Chapter 13
Ian watched Sam sprawled on the floor, sucking in air, face wet and red, his light, wispy hair sticking to his forehead. His lips looked like someone had injected them with saline, a sight so hot Ian’s balls tingled. And fuck—his balls. He’d never felt anything quite like that.
Looked like his kiddo had a taste for testicles. Ian slid down the wall, not bothering to pull up his pants, and—to his surprise—flopped on the floor on his side, facing Sam. “Jesus Christ you’re good at that,” he said, still panting. He watched Sam’s eyes fly open to stare at the ceiling.
“I am?”
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you before?”
“No. I mean, Marley told me I was okay at it—”
Sam flushed at Ian’s snort. “Sam, I’ve had my dick sucked by a lot of guys, and you’re in the top three.” Ian winced as soon as he heard himself say the words. Not the most complimentary way to put it.
But Sam flushed even deeper and turned his head away, like he was trying to hide his embarrassed smile. “Thank you,” he said in the softest, shyest voice imaginable, turning his head back to meet Ian’s eyes.
Ian wanted to touch Sam’s face, but his hand felt paralyzed. The fuck was that? He held still—held his breath, even—as Sam lost the pleased smile and his eyebrows pulled together, putting a little line between them.
Ian was still staring at it when Sam said, “Is that why you hooked up with me again?”
Hell. He had the feeling he was swimming in shark-infested waters. He didn’t know what to say, so he was just going to have to lay it on the line, like he would with any guy. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Not what he’d meant to say.
Sam still had that wrinkle between his brows. If Ian was going to say something revealing, the least Sam could do was lose the worry line. Instead he looked annoyed. When he suddenly pulled his T-shirt up to wipe off his face, it was with jerky movements. Ian looked at his soft, concave stomach.
So not his type.
“I’m not your type, Ian.”
“What? Says who?”
“You,” Sam said. “The day we met.”
Aw, fuck it. Ian reached out for Sam, resting a hand on his dished-in abdomen. “Maybe my type has changed.”
“Why, ’cause your type can’t generally suck dick like I can?” He sounded sarcastic, but Ian could see the small smile Sam still fought. He liked being good at that.
“’Cause I got to know you, and I like you.”
“You barely know me.”
“I didn’t say I know you well. Just a little. A guy can change his mind, can’t he? Or can only women do that?”
“Oh my God,” Sam muttered. “He’s a misogynist, too.”
“That’s not misogyny, it’s sarcasm.”
Sam lost the brow wrinkle. Now Ian kind of missed it. “Nik said you’re some kind of public administrator.”
“I’m the Interagency Disaster Relief Coordination Director for the State Health Division.” Ian thought back to make sure he’d recited all the words that made up his stupid title.
“Oh,” Sam said. They stared at each other. “I’m still not your type.”
Hell, they were back to this? “Why don’t you tell me why not.”
“I’m too skinny,” Sam said.
“No you aren’t. You’re fine. You don’t look anorexic or anything.”
“There’s a big difference between not being anorexic and being hot. I’m in between those two points and you know it. You like muscle on your guys. Tell me you thought I was attractive when you first saw me.”
Ian opened his mouth, and barely stopped himself from saying, “I didn’t.” But he was left with his mouth hanging open, looking suspicious. Like maybe he’d been about to say, “I didn’t.”
Sam looked away. Farther away. He’d been looking at Ian’s chin before, but now he was staring over his shoulder.
“Exactly. I’m not attractive. You know how many guys I’ve ever asked out?
One. You, when we first met. You shot me down.
” The entryway filled with silence, except for the sound of Ian shifting his legs uncomfortably. Jesus, was he fidgeting?
Sam went on with the torture. “You think any guy like you has ever come on to me before? A guy who could have anyone? Of course not, because you can have anyone, so why would you want a guy who’s gangly and too skinny? Except my mouth. That’s too big.”
Finally. “It’s not too big. Every time I look at your mouth I get turned on.”
Now Sam focused on him, twisting his sexy-puffy lips. “What, all three times you’ve seen me?”
Hell. “Okay, fine.” Fuck it, he wasn’t going to lie.
“The first time, no. I mean, I kind of thought you looked like that guy on that show where those kids sing, but it didn’t do anything for me.
Not until after you sucked me off. Now that I know what you can do with your mouth, yeah, it makes me hot. ”
“What show where the kids sing?”
“They’re in high school. They sing. They get slushies in the face.”
“Glee? You think I look like Trouty Mouth on Glee?” Sam asked, like maybe that was an okay thing.
“Uh, yeah. Your mouth looks like his.” Especially when he had puffy, pink dick lips.
Sam scrunched his brow. “So you’re saying tonight it got you hot. Was that before or after you laughed at your friend’s comment about the gay waiter?”
Fuck, he could not be blushing. Ian didn’t do that. He tried to force the heat out of his cheeks with the power of his mind.
Sam pointed a finger in his face. “You know what got to me most about that? That he knew I was gay just by looking at me. Not because I’m one of those cute little blond gay boys who’re six inches under average height and have sexy asses.
No, I’m an overgrown bland gay boy who can’t hide it.
When you’re one of those cute little twink guys, at least you have fag hags and the other stereotypical benefits of being gay, like clothes hanging well on you.
But noooo, I’m the dorky type of gay guy.
I’m swishy, but I’m too tall and gawky to pull it off. ”
Wait, why did it sound like Sam blamed him for this? “What the hell? What do you want me to say, Sam? I barely know you.”
Sam’s face blanched, and he pushed up from the floor and sat against the wall, bringing his knees up in front of him. Ian closed his eyes, feeling weird. Guilty. But what the fuck did he have to feel guilty about?
“You’re right,” Sam said. “You barely know me. I think this hookup is over, and you need to go.”
Ian hadn’t expected to get away this easily. He’d thought it over earlier and figured if he went home with Sam tonight he’d be here for the duration. What a relief.
Shouldn’t I feel more relieved?
“Bye, Ian,” Sam prodded.
He sighed, rolled over onto his back and put himself away, then pushed up. Sam was staring at the floor in front of him. Ian couldn’t help but touch his head for just a moment. “Bye, Sam.” When he pulled his hand away, there was cum on it.
Nice. He probably deserved that.
Sam didn’t look at him as Ian let himself out.