“Yes, God, just do it.”He yanked Sam down for a wild, wide-open kiss.“Please,” he added, panting.
Sam smiled at him, and Ian dug his fingers painfully hard into the backs of his knees, yanking his legs farther up when he felt Sam’s cock against his hole.He watched Sam’s face as Sam watched himself push into Ian.
I love that face.
Then he had Sam inside him and he stopped thinking much at all.
Sam was slow and careful, but Ian wanted it so much that it only took a couple of minutes before Sam’s balls were pressed against Ian’s tailbone, and Ian’s legs were hooked on his arms.They were both shaking, and Ian felt his heart throbbing in the muscles holding Sam’s shaft so tightly inside him.
Finally he arched into it and let Sam have him, encouraged it with his body and the noises Sam drew out of him.Sam’s gray-blue eyes watched Ian’s the whole time.When Ian lost it and came, he was sure it was his first religious experience.If this is enlightenment, I want more.Fortunately, Sam had plenty to give and it spread through him, and through Sam too, he thought.
Afterward, Sam kissed his eyes closed, then down his face, placing small kisses all over his lips, then told Ian, “I love you.”
Ian couldn’t speak.He hugged Sam tighter and hoped that was enough to get his message across.
Sam combed fingers through his hair.“I know,” Sam whispered, smiling at him.
Ian took a drink of his beer, leaning against the counter while Sam chopped vegetables.He surveyed the array of ingredients sitting out.“What are you making, chicken stew?”
“Coq au vin,” Sam said absently, seemingly concentrating on cutting his carrots into perfectly cubed icons of vegetable-hood.
So, chicken stew.
Ian stifled a sigh.It wasn’t that he didn’t want Sam to learn how to cook, it was that he didn’t give a damn.He didn’t care if Sam became a gourmet chef, and he’d hoped when he came home tonight, Sam would be doing something Ian could tear his attention away from, like reading or writing or watching TV.
Tearing Sam’s attention away from cooking was rough going.Ian suspected it was because Sam sucked at it, and he wasn’t getting better with practice.The worse he got at cooking, the harder he tried.That part Ian did care about, because he kept having to pretend to like increasingly bad food.
“Why don’t you make it tomorrow, and tonight I’ll take you out for coq au vin instead?”he suggested.
“Coq au vin two nights in a row?Besides, I already chopped the onions,” Sam said, leaning closer to his chopping board, tilting his head to one side then the other, poking at a triangular chunk of carrot with his knife, then frowning at it.“I’m not stopping now.I cried over the onions.”
“Everyone cries when they chop onions.”
“It wasn’t that kind of crying.I cut myself.”Sam held up a hand, showing off a bandaged finger.
This time Ian let the sigh out.He tried again.“What did you do today?”
“I went with Nik to see Miller in rehab.”Sam stood up straight, turning to the sink and pulling celery out of the colander he had it sitting in.
Hell, that was all such a mess.Ian took another swig of his beer.“How’s Miller doing?He better?”
Sam poked at the end of a stalk of celery with a knife, sort of digging at it.“He might be able to go home soon.Well, to Nik and Jurgen’s, I mean.”For a few seconds, Sam actually made direct eye contact with him.Then he went back to his celery.“Until he can be on his own and go back to his place.”He managed to get whatever he was digging for, pulling on one of those strings in the stalk.
God this was becoming a worse and worse time to talk about serious stuff.Well, serious stuff between them.Miller getting ostracized by his family after being beaten half to death for being gay was pretty freaking serious.“His parents still won’t talk to him?”
“No,” Sam said.His second string broke, and he frowned at the celery.“Can we not talk about it right now?I’m trying to concentrate.”
On pulling the veins out of celery?
Well, hell.If Sam was only half paying attention, maybe Ian could get some information out of him.He took a fortifying gulp from his beer, then picked at the bottle’s label and asked, “How long do you have to date someone before you can ask him to move in with you?”
Sam dropped the knife on the counter.Ian looked up to see him frozen and paling.
That got his attention.
Sam swallowed and turned back to his celery, slowly picking up his knife and staring at it.“How would I know?”he asked.
Ian shrugged.“Well, you lived with Marley, right?So, when did he ask you?Or, I guess you could have asked him,” he added in a mutter.Hehatedthat idea.
