Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) (11 page)

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.

The phone rang way too early the next morning. Sam cracked an eyelid and made himself focus on the clock. 11:23 ante meridiem. Therefore, too early, at least on the mornings after he worked at Fatty’s and then whored himself in his entryway. But because Sam was unfailingly nice, he answered the dumb phone.

“’Lo?”

“Can you talk?” Nik hissed in his ear.

Huh
? “Mom says I started right after my first birthday. I pretty much have it down pat by now.”

Nik continued in a hushed voice, “Shut up. Ian didn’t stay?”

Sam sat up. “How did you know about Ian?”

“I
knew
something happened last night! Tell.”

Great. Sam flopped back on his pillow. “No. Mind your own business.”

“Come on. I tell you about me and Jurgen,” Nik whined.

“No, you actually don’t.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing when it got stuck on something and pulled on his scalp. Oh yeah. He’d been so depressed last night he’d gone to bed without washing the cum out.
Yuck
.

“That’s because it’s . . . different.” Nik’s voice was weird. Soft. He usually spoke in sharp tones.

“How’s that?” Sam asked, honestly curious. He threw back the blankets and pulled himself out of bed, heading for the shower.

There was a silence—another unusual feature when talking with Nik. Sam stopped moving and held his breath. “He’s special. To me,” Nik finally said, sounding like he was confessing a sin.

“Oh, Nik,” Sam breathed. “That’s sweet.” See? That’s what Sam wanted: someone special. Not Ian.

“Shut up,” Nik said. “So, is that why you won’t tell me about Ian? Because it’s special?”

“Ha. It was demeaning.” Okay, that might have been a bit harsh. “It was just a hookup,” he amended. “Nothing important.” Nothing romantic. Just really, really hot.

“So you can tell me.”

Sam huffed out a breath. “He gave me a ride home, I blew him in the entryway, he left. He didn’t even kiss me.”

“No kiss?” Nik sounded disappointed. He may be annoying, but he really was a good friend. “That’s
not
special. And you don’t really have an entryway. You just have a linoleum square.”

But Nik was mostly just annoying. “
That’s
my entryway,” Sam reminded him.

“Why won’t you get a bigger place with a roommate again?”

“I’m tired of having a roommate. I like living by myself. Besides, if I had a roommate, I couldn’t give blowjobs in my entryway.”

They began the familiar argument. Nik never passed up the opportunity to urge Sam to move, though why he cared was a mystery. Finally, they argued themselves to a standstill. Before hanging up, Sam asked Nik not to tell Jurgen about Ian.

“I don’t have to tell him, he’s been listening to my side of the conversation.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, can you just ask him not to say anything to Ian?”

“I’ll try,” Nik said. Sam was not reassured. It didn’t matter anyway, because he was never going to see Ian again.

On Thursday morning, Ian went to work and found himself staring at his desk for fifteen minutes before Andrea knocked on his door and walked in, carrying a mug. He grabbed a pen and a notepad, trying to seem like he’d actually been doing something.

Andy carefully set the coffee-filled mug on his desk and readjusted a couple of paper clips, his stapler, and a pen. She straightened up, inspecting her redecoration attempts and smoothing her skirt.

Ian wasn’t the best with body language, but he got the feeling she was nervous.

“How’s your coffee?” she said.

That was for
him?
In spite of being her boss, she’d never brought him coffee before. Huh. “I haven’t tried it yet.”
Obviously
. “Thank you for bringing me some.”

Andy clasped her hands and straightened her shoulders. “Ian, um, I have something to talk to you about.”

“Okay, have a seat.”

She sat in the chair across from him.

They looked at each other across the desk.

“Is this about work?” he asked.

Andy nodded quickly. “Um, sort of. It’s work-related.” She took a deep breath. “Are you attracted to men?”

Ian’s brain skidded to a halt. He stared across his desk at her.