He couldn’t stifle a small whimper.Eva—sitting next to him yet again—looked over sharply, and Sam snapped his mouth shut.
K.
He was forced to leave class early due to pressing concerns.Like, he was concerned his zipper would press permanent tracks in his dick, even through his boxers.
Sam got to Ian’s apartment just after six, horny as he could remember being in recent ...well, ever.He’d been crazy since Ian had texted him.
Suddenly, though, his body wasn’t quite as eager as it had been on the way over.When he fumbled with the key in the lock of Ian’s front door, he mostly felt the nerves he’d been fighting.His chest and stomach buzzed with tension, sending a slight tremor from his fingers through his whole body.
Planned sex.This was about him trusting Ian to want him.
The door swung open.Ian stood on the other side, bare chested and bare legged, wearing—
Holy shit.A kilt.
Insta hard-on; just add tartan.
Oh, God, those thighs Ian had.So meaty and hairy.What if he’d gone commando under the kilt?Sam could justseehis dick bobbing, his hairy balls swaying gently under the scratchy wool as he walked.Sam stood in a daze on the wrong side of the door, head swimming, breathing in short, tight gasps.He swallowed, trying to get a handle on things.
Ian gripped Sam’s wrist tightly, pulled him into the apartment, and shut the door.He backed Sam up to it, face hard and set, staring into Sam’s eyes.He almost looked mad.Or like a pissed-off Highland laird, angry over the young (yet nubile) member of the enemy clan trespassing on his land.
Someonedefinitelyneeded to be punished for this.
Sam shivered, breath coming faster.“You’re wearing a kilt,” he whispered.
Ian’s face lost the pissed-off laird look.“Lots of firefighters have them, kiddo.”
Sam swallowed.“Oh,” he whispered.“Are we going to play angry laird and trespassing enemy?”
Ian smiled—it had to be said—wolfishly, reaching to grip Sam’s ass cheek hard in one hand, cupping his groin with the other, squeezing him roughly for a second.“We’re playing victorious laird and his war prize.”He loosened his hands and leaned in closer to whisper, “You’re my booty.”
Sam squeaked and dropped his keys on the floor, reaching to grip Ian’s biceps.“Oh.”His head fell back against the door.“You’ve read some of those books,” he said faintly.
“Quiet, boy!”Ian barked.“I might have done some research,” he added in his normal voice.“Don’t break character again.”
“’Kay.”Sam nodded enthusiastically.
“Now,” Ian said in his mean laird voice, yanking Sam away from the wall.“I’m going to inspect and then mark my property.”He slapped Sam on the butt, hard, making him gasp.“Get your ass in the bedroom and get naked.”
Ian followed him in, dogging Sam’s steps and making it impossible for Sam to think about anything other than what “mark my property” might mean, or what exactly being “war booty” might entail.He found both of those ideas extremely,ahem, stimulating.
The full implication of “inspection” didn’t sink in until they reached the bedroom, and Sam saw that Ian had made preparations—it was easy to see he had, because every light in the room had been left on.He’d taken all the blankets off the bed.A bottle of lube was sitting on the bedside table, along with some other stuff.Clearly, the laird had plans for his booty, and those plans were well illuminated.
Ian had said he liked to look at Sam naked.He’d said he wanted Sam’s trust—and he had it, mostly.Just, when it was like this ...disrobing in the light of, um, light fixtures turned up all the way ...
Sam would be getting naked forinspection.Not in the heat of the moment or in a sort of surprising “Oh, we were just kissing and fooling around and would you look at that?I’m naked” kind of way.
Gulp.
Sam would be pale and gangly and bony and Ian would be disgusted, right?
Shut.Up.
Something quailed inside of Sam.He almost turned and told Ian he couldn’t do it this way.Maybe Ian could rip his clothing off in semi-darkness instead?Not make Sam choose to bare himself in front of him, not like this, with all his flaws on display.
Would Ian be disappointed?Sam stared at the bed.
Dammit.
