by Gayle, Linda
Clearly mistaking the motivation behind Cam’s deep inhalation, Dylan looked a little sheepish. “Sorry, the washing machine in my building’s been broken for a while. I’m not exactly springtime fresh.”
“Do you…want to take a shower here? I have clothes that might fit you.” The idea of his clothes against Dylan’s skin made his cock perk up, and his phantom wings fluttered.
“Jesus, that’d be sweet. I don’t want to impose, though.”
“No, no imposition at all. There’s a shower in…” The guestroom. He should say guestroom. “…my bedroom.”
The sensual smile that curved Dylan’s mouth, lifting the scuffed left side of it, should have been a red flag waving in Cam’s face. But when Dylan got slowly to his feet, Cam froze in place, hardly able to breathe, his heart pounded so hard. Cam’s proximity to the chair meant that when Dylan stood, they ended up nearly chest to chest, body heat mingling, only the snoring dog’s body separating sneakers from boots.
Dylan touched him—the lightest press of his fingertips on Cam’s waist that he felt like embers through his cotton shirt. “So let’s go,” Dylan murmured.
“Go…? Oh. Yeah, sorry. Long day.” Long day, his ass. As he turned, his face burning, Cam realized he didn’t have to worry about getting too attached to Dylan, since his insane behavior would no doubt drive the guy away. Fuck.
And then he realized something else.
Dylan had looked Cam in the eye and had been unafraid.
Chapter Three
It would be easier to feel guilty about what he planned to do if Dylan didn’t truly, genuinely want Cam Coburn. Something about the jumpy way Cam acted around him pulled at Dylan in all the right places. Physically, Cam was a pretty imposing dude, lean and muscular, barely an ounce of fat on him. All those martial arts had toughened his body, giving him great biceps and pecs and probably flat six-pack abs Dylan looked forward to running his hands over. And the thick ridge in his jeans promised near-porn-star proportions there too. A guy like this you’d think would know what the looks meant that Dylan had been shooting his way. But he stumbled over his words and feet and blushed like a…like a virgin.
No way.
Dylan was twenty-three, and he’d been an old hand in the sack by the time he graduated high school. Okay, maybe he got an early start, blowing the preacher’s kid in the choir loft when they were only freshman, but he thought most gay guys came out of the gate hot and heavy. He had no doubt Cam was gay. Not with the size of that boner. Maybe he was still in the closet? What was the point of that? He lived alone, apparently. He could do what he wanted, right? Let Dylan do what he wanted, which was rub on him and kiss him and suck on him…
Christ almighty, he had to inwardly smirk at his own resilience. You can’t keep a desperate guy down, apparently, even after kicking his butt in a dark alley. By the time he finished following Cam’s tight ass into his spacious bedroom, he had a boner of his own.
Cam’s bedroom was in a worse state than the kitchen, which Dylan found oddly reassuring. The sheets were rumpled, the thick maroon comforter dumped half on the floor. A pile of clothes lay in a heap in the corner. A stack of books and magazines were scattered in a random mess on the nightstand. So the kid liked to read. Dylan peered at the titles. Everything from Steven Hawking’s book on physics to a dog-eared copy of Othello to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. A hot rich virgin ninja nerd? Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. He’d won the rent-boy lottery.
Cam stopped at an open door and reached in to switch on a light, illuminating a beautiful big bathroom the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he’d left home years ago. Dylan nearly whispered a prayer of thanks, seeing clean tile, clean towels, a glass-enclosed shower.
He walked past Cam, then startled at his own appearance in the mirror. Leaning close, he dragged his hand over his face. “Jesus, I look like shit.” And it wasn’t just the abrasions on his cheekbone but the hollowness, the pasty color. Hell, if Cam really was interested in him, it sure wasn’t for his looks. Despite trying to deny it, he felt a pang of depression. This isn’t who I really am, he wanted to say. I won’t always be like this. I can’t.
Drawing in a deep breath, he rocked back on his heels. Cam watched him quietly from the door, his eyes flicking over Dylan’s body, then up to stop around the area of his chin. Whatever Dylan’s faults, Cam seemed able to see past them. In fact, he looked the way Dylan imagined he had when presented with that dish of meatballs. Starving. There was no trickery to Cam’s expression. He didn’t know how to flirt. Everything was right there in his face. And in his pants. He looked harder than ever.
How bad off must he be to want Dylan in his present stinking, battered state?
Well, lucky day for Dylan, and who was he to question? Without a word, Dylan grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. As he’d hoped, Cam’s gaze followed, and he heard his new friend suck in a lungful of air. At least Dylan had bothered to stay in shape. Jogging and doing sit-ups were sometimes the only things that kept him sane. Kept him from falling into the easy trap of his old bad habits.
And…fuck. He shouldn’t be doing this. But he was.
“Do you…need anything?” Cam asked when Dylan hesitated. He sounded a little breathless. His hair hung in a black hank over his furrowed brow, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his hands into his pits as if holding himself back from touching. This pleased Dylan for some perverse reason. Yeah, he was feeling a more than a little perverted right about now.
“Got an extra toothbrush? My mouth tastes like beer and blood.”
“Yes, of course.” Cam pulled open a drawer to Dylan’s left. Dylan didn’t move, which meant Cam had to nudge the drawer into his thigh. Cam bit his lower lip, and his breathing seemed to be coming short. He handed Dylan the toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.
While his savior stood by, Dylan brushed vigorously, gargled, spat, wiped his mouth on his shirt. Uh, much, much better. Hovering by his elbow, Cam handed him the towel to use instead. Was he going to stand there while he showered too? Would Dylan mind if he did? Why, not at all. He pulled up his lip and peered at the chipped tooth in the mirror. It didn’t look as bad as it felt with his tongue, but wasn’t that always the way with teeth?
“You’re…” Cam had to clear his throat to continue. “You’re going to have a bruise on your back. They kicked you pretty hard.”
Dylan twisted around, not too subtly in a way that would flex his muscles, and got a shot of pain for his effort. The twist pinched his sore ribs, but nothing felt busted. “Eh, it’s not so bad. Good thing you came along when you did, Jackie Chan.” He grinned, and Cam honest-to-God blushed. A modest ninja virgin. How sheltered could a guy be?
Too sheltered to be corrupted for favors. Staring at him, Dylan knew he couldn’t carry through with his plan. He couldn’t use sex to get Cam to feed him, house him… He took a step forward, intending to nudge Cam back into the bedroom so he could shut the door. And then he spied the bed. The big, fluffy, comfortable bed. Plenty big enough for two. Dylan slept now in an old sleeping bag on a cheap air mattress. A shudder racked his aching body, reminding him what a night in that bed could do for him.
And there Cam stood, dark eyes big and brown and vulnerable and needy. And downcast. Nearly submissive in a way that made Dylan’s blood heat. The key to Dylan’s comfort.
What was one night? Just one night.
Of course, nice guy that he was, Cam would probably let him sleep in the bed if Dylan just asked. But Dylan sensed, with that same instinct he had with animals, that Cam had a need. He hurt deep inside. The way he jumped and shuffled, like a whipped puppy. It wasn’t right. Okay, so Dylan couldn’t quite convince himself he deserved sainthood, but maybe he had something to offer Cam.
He paused a couple inches from his host, who stared at Dylan’s feet, as seemed to be his usual. “Cam,” Dylan murmured.
“Mm-hm.” Cam’s gaze rose as far as Dylan’s throat.
; Gently, slowly, Dylan trailed the back of one finger up Cam’s chest to his chin and nudged Cam’s face up. “Why don’t you look at me when I talk to you?” He kept his voice low and soothing, as if he was calming a frightened pup.
Cam’s black eyebrows came down. He tried to pull away, but with no effort at all, Dylan stilled him by putting his fingers alongside his jaw.
“Are you shy? I won’t hurt you.”
“I…I know that. It’s just…my eyes…are weird. Some people don’t like them.”
Tipping his head down, he tried to catch Cam’s gaze. “I think they’re beautiful.”
He felt Cam flinch against his fingertips. For fuck’s sake, maybe this kid had been abused. Dylan’s chest constricted, and a whole other part of his psyche kicked into gear. An angry, defensive part. If there was one thing Dylan couldn’t fucking stand, it was abuse.
He stroked the backs of his fingers over Cam’s cheek and down the side of his throat. Cam’s pulse raced there. For the first time, Dylan noticed a thick gold chain hanging around Cam’s neck, hidden by his T-shirt. “How old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-one.”
“Let me see your eyes.” He opened his hand and brushed his fingers over Cam’s chest.
Cam swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His mouth tightened and twisted, and he shook his head.
Dylan’s heart beat heavily, almost in sympathy to Cam’s racing one, and he edged closer still, never stopping his stroking, raising his fingers to touch Cam’s cheek again. “Close ’em, then. I want to see your face.”
Cam did with a sigh. What had happened to this kid? Dylan knew loneliness when he saw it, the way he knew his own face when he saw it reflected back at him. He brushed the soft hair from Cam’s forehead, then leaned forward and pressed his lips just above Cam’s right eyebrow.
Cam trembled. Dylan pressed his fingers to his eyelids. “Shh. Keep your eyes closed.”
A little whimper escaped Cam’s throat. Dylan wanted to whimper too. His dick was like iron, the head pushing at the waist of his low-hanging jeans. His hips gave a jerk, his dick aching in sympathy with Cam’s, which looked wicked hard beneath his jeans. Cam’s eyelashes fluttered against Dylan’s fingertips. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his lips, a butterfly kiss to Cam’s right eyelid first, then his left, using a tiny bit of tongue, wetting those fluttering lashes.
Cam’s lips parted. His breath came fast.
“Is this okay?” Dylan moved his head down to whisper the words into Cam’s ear. He drew his scratchy cheek over Cam’s smooth one and was rewarded when Cam leaned into him.
“Yeah,” Cam breathed, a world of want in that one little word.
Dylan put his fingertips back on Cam’s eyelids, felt his eyes moving beneath as if Cam were deep in a dream. He drifted his fingertips down Cam’s cheeks, like tears, over his lips, following with his own lips, tasting the hot, rapid breath. Cam trembled all over just at the touch of Dylan’s mouth brushing over his.
“Is that all right?” Dylan murmured. Oh fuck, if they didn’t move faster, he’d fucking come in his pants. But he wouldn’t go faster. Cam needed seducing.
“Mmm,” Cam managed. He pulled his hands, finally, out from under his armpits and, eyes still closed, tentatively reached for Dylan. Dylan took his hands and put them on his waist.
“It’s okay. You can touch.” The feel of Cam’s cool, shy hands on his bare skin was possibly the most erotic thing Dylan had ever experienced. Blind by Dylan’s command, Cam traced his hands along the sides of Dylan’s body, slid over his belly, pushed up his chest, to his face. His fingertips lingered on Dylan’s lips. So shy. So sweet. Who was doing the seducing here? Dylan could melt into those hands. He kissed the fingertips, slipped his tongue over them.
“K-kiss me again,” Cam whispered.
Dylan reached up and gently grasped Cam’s hands, then leaned in and kissed him. Cam didn’t respond much, not at first. His lips parted, and he just sort of…breathed Dylan in, then let him play. Dylan ran the tip of his tongue over Cam’s lower lip, tasting beer and inexperience, then sucked on it a little. Cam’s fingers flexed and tightened, interlaced with Dylan’s. Then Cam tilted his head, and Dylan slipped his tongue into his mouth.
Cam leaned into him with a groan starting low in his chest. Without his hands, all Cam could do was focus on kissing, which was what Dylan intended. Dylan put everything into that kiss, making it sweet, seductive, slow, just enough sloppy-wet to get Cam thinking about other sloppy-wet things they could do together.
With a sharp inward gasp, Cam drew back and opened his eyes. They were gorgeous, bleary, glazed with lust, just the way Dylan liked ’em. He couldn’t help a smug little grin. “Beautiful,” Dylan murmured.
That seemed to remind Cam about his weird personal no-looking rule, and he tried to duck away, but with their twined hands, Dylan caught him under the chin. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with your eyes.”
“They don’t…” He swallowed hard. “They don’t frighten you?”
Surprised, Dylan blinked and looked into them. They seemed like perfectly serviceable, pretty green-brown eyes, shot through with gold, fringed with long dark lashes. The gold had a nice glow to it, like fireflies flirting in summer bushes, and the green was lush as late July grass. Like the kind he’d lie down in when he was a kid. Thick and cool, welcoming, safe to sleep in. And the gold was like sunlight glittering on the surface of a pond.
“Dylan?” Cam gave their linked hands a shake, and Dylan snapped to.
Dylan’s entire body tingled as if his nerves had started to fall asleep. “Wow. Okay, maybe there is something special about your eyes.”
Frowning, Cam dropped his chin immediately. Dylan released one of his hands and cupped his cheek. “I said special. Not scary. Why, what happened to you? Who told you your eyes were freaky?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m…just different.”
“We’re all different. You know that saying, you are unique, just like everyone else.” He put a smile in his voice and was glad when Cam shyly met his gaze again. “I like your eyes. I like your mouth. I want it again.” He pressed their bodies together with a low hum. “Give it to me, okay?”
Cam drew his lower lip between his teeth and stared at Dylan’s mouth with that ravenous intensity. “Yeah. Okay. That would be good.” He sighed out the words, and Dylan could tell his horniness was winning out over his shyness. Good. Dylan toed out of his boots.
Without taking off his jeans—yet—he leaned back against the counter. Cam kept licking his lower lip, like he was sucking the taste of Dylan’s toothpaste off it. Dylan reached out and ran his fingers just underneath the hem of Cam’s T-shirt. His skin felt feverish. “I want to touch you. Do you want that too?”
“Yeah.”
“You want to touch me?”
Cam nodded, his fingers flexing as if he couldn’t wait.
“Take off your shirt.”
In one smooth movement, Cam did, revealing a nearly smooth chest even nicer than Dylan had imagined. Just a few hairs around tight nipples and a dark happy trail leading to that promising dick of steel. And that thick gold chain ringing his neck. Like a collar.
They stood inches from each other, not touching, but the air around them burned. Dylan could smell sweat—his own, Cam’s, the scent of desire. “You ever done this before?” he asked in a low voice.
“No,” Cam answered so quickly Dylan knew it to be the truth. Seriously… He almost asked again how old Cam was, but he didn’t want to hurt his feelings. As if reading his mind, Cam flicked his gaze up and said, “I wasn’t raised around here. I was…sort of isolated.”
“No wonder you’re so sweet,” Dylan said, smiling to let him know it was all right. It was all okay; everything would be fine. He thought those words while he reached out and feathered his fingertips from Cam’s collarbone across his chest, over one nipple, down to the opposite hip. “Come here and kiss me,” he said.
Ca
m didn’t know how to kiss. He’d dreamed about it, sure, watched his fair share of porn on the Internet when he knew Tash wouldn’t be around, but he worried about being awkward, bumping teeth, doing something wrong. He knew how to do so many things. How to hunt. How to fight. How to turn from a man into a monster. But this simple act was beyond his ken. He had to lean down to match his lips to Dylan’s, since the other man canted back against the counter, and Cam felt own his heartbeat in his throat, he was so nervous.
Then Dylan cupped his face between his big warm palms and whispered against his mouth, “Relax.” He rubbed his open mouth against Cam’s open mouth, breath to breath, nose to nose, then gently took Cam’s lower lip between his teeth, biting a little. That sensation sparked nerve endings down Cam’s spine. Mm, so good. Dylan’s tongue soothed over it, and Cam tightened his fingers around Dylan’s waist before he fell completely into him. Even in his dreams, he hadn’t imagined that people kissed like this. Human kisses. Human warmth. Human lust.
He tried to mirror what Dylan had done, putting his tongue in the other man’s mouth, letting it slide around with Dylan’s, and oh, what that did to his insides, to his cock. An inch closer and yeah, there, he pressed it against Dylan’s thigh, Cam’s feet bracing either side of Dylan’s left leg. Good but not enough, not nearly enough.
Then Dylan slid his arms around him, ran his hands down to grasp Cam’s butt, and pulled him tighter against him. Dylan drew Cam’s tongue deeper into his mouth and sucked on it, a sensation that, coupled with the pressure on his dick, tossed Cam’s brain like a salad. He heard panted moaning and realized dimly it was coming from him.
And while he knew Dylan couldn’t see them, Cam could see the wings of his soul, oily dark, veined with light, shuddering around Dylan’s body, embracing him.
He pulled back, sick and cold to his gut. This was why he’d been warned off humans. It was wrong, twisted. But Dylan caught him again, one hand sliding around the back of his neck. “Hey, don’t go. Don’t be afraid.” His voice stilled Cam’s wings, and they lost some of their solidity. “I only want to make you feel good, baby.” He reached and cupped Cam’s cock through his jeans, squeezed, just like that. Cam’s toes curled inside his sneakers, and he clenched his ass cheeks together against the too-good sensation.
