Chapter 11: Caught in the Heat

Cody POV

Morning light sneaks through the blinds, soft and yellow, hitting Ryan’s kitchen. I’m shirtless, leaning on the counter, my hair still messy from last night. My shorts hang low, barely on after we stumbled out of bed. Ryan’s coffee machine hums, filling the air with a warm smell. I sip some water, cool against my dry throat. My body’s sore, good sore, from him. Last night plays in my head—his hands, his groans, the way he said he loved me. My chest feels warm, full. I grab my phone off the counter, thumb swiping the cracked screen. Just checking. Nothing big.

Then I see it. My heart stops. A blurry photo. Me and Ryan on that balcony, lips close, eyes locked. It’s online, everywhere. The headline screams, “Ryan Maddox’s Mystery Man?” My stomach twists hard. Blood rushes to my ears, loud and fast. I scroll quick. Comments pile up. “Who’s this guy?” “Ryan’s gay?” “Hot!” My hands shake bad. I drop the glass. It clinks loud on the counter, water spilling. Panic hits me like a punch. Everyone knows now. Everyone.

“Ryan!” I yell, voice cracking. My chest’s tight, like I can’t breathe. He walks in, rubbing his eyes, wearing just boxers. His hair’s a mess, sticking up cute. He stops, blinking at me. “What?” he says, sleepy.

I shove my phone at him. “This your fault?” My voice is loud, sharp. I’m mad, scared, all mixed up. The screen glows with that stupid photo. His eyes flick to it. His face changes, jaw tightening. He grabs the phone, staring hard.

“I didn’t ask for this!” he snaps back, tossing it on the counter. His voice is rough, raw. He steps close, real close. We’re chest to chest now. I feel his heat, his breath. My hands ball into fists. “You’re famous,” I say, almost yelling. “You let this happen!”

“Me?” he says, loud. “I didn’t leak it, Cody!” His hands grab my arms, tight on my biceps. His fingers dig in, not hurting, just holding. My skin burns where he touches. My heart’s pounding, angry and fast. I want to shove him. I want to pull him closer. I don’t know what I want.

We stand there, glaring. His eyes are dark, stormy. Mine sting, wet at the edges. My throat’s tight. “They’re all talking,” I say, quieter now. “About us.” My voice shakes. I hate it. I hate feeling small.

He softens a little. “I know,” he says, voice low. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t let go. “I didn’t want this either.” His thumbs rub my arms, slow. My anger boils, but it’s shifting. Turning hot in a different way. I can’t look away from him. His bare chest, the line of his jaw. My hands unclench, trembling.

I grab his face, fast and hard. My fingers press into his cheeks. I kiss him, fierce, shutting him up. Our lips smash together, rough at first. Teeth bump. Tongues clash, fighting for space. He groans loud, surprised. My chest presses his, skin on skin. The heat takes over. I’m mad, but I need him. Bad. He kisses back, just as hard. His hands slide down, grabbing my hips. We stumble, clumsy, hitting the counter. My back bumps it. He lifts me up, strong and quick. I land on the edge, legs dangling.

His hands yank at my shorts, tugging them lower. They slip down my thighs. His mouth moves, sucking hard on my throat. Wet, hot marks bloom where he bites. “You’re not leaving,” he says, growling low against my skin. His voice shakes, needy. My head tips back. I moan loud, can’t stop it. “Not trying,” I say, breathless. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in. His boxers press tight, hard against me. I feel him, ready. I’m ready too.

We grind together, desperate. My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in. His hips rock into mine, fast and messy. The counter’s cold under me, but I don’t care. His skin’s sweaty, sticking to mine. I kiss him again, softer now. Tender. My tongue slides slow, tasting him. Beer from last night, coffee from this morning. Him. He sighs into my mouth, hands sliding up my back. My shorts fall off, pooling on the floor. I’m bare now, open. He presses closer, boxers rubbing rough. I whimper, hips bucking up.

“Ryan,” I say, panting. My voice is small, shaky. His forehead rests on mine. “Cody,” he says back, soft. His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “We’re okay.” His eyes lock on mine, steady. My chest loosens a little. I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” I say. “We’re okay.” My anger’s gone, melted into this. Us.

He kisses my neck again, lighter now. His lips trail down, leaving wet spots. I shiver, clinging to him. My legs tighten around his waist. His hands roam, warm on my sides. I feel safe, even with that photo out there. Even with everyone watching. It’s just us here. My fingers dig into his hair, tugging soft. He groans quiet, pressing harder. We’re grinding slow now, needy but calm. My heart’s still fast, but it’s good fast. Love fast.

I lean back a little, hands on the counter. He follows, kissing my chest. His tongue flicks my nipple again, quick. I laugh, shaky and happy. “You’re bad,” I say, grinning. He looks up, smirking. “You love it,” he says. I do. I really do. My hands slide down, resting on his hips. I pull him closer, just to feel him. His boxers slip lower. I see the line of hair there, dark and tempting. My breath hitches.

We stay like that, moving slow. The kitchen’s quiet now, just our breathing. Coffee drips in the background, forgotten. My legs ache from holding him, but I don’t let go. His hands find mine, lacing our fingers tight. He squeezes, hard and sure. “I meant it,” he says, voice low. “Last night. I love you.” My throat gets tight again. I squeeze back. “Me too,” I say, soft. My eyes sting, but I smile. He smiles too, big and real.

I pull him in, kissing him slow. My lips brush his, gentle. He sighs, melting into me. We’re sweaty, messy, but it’s perfect. My heart feels huge, too big for my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding tight. His hands slide to my back, pressing me close. We’re reaffirming it. Us. What’s real. The world outside can wait. Right now, it’s this. Him.

Then a knock bangs on the front door. Loud. Hard. I jump, pulling back fast. My heart slams into my ribs. Ryan freezes, hands still on me. “What the hell?” he mutters, eyes wide. The knock comes again, sharper. My stomach twists tight. “Who’s that?” I whisper, voice shaking. He shakes his head, sliding off me. My legs drop, shaky. He pulls up his boxers, fast. I grab my shorts, fumbling to get them on. The knock turns to pounding. Someone’s out there. Someone knows we’re here.