Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (7 page)

He came, and Sam moaned around him, sucking him dry, stroking his taint and rolling Ian’s balls between his fingers. Ian convulsed in Sam’s mouth, ass tightening up and cum rushing through him from his sensitized balls while Sam rubbed his fingertip across Ian’s hole. Encouraging him to just let it all out.

Ian did, until he was arched forward and clawing drywall, his back muscles strained, his cheek pressed hard against the wall, sliding in his own sweat.

He nearly collapsed onto Sam’s head, but managed to push himself to the side, closing his eyes and gasping, head bent uncomfortably against the headboard.

What the hell was that
?

It was an amazing blowjob, that’s what it was. He wouldn’t have pegged Sam as being a champion cocksucker, but that would teach him not to judge a book by its cover.

Slowly, the blood receded from Ian’s ears, and he became aware of some other rhythmic noise: a hand working a cock. Ian cracked his eyes to see Sam jerking himself off. “Stop that.”

Sam stopped instantly, even though he must have been close, hips lifting off the bed. Ian’s voice hadn’t even been hard or commanding. “I don’t get to come?” Sam asked.

Ian straightened himself out on the bed so his neck wasn’t at such a painful angle. He looked into Sam’s face. “C’mere. On your knees, straddling my shoulders.”

Sam blinked at him. “Why?”

Why
? “It’s up to you. You can come in your hand, or in my mouth.” It was the least the kid deserved after a performance like his.

Sam clambered up his body so fast it was downright flattering. Ian grinned at him. “Thought so.”

Ian was licking at Sam’s glans, which Sam found heart-stoppingly amazing. It’d been more than three years since anyone had sucked him off.

It was Ian’s other hand, though, sliding along behind his balls,
shudder
, that found his secret—his guiche piercing. Ian pulled his mouth off, making Sam jerk when cold air hit his wet skin. He looked down to see Ian leering at him.

“What’s this?” Ian ran a finger across the bar buried under Sam’s skin.

“You know what it is,” Sam said. His heart pounded in his ears, going faster than it had been with Ian’s tongue sliding around his dick. No one had ever touched his guiche except him and the girl who’d pierced him. And now Ian’s finger dragged across his skin from bead to bead along the barbell, pressing lightly. It felt better than Sam would have thought, having someone else play with the piercing.

Ian smiled bigger. “Turn around, Sam. I want to see it.”

Sam hesitated. Ian just looked at him, waiting for him to comply. Not smiling anymore, but not angry. Sam didn’t know if he cou—

Ian tugged gently on one bead of the guiche, and Sam arched his back and pushed up onto his knees. It felt like having an unreachable itch scratched, only a thousand times better.

He turned around, his muscles shaky and not really supporting him, his legs straining to hold his ass right above Ian’s face.

“Nice,” Ian said, like he’d found a new plaything. Sam felt his voice resonating in the guiche. Then Ian licked him, tongue sliding across the skin-covered bar, under the ends, between the beads and Sam’s skin.

Oh God. Oh fuck.
Sam dug his fingers into the bed. Ian blew on the skin he’d wetted. “Oh God,” Sam whispered, his head falling forward. Then Ian’s thumbs were pulling his ass cheeks apart, and Ian’s wet finger was sliding from the guiche to Sam’s asshole. Sam sucked in a breath and straightened up, tensing with anticipation.

Sam had always been tight, and Ian had a fantastically thick finger, and he used a light touch to tease Sam before finally pushing steadily inside, making Sam clench even tighter for a second before loosening.

“You’re snug.” Ian’s voice sounded admiring. Even excited. “You’ll feel so good on my cock.”

Sam whimpered and shoved himself back onto Ian’s finger. Oh God, Ian’s knuckle was stretching him wider. The spit wasn’t enough, but Sam wasn’t about to complain. It ached and pulled a little, which was perfect.

Then Sam felt something amazing—hot breath on his asshole and Ian’s tongue licking around it. Sam locked his elbows to keep from face-planting. Ian licked him, sparking up Sam’s nerves and lubing his own finger when he started to stroke. He worked in a second finger, grunting in a pleased-caveman way when Sam squeezed both with his ass muscles. Ian slid in and out more and rubbed less, but it was still achingly good. Sam needed that friction so much he was rocking his hips, breathing out small noises. He just needed to feel full. “Yeah.”

“That’s good?”

“Oh, fuck.”

Ian laughed, blasting air across Sam’s ass. “Must be a yes.”

When Ian’s fingers slid across his prostate, Sam groaned and jerked, his elbows shaking and his back bowing, knees slipping on the sheets.

“Make yourself come,” Ian said, his jaw scraping whiskers against Sam’s ass cheeks, making Sam shiver.

Sam held on tight to his dick, moving as fast as he could make it, while Ian finger-fucked him harder, winding up the nerves. But it was Ian’s tug on his nuts that made Sam howl and come. He was certain he shot off fireworks, releasing all that painfully built-up pleasure.

He fell forward onto Ian’s legs, drained. Ian eased his fingers out of Sam’s ass after a minute. Or an hour; Sam couldn’t be sure.

“That’s good,” he mumbled.

Ian laughed.

Sam made a face into Ian’s knee and rolled over onto his back. He felt so relaxed he could have passed out right there. He found a blanket to wipe himself off and cover up with, making a lazy mental note to throw it in the washer before he left Nik and Jurgen’s.

“You going to come up here?”

Sam shrugged in answer and groped around for a pillow. When he found one, he stuffed it under his head and rolled onto his side, Ian’s knee brushing his spine.

“Guess not,” Ian muttered. The bed squeaked and bounced while Ian turned himself around and cleaned himself with something; Sam’s sock, for all he knew. Then Ian sighed contentedly and settled in behind him, body heat just touching his.

“Warm,” Sam mumbled into the sheet.

“Huh?” Ian asked, but Sam ignored him. Too much effort to answer.

Ian didn’t seem to care. He patted Sam’s hip. “You’re better than I would have guessed.”

Bastard. But really, what did you expect
?

Pretty much what he got: a superlative orgasm. “You, too,” he said. The sudden, stunned silence from Ian’s side of the bed made him smile. “You never got around to fucking me,” he added right before he fell asleep.

In his previous sex life, Ian would have left after that first time, especially when the kid just passed out on him like that. But this was his new sex life, where he should probably hang out after, so instead he fell asleep too. He woke up when it was barely light out, and the first thing he saw was Sam’s pale, tight ass peeking out from under the sheet in front of him.

He liked that ass—fully intended to fuck that ass, putting his hands all over it and waking Sam up by caressing it. But for some reason, when things got to the point where he should have been easing himself inside Sam, he lubed up and pushed his dick between Sam’s thighs instead, bumping into Sam’s balls with each thrust between his legs.

The noises Sam made were real, not porn-star fake. He whimpered and caught his breath over and over because he couldn’t help it, not because they were hooking up and he had a part to play. And where did that come from? Because Ian’d never thought that about the guys he’d been with before, but right now he was certain Sam was the only genuinely grateful fuck he’d ever had.

Even though they weren’t actually fucking.

It didn’t matter because it was hot, and before Ian knew it the noises Sam made had become groans from his gut, rattling around in his throat, and Ian realized he wanted to kiss Sam. Just lay his lips right where Sam’s neck met his shoulder, on that stringy trapezius.

Or force Sam’s head back and take his mouth.

He wasn’t about to do that. He kissed guys, sure, but not guys who might read more into it than just sex, and even if this was more than
simply
sex, it wasn’t the beginning of a relationship. That would be cruel, to let Sam think there might be more to this. Ian couldn’t kiss him. It didn’t matter that Sam sounded hoarse from moaning so much so deeply, or that Ian could feel those moans strumming in his dick. Ian couldn’t kiss him again.

But if Sam didn’t stop it, he wouldn’t be able to
not
kiss him. Trying to muffle the noise, he covered Sam’s mouth with his hand. He was rewarded with a startled cry that leaked out around his fingers and stuck in his ears, making the urge to kiss Sam that much stronger.

And fuck, he could
taste
Sam. Breathe in his heat and sweat and the scent of his hair and Jesus Christ he
couldn’t
do this.

So he bit the kid instead.

Sam came in his hand, pushing his ass back and stroking Ian with downy, smooth skin over wiry muscles.

To his shock, Ian came too—just popped. Really, really fucking hard, pushing Sam over onto his stomach and grinding into him, fingers digging into his pelvis.

For a while, Ian couldn’t move. Maybe thirty seconds of panting against Sam’s neck, teeth still on his skin. It was when he started grazing them along the muscle that ran behind Sam’s ear to his clavicle that Ian forced himself off the kid. He shoved himself away, so they weren’t touching anywhere, and listened to Sam’s breathing slowly change from post-coital panting to sleep.

Then Ian lay there, thinking so fast it was like thinking nothing, but less relaxing. He’d come hard enough that he should be out cold for hours, but between that crazy-strong orgasm and Sam just passing out after? Ian couldn’t sleep.

Maybe he’d eaten something funny.

Sam was clearly having no issues sleeping. He hadn’t eaten the same things, probably. Ian rolled onto his side. He meant to roll away from Sam, but his body somehow got the wrong message and he rolled to face Sam instead. The kid was stomach-down, hugging the sheets like a lover, head turned away from Ian.

Aw, fuck
. Ian forced himself onto his back again, and watched the room grow lighter as the sun came up. East-facing window. He’d never fall asleep here with an east-facing window.

Hell, he might as well get up and leave. His work here was done, he knew the kid well enough, right? It’d be at least an hour until he could get it up again. He was thirty-three; he just couldn’t fuck forever the way he’d used to.

He should leave before anyone in the house woke up.

Fuck
. Jurgen.

There was no way he could explain why he’d ignored Jurgen’s request to leave Sam alone. And he had an inkling that Jurgen wouldn’t quite see the “getting to know him first” thing the same way Ian had.

Why had he done that? He’d never just ignored a request from Jurgen like that. It was totally out of character. Things had just . . . gotten out of hand. Sam had been in that hot tub, looking nervous and, well, cute, and then he’d reacted so perfectly when Ian dropped his towel. As if he could’ve come just by looking at him.

Ian turned his head, looking one more time at Sam. He snuffled, rubbing his nose in his sleep, then sighed and rolled over.

Hell
.

Okay, he probably needed to think about this. Come up with an explanation for Jurgen. Staying here, waiting for Jurgen to get up and plan out an ambush, was probably a bad idea, though. Best course of action was to get out of bed before anyone was up, get out of here, and head back to the city until he came up with a reasonable explanation.

That was why he needed to leave. To think.

He refused to listen to the little voice inside spouting off opinions about running away and bad decisions.

Of course, Jurgen was in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking coffee. When Ian walked in, pack over his shoulder and carrying his shoes, Jurgen pointed at an empty cup waiting for him on the counter next to the coffee pot.

Ian winced, accepted the inevitability of having a conversation with his cousin, and filled his mug. He probably deserved whatever was about to happen.