It was only a small consolation that there were visible marks all along Adrian's throat. Cassius found those to be highly satisfying, and he might have said so if Adrian wasn't already halfway out the door.
“Get some sleep,” Adrian said, looking back at the mostly nude Cassius. Their eyes met for a moment, and Cassius suddenly felt drunk all over again. He was spiraling, suddenly overcome by something he couldn't quite put a name to. The satisfaction he'd felt moments before faded without a trace as he watched Adrian walk away. Adrian raised an eyebrow, calling over his shoulder as he turned the doorknob, “You're gonna need it. There's plenty more celebrating to be done tomorrow.”
Cassius sank back into his bed, naked, unsettled, terrified out of his mind, and without anyone to turn to. And that was that. For the moment, anyway.
Chapter 15
Wet Dreams
Despite Simon’s best efforts, Ian stood firm in his refusal to swap rooms with Fabian, though truth be told he was almost tempted to give in. Simon drove him up the wall with his nonstop complaining about the injustice of having to room with Ian when Fabian was waiting for him just down the hall.
Simon even threatened to swap with Tyrone instead, to take matters into his own hands before Ian made some quiet threat under his breath and shut him up. Years of being best friends meant Ian had plenty of ammunition to dangle over Simon's head. He knew some shit that made even the unflappable Simon blush. And if Simon wanted to prevent his precious Fabian from finding out some of these dark and dirty secrets, he'd just have to shut up and stay with Ian for the night. Their little kerfuffle in the elevator with Drew and Harris was just the beginning. Ian could be downright vicious, when it suited his mood.
Sometimes the only way to deal with Simon was to treat him like the petulant child he was.
The man pouted, moped, huffed, and was generally a drama queen for the rest of the evening before he eventually fell asleep, curled up on the bed beside Ian, where he’d thrown himself in a fit of temper. It wasn't atypical, nor was it especially uncomfortable. Ian relaxed and stayed awake for a while to read, using Simon’s sleeping form as an armrest until his eyes were heavy and he began to doze off.
Ian woke with a start when he heard someone at the door. He sat up, looking over to where he should have spotted Simon’s outline on the other half of the bed. Instead the bed was empty. The room was empty, and as he climbed out from the covers he realized he was still fully clothed. Not thinking much of it, he went to the door and opened it, inhaling sharply when he was face to face with Carson.
“Hey.” Carson looked at him, a little nervous.
“Hey,” Ian repeated, leaning heavily against the door. His hands suddenly felt clammy. What the hell was Carson doing at his door, and at this hour?
“Can I come in?” Carson asked. Ian nodded and opened the door to let him in. He locked the door behind Carson, just in case Simon decided to reappear unannounced. They lingered at the doorway, looking at each other before Carson broke the silence with a laugh. “I wanted to see you, Ian.”
“You did?” Ian blinked.
“Uh-huh.” Carson seemed at ease, brushing past him and toward the beds. Ian followed dutifully. Carson paused, eyeing them carefully. One was distinctly messy while the other was perfectly made. He turned then, to look back at Ian. “Didn’t you want to see me, too?”
Ian’s breath caught in his throat. He nodded.
“Say it, Ian.”
Ian’s heart stopped, just for a second, but he didn’t even hesitate. “I wanted to see you, Carson.”
“I know.” Carson smiled, blinking slowly. “Will Simon be back soon?”
“He's...I think he's with Fabian, so. No, probably. Why?”
Carson gave a small shrug, then without any further warning, he closed the space between them.
Before Ian could react, Carson’s lips were mere centimeters from his and he could feel the heat of his breath, almost feel the scratch of his stubble.
As they made full eye contact, Ian felt himself start to melt under the intensity of his gaze. There was such need in Carson’s eyes, an almost innocent, cautious longing in them. Ian couldn’t help himself, he just had to touch him. Without a second thought, he threaded his fingers in Carson’s thick, wavy hair.
Carson took that as his cue to lean in and press his lips to Ian’s for a kiss which was anything but chaste. Carson kissed him unabashedly, fiercely, like his life depended on kissing him, like it was the only thing he wanted to do, like kissing Ian was breathing. Ian had never been kissed like that before, not by anybody, not in his entire life.
Ian didn't hesitate to respond, though he knew he probably should. He should have recoiled or pushed Carson away or something. But he didn't.
He leaned into him, lips parting to let Carson’s tongue into his mouth. And he pulled Carson closer, too, because their mouths felt so good together, and because thinking about the consequences was an unpleasant prospect.
Ian pulled gently at Carson's hair, and he pressed his lips against his, harder, breathing quickly against his mouth. His other hand cupped Carson's hip and he let his eyes fall closed, losing himself in the moment.
A tiny squeal escaped Carson's lips, and he grabbed hold of Ian's shirt, tugging at it randomly as they kissed. After a few seconds Carson pulled back, just long enough to catch his breath. And as soon as he caught his breath, he leaned in to kiss Ian again. After a moment or two, he murmured encouragingly, “Mmm… Ian…”
“Ah,” Ian exhaled, catching his lips again and running his hand up Carson's thigh. He pressed closer, chests together, murmuring against Carson’s mouth. His heart was pounding, it was so loud it was like a freight train rattling in his ribcage. His whole body was trembling from the thrill of the moment, and he was suddenly a bit more nervous.
Aside from his own heart, he couldn't hear much. His whole body felt like he was trembling, like his lips were tingling, like everywhere Carson touched him was buzzing and alive. It felt good, it did, and Ian didn't want him to stop.
But for some reason, he did stop. “Ian, one second, wait,” Carson breathed against his lips, unable to resist the urge to kiss him between sentences. If Ian was paying any attention at all, he'd probably notice that Carson was blushing slightly. “I'm glad I came over. I mean, this isn't so bad, right? I mean, you like this too, don't you?”
Ian stopped what he was doing, retreating just enough so that he could fully regard the man. It wasn’t that he was surprised that Carson wanted to take a moment to stop and chat, but truthfully he was mildly exasperated by it.
Ian’s mouth twitched into a scowl. He was trying to relax, but it was difficult with his mind and hormones suddenly running wild. He finally had what he’d always wanted. This was no time for a long, drawn out conversation. They could talk afterward. "No, it's not bad," he said quickly, fingers pressing into the flesh of Carson’s waist. “It’s good. It’s amazing. And it could be even better, if we used our mouths for stuff other than talking.”
Carson’s eyes went wide with a ready understanding. "Right. So, we both like it, and we're both in agreement that it's good, and we both want to, so..." He couldn't finish his sentence. He was too busy attacking Ian's mouth with his, kissing and nipping at him fiercely, finger curling at the hem of Ian’s t-shirt.
Ian’s heart was beating like a drum and he couldn't stop himself from gasping softly between kisses. He moved against Carson, pressing their bodies closer together, somehow managing to pull off his shirt in the midst of it all, only breaking the kiss for a moment. Tossing his shirt to the floor, he tugged Carson with him toward the bed and fell back onto it, pulling Carson down with him.
Carson settled on top of him, sitting up enough so that he could start fumbling with the buttons of his own shirt. He only got a few of them undone before he moved on, randomly pawing at the button of Ian’s jeans, running his fingers along the defined lines of his stomach. Ian’s back arched slightly at the cool touch of Carson’s fingers o
ver the sensitive skin of his belly, shivering more with anticipation than from the cold.
As he looked up into Carson’s dark eyes, he felt himself overcome with lust, felt himself going mad from animalistic need. It wasn’t just affection guiding him anymore. It was pure desire at the wheel. He needed to fuck this man and he needed to fuck him now.
“Oh fuck,” Ian growled, sinking into the bed, a look of excitement and anguish on his face. He looked so hot, staring down at him like he wanted Ian to be inside of him, to completely own him. Ian had seen that look in Carson's eyes before, only now did he fully grasp what it meant. “Oh, Carson…”
Carson’s eyes lit up and he ceased his teasing for just a moment, tugging at his shirt and tossing it uselessly to the floor. Every movement had a frantic, hurried quality to it, like if he hesitated for a moment the rational part of his mind would spring to life and he'd get cold feet.
But then again, how could he get cold feet when everything felt so good? He didn't want to think about it. Instead he focused on how pleasant Ian’s hands felt on his body, how this moment was the culmination of years and years of fantasy and longing. Absently, he let out a heavy sigh and bit playfully at Ian's throat, whispering teasing noises against his skin. “Do you like that? Hm, Ian? Is that good?”
“Yes…” Ian sighed, eyes rolling back. “Don’t stop.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t.” Carson purred, kissing up Ian’s throat to his jaw, licking at the stubble on his chin.
Panting, Ian stroked his hand up Carson’s back again, turning his head to possessively kiss his mouth. It was easy to fall into some sort of rhythm of rocking their hips together. Ian had to admit he felt kind of like a hormonal teenager again, the way they were making out in a hotel room, cautiously exploring each other’s bodies.
The rush felt good though. It had been too long since he felt this kind of need and excitement. It had been a long time since he’d felt this way about anyone at all.
Before he could stop himself, he was unfastening Carson’s belt, shifting his own hips to fumble with his own a moment later. “God,” he murmured, meaning it in the best way possible.
Carson grinned, his face somehow a pure mix of innocence and debauchery. How he managed it was beyond Ian’s capacity to understand. It was almost infuriating how he could look so sexy and so naive at the exact same time, giving Ian bedroom eyes while maintaining the expression of a clueless little virgin all the while. Ian knew better, but it was effective nonetheless, and it drove him crazy. He was hard as a rock, mind running wild with all the things he might do to this man, all the ways he could bend him and twist him and make him scream.
Meanwhile, Carson was singularly focused on getting them both completely undressed and followed by whether or not he was really and truly going to go through with this. His mind was mostly made up, after all, he was half naked and draped on top of Ian, biting and sucking on his neck like he was going to give him a hickey.
Still, he couldn't help but feel as if some sort of clarification was necessary, like it needed to be said flat out. He caught Ian's gaze again, exhaling with a nervous laugh, blushing in spite of himself.
“You've got a condom? Right?” Carson blinked, rocking his hips with Ian’s in a slow, arduous pace. Ian wasn’t sure they’d need a condom if he kept doing that. The pressure was so perfect, so heavy, so right, that he was half scared he would come in his pants right there and then.
“Yeah…yeah, hold on,” Ian breathed, arching up to try to and find his wallet in his back pocket. It was quite a process, considering Carson was still straddling him. He moved carefully, lifting Carson up gently, and as he did he noticed something was off. Instead of feeling the weight of Carson's body and the resistance which ought to have accompanied it, moving him was far too easy. It was almost as if Carson weighed nothing at all.
“Ian? What are you doing?” he laughed. Except it wasn’t Carson’s laugh. It wasn’t Carson’s laugh at all. Ian's whole body went tense as Carson stared down his nose at him. “Seriously? Is this happening?”
Ian’s eyes went huge. He knew that voice. He knew that voice very well. His stomach sank and he suddenly felt sick. “What…what the fuck?”
No sooner had he said the words than everything seemed to crash down around him. Carson, beautiful, hungry, and half-nude above him vanished into nothingness and the hotel room dissipated first into blackness and then into…well, another hotel room.
Ian’s eyes fluttered open and his surroundings came slowly into view. Carson wasn’t in bed with him. Carson wasn’t there at all. Instead, Ian was nose to nose with Simon—a mostly clothed and highly amused Simon. It was dark, with only the traces of moonlight peeking through the curtains illuminating them, but there was no mistaking Simon's figure in the dark.
Simon had a habit of inserting himself into places he wasn’t welcome and didn’t belong. He was like a pet in that way, and Ian had become used to waking up to Simon falling asleep beside him. But it didn’t exactly mean he was keen on this particular intrusion. It was seeing him face to face after having a very intense, very vivid sex dream which made everything so awkward.
“What the—? Jesus, Simon!” Ian sat up, flailing gracelessly as he grabbed for a blanket.
Simon switched the bedside lamp on. He was grinning like a madman, almost unable to contain his amusement. “Ian, you dog!”
“What are you doing here?” Ian sputtered, red faced, though he prayed to God he wasn’t.
“I was sleeping, my friend. You, on the other hand…” Simon raised his eyebrows, gesturing to Ian’s noticeable erection.
Ian’s face somehow turned a deeper shade of red.
Simon cackled. “So?”
“So what?” Ian grabbed a pillow to provide some modesty while he waited for his hard on to go away. “These things happen sometimes. You should know that, ass. It’s not like you haven’t woken up with a raging boner. I’ve been rooming with you for years. I would know.”
“Yeah, but that’s me. That doesn’t even count.” Simon insisted, leering at him. “You’re usually so discreet, Ian. You hardly ever wake up all hot and bothered like this.”
Ian turned his head to face Simon, eyes narrowing. If looks could kill, Simon would be begging for mercy on the floor, except that Simon had years of built up resistance and was immune to Ian’s death stares. “What were you dreaming about?”
“Nothing,” Ian answered, way too quickly.
Simon raised an eyebrow, propping himself up on his elbows. “Okay. Who were you dreaming about?”
“No one,” Ian replied, just as fast as before.
Simon rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to say as much, but he’d heard Ian mumbling in his sleep. The heavy moans had awoken him, and the realization that Ian had been panting out Carson’s name were what kept him from falling back to sleep. He wouldn’t have bothered waking Ian except Ian had started to grind against him in his sleep, and while he adored Ian and everything about him, Simon wasn’t prepared to participate in his wet dreams. Not unless he was starring in them, of course. So he sighed and rolled onto his side, smirking to himself once his face was obscured from view. He’d hold this information close to his chest for the moment. It might be useful someday.
From the other half of the bed, Ian fumed. “Why are you still here? You have your own bed, you know!” Simon didn’t move. “Si! Get out of my bed!”
“No.” Simon said. “You refused to swap with Fabian and you know I hate sleeping alone. So, consider this a compromise. Now stop whining and go take care of your hard on. Not here. In the bathroom. And then come back to bed. And Ian…” he yawned, “Try try not to fuck anyone in your dreams this time. All that moaning is disrupting my beauty sleep.”
Ian wanted to strangle him. He really did. Simon could be so obnoxious, sometimes he wasn’t sure how or why he adored him as much as he did. But he did adore Simon, even when he was an annoying little ass, so instead of exacting some form of revenge for his humili
ation, he climbed out of bed and stomped off to the bathroom. And just to be safe, he locked the door behind him.
Simon smiled sleepily at the muffled sound of the shower running and drifted back to sleep.
Chapter 16
Childish Games
Dawn arrived too early for the team, and they all were herded onto the bus for the ride over to the training facility after having a quick and rather uneventful breakfast.
They sat with their usual companions, most tuned out, listening to music, some engaged in quiet conversation during the drive. Carson sat next to Garry, having decided to forgive him after some soul searching. It wasn’t worth it to stay mad at his friend. Besides, if nothing ever came of his fantasies about Ian, he’d surely long for Garry’s company.
Ahead of them, Sam and Drew sat, speaking to each other in hushed voices, too quiet for Carson to distinguish their words. Not that he was particularly interested in them anyway. They were curiosities to him more than anything else. Instead, his attention lingered on Ian, who sat in the very front row next to Perry. Carson had a prime viewing angle from his seat and he admired the captain with discreet, veiled glances, pretending that he was engrossed in Garry’s description of some TV movie he was really into.
“Sounds great,” Carson said with forced enthusiasm, stealing a peek toward Ian, who was very pointedly not looking his way.
“I didn’t even get to the part with the explosion!” Garry grinned, carrying on, either oblivious to Carson’s wandering eyes or purposely ignoring them.
Ian, meanwhile, was busy attempting to become engrossed in conversation with Perry, who seemed especially keen on discussing tactics of some kind. It wasn’t that it went over Ian’s head or that because he was disinterested in what Perry had to say—the opposite was true, in fact. He just couldn’t quite shake his embarrassment over what had happened the night before, with Simon and his dream.
Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance Page 10
