Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (23 page)

“Hey.”

After a few seconds of silence, Jurgen asked, “S’up?”

Ian took a deep breath. “Uh, I was wondering what kind of wine Nik likes to drink.” That’d probably be what Sam drank, right?

“Why do you care what kind of wine Nik drinks?” Jurgen asked.

He had to cough a blockage out of his throat before he could answer. “Just want to have it handy in case you guys stop by.”

“Hang on,” Jurgen said. Ian heard him ask, “What kind of wine does Sam drink?”

“Hell,” Ian muttered. Not that he should have expected to fool Jurgen.

Distantly, he heard Nik call back, “Tell him any chardonnay over seven dollars from 2011 will be fine. And chill it!”

“You get that?” Jurgen asked. “Neither one of us has to work on Tuesday, so we’ll be stopping by for dinner about six thirty. Don’t forget the wine. Make sure Sam’s there, too.”

“What is this, an inspection?”

“Yep,” Jurgen said. Then the smart-ass hung up.

Ian found the wine at the local grocery store.

“It’s good,” the dude working there said for about the third time when Ian asked. He was pretty sure the guy added “Jesus,” under his breath.

It was ten dollars, so it must be okay wine, right? He’d never pay that for a six-pack. Ian bought it, took it home, put it in the fridge, and immediately left again.

In the pickup he started the engine, and the digital clock on the dashboard lit up. It was only ten thirty. Sam didn’t get off work for an hour. He really should go back inside and wait. Watch some television. Maybe men’s gymnastics was on.

Fuck that
.

He drove slowly. Then, when he got to Fatty’s, he circled the block a few times, pretending to look for a parking spot—completely ignoring Fatty’s lot. That ate up about five minutes. He gave in and ended up in customer parking: a space near the employee entrance, one where his pickup was fully illuminated in the light from the fixture mounted over the door.

A half hour wasn’t
that
early.

While he waited for Sam, he mentally reviewed his plan while watching his thumbnail trace the grooves in the gearshift knob.

Wine for Sam: check.

Beer for him: check.

Lube and condoms: check.

Half-formed, half-assed plan for what he wanted to do with Sam once he had him tipsy and lubed up: check.

Sam: not yet.

His heartbeat was a bit off-kilter.

Yeah, so maybe he was a little agitated.

Obviously, he felt
something
for Sam—even if he hadn’t figured out exactly what that feeling was. And so what if it made his lungs constrict every time he thought about—someday—telling Sam what he felt? That’d go away eventually, right? Sam deserved to know the truth. Ian had been such a bastard in the beginning, and Sam deserved to know things were changing inside him now.

Emotional-type things.

He should start out slowly though, for both their sakes, so tonight would be only about his physical craving for Sam. Just looking at him made Ian ache, a full-body, internal, gotta-be-with-him-now throb. Yeah, he liked what was inside the Sam package, but somewhere along the way, even Sam’s awkward skinniness had become attractive. Hot.

Ian got that Sam was scared. He may not get what exactly Sam was scared of, but if Marley was anything to judge by, Sam had never been with someone he could really trust. Ian would be damned if he was going to be another guy like that.

He heard a noise and jerked his head up, staring at the door of Fatty’s as it opened and a woman about Ian’s age walked out, followed by Sam. The waitress from the other night, he thought. She saw his truck first, and looked at it—and him through the windshield—carefully, as if she could determine his moral and financial worth by visual inspection.

Sam grabbed her arm when she started over to the pickup, and she turned and had what looked like a debate with him. Finally, though, Sam let her go and she stayed put while he walked over to Ian, hitching his pack onto one shoulder and grasping the strap tightly with both hands.

Ian stopped paying attention to the woman. His heart echoed every step Sam took toward him. For the first time, he wasn’t chasing Sam; Sam was choosing to be with him.

Everything stilled for a split second while something important happened under his ribs. Whatever it was felt amazing. Made him feel alive.

Sam didn’t look at him as got in the cab, nor once he’d settled his pack on the floor between his feet. Ian wanted to reach for him, pull him across the console and—

“I don’t want to talk about Marley,” Sam said quietly.

Thank fuck, because neither did he. “Okay.”

Sam nodded slowly, pulling his seatbelt on. “So tonight, um . . .”

“Tonight’s about how much I want you.”

Sam looked at him then, eyes wide and lips parted. “That sounds . . . carnal.”

Ian leaned toward him and took Sam’s chin in his hand, tracing Sam’s lips with the tip of his finger. “It will be.” He pulled Sam forward with the hand on his chin, until he could brush Sam’s lips with his while he spoke. “I don’t just like to see your lips wrapped around my cock or feel you suck my balls. I like to kiss you. Feel your lips against mine.” He slipped the tip of one finger into the heat of Sam’s mouth, and Sam immediately licked at it, twining his tongue around it. “I like to feel your mouth respond to me. I like to know it’s going straight to your dick when I stroke inside it just right.” He pulled his finger out, leaving a slick trail on Sam’s skin.

“It does,” Sam breathed.

Ian took Sam’s upper lip between his teeth and tugged, then licked to soothe any sting. “Good.” He brought his other hand up and held Sam’s head, fingers tunneling into his hair. “I want you, Sam.” Then Ian kissed him, trying to make it like the first time, losing control in his mouth.

Judging by the dazed look on Sam’s face when Ian pulled away, he’d managed it. Ian let go of him, feeling light-headed himself, heart pounding in his eardrums. He adjusted his dick and started the truck.

Sam was nervous when they got to Ian’s place. It was obvious in the way he stood by the door, playing with the strap of his backpack. Ian kissed him quickly. “Put your pack down, and I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

Sam jerked his head up. “You have wine?”

Ian ducked his head and smiled. “Yeah. Let me get you some. Take off your shoes and your coat.”

When he came back from the kitchen, Sam had lost his shoes and jacket. Ian gave him a glass of wine and had Sam sit on the floor between his legs while he sat on the couch. He took a sip of the beer he’d gotten for himself, pulled Sam gently back until he was leaning against the couch, and then he started rubbing his shoulders.

Sam froze for a second, then settled into Ian’s hands. It took half a glass of wine and a thorough massage of Sam’s shoulders, neck, and head before Ian felt that Sam was relaxed enough. He stroked up Sam’s neck, running fingers through his hair until Sam tipped his head forward, sighing. Then Ian suggested they go into the bedroom.

He’d left one dim light turned on next to the bed. “Lie down,” he said softly, and Sam did, on his side, looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Ian lay down next to him and started slowly kissing him, seducing him, making him desperate to lose each article of clothing before helping him out of it. He didn’t waste words on explaining to Sam why he found him attractive. Instead, he tried to show how much he liked Sam’s reactions. The way his flat, pinkish-brown nipples hardened for Ian’s fingers, or the way his skin shivered under Ian’s touch. Sam’s abs tensed when Ian nibbled his way down his concave belly, and it made Ian want to rub against him like he was marking him with his scent.

Ian had hoped Sam would lose the power of speech by the time they were both naked and he was pulling Sam over him, but Sam wasn’t that far gone.

“You want me to be on top?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I do. Hop on, kiddo.” Jesus, even that pouty lip was sexy, but Ian wouldn’t let himself sink his teeth into it until Sam did what he asked.

Sam sighed and hesitated, but finally climbed astride Ian, all arms and legs and prominent joints and bones. “I don’t know why you like to look at me like this,” he said.

“You’re sexy,” Ian told him, watching Sam’s long muscles move under his skin. “I like to watch you fuck yourself on me.” He curled up, pulling Sam’s head down for a kiss. Sam pulled back and looked him in the eyes, still pouting.

Ian could feel him, only half-hard against his belly now. He gyrated a little, letting Sam’s cock drag across his tensed abs. For a few seconds, Sam got distracted, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes. Ian could
see
him feeling it, skin slipping across skin, some slide and stutter as Ian pressed against him harder.

But it didn’t last. Sam cracked his lids and whispered, “But I’m skinny and gangly and
awkward
.”

Ian used the hand on the back of Sam’s neck to pull him closer again. He nipped Sam’s bottom lip very lightly. “It’s a very sexy kind of awkward.”

Sam pushed his lip out more. Pouting again, or wanting more teeth? “How can awkward be sexy?”

Ian couldn’t suppress his smile. Sam was just too cute sometimes. “It’s sexy because you let me see you, even though you want to hide. You expose yourself for me.” He paused for a short, clinging kiss. “Just me,” he whispered.

Sam’s lips parted and he rocked his hips slightly, leaving a slick trail across Ian’s abdomen. “Just you.” Sam nodded. “You really like that?”

Ian held his gaze. “Seeing you vulnerable is sexy.”

“I couldn’t do this for anyone else. Be like this.”

“I know, kiddo.” Sam was talking about far more than just being on top with a light on. Ian brought his other hand up from the bed and squeezed Sam’s ass. “Just me,” he repeated. Sam nodded.

Ian lay back down, trailing his fingers across Sam’s skin. From his butt cheek around his hip to his thigh, stroking high up on the inside with his thumb, close to Sam’s nuts, until Sam’s eyes started to go glassy. Ian let go of his neck, letting him straighten up, tracing across his clavicle and the stringy, taut pectoral muscle. His nipples beaded under the scrape of Ian’s fingernails.

“You ready to take me inside, kiddo?” ’Cause he was more than ready to feel Sam wrapped around his cock. Wanted to watch Sam’s face, to feel Sam’s hands on his chest pushing for leverage, to see Sam arching back, cock bouncing. To hear Sam shouting his name, if Ian did it right. “Want that,” he said, more to himself than to Sam.

He slid his hand higher up along Sam’s thigh and worked his thumb under his scrotum, looking for the guiche ring. Playing with it made Sam jerk and rise up on his knees. Ian let his fingers slide back to Sam’s asshole, tracing little circles around it. The feel of it was seductive enough that he kept playing.

Sam braced his hands on Ian’s thighs, eyes closed and brow wrinkled in concentration. Ian pushed in with his fingers, making Sam gasp. With his free hand, he transferred Sam’s palms to his chest, one at a time, trapping them just over his heart, which tried to beat itself out of his chest. Sam opened his eyes and looked down into Ian’s in a daze. Ian smiled and let his fingers stroke, little movements, slow and soft as he could make it, until Sam was rocking against his hand.

Then Ian hooked his thumb back into Sam’s guiche ring and pulled. Sam jerked against his hold. “Oh, God,” he gasped.

“Want more, kiddo?”

Ian found his prostate and pressed lightly with his fingers, making Sam groan and push his whole body back into Ian’s hand. “Ian.”

“Yeah?” Ian kept his voice as even as he could manage. Couldn’t do anything about his panting. He wanted Sam out of control, wanted to make him lose it, and he needed to concentrate on Sam for that, not get lost in this himself. He massaged Sam inside and out, watching Sam pant and rock his whole body, listening to the noises he made.

Fucking amazing
.

Sam whimpered, a drop of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I wanna come.”

“Can you come like this, kiddo? Just on my fingers?”

“Yes.”

“I’m still going to fuck you.”

“Okay,” Sam panted.

Ian started tugging on the ring lightly in rhythm with the fingers inside Sam. “Here’s how it’s going to happen. I’m going to make you come like this, just my fingers and your ass and this guiche ring.”

Sam nodded frantically.

“Then I’m going to roll you on your side and pull your leg up, spread you open for me.” Sam whimpered again. Ian sped up his rhythm, tugging Sam’s guiche ring harder, making him squeak. “Then I’m going to shove my cock in you, and you’re going to take it. Aren’t you, Sam?”

A long, shuddering moan and more nodding. A drop of sweat fell from Sam’s chin to Ian’s chest.

“Say it, Sam.”

Sam cut off a cry, nodding desperately. “Yes, Ian.” His eyelids slid completely closed and that groove above his nose deepened. His arms trembled.

“Then I’m going to ride you hard. Fuck you sore.”

“OhGodohGodohGod,” Sam chanted, rocking back and forth faster, brow wrinkling, arms shaking.

Ian didn’t know how much longer Sam could support himself. He leaned up, dislodging Sam’s hands, wrapped his arm around Sam’s waist and his leg around Sam’s thigh, then flipped them both, laying Sam on his back.

He spoke against Sam’s cheekbone. “You may not like it, maybe won’t be ready for me in your ass after coming as hard as I’m going to make you, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll do it because I want you to. Your asshole is mine to fuck, kiddo, isn’t it?”

Sam didn’t need prodding this time. “Yes, Ian.” He was nearly sobbing, sweat-soaked and arching up and shaking.

Ian fought Sam’s fingernails digging into the back of his neck so he could push himself up enough to see Sam’s face. “Come now.”

Ian got what he wanted; Sam screamed his name. The expression on his face was beautiful, so purely sweet it was nearly painful. Ian thought he was having an out-of-body experience because it felt like he was the one writhing and coming uncontrollably—but then he realized he was coming against Sam’s thigh while Sam’s muscles pulsed around his fingers and his hips snapped up into Ian’s hand.