layers of clothing, but Ricky still hadn't pulled away and that was the important thing. It made Clifford brave enough to spread his fingers out a little, tracing the solid heat that felt familiar and foreign at the same time.
A weird, choked moan escaped Ricky's throat as he tore his mouth away from Clifford's, their eyes locking for one startled second before Ricky buried his face in Clifford's neck. He rocked even harder against Clifford's grip, his breath hitting Clifford's skin in a series of hot pants. Ricky still wasn't really touching him, though, and the pressure at the pit of his stomach was just frustrating enough to make Clifford arch up even harder against the weight holding him down. He bared his neck even more in the process, and when he felt something hot and wet slide along the skin just below his ear it startled him into letting go. Before he could process what had happened he was tensing against Ricky, his whole body rigid for a few endless moments before he collapsed under the other boy.
His hand kept moving as though it had found a way to think for itself, and maybe it had, because every brain cell Clifford had left was still back on the fact that Ricky had licked him. It was so far from anything he ever would have expected Ricky to do that he barely noticed when the other boy grunted against his neck and tensed in his grip, wet heat hitting Clifford's fingers through the fabric of Ricky's pants.
Just like that it was over, and Ricky felt a lot heavier when he was boneless and panting out the last of his orgasm than he had a few minutes ago. Clifford didn't really want him to move, though; he knew they'd end up drenched in sweat and possibly stuck together if they laid here like this for long, but he didn't really care. He didn't care about much of anything except the fact that moving meant facing that awkward moment they'd both been dreading, the moment that scared them so much they'd put off giving in to their hormones for almost three months.
He was dying to ask if Ricky had really licked him, to say the words out loud just so he could make them real. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that it would probably embarrass Ricky and make things even more awkward; they were already going to have a hard enough time looking each other in the eye now, the last thing Clifford needed was to make Ricky think he was making fun of him. Still, he wasn't sure if it had actually happened or if he'd just imagined it, and he wished Ricky would do it again just so he'd know one way or the other.
He craned his neck a little to give the other boy a hint, but instead of moving closer to explore Clifford's skin Ricky pulled away, his dark eyes wide with what looked like panic. That was the look Clifford had been expecting, but his heart still fell as he sat up and watched Ricky tug his shirt back down to cover his lap.
"I'd offer to lend you some pants, but…" A nervous laugh escaped his throat, but one look from Ricky made him sober immediately. "Sorry. But you're not running out of here again, are you? Didn't we just go through all that?"
He couldn't remember a time when Ricky had looked so scared; not even when he'd realized he was going to have to fight Mike, and not even when he told Clifford about his brother. He wasn't getting up, though, so either that meant he didn't want to run out on Clifford, or it meant he didn't want to walk through the hotel with a wet spot in the front of his pants. It wasn't exactly how Clifford would have planned for this to go, but as long as Ricky was staying put it was better than nothing.
It wasn't fair that he had to wonder even now whether or not Ricky had actually wanted him or if he'd just gone along with it to make Clifford happy. He couldn't imagine Ricky doing something like that, but there were still things about the other boy that surprised him. "Look, are you ever gonna talk to me again?"
Funnily enough, he felt a little better when Ricky rolled his eyes. "What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Something. Anything. What do you say after…you know."
"Beats me. Not like I've ever done that before." And he didn't even know he'd been worried about that, but hearing Ricky say the words out loud filled Clifford with an overwhelming sense of relief.
"So was it okay?" He blushed as soon as the question escaped his lips, but when Ricky's lips twitched into a lopsided half-smile it was worth the embarrassment of blurting out such a stupid question.
"Yeah."
That was definitely a good sign, so Clifford ventured a smile of his own and shifted a little closer to the other boy. "So you'd maybe wanna do it again sometime?"
And now Ricky was the one who looked like he had a sunburn, so Clifford didn't even mind that the other boy couldn't seem to find the words to answer. The whole leading thing had worked out better than he'd expected, and now that he'd done it once he was pretty sure he could do it again. Besides, now that Ricky knew he wasn't going to do any permanent damage he might loosen up enough to try a few of those things that were floating around in Clifford's imagination. He had a feeling it would take him awhile to work out the logistics, but as long as Ricky was there with him it would be worth it.
FEEDBACK Caroline Crane