Chapter 8
Ian was licking at Sam’s glans, which Sam found heart-stoppingly amazing. It’d been more than three years since anyone had sucked him off.
It was Ian’s other hand, though, sliding along behind his balls, shudder, that found his secret—his guiche piercing. Ian pulled his mouth off, making Sam jerk when cold air hit his wet skin. He looked down to see Ian leering at him.
“What’s this?” Ian ran a finger across the bar buried under Sam’s skin.
“You know what it is,” Sam said. His heart pounded in his ears, going faster than it had been with Ian’s tongue sliding around his dick.
No one had ever touched his guiche except him and the girl who’d pierced him.
And now Ian’s finger dragged across his skin from bead to bead along the barbell, pressing lightly.
It felt better than Sam would have thought, having someone else play with the piercing.
Ian smiled bigger. “Turn around, Sam. I want to see it.”
Sam hesitated. Ian just looked at him, waiting for him to comply. Not smiling anymore, but not angry. Sam didn’t know if he cou—
Ian tugged gently on one bead of the guiche, and Sam arched his back and pushed up onto his knees. It felt like having an unreachable itch scratched, only a thousand times better.
He turned around, his muscles shaky and not really supporting him, his legs straining to hold his ass right above Ian’s face.
“Nice,” Ian said, like he’d found a new plaything. Sam felt his voice resonating in the guiche. Then Ian licked him, tongue sliding across the skin-covered bar, under the ends, between the beads and Sam’s skin.
Oh God. Oh fuck. Sam dug his fingers into the bed.
Ian blew on the skin he’d wetted. “Oh God,” Sam whispered, his head falling forward.
Then Ian’s thumbs were pulling his ass cheeks apart, and Ian’s wet finger was sliding from the guiche to Sam’s asshole.
Sam sucked in a breath and straightened up, tensing with anticipation.
Sam had always been tight, and Ian had a fantastically thick finger, and he used a light touch to tease Sam before finally pushing steadily inside, making Sam clench even tighter for a second before loosening.
“You’re snug.” Ian’s voice sounded admiring. Even excited. “You’ll feel so good on my cock.”
Sam whimpered and shoved himself back onto Ian’s finger. Oh God, Ian’s knuckle was stretching him wider. The spit wasn’t enough, but Sam wasn’t about to complain. It ached and pulled a little, which was perfect.
Then Sam felt something amazing—hot breath on his asshole and Ian’s tongue licking around it.
Sam locked his elbows to keep from face-planting.
Ian licked him, sparking up Sam’s nerves and lubing his own finger when he started to stroke.
He worked in a second finger, grunting in a pleased-caveman way when Sam squeezed both with his ass muscles.
Ian slid in and out more and rubbed less, but it was still achingly good.
Sam needed that friction so much he was rocking his hips, breathing out small noises. He just needed to feel full. “Yeah.”
“That’s good?”
“Oh, fuck.”
Ian laughed, blasting air across Sam’s ass. “Must be a yes.”
When Ian’s fingers slid across his prostate, Sam groaned and jerked, his elbows shaking and his back bowing, knees slipping on the sheets.
“Make yourself come,” Ian said, his jaw scraping whiskers against Sam’s ass cheeks, making Sam shiver.
Sam held on tight to his dick, moving as fast as he could make it, while Ian finger-fucked him harder, winding up the nerves. But it was Ian’s tug on his nuts that made Sam howl and come. He was certain he shot off fireworks, releasing all that painfully built-up pleasure.
He fell forward onto Ian’s legs, drained. Ian eased his fingers out of Sam’s ass after a minute. Or an hour; Sam couldn’t be sure.
“That’s good,” he mumbled.
Ian laughed.
Sam made a face into Ian’s knee and rolled over onto his back. He felt so relaxed he could have passed out right there. He found a blanket to wipe himself off and cover up with, making a lazy mental note to throw it in the washer before he left Nik and Jurgen’s.
“You going to come up here?”
Sam shrugged in answer and groped around for a pillow. When he found one, he stuffed it under his head and rolled onto his side, Ian’s knee brushing his spine.
“Guess not,” Ian muttered. The bed squeaked and bounced while Ian turned himself around and cleaned himself with something; Sam’s sock, for all he knew. Then Ian sighed contentedly and settled in behind him, body heat just touching his.
“Warm,” Sam mumbled into the sheet.
“Huh?” Ian asked, but Sam ignored him. Too much effort to answer.
Ian didn’t seem to care. He patted Sam’s hip. “You’re better than I would have guessed.”
Bastard. But really, what did you expect?
Pretty much what he got: a superlative orgasm. “You, too,” he said. The sudden, stunned silence from Ian’s side of the bed made him smile. “You never got around to fucking me,” he added right before he fell asleep.