Under My Skin (9 page)

Dylan smiled around his mouthful of cock, then devoted all his attention to bringing Sebastian ultimate pleasure.

But when Sebastian was close to coming, Dylan pulled off him.

Sebastian groaned his protest. His eyes fluttered open and he stared in unfulfilled agony at Dylan.

He stroked a soothing hand over Sebastian's thigh. “Don't worry, I'm not going to make you wait long.”

“Fuck!”

Another grin split Dylan's face. He'd never heard Sebastian use that particular expletive before. Obviously he'd gotten to the man. “Hold that thought.”

He crawled over to the nightstand, yanked open the drawer, and pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. With as quick a motion as he could manage, considering his hands were shaking, he ripped open the package, rolled the rubber down onto his erection, then crawled back to his waiting lover.

Sebastian watched his every move. When Dylan opened the lube and squirted a generous amount on his cock, then more onto his fingers, Sebastian pulled his legs up, giving him easier access. Dylan eased his slicked fingers into Sebastian's anus, stretching and coating him all at the same time, loving the look of raw eroticism on his face.

There was
no way
he'd ever get tired of this man.

Unable to wait any longer, he poised the tip of his cock against Sebastian's hole and pushed.

They both cried out as Dylan sank to the hilt. He knew he probably should have taken it more slowly since it was the first time he'd topped Sebastian, but his body surged with heat and powerful need, and from the expression on Sebastian's face, he'd been pretty damn sure Sebastian wasn't going to complain.

Giving himself a minute to get used to the blissful, squeezing pressure, he held himself in place, feeling Sebastian's pulse in the tight muscles that gripped him.

But he couldn't stay still long. It was too good. With a low groan, he surged into motion, sliding out, then plowing back into Sebastian's welcoming body over and over. He alternated between slow, steady strokes, and short, hard jabs. Sebastian's breathless moans on each of his thrusts filled Dylan's senses, making him crazier and more turned on, until everything else around him, around them, disappeared and all he knew was the merging of their bodies, the scent of sex and man, the sweet pressure of Sebastian's muscles bearing down on him, and the sight and sounds of the man beneath him.

When Sebastian reached for his own cock to get himself off, Dylan pushed his hand away and took over the task himself, wanting to give Sebastian all the pleasure he possibly could.

Sebastian let him, sliding his hands up Dylan's arms instead, gripping his shoulders in strong fingers, and giving himself up to Dylan's care.

They came almost in unison, Sebastian's cock spewing loads of cream onto his stomach, Dylan's hand, and groin. And Dylan spasming deep inside Sebastian, filling the condom with generous bursts of cum.

Dylan pulled out, then collapsed on top of Sebastian, burying his face in the man's neck.

“That was... ” Sebastian's voice was husky, breathless.

“Fucking incredible,” Dylan finished for him.

Sebastian's fingers burrowed into Dylan's hair and he pulled Dylan's head up so they were face to face. Sebastian's eyes still shimmered with passion. “Yeah. It was.” He lifted his head and planted a blistering kiss on Dylan's mouth. So blistering and packed with unspoken desire, it almost made Dylan dizzy.

They kissed and caressed for a long time. Eventually they got up and took a shower, where more kissing and fondling led to other things, and it was much, much later before they turned out the lights and slid between the covers of Dylan's bed, spent.

As Dylan drifted off to sleep with Sebastian's sensuous body pressed up behind him, his arm draped around Dylan, and his thumb brushing slow, aimless circles around one of his nipples, he knew he didn't want this to end. He'd fallen hard for Sebastian. It was time to trust and take the risk.

Sebastian woke in the dark, disoriented. He lifted his wrist and peered at the luminescent numbers on his watch— a little after four-thirty in the morning. Knowing he wasn't in his own bed, he lay still, trying to place where he was and how he'd gotten here... and what the hard heat was scorching into his side and draped over his legs.

The soft, even sounds of breathing came to him in the silence. Then a clean, soapy scent.

Which brought back a rush of images of a shower, and soap-slicked, insistent hands working over and into his body in ways that made him tremble just to think about them.

Dylan.

Oh, God. He dragged in a deep breath. He'd gone to bed with Dylan Radamacher.

No, not just the bed... the garage, the kitchen, the bathroom.

Christ
.

And every second of it had been amazing. Beyond amazing.

He tried to catch his breath as his heart raced away with him.

Then he shook his head as the truth hit him. It hadn't just been the sex that was great.

He'd known from the day he'd met the man that Dylan was sexy. He radiated sex appeal like a furnace radiated heat. But he was a lot of other things Sebastian had never expected him to be— intelligent, funny, gentle, a good conversationalist. Dylan had surprised him at every turn, saying the right things, turning his fears inside out and upside down, making him think and feel and think again about the difference between how Beck had treated him and how Dylan treated him. He'd admitted things to Dylan he would never intentionally have told anyone else— certainly not a lover.

He couldn't fricking believe he'd told Dylan his frustrations about being labeled a smart guy, and had pretty much admitted that he was less than confident in his ability to attract lovers. He cringed when he thought back on it. He'd made himself look like a complete ass.

And yet... instead of grabbing his clothes and running, which he'd had the strong urge to do, somehow Dylan had turned the tables on his embarrassment and anger, and made him hot and horny again, made him smile, and even laugh. Not only had he stayed for the next round, he'd ended up staying the night because Dylan had looked at him with those compelling eyes and, in his low, husky, bone-melting voice, asked him to.

But what happened now?

He lay there on his back, listening to Dylan's breathing, savoring the sensation of the man's groin scorching his hip, his arm around Sebastian's waist, and one muscular leg thrown over the top of his. It felt good. He felt good. So good he could stay like this for a month. A year. Forever.

Yet it also scared the hell out of him.

Sebastian had been here before, the moment of decision after giving in to a passionate night of sex. The moment where he, traditionally, had let his other head do the thinking instead of the one that contained his brain. The one where his decisions had netted him nothing but pain, humiliation, and a solid résumé of being used.

Horst, Beck... they'd both sweet-talked and seduced him. Both had led him to believe they liked him and wanted to be with him. Both had used him for their own selfish purposes. And Sebastian had no one to blame but himself. At this point in those relationships— the infamous morning after— he'd had a choice to stay or to go. To walk away with his head held high, satisfied from a good night of sex, or stick it out for the hope of more— more sex, more companionship, and maybe even something beyond that. He'd chosen to stay and hope for more. Both times he'd been burned.

With Dylan, though... With Dylan it just somehow felt different. He didn't know why, couldn't put his finger on it.

Or maybe he just wanted it to feel different. Because, damn it, in spite of how he knew he
should
feel, he liked the man. Liked him a lot. Maybe even more than a lot.

You barely know him. How do you know everything that happened between you last night wasn't pretend on his part? How do you know he wasn't on his best behavior to win you over simply for a great night of fucking? He wouldn't be the first guy who'd sweet-talked a potential lover into his bed.

He didn't want to believe that. The way Dylan had looked at him last night... how could someone fake that?

People can and do.

But that didn't mean Dylan had. He wasn't who Sebastian had thought he was. He'd tried to lump Dylan into the same category as Beck, and there were some similarities, yes. Business owners, part of the counterculture... but Sebastian could no longer think of any other places where the two men's lives merged. Dylan's business seemed to be booming and had been in operation for seven years. He was financially secure enough he'd been able to move to the bigger location next to Sebastian's store. He owned his own house. Nothing about him led Sebastian to believe he needed to use Sebastian's brains or his finances for his own ulterior motives.

How could he trust his own judgment, though?

God, Sebastian hated the knot in his stomach. He so wanted to believe. But, then, he always had with the other guys, too. Had wanted to believe,
had
believed, then paid the price.

Give me a chance to be the right reason. The right decision.

That's what Dylan had told him last night at the bar.

So maybe... maybe that's what he needed to do. Maybe he needed to give Dylan a chance. More of a chance than just one night. Maybe Sebastian just needed to take this one day at a time, try to keep an open mind, and see how it went.

The decision gave him a small sense of peace, or, if not peace, at least a sense that he had a plan, a direction to head. It didn't have to be all or nothing— leave now or stay forever. One day at a time was good.

He closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. But after several minutes he knew it wasn't going to happen. His mind still spun.

Finally, he gently untangled his legs from Dylan's, and slipped out from under his arm and the covers. He padded through the house to the kitchen, thinking maybe a drink of water would help. Or he could call a cab and go home.

That's not what he wanted, though. What he really wanted was to go back to bed, kiss Dylan awake, then bury himself inside the man and ride him hard and deep until neither of them could breathe.

Heat flooded through him at that thought.

One day at a time. It was a new day. No time like the present to seek a little reassurance.

With a half-smile, he decided to do just that.

But as he crossed through the kitchen, he saw the light on in the den— the light that had been on when he and Dylan had come in tonight. He sidetracked to peer through the doorway out of curiosity. It looked like Dylan used the room as an office and art studio. Fascinated by the framed pieces on the walls, he entered to study them more closely.

Some of the pictures were paintings with fantasy themes, but most were done using other media— pastels, pencil, ink. A desk and computer sat against one wall, and a drawing table scattered with papers and half-finished pieces sat against another. This was probably where Dylan drew up custom designs for tattoos.

He spied a handful of photographs sitting on top of the hutch on the desk, and stepped closer to look at them. The first was of Dylan with a woman who could only be his mother— their facial structure and hair color were identical. Dylan looked about the same age he was now, so it couldn't have been made too long ago. His mom was of medium build, with long hair, and an almost Bohemian look about her. They were both smiling— genuine smiles, not fake “say cheese” for the camera smiles— and it tugged a smile from Sebastian as well. He wasn't even sure why, except it somehow gave him a stronger connection to Dylan to see him so obviously happy with his mother. Beck had never had any pictures of his family, or if he did, he'd never shared them. He'd never talked about them either, except to imply his family had been dysfunctional as hell and he seldom saw them or talked to them.

The next photo was of an older, balding, tattooed man standing in front of a Harley. That caused a twinge of old pain in Sebastian, making him think of Beck and his damned Harley. Sebastian wondered who the man was and why Dylan would have him in a place of honor next to his mom.

But then something else drew his attention. A yellowed newspaper clipping— an obituary— tacked onto the bulletin board next to the desk. The man in the faded, blurry photo was the same as the one in the photo on the desk. Mick Parsons. Dylan had said his mentor's name, the man who'd done the beautiful art on his back, was Mick. The date of his death was listed as seven years previously. The same year Dylan had said he'd started his own shop. Mick had died in a car accident.

Damn
. Dylan hadn't said as much, but from the way he'd spoken of Mick, Sebastian got the impression Mick had been the father figure Dylan had never had, as well as his mentor and friend. What a tragic loss.

When he turned to leave, a framed drawing hanging on the wall directly over the drafting table caught his eye and, like a tractor beam, pulled him in.

As he stared at it, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach.

“Oh, God.”

The pen and ink drawing had been rendered in bold, almost campy lines and showed the front of the strip mall where Great Escapes and Rad Tattoos were located. He recognized it by the shape of the building, the windows, the landscaping, as well as the sign that jutted up from the parking lot at the edge of the picture proclaiming it as Green Meadows. But unlike the current layout of the mall, in this picture Sebastian's store, Joanie's bakery, Oh, Baby Baby, and Dr. Dean's optometry office were all gone. Rad Tattoos took up the entire building.

Beneath the drawing, in neat, bold handwriting, were the words:

Today Suite E, tomorrow the Green Meadows strip mall, next week... the world!

Sebastian dragged a hand through his hair, reading the words over and over again until they were branded in his mind.

Fury, and then hurt surged through him like a firestorm followed by a dark, icy tidal wave, leaving him charred, cold and shaking.

Today Suite E
. That was the space where Rad Tattoos was currently located. Suite D was Sebastian's store. Which, in Dylan's grand expansion plan, would need to be the first one to go.