Big Man by Matthew J. Metzger

Author:Matthew J. Metzger [Metzger, Matthew J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: bisexual, sports/martial arts, NineStar Press, high school, Contemporary, #ownvoices, coming-of-age, depression/grieving, Trans, YA, LGBT
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2018-04-08T22:00:00+00:00

AT THE END of the lane was a gate.

Beyond the gate was a path through a wood.

And halfway along the path, just as the trees closed around them and swept them up in darkness, Cian’s footsteps stopped and his hands were fists in Max’s T-shirt, pushing. Guiding.

The bark hit Max’s back, and then Cian’s weight dragged.

Then they were sitting against a tree in the pitch black, and Max could hear Cian’s breathing.

“Nobody ever comes down here?”

“Not at night,” Cian whispered, and then his lips were on Max’s.

Something about the darkness made it—sweeter. Sharper. Seven for a secret, never to be told. The old nursery rhyme whispered through Max’s mind, and he felt his skin come alive in the silence. His fingers itched to touch. His body felt too tight. Cian was straddling one of his thighs, and Max wanted there to be no denim and cotton between their legs. Wanted skin. Just skin.

It was a lazy, hazy exploration though. Cian’s hands stayed firm around the back of Max’s head, catching him inescapable in that kiss. The gentlest grapple of them all.

But Max’s hands had no such discipline. They wanted to touch, so they did. They smoothed over Cian’s trousers, feeling the hard lines beneath. They cupped his hips, swiped at his stomach, and counted his ribs, rising and falling between them. They ghosted over his chest but learned their lesson from the sharp smack they were punished with, finding instead the long lines of his back.

And Cian felt—

Captivating. Incredible. Max could feel life—could feel passion, emotion, the crash and burn of every thought and every feeling under that invisible skin. He could feel Cian. Not the girl, not the boy, not the passage between the two. Just Cian. He wanted to feel that everywhere, all of the time.

He broke off to say it, but Cian’s mouth simply found his neck instead. The teeth it put there were sharp and sensual, and Max could only breathe raggedly as things came undone—first his belt, then his jeans, then him. Cian’s hands were sure and insistent, and Max could only gasp dumbly through it as the world changed beyond the darkness, as though time ran only outside the woods, and they were here, caught forever. As time slowly began to start again, Max found an overwhelming need to hold on. To grasp at that feeling—that simultaneous rush of power and powerlessness he’d felt in Cian’s palm—and find it again. To capture it. To warm it, share it, and give it back.

And along with it, perhaps, undo Cian the way he could undo Max? Could he do that? Could he find places like that on Cian—unbottle the dangerous, devastating boy who had Max falling in l—

He caught at Cian’s hand, damp and hot, at his belt.

“Let me—”

“No.”

The voice was soft. The kiss that caught the corner of Max’s mouth was even softer.

“Not yet.”

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