Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
It happened again.
Not immediately—a week with no sign of life from Sami went by. It was almost strange for Baz to go about his day-to-day without that annoying presence ruining his clothes, drinking his bourbon, and insulting his apartment.
Actually, the strange part was that Baz noticed his absence at all. He barely knew the guy. Plenty of people had pretty eyes and a weird, disarming sense of humor. Sami wasn’t special.
Baz sure didn’t fantasize about him anymore either, long stopped feeling his hands, much less his lips on his body every time he went to bed. Nor did he race to his phone whenever it buzzed. And if he did, it was only for a lack of better distractions.
No other case of his was as interesting as the Captain Green one. But the sample was with the lab and Ian was radio silent, and so, Baz was forced to play the waiting game. Not that he was waiting! Not for Sami. Obviously.
But when Baz went home that Tuesday night, head buzzing from writing bylaws all day for a start-up Aya represented (“Just because you’re wearing the pants on one case doesn’t mean I can’t make you do the grunt work for the others, Baz”), ready to numb his brain, boom—Sami.
Leaning against the apartment’s auburn door with a cocky grin, wearing the same shit suit as the day Baz had the misfortune of meeting him, except worse, thanks to the bright yellow rain jacket he wore over it.
Their eyes met. Baz’s stomach tingled with something he did not care to find a name for. He closed his mouth before Sami could derive pleasure from his surprise.
“Have you been waiting for me all night? That’s sad.”
“Nah, I got here five minutes ago. I assumed a workaholic like yourself would never leave the office before nine, plus a twenty-minute commute, and what can I say.” Sami turned his wrist to reveal his watch: 9:30. “I’m a genius who is always right.”
Easy thing to allege when Baz couldn’t verify his claims.
Baz produced his keys out of his jacket pocket. “What would you have done if I had come home with someone else?”
Sami squawked a laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? A week ago, you called me a player, and now I don’t have game?” Clearly, Sami still wanted a piece of him, so this was an insult against him too—
“Hey, you’re the one who told me to not believe everything I hear. But if that, I’m sure very frequent, event had occurred, I would have simply joined whatever you two got up to.”
Simply.
Everything in Sami’s world seemed awfully simple if he thought he could insert himself into Baz’s life whenever he pleased.
“You really think you can show up here and I’ll drop everything for you?” He turned the keys. Sami grabbed the handle.
“Can’t I?” He opened the door and squeezed inside before Baz. Rude.
Again, Sami kicked off his shoes with no hesitation and tossed his jacket at the hooks behind the door—and missed. Yet kept walking. No manners, this guy.
Baz collected it off the floor to put it up properly and sorted his shoes into place, neatly next to each other.
Sami looked around the unchanged space, humming, no doubt finding something new to judge. “Hey, Baz?”
“What now?”
“It’s my turn.”
Sami pounced.
Baz’s back slammed into the hard wood of the door. A teasing pain tightened his scalp where Sami fisted into his hair before he claimed his lips in a rough kiss.
Baz gasped for air under the demanding touch. The blood fled from his brain, rushed south. All he could do was grab Sami’s waist, his hips, his ass, pull his stunning body as close as physically possible.
Sami bit his lower lip, trapped it for a moment as he pulled back with a grin. Baz was rock-hard in seconds.
“You want me?” Sami whispered, rolling his hips against Baz’s bulge.
Baz wanted to scream no, that he couldn’t care less—yet only a whimper escaped him as he chased Sami’s lips, the high they blessed him with. This was even better than what he’d remembered kissing Sami was like.
“Come on.” The words were barely more than a breath. Clammy fingers slid between Baz’s. Sami led him to his own fucking bedroom; Baz had no mental space left to complain or right this imbalance. It was Sami’s turn, after all.
He pushed Baz onto the bed like he owned the place, attacked him with demanding kisses while climbing into his lap and then he—slowed down?
His lips sure did, growing explorative, thoughtful, as though Sami was cherishing the journey rather than racing to the finishing line.
His grip loosened, though his hand remained on Baz’s cheek.
His lips traced down Baz’s neck. His hot breath was tantalizing.
The way his hand ran over Baz’s body could only be described as tender.
Who would have thought that underneath that audacious mouth, Sami had a caring, detail-oriented side?
There wasn’t an inch on Baz’s body left unteased by Sami’s skillful hands and mouth: the skin behind his ear, the back of his knees, his lower back.
He found points Baz didn’t know he liked getting caressed, places that had him moaning up a storm.
Every touch was deliberate, precise. Sami was the master sculptor and Baz his obliging piece of clay.
When Sami turned him to his side and the cold slick touched his entrance, Baz was too relaxed to even flinch. He was unable, no, unwilling to refuse Sami anything. He didn’t trust Sami, couldn’t, but in this moment, in this room, he’d follow his lead blindly, consequences be damned.
Bottoming had never been as enjoyable to him as being the one to set the pace—calling himself a vers in front of overeager tops was his contribution to the queer community—but with Sami, it didn’t feel like losing control.
One whispered plea to go faster or deeper or yes, there made Sami give him all he could ask for with breathtaking abundance until the tidal wave of pleasure crashed over him.
If this was what all of Sami’s turns were like… Baz was so, so screwed. And worse, he’d enjoyed every second of it.
Sami’s arm hung heavily around his waist, his chest brushed against Baz’s back with every panted breath against the nape of his neck. Baz couldn’t resist peeking over his shoulder and was greeted by Sami’s closed eyes and wide, blissed-out smile. Gorgeous. If only Sami curled around him tighter…
Just when Baz worked up the courage to pull him closer himself, Sami’s arm disappeared. He made a sound that couldn’t make up its mind whether it was a sigh or a hum as he rolled away. Shame.
“I guess I better go tell Ian you’re an ass-guy in every way.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. The laugh poured out of Baz entirely against his will as he, too, flopped onto his back. What was it with Sami that he had to ruin every moment of peace with that mouth of his?
“Don’t forget to mention you’re a massive pain in it. Maybe you’ll finally get that raise.”
“And here I was taking it slow as to not hurt you.”
Baz’s heart jumped at the implication that Sami—at least on some basic, animalistic level—cared. Not that he believed for one second that Sami had gone easy on him.
“Gotta say, though, you seemed to have one hell of a good time anyway. Am I detecting a bit of a pain kink?” Sami wiggled his eyebrows.
And he ruined it again. Baz grabbed the pillow from under his head and slammed it into Sami’s face with all the strength he could muster after having his brains fucked out.
“Hey!” Sami chuckled. He beamed brighter than a lighthouse guiding wayward ships to safety. Baz couldn’t help but lean in. He had never understood moths better.
“You deserved that.”
“I still haven’t heard you deny it.”
“Who can’t read clues now?”
“Baz, baby, I want you to know, this bed is a safe space. We can talk about what gets you going, and I will make fun of you, but it won’t leave this room.” His little finger traced along Baz’s. Baz ignored the tingle in his hand.
“You are insufferable,” he said, failing to put any bite into his voice. “No, I don’t have a pain kink, and no, you didn’t hurt me. But how nice of you to care.”
“That’s just the sort of kind, loving person I am.” Sami hummed.
“You are so full of shit.” Baz—well, he didn’t know exactly what sound he made. It couldn’t be a giggle because he didn’t go around giggling with his one-night stands (okay, two-night stand, but the point still stood).
“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” Sami inched closer. He rolled on top of Baz’s chest, leaning in still. A round two, so quickly? Ambitious, but Baz never could resist a challenge.
He strained his neck to lift his head and met Sami’s lips halfway. Except that Sami didn’t devour him like he expected him to. The touch was… sweet. Sensual.
A thumb swiped over his cheek, leaving a burning trail on Baz’s skin. Even when Baz opened his mouth, Sami only lightly sucked on his bottom lip. So innocuous, so different from all the other kisses they had shared.
Baz would rather cut off a finger than admit it out loud, but… Sami was a good kisser.
He trailed the smooth, leathery patches on Sami’s arm. So firm, yet so soft under his fingertips.
“Boiling water,” Sami mumbled. The roughness in his voice sent a shiver down Baz’s spine. “Spilled it all over myself as a child.”
“Oh my god. You’ve always been an idiot.”
He could picture it too well—the mouthy kid ignoring his parents’ instructions and literally getting burned, screaming and crying, and not learning a thing from it. Other kids put their palms on the stove. Of course Sami had taken it a step further.
“I prefer ‘naturally curious,’ thank you. A trait that makes for great lawyers, by the way.”
Baz could think of several other adjectives, but sure. Curious, why not. “Must have been painful.”
“I don’t remember it, but apparently, I blacked out and gave my mother a heart attack.”
Baz had a feeling he used to do that a lot. Still might.
He traced over the point where the unharmed skin turned into scar tissue. He just couldn’t stop.