Under My Skin (5 page)

“I just... ” Sebastian sighed. “I just don't think us getting to know each other better is a good idea.”

Dylan slid his fingers through Sebastian's, and didn't miss the way Sebastian's curled instinctively around them rather than pulling away. “Why?”

“You're not my type, Dylan. I really want to l— ” He stopped himself and, breathing hard, looked up at the wall above the bar. His eyes looked misery-filled, and it made Dylan's gut ache. “Look,” Sebastian said, tugging his fingers free and shoving his arms into his jacket, “it's not you, okay? It's me. It's my problem. I just can't do this. I'm sorry.”

He turned and edged his way through the crowd.

Dylan yanked out his own wallet, added more bills to those Sebastian had put on the bar, grabbed his jacket, and followed.

He'd heard Sebastian's words. Heard them loud and clear and hated the rejection in them. But he couldn't fully mesh the words with the pain and obvious longing in the man's eyes.

“Sebastian, wait,” he called, just outside the entrance.

Sebastian stalked along the side of the building and disappeared into the lit alley that ran beside it. Dylan jogged after him and caught up to him shortly after he turned the corner. Sebastian had his cell phone out, pushing buttons.

“Stop, okay?” Dylan grabbed his arm and swung him around.

“I'm going to call a cab.”

Dylan plucked the phone out of his hand, snapped it shut, and tucked it into Sebastian's jacket pocket.

“What are you doing?” Sebastian said, his voice laced with annoyance, but mostly with what sounded like tired resignation.

“Talk to me. Tell me what's going on here.”

“I already told you... you're not my type.”

“I don't believe that.”

Sebastian shot him a glare, but again it was half-hearted with something else buried beneath it. “It doesn't matter whether you believe it. It's the truth.”

“I saw how you looked at me earlier today, how you looked at me inside just now. It's not the truth. Who hurt you?”

Sebastian took a step backward, his eyes wide. “Wh-at?”

“Whoever or whatever made you suspicious of my ‘type,’ as you call it, was an ass.”

“There's... It's... ”

“You know what I think?” Dylan asked, moving closer.

Sebastian, his gaze riveted to Dylan's, took another step backward, but the wall loomed behind him and he had nowhere else to go. He shook his head.

Dylan brushed his thumb over the man's lower lip, that kissable, bitable lip, and watched a subtle shudder run through Sebastian's body. “I think you don't hate me as much as you let on.”

Sebastian swallowed hard. “I never said I hated you. I don't hate you. I want to... ”

“You want to what?”

“Damn it, I want to like you. But... ”

Dylan thumbed his lip again, and the softest of moans escaped the man— so soft he bet Sebastian didn't even realized it had happened.

“Then give me a chance. Don't judge me by the same standards as someone or something that has nothing to do with me when you don't even really know me yet. I'm my own person, not a ‘type.’ If, after you've gotten to know me better, outside of work, away from whatever it is about my shop that turns you off, and you genuinely don't like me, fine. But don't write me off without taking the time to find out who I really am.”

“Why can't you let you this go? Why do you care?”

Dylan eased closer. “Because I like you.”

“You don't know me either.”

“You can learn a lot about a man by how he runs his business, how he treats his customers and friends. I like what I know of you, Sebastian. And I think it's pretty clear we have chemistry. What are you afraid of?”

Sebastian closed his eyes. Opened them. A slow, ragged breath slid past his lips. “Myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a history of... ” He shook his head. “Because I have a history of making bad decisions for the wrong reasons.”

“Then give me a chance to be the right reason. The right decision.”

Sebastian stared at him, his gaze turbulent. They were standing so close now Dylan saw the rise and fall of Sebastian's chest, heard his rapid breathing. He wanted the man so damned badly it hurt.

“God. This so isn't a good idea,” Sebastian whispered, even as his hands reached out and grabbed palmfuls of Dylan's jacket.

Dylan's heart pounded. “Let me prove to you it is,” he said, breathing in Sebastian's clean, spicy scent and growing drunk on it. “Jesus, you have the sexiest damn mouth I've ever seen.” Then he pressed Sebastian up against the brick wall and kissed him.

Sebastian didn't fight, didn't resist. Instead his body leaned into Dylan's with such easy familiarity it felt as if they'd always been lovers. One of his hands curled around Dylan's neck and he kissed back, his mouth opening, his tongue tangling with Dylan's with a needy hunger that rivaled Dylan's own.

Dylan explored every warm crevice of Sebastian's lips and mouth, finding them to be everything he'd hoped and more. “I've been having fantasies about your mouth for weeks,” he confessed, sucking on, then nibbling Sebastian's full lower lip.

Sebastian pulled back slightly, eyes wide. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah. Every time I'd see you smile at one of your customers or hear you laugh at something, I wanted to kiss you until you couldn't breathe.”

“How would you know what I was doing with my customers?”

“How do you think? Why the hell else would I have been inventing every excuse in the book to stand outside on the sidewalk?”

Sebastian gaped at him. “So you could see me through the windows? I thought... I thought you were straight, always out there hugging on your female clients, flirting with them, walking them to their cars.”

“Believe me, the thoughts going through my head were far from straight. I haven't thought about anyone but you since I moved in next door to you.”

“Oh, God.”

“Oh, God?”

“I haven't thought of anyone but you either,” he admitted.

“Fuck.” He gave Sebastian a heated, appreciative gaze and then their lips met again with such raw desire Dylan thought he might implode

Sebastian's free hand slid around Dylan's waist to his back, then down into the waistband of his jeans. The sensation of his palm cupping the skin and muscle of his ass wrenched a low moan from Dylan's throat. And another when Sebastian guided Dylan's groin against his own.

There was no hiding anything now, no playing pretend, as the hard ridge of Sebastian's erection ground against Dylan's in a bold, sensual motion that left Dylan shaking.

He pulled at Sebastian's shirt, tugging it free of his pants, and stroked his hands up underneath it, learning and relishing the terrain, tracing his fingertips over hard muscle and into the valleys. He found the flat nub of a nipple and scraped his fingernails over it, then squeezed.

Sebastian groaned into his mouth and dug his cock harder into Dylan's groin.

“Christ,” Dylan gasped, pulling his mouth free to catch his breath and fight the urge to rip off all Sebastian's clothes and go down on him here and now. “I want to feel all of you, want to touch and taste you. But I'll be damned if I'm going to do it out here, like this is some kind of cheap hook-up. I want
way
more than that.”

Sebastian continued sucking on Dylan's neck while still rolling his groin against Dylan's.

“Jesus... Bastian... ” Dylan panted, afraid if Sebastian didn't stop soon he was going to shoot his load in his jeans. He had better plans than that. “I don't live too far from here. Come home with me?” It wasn't just a question. It was a plea.

Sebastian paused, pulled back to look at him, lust swirling in his gaze, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Thank God. Let's go.” He grabbed Sebastian by the hand and couldn't get to the bike in the parking lot fast enough.

They shared more kisses before they finally got the helmets on. Then Dylan had to force himself to take several deep breaths and calm down before he straddled the motorcycle.

Concentrate. It's not far.

Concentration was tough to come by, however, because the moment Sebastian climbed onto the bike behind him, one hand curved around his waist, slid up under his jacket and T-shirt, and long fingers stroked the bare skin of his stomach. The other hand settled over his crotch, rubbing his boner and cradling his balls.

“Shit,” Dylan muttered, breathing hard. He said a quick prayer of thanks that his house really was close or else this could get insane real fast.

As they flew through the night, one fact became crystal clear to him. He'd wanted to see the other man's inner tiger unleashed, and if this was a hint of it, he suspected no one would ever satisfy him again but Sebastian Keller.

Dylan's neighborhood surprised Sebastian. Even through his haze of lust he could see it was made up of older houses, but all of them tidy and well-kept, on decent-sized lots, with big oaks and elms lining the wide, peaceful street.

What did you expect? Run-down hovels with junk cars sitting around?

He was embarrassed to admit he had expected that very thing. Like the type of neighborhood Beck's dearest and best buddies had lived in.

He's not Beck.

No, he wasn't. Dylan was proving to be an enigma. Sebastian had thought he'd pegged the man, but kept finding surprises at every turn. Spending time with him was like riding a speeding, looping rollercoaster, in the dark, with no idea what might come next... if it would be a gut-wrenching plunge, an upside down spiral, or just an exhilarating race around curves. But all of it was terrifying and at the same time thrilling beyond compare.

God, I'm in so much trouble.

And yet, pressed against Dylan's back, the rumble of the bike between his thighs, his cock hard and aching for release, and the taste of Dylan's kisses still on his lips, he couldn't dredge up even a small desire to be anywhere but here.

He was a fool. He knew he was. But stupid as it may have been, he'd chosen to get on this thrill ride. And though he suspected in the end he'd pay for it, he was going to enjoy it for the brief while it lasted.

Dylan turned into the driveway of a brick-front, covered-porch two-story. The garage door slid up— the remote must have been in the pocket of his jacket— and Dylan pulled the bike into the garage next to the dark green Jeep Wrangler Sebastian had also seen him drive. The door closed behind them as Dylan shut off the bike.

They sat for a moment in the dim light from the garage door opener, not moving, the sexual tension so thick Sebastian almost couldn't breathe. He pulled off his helmet.

Dylan did the same, then wrenched his body around partway and dragged Sebastian into a kiss that conveyed every bit of the hunger and built-up need that surged in Sebastian.

“I didn't think we were ever going to get here,” Dylan murmured against his lips.

“Me either.” Sebastian stood, swung his leg off the bike, and set his helmet on the worktable behind him. When Dylan dismounted, Sebastian grabbed him by a belt loop and pulled him close, then planted another kiss on him. As the heat and seductive taste of Dylan's tongue curled with his, Sebastian worked open Dylan's belt buckle, popped open the button of his jeans, and slid down the zipper.

In a smooth motion, he pushed Dylan's jeans and briefs down to his thighs. His erection sprang free, hot and stiff and eager. Without pause, Sebastian dropped to his knees, wrapped his hand around the base of the thick shaft, and licked across the damp head of it, savoring Dylan's essence, the way the skin stretched like hot satin over the spongy crown, his warm aroused scent. Then not willing to wait a second longer, he guided that beautiful cock into the depths of his mouth.

“Shit,” Dylan gasped. “Oh, shit!” His fingers dug into Sebastian's hair. His eyes closed. His breathing came out in stuttered huffs.

Sebastian loved to give head. Always had. There was something about a cock in his mouth, the taste, the smell, the sensation of sleek, wet skin as he worked it over that did it for him. But as he listened to Dylan's heavy breathing, felt the vibration of Dylan's need and the way his fingers flexed against his scalp, he realized he'd never wanted to give anyone pleasure more than he did this man. He wasn't sure why. Probably the same reason he'd gotten on the motorcycle with Dylan tonight— a need to show him he was more than what he seemed.

All his life he'd suffered over the stereotype of being the “smart guy.” In high school, college, even now it continued, as evidenced by Babs today. He'd tried to fight it, tried to hide it. He'd shed glasses for contacts in high school, and after he'd opened Great Escapes and pulled a decent profit that first year, he'd gotten LASIK done. He'd banished geeky clothes from his wardrobe as soon as he'd been out on his own, and made a point of shopping at nicer men's stores. And yet, despite the improved external appearance, the smart guy label continued to stick. He didn't know what it was about him that broadcasted it, but he couldn't seem to escape it. “Pressed and scholarly,” Babs had called him.

Certainly there were far worse things in life than being smart. But here, tonight, with Dylan, he felt compelled to prove to the man— and maybe to himself as well— that smart guys could be just as good in bed, maybe better, than anyone else. The next time he went into Dylan's tattoo shop, instead of laughing because Sebastian blushed over some horny woman's come-on, he wanted Dylan to remember this moment, when he'd dropped to his knees in Dylan's garage and boldly sucked his cock until Dylan's eyes rolled back in his head.

Sebastian eased Dylan's dick in and out of his mouth a few times, then licked over and around its plump crown, delving his tongue into the generous slit, lapping up the drop of pre-cum that had beaded there. He traced the underside of the ridge, and fluttered his tongue against the sensitive sweet spot, before finally closing his mouth over just the head and sucking on it.

While his mouth was busy, his hands slid up and down Dylan's hips, squeezed his muscular butt, then one crept lower to roll his heavy balls.

Dylan's grunting moans and softly whispered expletives indicated he was more than appreciative of Sebastian's attention.