Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (24 page)

He lay half on Sam afterward, feeling his muscles twitch, the whole room vibrating in his ears. Sam moaned, his skin prickly with goose bumps when Ian swept a hand up and down his side. He rolled off him and tucked Sam against his body, covering him and then cleaning them both up while whispering to him—he didn’t know what, but Sam probably didn’t either. Ian kissed him lazily until Sam was nearly asleep, long slow kisses until he could barely respond, then Ian let him rest. He rubbed Sam’s back, petting him while he drifted off to wherever he was going. Sam murmured something about rolling over.

“You’re fine where you are kiddo. Just rest.” Ian kissed his temple and listened to Sam’s breathing even out. It was better if he fell asleep, because Ian had some thinking to do.

When Ian woke up wrapped around Sam yet again the next day, he forgot his plan to show Sam all the things about him that made Ian addicted to him.

He just did it without thinking.

Wandering back from the bathroom after his morning piss, he looked at Sam, sprawled out on the bed. Sam had moved as soon as Ian unwound himself from him, rolling onto his stomach and spreading out.

All that skin would look so hot against my black sheets if I tied him spread-eagle to the corner posts
. Ian’s dick, only recently coaxed out of a morning hard-on, liked that idea. Unfortunately, Ian had an inkling Sam wasn’t quite ready for that level of play. Besides, the black sheets were in the closet. But Sam looked pretty tempting even on light blue.
I bet it brings out the blue in his eyes
. He wasn’t even covered by the top sheet. Ian should cover him, because Sam always got cold, and if he did, he’d wake up soon. It would suck for the kid to get up early on one of the few days he could sleep in.

Unless he woke up for a good reason.

Ian slid his briefs down his legs, looking at Sam’s pale, tight ass. He had nice muscles, rounded except for those hollows: like some kind of moons. Which sounded about right—they were almost the color of the moon. Ian smiled and looked down as he kicked off his briefs. His own skin was tan and covered in brownish-gold hair. Next to Sam, he looked almost rough. He loved that contrast.

Somehow, Ian ended up naked and in bed, lying next to an unconscious Sam. He ran his hand over Sam’s back, looking at their differences.

“Mmmmmm?” Sam moved lazily. A big sigh in and out, then he turned his head to the other side, facing Ian. His eyes were still closed.

“Mmmmmm.” Ian gripped a butt cheek briefly, then went back to rubbing Sam. Petting him.

“Feels good,” Sam mumbled.

“Your skin’s soft.”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. “Soft? I’m a guy. I can’t have soft skin.”

“You do, kiddo.” Ian smiled.

Sam stared at him for a few seconds. Then he groaned, “Oh, God,” and pulled a pillow over his head. “I have girl’s skin,” he said from under it.

Ian pulled him closer so he could feel Sam’s skin all along his body. “I like it. Feels good.”

“I’m a girl,” Sam whined.

“You aren’t a girl. Your dick is distinctly male.” Ian pushed himself up on his elbow, then planted the other elbow on the opposite side of Sam to hold himself over him. “So are your butt cheeks.” He scooted down Sam’s body and gripped one cheek in each hand. Sam tilted his hips up into Ian’s palms, so Ian pulled his cheeks apart and tongued his guiche, then licked from his ring to the end of his spine. “You don’t taste like a girl.” Ian sampled him again, taking a swirling detour around his asshole just to hear Sam’s response.

“Oh, God,” Sam groaned. He started to pull the pillow off his head.

Ian stopped licking. “Leave the pillow over your head.” He ran his tongue along Sam’s skin again, a long, slow, slick stroke, getting him extra wet.

Sam dropped his hand. “What if I can’t breathe?”

Ian tongued the base of his spine. “You can breathe.”

“’Kay,” Sam said faintly. Ian started kissing and nibbling up his back, until he lay all along Sam’s body. He thrust his cock into Sam’s slicked-up crack, working a hand under him to fist Sam’s dick, then he slowly rocked them both to orgasm. Sam seemed to appreciate it, and Ian’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head when he shot all over the small of Sam’s back, watching his cum spill out onto all that skin he was worshipping.

Sam’s hands fisted the sheets and his muscles spasmed as he moaned and rocked under Ian. Ian ripped the pillow off his head and kissed him through his orgasm, gripping Sam’s chin tightly and cranking his head too far back, feeling wet heat hit his palm.

Then he lay panting half-on and half-off Sam, hand crammed under the weight of both their bodies. Sam smiled sleepily and blinked at him, until he closed his heavy eyelids and didn’t open them. “Sorry I woke you up,” Ian murmured, kissing Sam’s ear as he finally rolled off of him.

Sam lifted his head and yawned until his jaw cracked. He leaned over and kissed Ian on the cheek, then lay back down, wiggling until they were skin-to-skin from shoulder to toes. “I’m not,” he mumbled before he fell back asleep.

Ian didn’t wake Sam again before Tierney picked him up for their Sunday rugby game. He knew what he was doing. Sort of. He had a good idea how things were going to go, and it happened pretty much the way he expected.

Just after Tierney knocked, Sam stumbled into the living room, wearing a T-shirt and boxers. Ian looked over at Sam, waiting until he saw comprehension in his eyes, then opened the front door and swung it wide.

“Nice of you to answer on the first knock this time,” Tierney bitched, stepping into the room. “Are you all ready to . . . Dude?” He spoke to Ian, but stared at Sam.

Ian took a slow breath. “Just a sec. Almost ready.” He sounded steady to his own ears; God knew if he sounded steady to anyone else, but Sam and Tierney weren’t paying much attention to him. He turned his back on Tierney and walked across the room toward Sam, who looked at him with wide eyes.

Ian stopped just in front of him. “There’s stuff for breakfast in the kitchen, kiddo. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I really should go home. I have homework and a class to prepare for . . . Are you sure about this?” Sam asked quietly.

Ian shrugged with his eyebrows. “Not really, but it’s better than hiding,” he murmured. “I’ll call you, okay?”

Sam laid his palm on Ian’s chest and nodded. “Okay.”

His eyes got even bigger when Ian grabbed his hand, pressing it into his chest, and leaned forward to kiss him. It was a quick kiss, and Ian’s slamming heartbeat distracted him so much he barely felt it, but that wasn’t the point.

“Be careful,” Sam whispered.

“I will.”

Tierney’s shock lasted awhile. Ian had to prod him to get him moving, and then Tierney nearly stumbled over his own feet. He followed Ian out to his pickup and got in without protesting once that he wanted to drive.

That’s when Ian realized just how much his big, gay display had knocked Tierney on his ass. He purposely drove by the T-boner-mobile to get a reaction out of him. Nothing. Tierney didn’t even glance at it.

Ian drove in silence. At some point, Tierney had lost his dazed look; now he looked like steam would start boiling out of his ears any second. Whenever Ian had to stop for a light, he’d glance over and see some new muscle twitching in Tierney’s face, or his pulse pounding in some usually hidden vein.

As soon as Ian came to a rolling stop at the field, Tierney slammed out of the truck. Ian parked carefully, wondering just how bad T’s reaction would get. So far, it seemed over-the-top, even for him.

Ian had gone into this figuring he could pretty much write off their friendship. Maybe these rugby games, too, since Tierney would never keep his damn mouth shut about Ian’s queerness. He’d take every opportunity to deride Ian as a faggot and worse from now on.

It wasn’t like T was such a great guy. What kept them hanging out was history and Tierney’s stubborn refusal to let the relationship fade, unlike most of Ian’s college friendships.

This level of anger—T so mad he was shaking with rage, so mad he couldn’t even speak—was more than Ian had expected. Did their friendship mean more to Tierney than he’d realized? When he finally left the relative safety of the truck to walk toward the guys—stalling as long as he could—he felt like he might be walking into an ambush.

As usual, the players had left their packs on the side of the field, along with the sweats they wore over their shorts. Most of them were out warming up already. A couple of guys were still on the sidelines, watching with wide eyes while Tierney paced and muttered to himself. He hadn’t taken off his sweats, and was running agitated hands through his hair. From twenty feet away, Ian could see him getting red in the face.

It really brings out the auburn in his hair
, he thought. As if it mattered.

Guys were starting to drift in from the field, likely sensing something was not right. Maybe hoping for a fight; they played rugby for fun after all, and fights were a not-so-secret pleasure for all of them.

Tierney stopped his pacing and turned to stare at Ian, lip curled in disgust and possibly hatred. The guys came up behind him, as if they were on his side.

It all reminded Ian why he hadn’t ever wanted to come out before, because of this possibility. Being the odd man out on the team, any team. It was so easy for him to pass for straight, and he could get along with all these guys without anyone wondering about him. No one questioned that he never brought a girlfriend or wife along to watch—neither did they. Even at the fire department, no one had thought it weird when he’d just given up bringing along a token female to social things in his late twenties. They’d figured he didn’t like to get tied down.

If Ian hadn’t kissed Sam this morning in front of Tierney, he could have been that undercover queer guy for the rest of his life and never raise a blip on any hetero radar. Never have to face this. Hide who he was.

Sam could never hide it. He’d lived with being odd man out since puberty, probably before.

Fuck ’em
.

Ian walked the last couple feet into Tierney’s seething silence. About ten guys were standing around him, more coming up to circle them. Ian dropped his pack to the side, not looking away from Tierney’s glare.

Bring it
.

“You motherfucking traitor,” Tierney snarled.

That surprised a sharp laugh out of Ian. “Traitor to
what
?”

“To
men
. Straight men.”

That caused a few eyes to widen among their audience. Ian kept his breathing steady by force of will. “Why’s that, Tierney? ’Cause I never told you? Maybe I thought you’d act just like this.” Well, not quite this over-the-top, unless he’d been drinking. Tierney could really tie one on, though. Maybe he’d been hitting the alcohol this morning?

Tierney’s face was nearly purple. “So it’s true? You’re fucking that fairy?” he choked out, spit flying.

Seriously
? Ian’s face must have been answer enough.

Tierney blanched, and then took a step toward Ian. Ian stood his ground. Tierney stopped about five feet away. He looked so unhinged Ian thought his eyes might start spinning independently of each other any second.