Chapter 4
Driving to Nik and Jurgen’s from the city, Ian tried to remember the last party he’d been to.
It was the one his oldest brother’s wife had thrown for him to welcome him back into the bosom of his family when he’d gotten out of the hospital.
He’d been so hopped up on pain meds he barely remembered it, and he could have done without the loving family act in the first place.
Tonight’s party would be a different thing altogether. Jurgen had invited him to stay, assuming Ian wouldn’t be in any shape to drive an hour and a half home afterward.
He nearly drove off the road when it hit him that he could get laid now.
I could fuck something other than my hand.
Couldn’t he?
In his ongoing effort to figure out his life since The Accident that had Changed Everything, he’d committed to not having casual sex.
It’d been his idea, and so far it hadn’t been that hard.
The last seven months had been all about physical therapy, rehab, and “working on” his psyche.
The months before that had pretty much been about pain.
But now . . . He had a new job, he was fully functional physically (he crossed himself and sent up a quick thought heavenward in thanks for that), and he finally didn’t have any physical limitations.
Not even any pain. He’d played rugby the last two weeks.
He could totally fuck some willing guy. He just needed the willing guy.
Ian firmed his grip on the steering wheel. Tonight would be all about his dick, and he refused to feel bad about it. He was going non-committal, just for this one party.
When Jurgen opened the door for him, Ian stepped in and took stock of the men around him.
Hell, he could even afford to be picky. It was a large party, and loud.
Reminiscent of keggers from college. Which was weird, because he hadn’t thought Jurgen’s boyfriend was the type, but Nik had planned the whole party.
There were a hell of a lot of men on tap. Guys in tight jeans and loose jeans. Cowboy types, cop types, and bear types, with an even mix of the hippie type and the twink type. Ian overlooked the twinks, but stared at the rest of the man buffet.
Jurgen must have read something in his face, because he greeted Ian with, “Nik got lube and condoms for party favors.” Then he led the way to the guest room, while Ian grabbed some party favors from a convenient candy dish.
“Hey, there’s a bag on the bed,” he said when he set his own pack down.
It was a backpack like his, but that was pretty much where the similarity ended.
His was in good condition, solid black, high-denier Cordura, able to take rough travel.
The one on the bed was faded dark purple with fraying seams and a broken zipper.
It looked so much like a college kid’s backpack that Ian half expected it to weigh fifty pounds with books.
But it was light when he hefted it, and it was stuffed so full of something soft and shapeless it looked like it would explode if it wasn’t handled gently. Probably clothes.
“Must be Sam’s,” Jurgen said, and the weird note in his voice made Ian raise a brow and look around. Jurgen was frowning at the pack in Ian’s hand. “Nik must’ve told him he could stay, too.”
Ian smiled. “Guess you picked out my playmate already?”
Jurgen gave him a level look. “No,” he barked. Then he caught himself and ran a hand through his hair, all quarter-inch of it. “Don’t mess with Sam.”
Ian got the message. Jurgen was the first person in the family who knew about him.
Knew about that drunken night when he was nineteen and had stumbled into a bathroom stall in the basement of Cambridge Hall.
When he’d stuck his dick through a hole in the wall and had his whole world rocked by the feel of a scratchy chin on his balls and some very masculine grunts coaxing the cum right out of him.
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.”