Double Blind (31 page)

The whimper Sam made as his lips slid down Randy’s foreskin was at least as erotic as the sight he made. Yes, it was wickedly beautiful to be guiding Randy’s cock into another man’s mouth, a sight Ethan would never have thought he would have enjoyed, but half the turn-on was watching Sam. It wasn’t his skill (though this was clearly an area where he excelled) so much as it was the pleasure with which he suckled the organ, his eyes closed, his face twisting into subtle expressions of pleasure, lust, and, most subtle of all, submission. It wasn’t the way he opened his jaw and drew Randy in to the root or the way his hands pressed, slim and long and curling at the fingers against Randy’s hips; it was the way he took such joy in it. And Ethan felt himself carried away by it, swept along as he pushed Sam into a rhythm with one hand and drew his hands down with the other, curling Sam’s hand against Randy’s balls, urging him with nothing more than touch to stroke them. And then as Sam drew Randy down again, all the way, Ethan leaned forward and opened his mouth over the bump of Randy’s pelvis, licking and suckling the point as he urged Sam’s fingers farther and farther back, all the way to Randy’s entrance.

There was a brief gasp, then a cry from above; Ethan pushed the tip of Sam’s finger into Randy’s sphincter and held it there, then opened his own mouth again over Randy’s pelvic bone, then slid his tongue all the way down to the base of his cock, brushing briefly against Sam’s lips as he drew back.

Randy cried out again, then reached down with his other hand and took a great fistful of Ethan’s hair as his hips bucked three times roughly into Sam. His balls tightened in Sam and Ethan’s hand as he came into Sam’s suckling mouth, and Sam’s throat worked as he sucked Randy’s semen down. Sam drew back, lips wet, swollen and rimmed with white as he smiled shyly at Ethan before he withdrew onto Mitch’s lap. Ethan caught one steamy glimpse of Mitch pulling Sam toward him for a carnal, open-mouthed kiss, and then Randy collapsed into the car and into Ethan, pushing him to his back on the floor, falling on top of him as he took hold of Ethan by both ears and kissed him hard.

It wasn’t actually a kiss— he was fucking Ethan’s mouth with his tongue, and shuddering, and grinding his fading erection against Ethan’s rigid one. His pants were now just above his knees, but he didn’t seem to care, just undulated his bare ass as he thrust his tongue over and over again into Ethan’s throat.

And then he pulled back, resting his forehead against Ethan’s cheek.

“Slick,” he rasped. His hands tightened on Ethan’s ears. “Slick, why—why did you—”

“Because I wanted to.” Ethan reached around and took firm hold of the flesh of Randy’s ass. “That okay?”

“Fuck yes,” Randy whispered, then shivered as Ethan started to massage his naked skin.

“Besides,” Ethan went on, “you seemed to need it. All of you did.”

Randy’s hands shifted to the carpet on either side of Ethan’s head as he continued the massage. In the background, just above the music, which was thumping again—Madonna, maybe, Ethan wasn’t sure, but whoever it was was demanding, “Give it to me!” and that was fine by him—Ethan could hear Sam’s gasps and tortured whimpers, and his cock hummed at the thought of what Mitch must be doing.

“Sam likes—” Randy breathed out hard and fast as Ethan nudged a fingertip against his entrance. “Sam likes to be told what to do. A lot.”

“I could tell,” Ethan said, and pushed the tip of his finger inside. Randy gasped and turned his face into Ethan’s neck. “You do, too, sometimes.”

“When it’s you,” Randy whispered. He hissed as Ethan pushed in deeper. But he shook his head when Ethan started to withdraw. “No. Don’t.”

“You need lube,” Ethan said, but Randy shook his head again.

“I need you, baby.” He lifted his head, braced his knees as best he could with his jeans holding his legs narrowly together, and looked down at Ethan. “Push it in me.”

Ethan held his finger in place. “You’re wearing Nick’s ring.”

Randy lifted an eyebrow. “I’m wearing
your
ring.”

“You’re wearing the ring Nick gave me,” Ethan conceded. “Why?”

“Push your finger into me, Slick,” he said.

Ethan watched, aroused almost to the point of pain as Randy’s eyes closed and his face melted into a tortured ecstasy as Ethan pushed his finger deep inside. He was tight, and hot, and this had to be burning, but Randy just flexed his muscles and took Ethan in deeper, into the furnace of him, his mouth parting and his breath coming on a gasp as he humped Ethan lightly.

“Why?” Ethan asked, pushing back up against Randy for friction. “Why are you wearing it?”

“I don’t know.” Randy gasped. “But I can make up a reason, if you want.”

Ethan didn’t care about the ring anymore. He bit back a moan at how tight and hot Randy felt, and he wanted to pull down his trousers and thrust his cock inside him instead, to watch him take it in. He was just about ready to do it when the car stopped, and Randy groaned and sank onto Ethan’s neck again.

“We’re here,” he said. “Unfortunately.”

“Where’s here?” Ethan asked. He started to withdraw his finger, but Randy kept it trapped inside, tightening around it.

“The Mirage.” He laughed. “I thought we could do with a distraction.”

“Hmm,” Ethan said, and pushed into Randy again.

Randy hummed and rolled his hips. “You want to fuck me first, baby? I’ve got lube and condoms in my jacket pocket. You want to roll me over and fuck me on the floor, let Mitch and Sam watch you take me?”

“I’d like to fuck you while we stood in the moonroof,” Ethan said, and pushed again.

“I’d like that. I like your finger in my ass,” Randy whispered. “I like your tongue there too. I like the way you look when you find yourself, when you get all elegant and strong and in control.”

“You want me to tell you what to do, like Sam?” Ethan asked. “You want me to take control?”

Randy laughed. “You already have all the control, baby. You’ve had it all along. You just need to find your footing, and you’ll have the whole world by the balls, just like you do me.”

As Ethan looked up at him, saw the heat in Randy’s eyes and felt it, too, inside. As he lay there, he could see the truth of what Randy said, but he knew that he wasn’t ready, not yet. He could see the shape of that self, but he didn’t know quite how to use it.

He could see, too, that Randy hadn’t been lying. He did love him. In a strange, beautifully Randy way.

Ethan wished he could say that he loved him back. He thought, maybe, that he might. But the Ethan who could do that was as nebulous at this moment as the Ethan who could take control. It would take time to discover both.

“I want,” Ethan said, “to go and see the Mirage.”

Randy smiled, a sideways, Randy smile, and then he bent and brushed a kiss across Ethan’s lips before pushing back and reaching down to pull up his jeans.

The Mirage
was full of people as usual, but Randy didn’t care—he loved showing it off to someone for the first time, and he loved showing Slick for the first time best of all. Sam had been the best as far as reactions went until Ethan, which was funny because Sam still enthused and clapped and pointed, his eyes dancing, but Ethan tried to hide how enchanting he found it all. He wanted to think it was trite and wanted to write it off, but he couldn’t. He didn’t say anything, but Randy knew how to read his face, and he could tell that Ethan liked it. He knew that Ethan found the fountains beautiful. He could tell that Ethan found the walkways romantic. He knew Slick was even impressed by the volcano. Ethan confessed out loud that he found the hotel itself to be opulent and elegant, and when he readily agreed to sit down for a few hands of poker, Randy suspected mostly because he liked the atmosphere.

They only sat down for an hour, because he knew Sam and Mitch would be bored if they took much longer. Mitch only did slots and blackjack, and Sam didn’t do anything at all, because he hated “throwing money away” and could not get the hang of poker for the life of him. So they sat at the bar while Randy sat Ethan down at a mid-level table with five hundred dollars’ worth of chips.

He wanted to see Slick at one of the no-limit, high end tables. That was where the real players were, and he wanted to see how Ethan did against them. But Ethan wasn’t ready yet, so Randy sat them both down in the middle levels, and they played a few hands. Ethan did fairly well. He still stayed in too long, and when they finally stood up to leave, he was sixty dollars lighter than he’d been when he’d started, largely because of overplaying his hand.

“Half the hands I lost were to you,” he complained when they went to cash in.

“What, you want me to throw the hands for you?” Randy asked.

“No,” Ethan said, but he was still frustrated.

“You’ve got to learn to bluff,” Randy said. “You need to learn to read tells, too, but at the very least you need to start putting on a better face.”

Ethan gave him a look that was part frustration, part irritation. “I
am
bluffing.”

“No, you’re not.” Randy sighed. “Look, Slick. You sit there and you go stone-faced, sure. But that’s not bluffing. Bluffing is when you pretend you have a decent hand and you have shit. Or you pretend you have a shit hand or a medium hand when you have pocket aces. Decide what it is you want, and then act like you already have it. You play the table, Slick, or it will play you.”

“There’s just so much to remember,” Ethan grumbled, but Randy knew he wasn’t grousing. He was worried that he couldn’t do it.

“You’ll get better. You’re already ridiculously better than you should be for two days in. Just remember, baby, that poker is people, but with cards put in. Don’t worry. You’ll be taking over the town within a few weeks, I’m sure.” He patted Ethan’s back, then let his hand slide down to his butt. “I’m just hoping you still want me on your arm once you’re a big shot.”

That had too bald an undertone, given his limo floor confession, but he didn’t worry once Ethan had huffed, dislodged his arm, then took hold of Randy’s own ass. “That depends, Ace, on how good you are.”

Randy liked the hand, and the silky, masterly tone better than the frustrated one, which was probably why what exactly Ethan had said didn’t hit him until they were almost at the bar. He stopped, then turned to face him.

“Ace. Slick, did you just give me a nickname?”

Ethan feigned indifference. “What if I did?”

“If you did, you took your damn time about it.” He gave Ethan a dubious look. “
Ace
, though.”

Ethan smiled, a wicked, knowing little gesture that sent a shiver down Randy’s spine. “What, you don’t want the word to get out?”

“I thought I was a joker,” Randy said, but without his usual sass. That smile was really getting to him, somehow.

It got even worse when Ethan leaned in close. “No, you’re an ace, pretending to be a joker in self-defense.” He brushed a kiss across Randy’s lips, and then his smile widened. He had a few chips in his hand and was turning them over idly between his fingers, but as they stood there, he glanced down at them thoughtfully. “You know, these seem heavier than the ones at Herod’s.”