by Anne Russo
“I don’t follow?” Adam’s brow furrowed.
“You, Adam, you’ve changed him. I know you won’t believe me, but when Ian didn’t know where you were or what Grady would do to you, it terrified him. He’d have done anything in the world to get you back.”
Adam struggled to digest that last bit of news, lost for words, but Mei saved him the trouble.
“I’m only giving my two cents for whatever it’s worth. Just don’t dismiss Ian outright. Though trust me, I realize he doesn’t make it easy.”
“So, what are you saying?” Adam whispered, trying not to let her see how her words had affected him.
She patted his hand, offering a sweet, patient smile. “Maybe it’s time you both let go of the past and start living for today.”
Chapter 16
Around ten, Adam wandered back to his room, ready to collapse into bed. But his earlier talk with Mei gave him other ideas. He tried sleeping, but the buzzing in his brain refused to quiet. Snippets of the conversation played on a never ending loop until he thought he might go mad.
Frustrated, Adam tossed aside the bedsheets and threw on the light. He started pacing, wearing a groove into the rug, an imprint in the plush carpeting. He paused only to retrieve a bottle of too warm vodka hidden away at the bottom of his closet.
Adam sipped it straight, grimacing through the taste. With each sip, the darker his thoughts turned. He relived the terrible things Ian had forced upon him. The mind games, physical and mental torture. And even still, despite everything, Adam longed for him. He may have despised him, but he needed him more—a terrifying epiphany. There had to be something wrong with his brain. A loose wire, a faulty short. How was it possible for him to want Ian? After everything he’d done? There was no denying the connection between them; they couldn’t battle through or ignore it. When he had Ian in his arms, Adam had zero doubt Ian desired him every bit as much. But giving in to their passion, making it real, was another matter altogether.
Adam was hesitant to trust anyone else’s opinion, let alone his own. But he liked Mei as much as he liked anyone here. And over the last year, he’d grown to respect her judgment. She got Ian’s motives in a way no one else did. Motives which left Adam baffled—overwhelmed by the never ending cycle of Ian running hot and cold. The half-truths and second guessing that only bred disappointment and resentment. And as an odd side effect, a building attachment to a man who fought him at every turn. Adam didn’t fool himself into believing he could save this man, nor did he have any real inclination to do so. It was vaguely insulting of him to assume Ian needed anybody to save him.
In the end, it came down to one fundamental truth. It’d been Ian and Ian only he’d wished to see again when everything appeared bleak and hopeless. Ian’s image, his face which gave him the reserve to fight back, to survive. It was Ian who haunted his nights and fell in step with him during the day. And Adam could no longer pretend otherwise.
He was near finishing the bottle when a knock startled him from his thoughts. Funny how he knew who it was before he even opened the door.
“You have impeccable timing,” Adam announced.
Ian frowned, his brow wrinkled as he sniffed the air. “You’ve been drinking again.”
“Ah, not only a handsome face but clever too.” Adam chuckled as he stumbled back into his room.
He took a swig from the bottle, holding it out. When Ian ignored it, Adam shrugged and set it back on the table where it fell.
“You’ve been drinking too much,” Ian observed, catching it before slamming the bottle down on the table.
“Why the fuck do you care?” Adam snarled and lost his footing, trying to find a place to sit.
“Christ! Sit down before you fall.” Ian seized Adam by the shoulders and shoved him into a sitting position on the bed.
“Ask me why I’ve been drinking.” Adam reached up and grabbed Ian’s hands as he pulled away.
“I’d rather not,” Ian grumbled as he untangled Adam’s hold and stepped back.
“Come on, ask me why I need to be drunk to sleep at night,” Adam insisted as he flopped back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Ian groaned and came over to the side of the bed, coming into view above. He considered a moment before he sat down. Adam reached over and pulled Ian down until he gave up protesting and joined him on the bed.
“This isn’t a good idea,” Ian muttered before dropping beside Adam.
In response, Adam moved in closer, making himself comfortable.
* * * *
Ian fought back the urge to run but found himself unwilling to move. Instead, drawing Adam closer, so his head rested on his chest. Ian’s arm wrapped around the curve of his shoulder.
“You don’t fool me,” Adam announced after a moment. “You’ve been drinking too.”
“Stop talking and go to sleep.”
Adam chuckled, burrowing further.
They laid there for a while. After some time, Ian wondered if Adam had drifted off. Ian shifted out from the weight of Adam’s body, attempting to leave.
Adam sounded awake but sleepy as he tugged Ian back. “Do they ever go away?”
“What’s that?” Ian’s hold tightened without his realizing.
“The nightmares.”
“No,” Ian answered, his voice hollow as Adam settled into his arms. “No, but you’ll learn to live with them.”
“Traditions of dead generations weigh like nightmares upon the living,” Adam mumbled, the words faint.
“Is that Marx?” Adam didn’t answer, leaving Ian to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. “Interesting,” he added, muttering the word under his breath.
Adam grumbled but didn’t respond.
Embolden, Ian lifted his free hand to Adam’s cheek. Adam was silent as Ian brushed the hair out of his closed eyes, tracing an eyebrow with his thumb. “I should go. Let you get some sleep.”
Adam’s eyes fluttered open as Ian shifted, reaching for his hand. “Stay the night. Stay here.”
Silence followed as Ian struggled to answer, pulling away, overcome. “I don’t know.”
“You do know,” Adam persisted. It took everything for Ian not to lean over and kiss him until he stopped talking.
“Adam, don’t—”
“Don’t what? You knocked on my door for a reason. Are you going to pretend otherwise?”
“I didn’t come here for that.” Ian lowered his head into his hands as he sat on the bed’s edge, torn and defeated.
Adam crowded into Ian’s space, wide awake now and goading for an argument.
“You’re a horrible liar. Tell me again you don’t want me.”
“You know, you’re far too arrogant for your own good.” Ian scoffed, as he stood and tried to go around him.
“It’s not arrogance if I’m right.” Adam countered. As sure as anyone who had half a bottle of vodka coursing through their bloodstream.
“This isn’t happening while you’re drunk,” Ian swore, interrupting Adam in his pursuit with a firm hand on his chest.
“But it will happen?”
“Move out of the way.” Ian started toward the door, but Adam stopped him, blocking Ian’s exit with his entire body.
“Not until you tell me why you’re—”
Ian broke, dragging him in close, fingertips pressed tight against Adam’s jaw as he tilted his face up to meet him. One glance, Adam wide eyed and expectant, and Ian snapped.
Ian slammed him into the back of the door in one decisive, swift motion, ending any future tirades with the crush of lips and grasping hands. Hands now gripped him around his waist until Ian had Adam’s body flush against his own.
“Shut up. Please—just—stop—talking—already,” Ian punctuated each needy word with another demanding kiss.
Adam sank against him, meeting each desperate embrace as Ian seized him by the biceps, anchoring them steady.
Ian attempted to pull back, holding Adam at length, undone by the heat in his eyes. Those eyes
were demanding so much, yearning for things Ian had no power to offer him. A life and a future he didn’t dare dream of, let alone deserve. But still Ian wanted him. The need, a physical entity inside him, unrelenting and determined. A sensation akin to crawling out of his skin, his body too tight, too hot. He struggled to find oxygen as he sought to reason with Adam and his nagging self-doubt.
“You don’t want this. Trust me, Adam. You don’t want me,” Ian pleaded, spitting out each syllable.
Adam studied his conflicted expression, searching for answers. He sighed, dropping his head as Ian sucked in a harsh breath. Adam’s hands under his shirt rested against Ian’s chest, defeated in his desire for him. “I know, but God, Ian. I don’t want to do this without you; I can’t—”
The words poured out like a raging river contained and now unleashed. They both ached at those words. True for both. Ian encircled his wrists, firm but gentle, needing to see the raw and powerful truth. A truth Adam never saw a need to keep hidden from him. Ian groaned out loud when Adam sank against him, meeting his gaze.
“Please don’t go,” Adam begged, biting on his bottom lip.
That one gesture tore apart every resistance Ian may or may not have had. If he didn’t get his mouth on Adam’s in the next three seconds, he’d explode. Ian kissed him, hard, heat and passion overtaking any real finesse.
They both moaned into the kiss as Ian dragged him closer. Adam fists clenched at Ian’s waist. Ian’s palms cradled Adam’s face as if it were the most precious thing he had ever held. He tried to slow their kisses, desperate for breath, but Ian was afraid to shatter the moment.
Ian drew back, his thumb grazing over his bottom lip, and the need burned strong, but still, he tried. “We can’t.”
Adam leaned forward, nipping his finger in response. “We can. We can do whatever we want.”
Ian wasn’t sure which of them started edging them toward the bed, but he was the one who slammed them both on it. After an awkward moment of tangled and trapped limbs, they fell into each other’s arms. Frantic in their neediness, fingers crushed against zippers, discarded garments flung, shoes tossed. Until finally—
“Oh God, the things I want to do to you,” Ian sighed as he explored the smooth expanse of tender flesh beneath him. He ghosted feather light caresses over Adam’s collarbone, his shoulders.
Adam pulled him close, but not close enough. “Show me.”
Ian moaned, pinning Adam between himself and the mattress, nudging his legs open. Each of them awed by the intoxicating glide of skin on skin as they kissed again, deeper, hungrier.
With his hands, Ian said what he couldn’t as he licked and bit a path over Adam’s responsive body—already flushed red. There, he savored him, biting one nipple, the other, pausing to nibble the spaces between his ribs. Ian moved lower, over sharp hip bones and firm inner thighs. Adam squirmed underneath him, mumbling pleas for more, fists twisted deep in his hair.
Ian groaned out loud, the grip verging on painful as Adam urged him downward.
“Please,” Adam begged, arching into his touch. “Please, Ian.”
Ian wrapped his hands around his calves and tugged him to the edge of the mattress. A move he made with such confident strength, he left Adam breathless.
“What are you doing?”
The question died on Adam’s lips when Ian flung his legs over his shoulders. He sank into the plush carpet and swallowed around him in one smooth, graceful motion, the immediate slick wetness, the warmth of Ian’s mouth near unbearable. Adam let out a ragged moan as he fell across the bed and gave himself up to the sensation, fisting the sheets, as if attempting to stave off his climax. Too much, too soon. He tried to warn Ian, but Ian surprised him, taking his hands and shoving them onto the comforter, gripping him in place.
Ian urged him to let go before lowering his head once more.
“Oh God,” Adam moaned as he entwined his fingers with Ian’s own, riding the waves of pleasure that washed over him. His limbs trembled as he arched his back, forcing Ian on him again and again.
Ian mirrored his moves, grasping Adam’s fists with each slam of hips until Ian’s throat burned and tears sprang to his eyes from the effort, but still, he took it, only craving more.
Ian pulled up long enough to whisper, “Come on, baby. Let me have it.”
“God, Ian, please, fuck, please.”
Ian wrapped his lips around him and redoubled his effort. Soon he had Adam unable to hold back, moaning his name when he came. Ian swallowed every drop, more eager than ever before. He savored him, the flavor sweet and salty, bitter—only made him want more.
Ian rested on his knees, running his hands up his thighs, powerless to stop touching. Adam stretched across the bed, gasping through aftershocks. His skin was overwrought and feverish, trembling, and covered in goosebumps.
“Come here,” Adam gasped, lifting his head to meet his eye, his voice strained.
Ian didn’t need an invitation. He had Adam in his arms and pressed against the mattress in ten seconds flat. Ian thrust up against him, desperate for relief. He wanted inside him but couldn’t wait, not sure he’d last long enough to prep him. So pent up, he didn’t even care anymore how it happened.
“Touch me,” he pleaded against Adam’s parted lips.
Adam surprised him by rolling them over until Ian lay underneath him instead, taking Ian aback. He wasn’t used to letting his lovers gain the literal and figurative upper hand on him.
Adam leaned him back, pressing frenzied kisses to his neck, biting on his earlobe. Ian cried out at the burst of pleasure/pain at the sensation. A cry he fought to stifle further when Adam curled his hand around his erection and started stroking.
Ian dug his heels into the mattress, legs falling open, one hand clutching the back of Adam’s neck. The other gripped the sheets rough enough to pull them free from their tucked in corners. Ian threw his head backward, teeth clenched, chest heaving. Adam pressed him down, coaxing his lips apart with his tongue, kissing him deeply. Exquisite and dirty in the best way, after what they had just done. Ian was powerless to hold back his moans. They spilled out as Ian thrust upwards, hips rocking into tight warmth. So close now, torture as he teetered toward the brink.
“Come on,” Adam insisted. “Come for me, Ian.”
So Ian did, crying out as he came hard, pleasure bolting up through his spine before exploding in waves. Overwhelmed, he crashed back onto the mattress, panting and gasping, boneless and sweaty. For once, the nagging voices in his head were quiet and at peace.
Ian caught himself grinning, sticky, and wet, Adam right by his side. Ian slid his hands into his hair, dragging him in for another lingering kiss. They broke apart, resting their foreheads together. Their shallow breaths mixed as the world came back around them.
“That was incredible,” Adam murmured against the corner of his mouth.
Ian tried to respond in kind, but he couldn’t find the words he needed. He answered instead by rolling them over, so Adam lay beneath him. Ian cupped his chin, committing his stunning, flushed face to memory. Adam’s cheeks glistened with sweat, eyes wide, and searching. And something sharp, something real, stabbed Ian deep within. He smoothed back the damp hair from Adam’s brow and resumed kissing him. He wanted to keep kissing him and never stop. Adam returned his embrace until they were both breathless and desperate for air. Together they settled into a gentle rhythm of exploring the other; greedy hands and lips searching and seeking until both were hard and wanting again.
“I want to fuck you so badly,” Ian panted against the curve of his neck.
Underneath him Adam tensed. Ian tried to withdraw, but Adam held tight and refused to let go.
“You can. Fuck me.”
Ian struggled with the question. “Have you ever?”
Adam reddened, glancing away but Ian turned his face to his. “No,” Adam explained, swallowing hard. “Not that.”
For Ian, there was a slight perverse thrill in knowing he was Adam’s first.
And underneath, he felt a surge of overwhelming panic at the trust, Adam had shown him.
“We don’t—”
Adam pulled Ian close again, steadfast. “I want it. I want you.”
Ian drew back to sweep away a lock of hair from Adam’s eyes. A trail of fingertips gliding over his mouth, his jaw. He pressed a solid kiss to Adam’s mouth, lifting off with a reluctant sigh.
Adam followed him. “Wait, where are you going?”
Ian leaned in for a reassuring kiss, untangling the hold Adam had on his waist. “I have to grab a few things. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. Okay?”
Adam’s cheeks burned as he blushed from red to purple, apparently so caught up at the moment, he hadn’t even considered what things they needed.
“Okay,” he agreed, loosening his hold, allowing Ian to slip out of his arms.
* * * *
Adam lay there, unsure, his body humming like a live wire as Ian hunted around the dim room for his discarded jeans. In the meantime, Adam resituated himself, feeling too exposed, sprawled out naked. Ian came back to bed, placing several condoms and a mini tube of lubricant on the nightstand. He dimmed the lights, plunging the room into shadow before sliding in next to him.
“You travel with lube in your back pocket?” Adam joked, desperate to break the vulnerable tension.
“You’re going to be glad for it in a minute.”
“What do I do?” Adam asked, hesitant as Ian’s weight settled on top of him, nudging his knees apart, so he rested between them. “Tell me what to do.”
“You don’t have to do a thing,” Ian reassured him. “Except, tell me what you like and what you don’t.”
Adam exhaled the breath he’d been holding, falling back with Ian’s encouragement. Ian leaned in and kissed him once, twice until Adam was begging for more against his lips. He gasped as Ian tangled a curled fist in his hair and tugged until Adam’s throat was bare in front of him, burning lips teasing the delicate skin until it bruised. Adam squirmed under Ian’s heavier body; legs tangled with his own as Ian used one hand to keep him close while the other ventured lower to tease his entrance. Drowning now, Adam struggled under a heady whirlwind of sensations. The steady rhythmic glide of skin on skin as Ian’s heart thudded against his own. Desperate now, they wrapped themselves in the other and became lost.
