Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (30 page)

The best thing about the book—what pushed it into Sam’s “favorites” category—was the hero’s geekiness and social ineptitude. He was misunderstood and disliked by his crew, while the heroine’s crew (and the hero’s, for that matter)
loved
her. But somehow they got together anyway, and she fell in love with him in spite of knowing just how pathetically desperate he was for her (because she’d infiltrated his computer system and read his email).

It was very, very satisfying, not to mention it had lots of potential for him and Ian to “play.” Plus it was romantic enough that Sam occasionally caught himself clutching at his heart. Sometimes with a simultaneous hard-on.

Which was his state when a vehicle pulled up alongside the bus shelter. Sam froze.
Shit
. He hated when this happened. He sighed heavily. “Really,” he said loudly over the growl of the running engine, refusing to look up, “I’m just waiting for the bus. I’m not looking for a ‘date.’” At some previous point in his life, he might have been flattered to be mistaken for a rentboy. Until he was actually mistaken for one and realized how low-rent rentboys were. Seriously, he wore an apron and held a battered backpack in his lap. How did that make him look like he had sex for money?

“If that’s the way you want it, squirrel,” Ian’s amused voice replied.

Sam stood up and his backpack fell on the ground. “What are you doing here?” Did he sound short of breath? He felt short of breath. Ian was stretching across the cab of his truck, the passenger window rolled down. His caramel-colored hair was shining bluish in the streetlight, and he was smiling. He kept on smiling, leaning over and looking into Sam’s eyes.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. He reached for the passenger door from the inside and opened it. “Hop in.”

Sam picked up his pack and climbed in. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, smiling back at Ian.

Ian still leaned toward the passenger side, like he had some important business to take care of on Sam’s side of the cab. “I came to see if you needed a ride.” He moved closer, gripping Sam’s chin and kissing him. Not an explicit, we’re-so-gonna-fuck-when-we-get-home kiss. Just a kiss—a boyfriend kind of kiss. Just, “Hi there. I’m glad you’re here.”

“I could’ve taken the bus.”

“You’d have to transfer twice to get to my place from here.” Ian’s fingers dug into his jaw slightly.

“I’m going to your place?” Sam managed to contain his happy wiggle.

“I want you to.”

Sam bit his lip, and Ian’s eyes dropped to his mouth. “I want to.”

This time when Ian kissed him, it was a full-on, explicit, we’re-so-gonna-get-it-on kiss. “Good,” he whispered against Sam’s lips. Sam couldn’t help but trail fingers across his cheekbone. Ian let go of his chin, finally—with reluctance?—and sat up straight, putting the truck in gear.

“Do you need to go by your place first and get your stuff?”

“Oh. Um, no. I brought clothes and my razor and stuff I’ll need in the morning with me. Just in case. You know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ian said, looking at him before pulling away from the curb.

Ian probably should have let Sam shower alone, but Sam didn’t object when Ian got in with him and started soaping him up. He didn’t object when Ian dragged him out, toweled him off, and herded him toward the bed. He really didn’t object when Ian pulled Sam on top of himself in the bed—in fact, he went so far as to lube and stretch himself, which had to be the hottest thing Ian had ever seen.

Afterward, Ian let Sam doze, but he couldn’t keep his hands off of him. He spooned Sam tightly, caressing his skin, even though it was ridiculously early in the morning and they should both be asleep. But Ian couldn’t seem to stop, and after about twenty minutes of his usual postcoital nap, Sam woke up. He yawned and stretched, then hugged his corner of the pillow they shared. “Did I fall asleep?” he mumbled into it.

Ian kissed a vertebra on the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

“Mmm.” Sam rolled over and wormed his arm under Ian’s waist. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Sam yawned again. “Marley used to give me crap for falling asleep after I came.”

It was the first time Sam had volunteered anything about his ex-asshole, and Ian had been looking for an opening. He hadn’t wanted to talk about Marley the other night, but he sure as hell would pursue it now.

“Tell me about him,” he said, bringing Sam even closer to him, pulling one thigh up over his so he could do a little exploring while Sam spoke. He slid curious, hungry fingers up the back of Sam’s leg, getting his skin fix. He stopped at the sensitive place where Sam’s buttock met his thigh, stroking lightly, waiting for Sam to squirm.

Nothing. Sam kept his leg where it was, one arm trapped under Ian’s waist and his other fingers swirling in Ian’s chest hair. Ian pushed his upper body back far enough to see Sam’s face. He looked unhappy. Ian stroked the skin under his fingers, trying to comfort.

But okay, it hurt a little. “You don’t want to tell me about him?”

“It’s not that I don’t . . . I don’t want to talk about him at all.”

“Okay,” Ian said. He was sort of at a loss, now.

“Why do you want to know?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Carefully, Ian picked through his thoughts. “I think he’s the reason you’re skittish about trust and control.”

Sam swallowed and nodded, still focused on Ian’s chest hair. “He wasn’t very good to me. I never had a safeword, and he didn’t really . . . care.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Sam’s eyes flew up to meet his. “Not really. Not physically. He liked to, um, humiliate me. Have more control over me than I wanted to give him.”

“Humiliation isn’t your thing.” Ian was certain of that.

“No.” Sam shook his head, hair shushing against the bedding. Ian had been right; Sam looked perfect lying on his black sheets

He pulled Sam closer, kissing his forehead. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to press Sam to say more. Sam sighed, and some of the tension melted out of his body, so Ian let his fingers explore again.

He tickled the back of Sam’s thigh until he could feel goose bumps and hear the slightest shudder in his breath. He loved that he could cup Sam’s ass, one whole cheek fitting comfortably in his hand. His thumb could rest on Sam’s hipbone while his pinky finger could slide between his buttocks. Sam’s ass was small and tight and it did something to him when he held it or watched Sam walk. His cheeks looked like his glutes were always tensed, like he held the tightest piece of heaven between them, and if Ian coaxed him just right, he’d share it.

It wasn’t false advertising.

Ian let his pinky slide down slowly, off of Sam’s tailbone, into the valley below it. Dragging through slightly tacky lube left over from earlier, he circled that tiny hole. Sam squeaked and jerked his hips toward Ian, eyelids falling closed and lips falling open.

Ian pushed himself up on his elbow, looming over Sam. “Are you too sore to let me fuck you again?” he whispered in Sam’s ear.

Sam wrapped his leg tighter around Ian’s, grinding his hardening dick into Ian’s thigh. “It’ll be fine,” he panted, then tried to pull Ian in for a kiss. So Ian gave him one—a long, tongue-fucking, dominating one—then pulled away to nip his neck.

“Love your ass, Sam. I wanna fuck you on your stomach and watch my dick slide in and out of you,” he murmured, pressing and rubbing against Sam’s hole with his finger.

“Oh, God, yes.” Then Sam moaned in protest when Ian pulled his hand away, so he kissed him again.

“I wanna spread you out over the bed so I have all your skin under me.” He pushed gently on Sam’s shoulder, moving and positioning them both, until Sam was face down on the black sheets and Ian was kneeing his legs apart, watching Sam’s hips lifting for him. He lay on one of Sam’s legs, chest against his back, rolling Sam’s nuts gently between his fingers. “I wanna taste you. Wanna eat your ass,” he murmured into the back of Sam’s neck, stroking his thumb over Sam’s asshole.

Sam froze. He had his head hidden in the crook of his arm, and Ian heard him whisper something.

“What?” Ian’s heart pounded. Partly from being turned on, partly from worrying he’d freaked out Sam. But he’d rimmed Sam before, so what was the problem?

“I want you to do that,” Sam whispered just loud enough for Ian to hear, his voice reaching inside Ian and grabbing hold of something tight, and it wasn’t his nads. Sam took a small, gasping breath. “I want you to tongue fuck me until I’m loose enough for you.” He said it quickly, like he had to push it out.

“Yeah?” Ian could hear Sam gulp as he nodded. “Would you let me tie you spread-eagle to the bed for it?”

Sam froze again, muscles so tense he was trembling. Ian wondered if he shouldn’t have gone here now, but the idea of Sam tied down and writhing on his tongue wouldn’t let go of him, making his dick ache and his blood pound. He leaned to nip at Sam’s shoulder. “You have a safeword.”

Sam didn’t respond.
Hell
. “Did Marley ever tie you up?” Ian watched the back of Sam’s head nod. “We don’t have to.” Ian kept the disappointment out of his voice pretty well. The sinking feeling in his gut Sam wouldn’t know about.

“I want to,” Sam said.

Oh, fuck yes
. “You sure?” Ian asked, but he was already rolling toward the nightstand, where he had some soft rope. Which, yeah, he was keeping there hoping for a moment with Sam just like this. The throbbing ache returned, stronger, spreading through his gut and his groin, seeping into his limbs. He could even feel it in his fingers as he reached for the drawer.

“You’ll let me free as soon as we’re done?”

Ian stopped what he was doing and looked at Sam. He could still only see the back of his head. “That son of a bitch wouldn’t untie you?” he asked. What kind of asshole
was
Marley?

Sam shook his head. Then he turned it to peek at Ian over his elbow. “But you will.”

Ian nodded, the ache filling his heart now. “I will.” He rolled back toward Sam without the rope, because this was so much more important. “You want this?” he asked about three inches from Sam’s face.

“Yes.” He sounded certain.

“I’ll make this good, I promise.”

“I know.”

Ian pushed up on his arm and kissed a line down Sam’s back, trailing his tongue. Sam shivered. Ian lifted himself up off the bed, got the rope and then grabbed some pillows and a black towel to cover them with. He shoved the pillows and towel under Sam’s hips until his ass tilted into the air. Ian let his eyes wander all over Sam’s skin on the dark sheets while he stood beside the bed. Finally, he took one of Sam’s pale, bony wrists in his hand, stroking it before wrapping it carefully in soft nylon rope.

He tied Sam at both wrists and ankles until his body was spread out, all his pale, seductive skin on display. Just the sight of Sam’s fingers gripping the ropes made Ian’s blood pound harder and spots dance in front of his eyes. He sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress and laid his hand on Sam’s back, stroking it in long sweeps.

Now that he had Sam like this, he was almost too excited to go through with it. Afraid he’d come while he had his tongue inside Sam, tasting him and (hopefully) making Sam yank on his bonds and sob in pleasure.

“Ian, please,” Sam whispered, and then it didn’t matter to him if he did come that way, as long as Sam was happy. Crazily, out-of-his-mind happy. Ian trailed fingers down his long spine and watched Sam’s toes curl and his calves flex.

“Oh, kiddo,” Ian whispered, watching other muscles in Sam’s body tense at his touch. Could Sam hear the beat of his heart? Was it loud enough? He wouldn’t be surprised. “Just hang on.”

He tried to go slow, but he might have hurried the trip his mouth took from the nape of Sam’s neck to the end of his spine. Ian couldn’t wait to get there, and guessing by the soft noise Sam made every time he exhaled, neither could he. Ian’s fingers trembled when they pulled Sam’s cheeks apart, and he couldn’t make himself tease anymore. He tasted, swirling around Sam’s hole and making his body jerk. Under the slight bitterness of old lube, Sam tasted like growing things. Which was a weird thought, but seemed so perfectly him.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” Ian groaned, the whiskers of his chin scraping Sam’s skin, leaving his mark on Sam.
Oh fuck
.

Moving slowly, Ian worked his way inside Sam, and soon he had Sam moaning. Ian fucked Sam’s hole with his tongue, and lost himself in it for a while. He felt Sam’s glutes tense next to his face, like he was trying to trap Ian there and never let him go, to keep him fucking and sucking on his ass forever. Ian rolled Sam’s nuts between the fingers of one hand, using the other to stroke Sam’s lower back. He soaked in the taste of Sam and the smell of him in the air and the sounds they made—Sam’s noises and the sucking, licking sound of Ian working him with his lips and tongue, and the occasional scrape of teeth.

Sam was tied too tightly to thrust his hips more than a little, but soon he was nearly sobbing. His every other word was “please,” and most of the rest were incoherent. Then Ian heard him cry, “I’m gonna—” and he looked up to see Sam’s shoulder blades lifting from his back like wings trying to burst from his skin.