Chapter 38
Sam popped into consciousness in the morning with that tingly sense that something specific had woken him. Ian had, by staring at him. Sam blinked until he brought Ian into focus, giving him time to look away.
Ian blinked back. He reached out with his finger and lightly stroked Sam’s nose.
The side of his face was smashed into the pillow, sunlight lining the other cheek.
His lips parted, close enough for Sam to feel his breath.
He followed his finger with his eyes, stroking Sam’s nose, then ran his finger across Sam’s cheekbone.
He pushed off from his pillow, and Sam rolled onto his back as Ian came over him, pressing him into the bed, forcing his thighs to make room.
“Missed you,” Ian whispered right before he kissed Sam, and somehow it made sense, even though Sam had lain next to him all night.
Missed you, too, Sam thought. He couldn’t say it because Ian was keeping his mouth busy, full of his tongue and taste and breath.
Sam couldn’t even gasp at the sensation of Ian’s foreskin slipping in the groove between Sam’s groin and his leg.
He fought Ian’s hold—his arms were everywhere, caging Sam in—to slide hands around to Ian’s ass and feel his muscles flex while he rocked against him.
When Sam gripped him and squeezed, just to feel the resilience there, Ian tore his mouth away from Sam’s and gasped.
He bit at the tendon at the base of Sam’s neck—Sam’s turn to gasp.
Not just from teeth but from scratchy whiskers and heat and the feeling that Ian was trying to consume him.
Gnawing up his neck to Sam’s ear, then panting in rhythm with his hips as he ground against Sam.
Sam pushed back, helping Ian along, giving him resistance to thrust against.
Ian wrapped one arm around Sam’s neck, fingers clamped on his shoulder, holding him still for leverage. “Oh God,” he whispered, and Sam realized how close Ian was. In a rush, he was there, too, right on that edge.
“Ian,” Sam whispered for encouragement. Ian moaned low in his ear, and Sam gripped his cheeks harder, rubbing his finger against that tender spot between them.
“Oh God,” Ian whispered. Sam wrapped him in his legs, trying to pull him closer, and felt goose bumps sweep across Ian’s skin under his hands. He held Ian tighter, kneading his ass and rubbing hard and steadily.
“IthinkIloveyou,” Ian gasped when he shuddered and came, slippery heat flowing between them.
Sam nearly let go, but he gripped Ian tighter instead and gave it up himself.
Coming hard, the emotional tension of the moment and last night amplifying the physical feeling of Ian’s cum on his body and Ian’s hair rubbing against his dick.
He arched up and hung on tight with his entire body, trembling.
Ian shook afterward, panting in Sam’s ear, a dead weight on his ribs, but Sam couldn’t care. He stroked Ian’s naked back, sifted fingers through his hair, smiling so big his cheeks hurt. The room was filled with sunlight, and Sam was certain he’d never felt so aglow in his life.
“I can’t believe I did that,” Ian groaned.
Sam’s heart fell through the bed and bounced once on the floor.
“That wasn’t how I was going to tell you,” Ian muttered.
Sam’s heart climbed back into his chest. Ian lifted his head and looked down at him. “I meant to make it special, but I sort of lost control,” he said, stroking Sam’s face with one fingertip. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be sure about it.”
Ian nodded. “I’m as sure as I can be.”
Sam decided that was good enough for now, and he’d worry about whether this could possibly be real later. For now he felt the glow.