Chapter 6
Sam got naked as fast as he could, wrapped a towel somewhat haphazardly around his hips, and found the hot tub blissfully empty when he got there. Thank God.
The water was too damn hot, but he forced himself in and turned on the bubbles.
Then he looked down. He almost couldn’t see his naked self, except for a pink blob shimmying and shaking in the rapidly moving water.
He glanced at his shoulders in the light from the back porch. Yep, they were as white as ever.
Great. That meant that just above his nipples, there would be a demarcation line.
Below it, he’d be boiled pink and puffy like a lobster.
Above the line he’d look too pale; his natural state.
Why couldn’t he have skin like Nik’s? He was just dark enough that you couldn’t see him blush.
Even being pale like Jurgen would be better, because he tanned easily.
Sam bet he didn’t look like a lobster in the hot tub.
Oh. What would Ian look like in the hot tub?
Better not to think about it.
But maybe . . . if he imagined what Ian looked like, he’d be better prepared. Sort of like inoculating himself.
That’s a rationalization so you can imagine Ian naked.
Well, yeah . . . but Ian was a bastard and Sam wouldn’t touch his dick even if Ian wanted him to. Yet somehow he was still attracted to him. So he needed to do something, right?
But he’s a bastard.
Unfortunately, not all of Sam found that unappealing.
Damn.
He closed his eyes. He was going the inoculation route.
This is a very bad idea.
He thought it might take a minute to get a clear visualization, but of course it didn’t. There was a naked Ian just waiting for him on the backs of his eyelids. Smirking at him and slowly, smugly stroking his semi-hard dick.
See? Bad idea. Sam opened his eyes.
In real life, a mostly naked Ian was standing there, smirking at him.
Sam gasped. Ian added teeth to his grin.
Then he reached for the white towel he had wrapped around his waist, like in some kind of porn video.
Sam only caught the movement in the bottom of his vision since he couldn’t look away from Ian’s eyes, but he knew exactly what was going on.
Ian’s eyes tracked down Sam’s neck and across his shoulders.
Don’t look down. You don’t need any more temptation.
Sam rarely listened to his inner monologue, anyway.
Oh man. That chest. Just as forested with hair as before, with the blocky pectoral muscles and the dark caramel treasure trail drawing Sam’s eyes down.
While Sam watched, Ian ran a palm across his belly, riffling the hair there.
Tracing across a line of muscle with a finger.
“Like what you see, Sam?”
“Shut up,” Sam said. Then, mortified, he looked up into Ian’s face.
Smiling, Ian unwrapped the towel and let it fall.
Sam tried not to look. He really, really tried. Sweartagod.
Ian had low-hangers. Hairy balls that dangled so low they skulked at the tip of Ian’s dick, which wasn’t a small one. Sam nearly squeaked. Then he finally focused on the main event, and he did squeak. Ian was uncut.
Fuck, the heat from the hot tub was making Sam lightheaded or something, because the gazebo was spinning like he was going to faint.
He struggled to suck in some oxygen. He couldn’t stop staring at Ian, and while he did, Ian started getting hard, his prick bobbing up slightly and his sac tightening.
Sam could just see the testicles inside Ian’s scrotum, perfect ovals weighting the bottom of the sac, and his mouth watered. Yum. He was even symmetrical.
So Sam had a little bit of a testicle fetish.
So he liked to lie on his back and have a guy with big nuts straddling his head, teasing him by dragging them across his lips and skin, pubes tickling him, soft scrotum tightening slowly, until finally the guy told Sam to open his mouth and suck.
He loved trying to fit both of those eggs inside his mouth at the same time, trying to feel them in his throat.
Laving them with his tongue and tugging gently, sometimes even with his teeth, until the guy was nearly suffocating him, shoving his balls in Sam’s mouth, trailing pre-cum on Sam’s cheeks and forehead and nose.
“Well, I can see you like that.” Ian’s voice—the real life one, not the fantasy one—jarred Sam.
Camouflaging bubbles, my boiled pink ass. Sam stood up, boner and all, and got the hell out of the hot tub. Without thinking about where he was headed or what he was going to tell Nik (if he ever showed up), he fled.
Ian caught him in the laundry room. Came up silently behind him, sliding an arm around his waist and palming Sam’s chest, then pulling him back into his body. His dick poked into Sam’s cheek muscle like it was checking him for tenderness.
Sam had ignored it when Ian walked in. He had no clue how Ian had found him in the laundry room, couldn’t even explain how he’d ended up there, hands planted on the dryer, trying to get a grip and a full breath. But he’d felt Ian enter the room, and then he’d pretended to not know Ian was there.
God, he was such an idiot. He wanted to tilt his hips back and feel the head of Ian’s cock trace down his crack.
He wanted Ian to not ask, to simply fuck him.
Wanted Ian to bend him forward over the machine and work his cock into him.
Wanted to keep pretending that he didn’t want it the whole time Ian was inside him. Wanted Ian to just take.
I think it’s time for me to accept the current reality. Ian was a bastard and a flirt, and he wanted Sam. Sam could get his rocks off with the hottest guy he’d ever had a chance to be with—probably ever would have the chance to be with—wake up alone in the morning and then wait for his Mr. Right.
His second choice was to hang on to the romance-novel ideal, leave the room, and wait forever for his knight in shining armor. ’Cause Ian? Wasn’t anyone’s knight. Jurgen knew what he was talking about.
“If you aren’t interested, kid, you need to tell me.” Ian’s voice thrummed in the muscles at the nape of Sam’s neck.
He didn’t say anything. His gut tightened up into an excited ball of energy.
Ian waited a few moments, then slid his hand up, circling Sam’s neck. “The way you looked at me, I think you’re interested. You’ve been watching me all night, Sam, haven’t you?” Ian’s hand slid down, thumb stroking across Sam’s nipple. “Tell me.”
“Yes.” Sam closed his eyes. He might have swayed backward.
“You were watching me out there by the hot tub too. You saw something you liked, didn’t you, kid?”
Don’t say anything. He doesn’t need to know.
Sam nodded when Ian’s thumb stroked his nipple again, sending out radiating waves of want.
“What was it, Sam?” Ian murmured in his ear. Sam swallowed. “Want me to guess?” Sam bit his lip. “Hmm. You ever been with a guy who isn’t cut, kiddo?”
“No,” Sam whispered. His ass cheeks clenched involuntarily. Not exactly what he’d been fantasizing about, but so hot.
“Mmm. You like that? You want it, kid?” Ian pressed himself against Sam, thrusting gently against his ass.
“Yeah.” He didn’t even know if he was answering Ian’s question or simply encouraging him. Either way, he didn’t want Ian to stop. Wanted to feel that skin slip against his more.
Ian’s other hand drifted down the curve of Sam’s butt, stroking him. Ian slid it to the underside of Sam’s cheek, fingertips tickling the sensitive skin just where it met his thigh. “You have a nice ass, you know that?”
I do? Sam was so startled he could barely shake his head.
“I want to bury myself in it.” Ian’s chin scraped Sam’s shoulder, the whiskers almost too rough. His lips moved against Sam’s ear. “Would you let me fuck you?”
“Yes,” Sam gasped. Then he gave in and tilted his hips back, pressing himself against Ian, feeling the hair at Ian’s groin rasping against his skin. One of Ian’s hands pressed low on his abdomen; his other hand slid back up to Sam’s throat.
“Would you let me fuck you right here, bent over the washing machine? Maybe holding your hands behind your back?”
“Oh, God.” Sam’s breath was coming too fast. He tried to slow it down—hyperventilating and passing out would suck. “Dryer. This is a dryer.”
“With the door open behind us?”
Sam froze. “The door’s open?” He felt Ian smile against the back of his neck. Sam pulled away and turned to see the door ajar. “Where are Nik and Jurgen?”
Now he saw Ian’s smug smile, which put another damper on the moment. “I don’t think they’re going to make it out of their bedroom, judging by the noises I heard.”
So typical of Nik to throw him under the bus just because Jurgen wanted to get it on. Of course, if Sam had someone as hot as Jurgen pawing at him, working to convince him to skip the hot-tubbing . . .
Ian leaned forward until his chest hair just rubbed against Sam’s skin, sensitizing it. His jaw scraped across Sam’s, and he whispered in Sam’s ear, “How about you let me fuck you in your room instead?”
Oh. He did have a guy as hot as Jurgen, and Ian was even working for it. He wanted Sam enough to put effort into seducing him.
It was entirely too much to resist. He let himself reach for Ian, hands on his shoulders but not quite up to meeting his eyes. He met his chin instead. “Okay,” he told it.