Better Than Safe (27 page)

Seth rolled his eyes and spun back to his canvas on the other end of the room. He was saying something about a show near the campus and the band’s fucked-up guitarist with drug issues, but I couldn’t concentrate. All I could hear was “don’t hurt him.” Everything sounded like space in a vacuum. A whooshing noise colliding with quiet and soft chatter.

“Hey, what’s wrong? I thought you’d want to see this place. What do you think?”

“I—”

Seth cocked his head and gave me a searching look. With his paint-stained T-shirt and holey jeans, he looked younger than ever. I felt so horribly out of my element, I could have choked with it. “What is it? You look kinda pale.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I licked my lips and swallowed convulsively. My mouth had gone dry. I was so far from fine I needed a life preserver.

“Huh. Want water? There’s some bottled—”

“When your friend said ‘don’t hurt him,’ he—what did he mean?”

Seth rolled his eyes and shook his head dismissively as if to say it wasn’t important. He walked across the room and bent to grab a water bottle from the mini refrigerator. He handed it to me with a sardonic grin.

“Nothing important. He’s a troublemaker. You gonna beat him up?”

“That day at the museum, the black eye. The first time I topped and you said your last experience wasn’t good. It was Simon, wasn’t it? He hurt you. He—”

“Stop!” His stormy expression was my answer. His posture was rigid and tension rolled from him in a tumultuous wave. “Stop.”

I couldn’t. “Did he? What did he do to you?”

“Fuck!” Seth turned abruptly and threw the paintbrush, sending a splatter of blue across the table. He gave me a derisive once-over and adopted a “no bullshit” tone when he spoke again. “If you must know, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and things got out of hand.”

“Did he—”

“Stop it! Leave it the fuck alone!”

“I can’t. I can’t bear the thought of him touching you. And if he hurt—”

“He hasn’t touched me in months, Paul. So drop it.”

“How can I? He’s evil.”

“Simon’s not evil. He just hates to lose. He thinks wanting something or someone is all it takes. He doesn’t worry about reciprocal feelings.”

“That isn’t okay! And I cannot believe you’re defending him.”

“I’m not defending him, but—”

“He knows about us. Is this a setup of some sort? A triangle of old lovers who—”

“Hang on a second! What are you saying? I didn’t conspire to create some weirdass love triangle. If you think—”

“I don’t!” I shouted, surprising us both with my anger. I closed the distance between us so we stood chest to chest, staring at each other intently with fiery mistrust and frustration. I held his chin between my thumb and forefinger and rubbed his stubbled chin. “The problem is… I don’t know what the hell to think. And I fucking hate the idea of him knowing any part of you.”

Seth swallowed hard and smacked my hand away. He pushed my chest, glaring at me as he pulled out of my grasp and made his way across the room to his canvas. He picked up a brush and bent his head. The message was clear. Fuck off and go away. I should have. I should have taken the cue to walk out while I still had some semblance of dignity. I was haunted by unexpected parallels. It suddenly seemed too convenient we’d been with the same man. Maybe it was a coincidence, but I had a strong premonition Simon had been aware of us for some time. And he didn’t like it. I could process this very odd twist and move on… with or without Seth. But I couldn’t seem to leave it. I was too tense, strung out and more than a little volatile.

I followed him, standing just beyond view of whatever he was painting. My respect for the creative process was too ingrained for me to peek at his work without invitation. I racked my brain for a cool, calm way to ask how the hell he got involved with Simon Pickard, but I failed. Miserably.

“When was the last time you saw him?” My tone was clipped, angry, and unfortunately… accusatory.

Seth barked a laugh devoid of humor and took a step forward, holding his paintbrush like a shield.

“Hmm. Interesting question. I wonder if you’ll believe I saw him maybe a month ago when he demanded a meeting with Harry and me to incorporate some of his pieces with mine. We fought. As usual. But I had to make nice ’cause I need that exhibit. So—”

“What do you mean by ‘make nice’?” My tone was low and sharp with an almost menacing edge I hardly recognized. I was out of line and I knew it. I should back off but—

“Fuck you. Do you think I fucked him? You think I—”

“No, of course not.”

“Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

He twisted the paintbrush in his fingers. His eyes were ablaze with righteous indignation. I closed my eyes briefly and reached out to touch his arm.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t touch me. Go on. Explain.”

“Seth….”

“I said—”

I couldn’t be sure who was more surprised when he lashed out and painted my expensive designer shirt with a wide swath of a muted shade of blue. I was suddenly grateful I’d taken off my suit jacket and tie at the end of the day. I looked from my ruined shirt to the wide-eyed culprit standing with his brush still in hand, poised to create more damage.

“What have you done?”

“It looks like I painted you. I might be able to get it out with—
”

“No. You actually won’t be able to get this out. It’s bloody ruined.”

“Yeah well….”

I snatched the paintbrush from his fingers and cocked my head thoughtfully before raising my hand to paint a neat line across his cheekbone when I quickly realized there was no satisfaction in messing with his already damaged T-shirt. His eyebrows rose comically as he reached up to touch his cheek. He examined his blue-stained fingers with an inscrutable expression. I knew he wouldn’t let it go, but I was surprised at his speed when he lunged for me, knocking me back to grab for the brush. I tightened my grasp and held it above my head like a preschooler commandeering a sought-after toy.

“This is mine.”

“Fine. There’s more where that came from.” He waltzed to the table at the opposite end of the room and took a brush from a container holding dozens in varying shapes and sizes before heading back to the canvas to wet it.

“Enough! This is childish. I told you I believe you.” I shook my head in exasperation. I could hardly comprehend I was participating in this ridiculous meltdown.

“Oh thank God. I was worried for a second,” he sighed theatrically as he reached out to brush paint across my nose, mouth, chin, and along the buttons of my already ruined shirt.

“You little shit!” I plucked at his shirt and dragged him against me. He held his brush out of my reach, wriggling to free himself from my hold. I tightened my arms around his waist until he went still.

“Let go.”

“No.” I tilted my hips against his as I tightened my hold.

Seth’s eyes took on a feral expression I’d never seen before. Anger and self-righteousness turned into a completely different kind of passion. He dropped his paintbrush and wrapped his arms around me like a snake as he pressed himself close so there wasn’t a breath of space between us. He hooked his leg around mine and jutted his hips forward, grinding his obvious erection against mine.

“What’s your plan now? You gonna fuck me and make sure I know who’s boss? Huh? Are you gonna—”

I plunged my tongue in his mouth as I clutched at his longer hair. He gasped in surprise, but quickly caught the new tempo. The kiss was wild and manic. We stood groping and clinging to each other, desperate for friction and a release of the pent-up, crazy swell of energy surrounding us. I slipped my hands under his T-shirt and moved my splayed fingers up his back. He made a purring sound as he gyrated against my impossibly hard cock. Even through the layers of clothing, I could have sworn neither of us had been this turned on before. It was madness. I should stop. Angry sex wasn’t good, I tried to tell myself. But I didn’t think I was angry anymore, I was just horny and possessive and—

That’s what it was. I was possessive. Seth was mine. Not Simon’s. I wanted him to know he belonged to me. But… he was talking again. Something about tearing clothes and fucking like animals. My vision blurred as the dirty words combined with urgent groping sent me to another realm.

“Stop! You’re mine. Do you understand? Not his. He can’t have—”

“Hey.” Seth went still before pushing out of my arms. “Don’t do that. Don’t bring him here. He has nothing to do with us. Don’t even say his name.”

I nodded and stepped toward him, desperate to continue where we’d left, but he put a hand up to stop me.

“I’m not your boy toy or your property.”

“You know I don’t think of you that way.”

“I know. I do, but….” He lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly across the room before moving back to me. He set his hand over my belt and began to slowly work his fingers around the buckle and through the loop while he kept his eyes fixed on mine. “What we have here is special. It’s ours. It’s not for anyone else. Don’t let him in.”

I shook my head furiously as I reached for his nipple, tweaking the sensitive flesh before exploring his torso, then dipping my fingers to fumble with his zipper. “I won’t. I just don’t want to share and I hate—”

He set a finger over my lips and replaced it with his tongue a moment later. I moaned loudly as I renewed my effort to get to his cock. “You aren’t sharing me. I’m only with you. You know that, right?”

“Yes but—fuck!” I threw my head back and clutched at his arm when he gripped me in a punishing hold.

“Good. Then no more talking. I want you. Only you. And right now….” He pushed at my shoulder, indicating he wanted me on my knees. I wordlessly obeyed. I was practically salivating when he pushed his jeans and briefs over his ass and held his penis inches from my lips in invitation. “I want this.”

I stared at his beautiful cock and breathed in his manly scent. God, he was magnificent. I stared up at him in wonder. How did I get to my knees so fast? The energy surrounding him was turbulent. Dangerous. And he was no safe harbor. He stood with his hands on his hips like a proud Viking warrior waiting to be serviced. The idea that Simon or anyone might have power over him was laughable. He was his own entity. And fuck me, I wanted a piece of him. Whatever he’d give.

I gripped his ass for purchase, then swooped forward to swallow him whole.

“Fuck, Paul!”

I sucked furiously, up and down, running my hands over his strong thighs and in between his legs. I pulled back to slow the tempo, licking him leisurely until he grabbed a handful of my hair to guide me where he wanted me. He pumped his hips wildly into my mouth. I heard his soft hum of pleasure somewhere above me. The feeling of being so completely consumed and dominated turned me on. I unzipped my trousers and pushed the fabric aside. My cock hurt, I was so hard. I could already feel a tingling sensation along my spine. It wouldn’t take much for me to lose control.

He pushed me off and sank to his knees, quickly covering his lips over mine, his tongue gliding and probing as though he were desperate to taste himself. Then he bent over to suck my dick with his ass in the air. I heard myself groan as I smoothed my hands over his back, then leaned over his sweat-slicked body to slide a finger along his crack. He arched and inched his knees closer to give me better access to finger his hole.

“You want to fuck me, Paul?” He sat up and kissed me. All tongue. Pure sex.

My vision blurred. “Yes.”

“Say it. Tell me how you’re gonna do it. Make it dirty, make it something I won’t forget.”

“Holy—”

“Tell me you’re gonna pound my hole and—”

“Seth, stop. I’ll cum without bloody touching you if you don’t shut up. Condom, lube?”

“Right. Be right back.” He shucked his jeans, shoes, and socks off before making his way to the tiny desk in the corner. I watched my naked lover move about the darkening room. I couldn’t help admiring him. He was young, fit, and beautiful, but it was his confidence and ease of being that set him apart. A particular spark that was uniquely his. He smiled at me as he stroked his impressive cock and meandered seductively back to crouch at my side. “Lose your clothes and put the condom on. I’ll be right back.”

I did as instructed and chuckled when he returned a moment later with the red and white checked blanket he always brought with him on his sketching excursions. I started to make a comment, but my mouth went dry as he unfolded the fabric hurriedly and positioned himself on his hands and knees.

“Uh….”

“What are you waiting for?”

I made a pained noise as I fell to my knees between his spread legs and reached for the lube. Seth began a new round of raunchy commentary about how hard and how fast he wanted it, but went blessedly quiet at the first touch of my finger at his entrance. I tried to be as gentle as possible, but I couldn’t take my time. I slipped a finger inside him, angling it slightly before moving it in and out.

“Another, and don’t fucking ask if I’m sure,” he growled.

I added more lube and obeyed. I wanted to comment on him being bossy, but I was too turned on. When he asked for a third finger, I complied, but knew he’d want something else quickly. I stroked my sheathed cock, removed my fingers, and gently pushed inside my lover. The sensation of being surrounded by his heat was intoxicating. I could never tire of this. I inched my way in slowly and stopped to wait for his signal or his exasperated plea for me to get fucking moving.

He pulled his hips forward, then back, testing his readiness or perhaps just once again topping from the bottom. I met him with an impatient thrust that knocked him off-balance. His fingers gripped the blanket with white knuckles as he repeated his backward motion. This time he was ready for me, and of course, he wanted more.

“Harder. Fuck my ass. Do it har—”

I clutched at his shoulders and pummeled my hips into him. The steady pounding of sweaty flesh and labored gasps of breath echoed in the room. I ran my hands along his sides, caressing his lower back and his legs before grabbing for his bobbing prick.