by E M Lindsey
Then Sam’s fingers were gone, and Niko sagged forward, startled by the sudden lack of fullness and desperate to have it back. He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder just in time to see Sam rolling on the condom and slicking himself so wet, it glinted in the soft table lamp glow.
“Shit,” Niko said, sitting up fully. “God, I want you.”
“I can tell,” Sam said with a tiny smirk. He reached to adjust his own legs, spreading them a bit, then looked at Niko with an intensity he couldn’t name. “You’re going to have to do the work here.”
Niko choked a little. “I…I was just waiting…”
“For a written invitation?” Sam mocked with a tiny smirk. He reached out for Niko, grabbing him by the upper arms and guiding him over to straddle his legs. “I’ll write you a goddamn novel if you want, but only after you get my dick inside of you.” At Sam’s words, he squeezed his eyes shut, tipping his head forward as he felt the gentle slap of the cock behind him. It slid between his cheeks, and he had to catch his breath for a second because in another moment, it would be inside him.
He finally opened his eyes again, keeping his gaze locked on Sam, ready to read every single twitch of his body to make sure this was giving him something, that Niko was bringing him as much pleasure as Sam gave. He tightened his legs around the outside of Sam’s thighs, then he reached behind him, grabbed Sam’s cock, and lined it up.
This was mostly new for him. He’d only been on top a handful of times, and he had flailed a bit until the other guy took control. Now, though, he had to take charge. The guy beneath him wasn’t going to lose it, grab him by the hips, and hold him steady to be fucked until he came. This was nothing like those short, uncomfortable encounters which never meant anything.
This? This meant everything.
He sank down in one slick motion, gasping at how suddenly he was full, how tight he was, the burn of it singing through his every pore. He wanted it though, wanted each sensation—both good and bad. He couldn’t look away from how Sam’s eyes went wide, how his lips parted with his gasping breath. He jolted when Sam’s hand moved around behind him to feel it with his fingers when he lifted up and slammed down again.
“God. I’m fucking you,” Sam groaned.
“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” Niko sat down fully and rocked his hips back and forth, then circled them a little, trying to find the right angle, the right spot to… “Oh god, oh fuck, shit. It’s there, it’s right there,” he said.
“Do it, make yourself come,” Sam ordered.
Niko wasted no time, bouncing right on Sam’s dick and having just enough presence of mind to bring one hand to Sam’s side and the other to his nipple to tug on the ring there. He used his fingers the way he had the other night, feeling a second sort of pleasure rip through him at the way Sam’s face suddenly flushed. His eyelids fell halfway closed and his head dropped back, because it was enough.
Niko was enough for him.
He kept the angle that had him right on the edge, letting Sam’s cock pound against his prostate with every thrust down, and he leaned in to drag his open lips and teeth along Sam’s jaw, right to the sensitive spot under his ear where he gave a good, hard suck. Not long enough to leave a mark, but long enough to burn a little and keep Sam groaning and pushing against him for more, more, more.
“I’m going to come. I can feel it,” Sam gasped. “It’s right there, it’s…”
Niko lowered his head for a second, fucking up his angle, but he didn’t care. Not when it meant taking Sam’s nipple into his mouth and biting down on it so Sam’s chest puffed out and hands dug hard into Niko’s hips as he orgasmed.
Niko didn’t take long after. Just two strokes on his dick before he was shooting onto Sam’s stomach, and he slumped forward, letting his head fall against Sam’s collarbone. “Holy shit,” he gasped.
“Mm,” was all Sam managed. He had his hand back in Niko’s hair, gently petting through his sweat-soaked curls, dragging blunt nails against the back of his neck. Neither one of them spoke for a long while, and after a bit, Niko could feel Sam start to get soft.
Not wanting to hurt him, he gently climbed to the side and looked down at Sam’s lap. The condom was falling off, and it was empty which meant his orgasm hadn’t come with any semen, but he didn’t think it mattered. The cock ring was lax now, so Niko used careful fingers to pull the condom away and then the cock ring which he set on the table.
Sam was watching him, a guarded expression, but his eyes softened when Niko looked up. “Too weird?”
“Are you asking if one of the most intense orgasms of my life was too weird?” Niko wondered aloud.
Sam’s cheeks went flushed again, and he shrugged. “Was it, though?”
Knowing now what sort of insecurities Sam had about relationships, he reached out and touched his cheek. “I wouldn’t lie to you, okay? Trust me, if it wasn’t that good, I wouldn’t be contemplating selling my soul to the devil himself so we could do that again.”
Sam’s face went lax, his smile genuine though small. He leaned back fully, and his body trembled slightly with his leg spasms, but he didn’t try to hide them. “It was that good for me too.”
“Yeah?” Niko stretched out next to him with his feet up on the coffee table, and rested his head sideways so he could look at Sam. “I mean, I was pretty sure, but I guess it’s harder to tell since you can’t come.”
“Technically I can,” Sam told him. “I still produce sperm, and I can have a forced ejaculation through rectal stimulation. But it can be a little dangerous, and is not as sexy as it sounds.”
Niko couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah? Rectal stimulation’s not sexy?”
“Shut up,” Sam said, grinning as he shoved at him. “I banked some sperm when I turned eighteen, just in case. It was awkward as fuck.”
Niko’s eyes widened. “I bet. Jesus, like…some random nurse shoving her finger up your asshole?”
Sam flushed. “More like a doctor shoving a probe in there, and they had to give me drugs to stay calm so my blood pressure didn’t go haywire. The nurse thing would have been a lot easier. I was kind of used to it by then because uh…” He glanced away. “Never mind, it’s pretty fucking nasty.”
Niko hesitated, but decided in the afterglow, he was going to push a little. He reached out and put his hand against Sam’s sternum. “Hey. Nasty doesn’t bother me, okay? I played hockey. I’m not even kidding, whatever you think is nasty can’t possibly stand up to what it’s like in a locker room.”
Sam’s lip twitched and he shrugged. “It’s only…there’s more than just the chair, you know. And a lot of it is daunting and gross.”
“I don’t care about gross,” Niko insisted again.
Sam started to look a little irritated, and he shifted upward a bit, dislodging Niko’s hand. “Really? So, if I told you that in order to take a shit, I have to shove my fingers up my ass, you don’t care? Or how sometimes, when I have bad days, I piss my pants? Or sometimes, when I’m in my chair too long, I end up with festering sores I can’t feel, and they have to literally carve chunks out of my ass cheeks. You’re telling me you don’t care about gross?”
Niko leaned up and looked him in the eye. “In juniors, the guys used to get wasted and shit in each other’s gym bags. Literally. Sometimes they’d smear it all over your gear, or shit in your skates. They’d fill your water bottles with a mixture of piss and vodka right before you took the ice, so you didn’t find out until you were sweating and chugging it. One time, a guy got so sick he couldn’t keep anything down, so me and the rest of the guys had to take turns helping him with an anal suppository so he could still skate the next day for our game.” He pushed himself up fully and crossed his arms. “I don’t find your body gross. I don’t find it unattractive, even if you have scars or if one side of your ass isn’t as fleshy as the other. I just…like you, okay? I don’t need you to be like everyone else.”
Sam swallowed thickly, then cleared his throat. “Look, I…”
“I get what we are,” Niko interrupted, not sure his heart could take yet another reminder that they weren’t a thing. “We’re guys who kind of know each other and fuck the best way we know how—which is goddamn amazing, by the way, and I’m happy not to give it up. And I’m not going to suddenly lose the hots for you because things get awkward. Spoiler alert, we’re now having anal sex. That pretty much guarantees actual shit is going to be involved at some point, and it’s probably going to be mine.”
At that, Sam laughed like it was startled out of him, and he covered his face. “Christ.”
“What?” Niko said, feeling absurdly pleased that he’d managed to break the tension between them. “You know it’s true.”
“Yeah. Fuck. Yeah, I do.” Sam leaned his head back and looked at Niko with a soft, fond expression. “I didn’t expect you.”
“Yeah well, same here, pal,” Niko retorted. “I definitely wasn’t expecting you. I think we have something good, and fucking isn’t going to make those issues go away. Hell, I can tell you how hot you are until I’m blue in the face and you’ll probably always be weird about it. But we can at least agree that things are good.”
Sam’s smile widened. “We can.”
“Listen, I brought over some amazing food that I cooked, which I kind of wanted you to try since I’m doing the whole restaurant thing. So how about you go shower and wash the spunk out of your belly hair, and I heat it up.”
Sam pulled a face, looking down with some dismay at the splotches in his light brown hair, but when he looked up, his eyes were still soft. “I think I can do that.”
Niko leaned in, hesitated, then touched his cheek. “Can kissing be a thing with us?”
Sam cupped his hand around the side of Niko’s neck. “Kissing can definitely be a thing.”
Niko let his eyes close as Sam’s lips met his. It turned dirty after a minute, a lot of tongue and a little teeth, and his dick gave a valiant effort at rising again. It failed, ultimately because he wasn’t some twenty-year-old, and he’d just had his brains fucked out of his head. But it was nice to know his body wanted to try.
Finally peeling himself away, he stood up and rummaged through the pile of clothes until he found his shirt and boxers. He glanced over his shoulder to find Sam watching him, now from his chair. He was still nude, his legs still trembling a little, but he looked relaxed and so hot, it made Niko’s mouth dry.
“Don’t get dressed,” Sam said after a beat.
Niko’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean, not fully. I think you should stay. I don’t pick up Maisy until mid-morning so…so stay. If you can.”
Niko’s lip twitched into a half grin and he shrugged as he pulled on only his boxers. “Yeah. I can.”
Chapter Eighteen
Niko sighed into his palms as he pressed them over his face. He was ignoring whatever Holland was saying about how no one ever found their head chef right away, and these things take time, and how it would all be no big deal.
In truth, he’d been distracted. He could feel the ache in his backside still, even two days later, and he was missing Sam in a way he hadn’t wanted to. The morning after, they’d gotten off once more before Sam told him he could borrow the shower. When he was dried and dressed, he found coffee and a bagel waiting for him.
To go.
He tried not to let it sting, the way Sam didn’t quite meet his eyes, and the uncertainty in his voice when he said he’d call later. Niko knew shit was upside down for Sam, and it was no time to be starting a relationship, but Niko was also a total dipshit and of course his heart would choose that moment to fall in love. He didn’t get a kiss goodbye, or even the hint of a promise it would happen again. He just gave Sam a cursory wave and would do his best to avoid anywhere near the tattoo shop for the next forever.
At least until Sam called, because who was Niko kidding —he’d come running the moment Sam asked. For now, though, he was focused. He had four interviews that weekend with four different men Jane and Holland had found from the inquiry calls they’d placed.
Unfortunately, those interviews hadn’t gone well. Niko had come up with a sample menu from the recipes his sister had emailed, and each one of the chefs tried to disassemble and reassemble it to their own liking—which wasn’t at all what he’d been looking for. Niko wanted someone who was willing to work within the parameters of his family’s recipes. This was about sharing family home cooking with the world, not turning it into some pseudo-Greek-style gastro pub or whatever the fuck the first guy had mentioned.
When the second the guy used the term molecular gastronomy, Niko had turned him out and refused to even remember his name. The other two weren’t as bad, but all the same, their insistence that he’d never make it work unless he made the food “less ethnic” put them on the, ‘fuck you, not even if I was desperate’, list.
“We have a couple other interviews next week,” Holland told him, giving his hand a pat.
Niko peered through his fingers at her and sighed. “Okay.”
“One of the guys is from Florida, but his parents are from Athens,” she said, and he tried not to groan because Athens wasn’t his home. Athens was on the mainland and crowded with tourists all year long. He understood why neither of the women totally got how regional food was a thing, but it was still frustrating. “The other guy is from San Francisco and just relocated to Denver, and his grandparents are Greek. Or something. I can’t remember.”
He put his hands down. “Why are you only bringing men in for this?”
Holland blinked at him. “Well,” she said slowly, “I’ve been in this business a while, Nik. I understand that it’s kind of a boys club and…”
“No,” he said. “Men are pig-headed and stubborn, and they’re not as good at cooking as they think they are. My professor in culinary was one of the most amazing women I have ever met. Honestly, if I could have someone a fraction as good as she was, I’ll call it a win. I want someone who will do this well, I don’t care what their pronouns are.”
She looked a little startled, but pleased. “Okay. That’s… yeah. I’ll make a few more phone calls and get back to you.”
Niko nodded at her, feeling bone-tired and desperate for his bed. Or Sam’s, but since it was the grandparents’ weekend, he knew he wouldn’t be getting a call. “Well, you know I have the time now, so whenever.” His resignation was official. He was jobless and that was fine, because he had a decent savings apart from his settlement money, and it would give him time to focus. And maybe book that ticket home.
He decided on one more beer and then an uber home, so he hopped up from the table and approached the bar where a cute girl with blue woven into her dreadlocks was pouring a couple of pints. She flashed a pearly grin at him and lifted her hand, her bright yellow rubber bracelets contrasting beautifully with her dark skin. “What can I get you, babe?”
He glanced at the menu and frowned. “House brew? Is that like…it’s brewed in house? Here?”
“Yep,” she said, her chest puffing out a little. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.”
He wasn’t the most social guy, so it didn’t surprise him that he hadn’t realized she owned the place, but an idea was already forming. “I just bought that diner next door. I’m turning it into a Greek restaurant.”
Her brows shot up and her smile widened. “Yeah? That’s badass. That will do really well around here.”
“I’m hoping,” he told her with a laugh. “Let me have a pint of the house.”
She nodded, grabbing a chilled glass from the cooler and filling it. She tipped the foam expertly, then slid it over to him as he traded her for cash. Taking a sip, he was pleasantly surprised at how rich it was, but easy it went down.
“How long did it take you to get this right?” he asked when she came back with his change. He waved her off and she jammed it into a huge pitcher full of ones.
“Like a year and a half, maybe?” She shrugged and picked up a towel to start
wiping down a few spills. “Honestly the last few months was me just fucking around. I have a couple other I’m toying with. A Belgian style wheat, and a lager. Why? You in the market?”
“Actually,” he said, meeting her gaze, “I might be. If I’m going to appeal locally, I should probably feature local shit, right? Like ingredients and beer. You got enough to sell?”
“I could have enough, given enough time,” she told him. “I’m Ruby, by the way.” She extended her hand and he shook it before reaching into his bag and pulling out a pen.
“I’m Niko. Let me give you my number, and the number of my agents handling this stuff. I think we should talk. I mean, I wasn’t lying about how good this is.”
She laughed as she pulled some receipt paper out of the machine and handed it over. “I know, babe. I did make it myself, and you can bet your pretty little ass I wouldn’t have put it in a keg if it wasn’t worth drinking.”
He loved her confidence and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever feel that way about his own place. He liked to think so, but it was hard to picture right then when it was nothing more than cement flooring and walls stripped bare. It would come along, it would take shape and look like the thing he’d dreamed up, but right now it was a shell of itself and it was weighing on him.
“You look worried,” she said.
He shook his head. “Nah. I mean, okay yes, but if it fails, I figure at least I tried. If I can serve a couple of plates and get even a single person converted to real Greek food, I’ll call it a win.”
Before she could answer, a guy slid onto the stool next to him and she winked as she set a napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?”
Niko stole a look at the guy next to him, and if he was being truthful, he probably would have been all about it had it not been for Sam. The guy was tall, broad shouldered, thick black hair. He was wearing a pristine, very expensive suit and carried himself like a man who had power and he knew it.
