Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (4 page)

It was some damn college prank gone wrong. Ian had gone in a lukewarm straight guy and come out confused and horny as shit. It took him seven years to admit he liked fucking guys more than women. Liked it a lot more, if he felt like being honest. As in, if he never fucked a woman again?
Eh
. Never fucked a man again? His balls curled up and cried like babies at the very thought.

Jurgen had talked him off the wall lots of times during the last fourteen years. Jurgen had even supported him through his one real attempt at dating a woman even though he’d totally disapproved at the same time. So if he wanted Ian to keep away from some guy, Ian would stay away. There were lots of men here. He could take his pick.

He wasn’t likely to get stuck on the guy, anyway. Never had before. He winced at the thought. He was supposed to be working on that.

“Let me move you into the other room. Though there’s a few boxes we haven’t unpacked in there, still.”

Ian shrugged. “Got a bed?”

“Yep.”

“Fine with me.” He lobbed the pack he was holding back onto the bed and picked up his own. “Lead the way.”

A pair of gray-blue eyes met Ian’s as he walked into the kitchen to rejoin the party. He recognized them—they were the eyes of the guy who’d interrupted the rugby game a couple weeks ago. Something about that whole scene had stayed with him, so Ian recognized the kid, even though the kid looked away immediately, his gaze skittering off like a mouse.

Sam
.

Ian didn’t say hello or anything, but it was pretty obvious by the quick glances from under the guy’s lashes and the way he flushed when Ian looked at him that Sam recognized him. Twenty bucks said the kid wasn’t going to take the initiative and approach him. That was understandable, since Ian had been kind of a jerk to him, shooting him down so fast without giving him a chance. He wouldn’t talk to himself either.

Ever since he’d said that Sam wasn’t his type, he’d been thinking about it, and really, who was to say what he wanted anymore? Before, his preferences had been all about sex—Ian saw guy, guy was hot, Ian fucked guy, guy left as soon as possible after. He wanted to leave that stuff behind, right? Maybe he needed to, like, cultivate relationships with guys who he didn’t want to get naked with on sight.

Maybe guys he wanted to fuck after he thought about it awhile were a step in the right direction. And he’d thought about Sam a few times since that day on the rugby field. He just hadn’t expected to actually
see
him again.

If he was truthful, hooking up with Sam sounded kind of interesting.

But he didn’t make any moves, because he needed to feel out the situation first. So he just watched the kid occasionally. Right now, Sam was talking to Nik on the other side of the kitchen. Ian grabbed a beer and settled his butt back against the counter, next to Jurgen. Jurgen was in a conversation with some guys he didn’t know, and Ian took advantage of his relative social freedom to reconsider Sam.

Sam had long legs. Maybe they weren’t bulging with muscle, but they
were
long. Ian might have written the coltish legs thing off too quickly before. Legs like that might feel nice tangled up with his. A guy with Sam’s legs could probably hook his ankles behind Ian’s neck while Ian fucked him.

What kind of body hair did Sam have? Tough and springy, or was he one of those downy-haired guys? Maybe downy hair would be a nice change of pace.

He looked like he was barely legal. But he was obviously friends with Nik, so chances were he was of age, right?

Ian took another drink while watching him from across the room, over the heads of pretty much everyone. Yeah, they were both that tall. But where Ian was broad and muscular, the kid was skinny. “Lean” was probably a nicer word.

Ian licked a drop of beer from his lower lip, glancing at the kid’s face. Sam was watching his tongue. Staring at it. He swallowed, apparently mesmerized by Ian’s mouth. Slowly, Ian parted his lips. Sam swallowed again. Ian let his tongue sweep out, catching his lower lip and pulling it in, sinking his teeth into it.

He could actually see Sam’s breath speed up, his mouth falling open slightly, his own tongue mimicking Ian’s.

He looked up into Ian’s eyes and locked gazes with him, then flushed bright red. He turned around so fast he crashed into Nik, spilling wine on him.

Ian watched Sam get even more flustered, apologizing, wiping at Nik’s shirt with a hand. Nik rolled his eyes and pushed Sam’s hand away. Just before the kid fled the room, he gave Ian one last humiliated glance from under his lashes. When their eyes met again, he turned an even deeper shade of red.

The kid all but ran away. It wasn’t an orderly retreat, that was for sure. For a split-second, Ian thought about going after him. But what kind of comfort would he offer? He stayed put and watched Nik follow Sam out.

Okay, so Sam wasn’t his usual fare, but if he did make the effort and he got the kid into bed (or against the wall or whatever), how fast could he make him give it up? Would the kid spontaneously combust just from Ian touching him?

Hell
. He had to stop thinking about it. He was getting wood. He hadn’t even decided for sure to pursue the kid. Sure, he was thinking about it, but . . .

Then Jurgen, who’d been talking to some other guys, leaned over and said, “That’s Sam.”

“Yeah.” Ian was still staring at the door the kid had disappeared through. “I know. I met him.”

Then he and Jurgen shared a moment of frozen silence while Ian put two and two together.

“Shit,” they said in perfect unison.

“Let me introduce you to Dave,” Jurgen continued.

Ian nodded slowly. “Yeah. Do that.”

“What in the hell was that about?” Nik asked when he found Sam hiding in his bedroom. He shut the door and walked over to his dresser.

“He was
watching
me,” Sam explained.

“Who was watching you?” Nik asked, digging through a drawer.

The Highlander
. “That guy. Jurgen’s cousin, Ian.”

Nik looked up, his mouth forming a perfect “o” of surprise. “That’s a good thing, right?” he asked slowly. He pulled a royal blue shirt out of the drawer, not looking at it but at Sam.

“I don’t
knoooow
.” That was close to a wail. Sam tried to bring it down a notch. “I don’t think I’m his type.”

“Type, schmype.” Nik flapped a hand at him. “He was
watching
you.” Nik started paying attention to unbuttoning his wine-soaked shirt.

Sam swallowed and took a calming breath. “I might have been ogling him. A little. He might have noticed.”

“Every guy here is ogling him,” Nik said, disgruntled. Understandable: he was used to people ogling his boyfriend. It was a point of pride with him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. No matter how much Sam pushed him to. “You’re just one of the herd.” Nik looked disgustedly at the dirty shirt now in his hand, then threw it toward the bathroom door. Sam watched it sail past a stripper pole he’d just noticed.

Don’t ask
. “You guys put in a stripper pole?”
D’oh
!

Nik smiled, sighing dreamily. “Yeah.” He gazed affectionately at the shiny brass pole, then shook his head and refocused on Sam. “So, what about Ian?”

Another calming breath. “Do you remember when I told you about, um, the guy I asked out?”

“Your future husband?” Nik’s eyes got big. So had his voice. He stopped in the middle of pulling on his new shirt.

“Be quiet! I didn’t mean that husband thing. I was drunk.”

“Yes you did. So, what you aren’t saying is . . .” Nik raised a brow, looking delighted. Slowly buttoning his new shirt.

Sam started a sort of horrified nodding. “It was Ian.” Nik nodded in unison with him, but in a far less horrified way.

“So maybe, if you watched him back . . .” Nik waggled his brows. It was completely out of character for him.

Sam stared a few seconds before blurting, “He was
checking me out
. I think.”

There was that “o” of surprise again. “What did you do?” Nik asked excitedly.

“I bumped into you and spilled wine down your front.”

Nik looked at him.

Sam looked at Nik.

“I guess you could have been smoother,” Nik finally said, looking far less delighted. He finished buttoning his shirt and planted his hands on his hips. Thinking.

“I guess I could have.”

“Okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to help you.” Nik whirled around and marched out of the room with purpose.

Oh no.

“I’m really not sure this is a situation that can be helped,” Sam called after him, already knowing it was pointless.

Nik’s idea of helping Sam turned out to be butting in on any conversation Ian had with any gay single guy at the party. Especially Dave Blaylock. Nik still had a few issues with Dave having dated Jurgen, even though he laughed and pretended otherwise whenever Sam brought it up.

Nik got on Dave like a hawk on a mouse. A very small hawk on a very big mouse. A mouse completely unconcerned with any size disparity.

Ian and Dave were sitting on the couch, nursing beers and talking. Sam lurked near a doorway, holding up the wall and looking nonchalant (he doubted), studiously not watching them out of the corner of his eye. He noted with satisfaction that Ian hadn’t smiled at Dave once. Or laughed. Sam had made Ian smile
and
laugh when they’d first met.

It didn’t really matter that Ian had been smiling and laughing
at
him rather than
with
him, right?

Sam’s thoughts were interrupted when Nik insisted on sitting between Dave and Ian. He started chattering, his simpleton smile on his face. Sam watched Nik a minute, and then his eyes drifted back to Ian.

Ian was watching him. Smiling a slight, sort of smug smile.

This is your chance. Smile back
.

Sam felt his face flush red, then he looked at the floor and slunk out of the room. God he was suave, wasn’t he? He hid in the little hall between the living room and the bedrooms, right off the kitchen. It was deserted for now, but party sounds surrounded him.

“Where’s Nik?” Jurgen’s voice behind him startled Sam into almost jumping.

He whirled to face Jurgen, instead. “Talking to the guests.”

Jurgen narrowed his eyes slightly. “Is he talking to Ian again?”

Was Jurgen jealous? It didn’t seem possible, but why else would he care? Sam nodded, trying to figure it out.

“Why is he trying to cock block Ian?” Jurgen’s voice was low and compelling.

Sam had sudden sympathy for suspects Jurgen might question. But . . .
cock block
? Really? “I don’t know?” It was kind of true. He didn’t know why Nik was bothering.

Jurgen crossed his arms over his chest. “Sam, stay away from Ian.”

“What?” Like Sam should stay upwind of him, or something more along the lines of “don’t let him stick his dick in you”?

“He’s not your type. He’s a manwhore. He’s more likely to fuck you than date you. You deserve better than that.”

“Uh . . .” Wait, wasn’t Jurgen Ian’s cousin? “I do? I mean, I know, but it’s kinda weird—”

“He’s not ‘relationship material.’”

“He’s my future husband.”
Did I say that out loud?
Sam clapped a belated hand over his mouth.

Jurgen stared at him a minute before dropping his forehead into his palm, growling to himself and massaging his temples. “Ian’s
no one’s
future husband.” Jurgen pulled his head up wearily. “He’s got . . . the fuck are those ‘issues’ again? Nik’s always going on about them.”

Sam dropped his hand from his mouth. “Commitment issues?” Nik had issues with commitment issues.

Jurgen snapped his fingers. “Commitment issues. He’d use you, Sam. He’ll force himself to find some suitable woman and start producing children any year now, and he’ll still be fucking guys on the side.”

Sam gaped. “Seriously?”

Jurgen rolled his eyes. “Probably not,” he admitted, then made a face like he’d licked a toad. “But he
might
. I’ve seen him try to do it before. And if he does, you don’t want to be his convenient fuck on the side.”