Cast Off (3 page)

“Where to?” Rick wasn’t about to offer his own place; Ian better not have a roommate.

“My place.”

Good
.

They slipped out the back door and rounded the house without running into any of the others. Rick stared at his car in dismay. Somehow, he’d gotten boxed in, which defeated the whole purpose of them slipping out without saying good-bye. Neither of them wanted to deal with whatever ribbing would be coming their way because neither his nor Ian’s erections had deflated. Any one of his friends would know where they were going.

“You want to text me the address? I’ll follow as soon as I get my car out.”

Ian pressed him up against the side of… someone’s car. Rick was too focused on Ian to pay attention to color, make, or model. “Just come with me. I’ll drive you back later.”

Then Ian wiggled his hips, and Rick’s cock jerked. He never did this. Never left himself without transportation, but this was Kurt’s brother. He gazed into Ian’s mesmerizing blue eyes, inexplicably tempted to kiss the man. Surely he could make an exception. For the transportation. Kissing was still off the menu. Kissing involved an intimacy that led men to become keepers.

“Okay, fine. Let’s go.” Strangely, he didn’t have a moment of regret for breaking his transportation rule, but they needed to get out of here before he broke any other rules.

U
SING
a firm grip on Rick’s ass, Ian guided—or practically shoved—Rick into his condo. He wanted Rick naked and in his bed immediately.

“Nice place you have here.” Rick’s voice was breathless and he was totally lying because Ian hadn’t even turned on the lights.

“Thanks.” Ian bit down on the back of Rick’s neck and was rewarded by a moan.

“Show me your bedroom.”

Yeah, like that was in question. He had a couch that might be really good for fucking over, but while he’d been in the closet, he’d never felt comfortable bringing a guy over, certain that one of his many siblings or even a coworker would find out. The thought of having a naked Rick in his bed, on his sheets, had him so hard he might be able to bust through his fly from the sheer blood pressure alone.

He wrapped both arms around Rick from behind, one hand atop the denim-covered bulge of Rick’s erection and the other worming underneath Rick’s T-shirt to find the warm, fuzzy skin of Rick’s belly. An animalistic sound of want escaped Rick’s lips and Ian’s already shaky control wavered. Without letting go of Rick, Ian managed to maneuver them into his bedroom.

Once they were in sight of the bed, Rick wiggled out of his embrace and whipped off his shirt.

“Strip, Ian, for God’s sake. You’ve been driving me crazy for hours.”

“Me too.”

It hadn’t been hours, but their painting foreplay had lasted longer than any foreplay Ian was used to. Ian removed his own shirt, certain he’d heard a seam rip from his eagerness, but grabbed Rick by the waistband before he’d done more than pop the top button on his jeans. Ian got both hands in there to get Rick’s pants off. Rick’s hands at his fly made his own hands unsteady but seconds later, he’d shoved Rick’s jeans down to his knees, freeing a healthy-sized cock.

Ian wrapped his fingers around it and stroked. He slid his hand lower and cupped a pair of hairless balls. He wanted his mouth and hands everywhere, but he also wanted to spread Rick’s legs and sink deep in his body. He wanted to make Rick howl with pleasure. Shake the walls and burn up the sheets with the intensity of their fucking.

The awkwardness of Rick trying to shimmy out of jeans and shoes while getting Ian’s pants down was probably the only thing that kept Ian from blowing his wad at the first touch of Rick’s strong fingers against the bare skin of his cock.

“C’mon, c’mon.” Rick didn’t even bother shoving Ian’s jeans and boxers past his ass before grabbing his dick with both hands.

The strangled whimper he let out might have been embarrassing, but all that mattered was getting into Rick and both of them speeding to the finish line. Next time they could be slower, give Ian more time to explore.

“On the bed.” If it weren’t for the firm grip Rick had on his cock, Ian would have just shoved the guy back like a caveman.

Rick complied without a single protest. He scooted back into the middle of the bed while Ian grabbed lube and condoms out of his dresser. He tossed them at Rick, who snatched up the lube.

“Glove up, sweetie. I’ll do the rest.”

Ian was confused until Rick coated two fingers with slick and shoved them both up his own ass. Frantic, he squeezed the base of his cock to keep from spurting. Rick writhed and moaned as he stretched himself, and Ian rolled on a condom with shaking hands, afraid he was going to miss the party if he didn’t get in there quick.

The touch of his hands on Rick’s thighs was like a signal. Rick pulled his fingers out and spread his legs wider in invitation, pulling his knees back toward his chest.

Ian didn’t waste any time pressing his cock against Rick’s pucker, which gave up against his intrusion without a fight. He slid balls deep and shuddered. Rick was so damn tight and hot.

“Move, damn it, move.” Rick’s demand was accompanied by a hip thrust, and Ian didn’t have it in him to hold back.

Fast and hard, he slammed into Rick, the slap of skin on skin an erotic soundtrack that spurred him on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Rick whimpered in a low voice. He grabbed his dick and stroked twice. The sight of Rick’s cum and the clench of Rick’s ass sent Ian rocketing into his own orgasm. His muscles locked, his hips jerked, and flashes of color sparked in his vision while he emptied his balls into the condom.

Unable to do anything else, he slumped over Rick, and the tiny part of his brain still capable of thought reveled in the sensation of another man’s cum on his stomach. Having body-length skin-on-skin contact was almost enough to get him wired up again. So much naked male flesh and no worries about rushing or hiding. He couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

Rick’s hands stroked up and down his back, and over the thundering of Ian’s heart, Rick’s panting breaths spoke of an orgasm that rivaled Ian’s.

After a few moments, Ian’s muscles finally obeyed some of his brain’s commands. He slid, regretfully, out of Rick’s body, flicked the condom toward the garbage can, and grabbed his shirt to wipe away the stickiness from them both.

Eyelids drooping, he spooned Rick up against his chest like he’d been doing it all his life, and pressed his lips to Rick’s nape. Between his post-orgasm lassitude and an emotionally stressful day, his exhaustion overwhelmed him. He only had time to regret that he couldn’t remain awake for a second round before sleep won out.

Chapter 2

R
ICK
clutched his sneakers to his chest and leaned back against the closed door. It was too early for any of Ian’s neighbors to be out and about. He didn’t do this. He didn’t go home with random guys. But somehow, Ian had gotten under his skin. Enough so that when he’d woken up with the man—also something he never did—he thought about waking Ian up for another round. As much of a slut as his friends thought he was, he rarely did the full deed with someone he’d just met. A hand job or blow job at a club was… not much of anything and didn’t really count.

Even now, he sort of regretted missing out on morning sex. He’d heard good things about it, but this was the closest he’d ever come to staying the night with anyone. There was something about Ian that tugged at him.

Problem was, he didn’t know how to label Ian. Could he add Ian to his fuck-buddy rotation, or was Ian too much like Kurt?

With one last look at Ian’s door, Rick slipped on his sneakers and headed for the elevator.

The sky outside was hazy with the newly broken dawn, the humidity already starting to make his clothing cling. Rick cursed his cock. There was no other good explanation for why he’d come to Ian’s apartment in Ian’s car. Ian’s pretty blue peepers had convinced his stupid cock to break one of his damned rules.

For that alone, Ian was dangerous. Rick walked down the street before stopping at a bus stop with a bench. He pulled his slim phone out of a very tight pocket and called a cab. At least this stop had a bus shelter, so the brightening sun wasn’t unbearable. He winced slightly as he made contact with chilled aluminum, an uncomfortable reminder that he’d done the full deed with a man he’d just met. Ian was fucking good at fucking, though.

Last night, he hadn’t realized at first that Ian was coming out to his brother. Once he did, Ian’s shy vulnerability plucked at Rick’s heartstrings, as well as another more prominent organ. It hadn’t taken long for Ian’s shyness to disappear, and the dichotomy left Rick unsure as to whether he was a keeper. Rick hoped not. Because Ian would make a spectacular fuck buddy.

Probably too much to hope for that Ian was also in a uniformed career like Kurt. Rick did love the uniforms, although after the ordeal of Kurt getting shot, Rick didn’t know if he’d take another one on, unsure if he could handle one of his men getting hurt on the job. He and Ian hadn’t spent a lot of time talking. If he saw Ian again, he’d find out—eventually—what the man did for a living.

The cab pulled up and Rick again cursed his weakness. If he’d only kept to the rules, he’d have had his own car and he’d be home already. He patted his pockets and groaned.

Fuck no.

Rick tapped at the window. “Hold on a minute.”

The cabbie obeyed with an indistinct grunt that may or may not have been an actual word. Rick closed his eyes and thought for second. Kurt and Davy hadn’t exactly been free with the beer at their painting party last night, and Rick had no alcohol haze over his memories. He’d been able to wedge his phone and wallet in the pocket of his pants, but his keys weren’t going to fit. He’d carried them into Davy and Kurt’s place and set them on a bookshelf. And never picked them up again when he’d slipped away in Ian’s wake.

Fuck.

It was way too early to head over to Davy’s and he sure couldn’t buzz up to Ian and ask for readmittance. At least he had that broken latch on the basement window at his place. He’d been meaning to get it fixed, but his neighborhood was so safe it hadn’t seemed important. Now he was glad he hadn’t. The basement window would be a tight squeeze, even for someone as slender as he was, but he could make it, and he wouldn’t need to have his walk of shame at an utterly humiliating hour of the day.

“Right, let’s go.” Rick got into the cab and gave his home address. Thankfully he had his wallet or he’d have ended up at an all-night diner, hanging with a bunch of still-drunk youngsters losing their buzz. He might look like the perennial party boy, but he was looking at the wrong side of thirty-five, had a respectable job and a house. But the party boy was the one his friends were used to, and was the one that got him laid under the conditions he liked. Revealing his “grown up” status might bring more of the keepers sniffing around, and that would never do.

R
ICK
paid the cabbie and got out of the taxi. He was still kicking himself for not having his damn car and for having fallen asleep at Ian’s but he couldn’t bring himself to regret the evening. Not entirely. Spreading for Ian had been easy, and they’d fit together like nothing he’d experienced. But breaking all those rules? Not wise, not at all. In fact, the warmth that sparked in his belly when he remembered Ian’s intense blue eyes and the way he just overwhelmed Rick with lust… those rules weren’t only to prevent hookups from becoming keepers. They protected Rick from feeling too much. Feelings led to relationships and a relationship for Rick was utterly impossible.

He glanced up from his sober contemplation of the concrete walkway to his front door and rocked to a stop. Oscar sat slumped there, asleep, with a huge bouquet of mixed white flowers beside him.

Yesterday’s weirdness was determined to bleed into today’s. Damn. He’d been having a hard enough time reconciling his panic over breaking his rules with the euphoria from some really great—albeit brief—sex. In fact, he could probably blame Oscar for all of it. Rick had been so unsettled prior to going to the painting party, he’d been far too susceptible to Ian’s hotness.

Irritation superseded all of his other confusing emotions. Rick stamped up his porch and flicked Oscar on the shoulder. “Wake up. What are you doing here?”

Oscar blinked up at him blearily and smiled. Was that supposed to be cute? Because he really just wanted to crawl into his fucking basement window without the humiliation of an audience and take a shower. Without his keys, he wasn’t going to be able to easily escape whatever misguided nonsense had brought Oscar to his doorstep at—well, he didn’t know what time it was without checking his phone, but it hadn’t even quite been seven when he’d left Ian’s place.

Too damned early for visitors of any description.

“Rick, baby.”

Rick cringed. “Oh my God, don’t call me that. What are you doing here?”

Offering up the bouquet of flowers, which was big enough to double as a duck blind, Oscar smiled, completely ignoring Rick’s irritation. Actually, Oscar’s pleasant nature had been one of the reasons he’d first brought him into rotation, but right now, it made Oscar seem willfully oblivious or simply stupid. Neither were traits that were endearing him to Rick at the moment.