He slid his hands up and gently pushed at Sam's shoulders until the kid backed off, looking up at him with dark, confused eyes.
"You better get dressed."
"But--"
"Get dressed."
Sam's gaze dropped, but he nodded and slid off, readjusting the towels as he went, still balancing on one leg. "Sorry."
His groin ached at the bowed head and soft voice and he wanted nothing more than to tangle his fist in Sam's hair and pull his head back until the shorter man had to look him in the eyes. The thought made his cock twitch, and Trevor didn't want to look too deeply into that. Instead his nodded to himself and stepped out of the bathroom. "Do you need your bag?"
"Yes, please."
He fetched Sam his bag then returned to the kitchen to throw the casserole in the oven. He nearly burned his hands as he did, thinking about Sam and that he should probably put a bandage on that ankle. Trevor was pretty sure he had one, and headed to the bathroom after digging it out of the hall closet. "Sam?" He knocked on the bathroom door before opening it.
Sam was sitting on the toilet, fully dressed and staring at his leg, jutting out in front of him, gingerly resting on the floor. He looked up when Trevor entered, whatever emotion he was showing quickly covered by a bright smile. "Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn't sure if you'd appreciate me hopping around."
"Right. That's why I brought this," Trevor held up the wrap. "Should help."
"Sweet. You gonna play doctor?" He grinned and Trevor laughed, tossing him the wrap.
"If you're going to be like that, you can do it yourself."
With another flash of smile, Sam started wrapping his ankle. Trevor watched for a moment to make sure he did know what he was doing then headed into the kitchen to set the small table for two.
****
And just like that, they fell into an easy routine. Sam slept on the couch most nights, except when he had nightmares, which meant that Sam went to sleep on the couch, but Trevor always woke up the next morning with the boy sleeping beside him. Trevor would quietly slip out of bed and get ready for work, leaving Sam to whatever he wanted, really. For the first few days that meant sitting on the couch and reading or watching TV, and on the weekend, Trevor joined him. But as his ankle hurt less, Sam did some cleaning, washed the dishes and even cooked dinner.
He was a surprisingly good cook. When Trevor told him as much, Sam blushed and mumbled about how he had to cook for his mom because she was sick. Trevor wanted to ask more, but the look Sam gave him silently pleaded him not to. Those looks happened sometimes, often at night when Sam crawled into his bed before they were pressed together and he relaxed. Looks of terror, of being lost. Looks that made Trevor want to wrap his arms around him and protect him, and do a few other things to him. But he didn't, just let Sam press against him and burrow his face against Trevor's chest and fall asleep like that.
Sam didn't keep his entire past a secret. He'd said his step-dad was a jackass--his words--and that he'd run away from home after graduating high school. He was eighteen and had a bank account that had originally been for college, but his step-dad had been draining it to pay the bills, so he had enough for food and clothes but not to rent a place, which was why he'd been sleeping on the bench. His plan was to find a job, an apartment and love, not necessarily in that order.
By the eighth day he was used to Sam having dinner ready and sitting there waiting for him, or hobbling around the kitchen putting on the final touches. So he was surprised when he arrived home to an empty apartment, the lingering scent of dinner still wafting through the rooms. "Sam?"
There was no answer. He checked the living room and found Sam's bag was still tucked under the end table, so he went to the bathroom, but it was empty. Wandering into the kitchen, he found a note on the table: Went out. Dinner's in the fridge.
Trevor wasn't mad. He was a little annoyed that Sam hadn't given him any more warning than a note, but he’d left dinner for him and locked the door behind him, even if it was just the knob, not the dead bolt that he'd need a key for. It would have been nice if Sam had said something, but the guy was a free adult, who was Trevor to tell him what to do?
Of course, he wasn't mad at 6, but he was annoyed at 10, when Sam still wasn't back and he figured Sam must have gone out-out, since it was Friday night. By one in the morning he was equal parts pissed and worried. He’d gone out with a bum ankle and bruises still on his face. Trevor didn't know what kind of guys Sam hoped to find like that, but he was relieved when the front door opened and Sam finally limped in.
Being on his feet all night must have exhausted him, because he was favoring his one side, although the swaying wasn't solely because he was tired. Trevor stood up when Sam came into the living room where he'd been sitting in the dark.
"Shit!" Sam gasped, wavering on his feet before grabbing the door frame. "Hey, I didn't wake you up, did I?"
"No."
"Oh." Trevor could hear that happy smile plastered on his face, but it didn't work well in the dark. "No harm then. You scared the shit out of me."
"Right."
Sam started feeling the wall for the light switch as Trevor walked over. The smell of booze was rank. "Been drinking?"
"Just one. Someone was nice enough to buy me a drink."
"You're underage."
"What do you care?"
"Did you sleep with him?"
Sam slammed his hand against the wall, glaring at Trevor. "What the fuck do you care?"
Trevor didn't know what he was doing, just that he found himself shoving Sam against the wall, pressing the smaller man between him and the immovable. He expected a struggle, but instead of fighting, all the tense muscles relaxed and he leaned into the pressure. "Sam?"
He could hear him swallow and, pressed so tightly together, could feel the muscles in his body shift.
"Sam?"
"Please."
"Is that what you said to him?" He pressed harder and could feel the air whoosh from Sam's lungs before he eased back and let him breathe again. Immediately Sam tensed, twisting in the little space he was given to elbow Trevor in the stomach. "What the fuck do you care!"
He was expecting it--not that it stopped it from hurting, the kid had pointy elbows--he tightened his muscles and pinned Sam against the wall again, forcing a grunt from him.
"So what if I fucked him? You going to harp on me for going bare too--" the last word came out a wheeze as Trevor pushed harder and Sam shut up by sheer lack of air. Snaking one hand into his hair, Trevor yanked Sam's head back and kissed him hard. The angle naturally opened his mouth and so Trevor slid his tongue in, tasting beer and something else that made him want to spit.
Instead he just pulled back, squeezing his fistful of hair. "Go take a shower."
Sam gasped as he was released, staring at Trevor before he nodded and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, Trevor let out a huff and leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead to where Sam had been. Taking Sam in hand like that had made him hard, turned him on, and damn if Sam hadn't been just as hard when he walked away. Is that how Sam liked it, rough and tumble? Was what happened in the alley--what Trevor interrupted--was that what Sam wanted, or had it just gone too far? He sure as Hell hadn't been turned on that night.
Did it matter? Sam wanted it; Trevor wanted it. He wanted it right now, actually. Maybe in the shower. But the thought of some other guy having already...that made him want it less. He dragged in air. Not a lot less, but maybe enough to do what he needed to do.
Collecting his thoughts, Trevor adjusted his tank top and headed down the hall where he could hear the shower shut off. He knocked twice then entered, resisting Sam's naked body to instead turn to the sink and put toothpaste on a brush to clean his mouth while Sam dried off, watching Trevor as if he would slam him against the wall again--or maybe hoping he would.
He was hard, his prick still arching up after his shower, and although Trevor hadn't said Sam couldn't do anything to sati
sfy himself, Trevor couldn't help be a little pleased that he hadn't--that he was silently saying he wanted permission first.
But Trevor just finished brushing and spit, rinsing the brush and finally looking to where Sam stood on the rug with the towel clenched in his hands. He let his eyes linger as they moved down the body, or at least the parts that weren't covered by the towel then nodded. "Brush your teeth, then get in my bed, I'll be in shortly."
After giving his order, he left the bathroom and went into the kitchen to get a glass of water--to give Sam time to get into the bedroom first, but mostly to gather his thoughts, most of which were overwhelmed by the image of Sam's body dripping wet. He finished his water, washed the glass then headed to the bedroom.
He opened the door to find Sam on the bed, his ass in the air and his thighs spread. The moonlight trickling through the window made his pale skin glow as he waited, presented to the world. It was a beautiful sight and it both aroused him and disgusted him. He wanted to sink into that waiting ass and ride it hard; he had no doubt Sam would be all for it. But part of him couldn't help but question Sam's motives. He was turned on, yes, but Trevor couldn't help thinking he was using appeasement tactics. Plus, he didn't want to fuck him, even with a condom, when Sam had admitted to going bare not long before.
So instead of fucking him hard like they both wanted, Trevor grabbed Sam by the waist and dropped him onto the mattress. He yelped in surprise, but Trevor didn't give him a chance to react; he lay down next to him, one arm wrapping around his waist and securing him against Trevor's body so they spooned. And when Sam started rubbing his bare ass against Trevor's groin, Trevor ignored the tent in his pajama bottoms and tightened his hold, growling, "Don't move."
Sam froze, but a squeeze from one of Trevor’s arms and he relaxed, sinking his body back against Trevor's.
"Go to sleep."
"But--"
"Sleep."
Sam shut up. Whether he slept or not, Trevor didn't know; he succumbed to the darkness a little while later.
****
Trevor woke to a loud crash, his arm instinctively grabbing for Sam and finding nothing but sheets. Another crash hustled him from bed and he stumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, into the kitchen where the noise was originating. There he found several plates--or what were once plates--shattered across the floor, joined by a mug, two glasses, and all the silverware that had been in the drain rack with them. In the center of it all stood Sam in nothing but jeans, wielding a frying pan like a weapon and using it as a baseball bat as far as Trevor could tell.
"Sam? What are you doing?"
He looked up, his dark eyes wild with fear and anger. He adjusted his hold on the frying pan and hunched his shoulders but didn't answer.
"Sam, put the pan down."
If he hadn't screamed, Trevor wouldn't have had the warning to duck as the frying pan flew over his head. Sam didn't give him a chance to stand, just ran across the floor and tackled him. Or tried to. The martial arts knowledge that he'd used to scare away Sam's attacker wasn't fabricated, and as Sam lunged, Trevor stepped to the side, grabbing him around the neck with his arm and dropping him to a piece of floor that was hopefully clear of debris. Before Sam could react, Trevor rolled him onto his stomach and wrenched his arms behind his back, pulling the wrists high and holding them tight.
And while he thought Sam would fight, he wasn't surprised as the strain in the muscles vanished and the body beneath him sagged. He kept his hold tight, remembering the sudden changes from the night before and the look in Sam's eyes a minute ago. "Sam?"
A shiver passed through the body he straddled, and then a hiccup as Sam buried his forehead against the floor. "Get...get off me." He hiccupped again and Trevor leaned over so he could see Sam's face and the tears trickling onto the linoleum.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No!" he shouted, and Trevor didn't think he'd ever heard anyone be so upset at that.
"Do you want me to hurt you?"
He started thrashing again, but Trevor just tightened his hands and leaned his weight forward to push pressure on his wrists and chest. Sam's scream of frustration came out in a single shout, but he didn't stop fighting. "Why would I want to be hurt?" Trevor didn't answer, just let Sam exhaust himself as he struggled. "I don't! I didn't! I didn't want to be hurt. I--fuck," he sobbed the last word as his body relaxed again. This time Trevor released him, sliding down to sit beside him and pull him into his arms. Sam went easily, crawling into his lap and wrapping his legs around his waist as he buried his face against Trevor's neck to hide the tears.
While Sam cried himself out, Trevor held him, stroking his back until the hot breath on his neck became kisses. He gently pushed Sam away to check on him and make sure he hadn't hurt himself on the shards of glass and ceramic, but before he could, Sam was jerking away and scrambling to his feet--for all of two seconds before he dropped like a rock to the ground with a shout.
"Freeze."
Sam obeyed, his head hanging between his stiff arms from his position on his hands and knees. "I'm sorry."
"For?"
He looked up, terrified and confused and Trevor shook his head. "Why don't we work off the assumption that we've only known each other a week and we may not be understanding everything?"
Sam swallowed and nodded.
"Good. Now stay like that, I think your foot is bleeding." He stroked Sam's back as he circled around him and crouched by his feet. Both had small scratches, but one had a large gash, the sliver of glass still embedded and who-knows how deep. A deep breath to steady himself and he stood, quickly looking Sam in the eyes. "Stay. I'm going to get some first aid supplies, okay?"
Another nod and his body relaxed a fraction. He licked his lips, watching Trevor's face. "I'm sorry."
"For?"
"Getting hurt."
Crouching so he was eye level, he cupped Sam's cheek and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Okay. Now let's see what we can do to fix it. Stay."
Sam nodded and Trevor stood, leaving him there while he went to the bathroom to dig out a first aid kit, a washcloth and a bucket of water. When he returned, Sam was still kneeling, his dark eyes following Trevor's every movement. He sat by Sam's feet, checking the first for pieces of glass before washing it with warm water and then peroxide. Sam hissed, but didn't pull his foot away, letting Trevor apply gauze and wrap it before tending to the second foot. This one required the tweezers, but aside from a sharp intake of breath, Sam remained motionless.
When the last bandage was applied and Trevor set the foot down, Sam went to move. "Freeze." He obeyed. "Don't move until I say so."
Sam stared, searching, and Trevor crouched down to kiss him again. "Don't move." Another small nod and Trevor fetched the broom and dust pan, carefully sweeping the entire kitchen and around Sam before using a wet paper towel to catch all the smaller slivers and a few drops of blood. When he was finished and everything was put away, he sat against the kitchen wall. "Come here."
Crawling over, Sam practically collapsed into his lap when he got there, burying his head against Trevor's stomach. He wasn't tense or crying, and Trevor ran his fingers through the mop of dark hair, letting his thumbs rub at Sam's temples. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"
The answer was muffled, but Trevor was pretty sure he heard, "I'm sorry." It wasn't much of an answer; actually, it wasn't an answer at all. "Can you stand?" He got a nod in response. "Stand up."
Sam obeyed, somewhat mechanically, and Trevor followed suit, grabbing him and pulling him against his chest, hard and forcefully. Sam didn't tense, didn't fight, just fell into it, his arms clinging around Trevor's waist. "Tell me what you want, Sam."
His answer was muffled once again, until Trevor took his chin in hand and forced him to look up and repeat it. "I wanted you to fuck me."
"When?"
This smile was different than those plastered facades he'd given before. "Every night this week."
Trevor trailed his thumb a
long Sam's jawbone as his hand slid back to grip his neck, holding him still as he leaned down and took his mouth. The whimper that escaped Sam was pure pleasure, even as Trevor bit his lower lip before plunging his tongue in. Sam melted against him, his hands clawing on Trevor's back before finding a firm grip on his ass, thrusting their hips together and provoking a growl from Trevor. The kid was hard against his thigh, hard and needy as Trevor sucked his tongue into his mouth and squeezed tightly on the back of his neck. Sam seemed ready to go right there, one hand already releasing his ass to push into his pajama bottoms. But lube, condoms, and a bed weren't that far away.
Using his hold on Sam's neck, he pulled him back, squeezing tightly to vanquish the tension that returned. "Bedroom, now."
Sam tried to move, but Trevor kept his grip, and after two attempts, he looked up curiously.
"If it's too much, you tell me to stop and I'll stop." He squeezed again, pulling a happy gasp from Sam. "Understood?"
"Yes." He nodded as much as he could, licking his lips and staring straight into Trevor's piercing gaze. "Please."
Trevor yanked him forward, kissing him fiercely and forcing him to give in to the embrace of lips and tongues. His hand pinched painfully on Sam's neck, driving a moan into his mouth as Sam humped against him. His own cock ached with the sudden need to claim and protect the young man in his arms and he jerked Sam away once more, making sure they were still both seeing each other through the haze of lust. "What do you say?"
"Please," Sam groaned and Trevor chuckled, pressing his forehead against his.
"I meant if you need me to stop."
"Stop. I'll tell you to stop. Just...please."
"Good."
Sam sighed when Trevor released his neck and slid one hand down his back to swat a sharp smack on his clothed ass.
Don't Read in the Closet volume one Page 67
