It came out with more fury than he’d anticipated, and it sent Anthony back a step. For a moment, they just stared at each other, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry.” Samir slumped against the counter. “I’m just frustrated. And confused.”
“What do you want from me?” Anthony asked softly.
Samir met his eyes. “I’m afraid to ask for anything from you. I don’t want to be clingy because I know you hate that. I don’t want to encroach on your space. But ...” He sighed, lowering his gaze. “I’m part of this too.”
They both fell silent again. Samir didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t read Anthony to save his life.
After a while, Anthony said, “You know, maybe I will take that cup of coffee.”
“Okay.” It was nothing more than a tiny respite, but at least taking out a mug, pouring him coffee, and adding some milk gave Samir time to breathe. He put it down near Anthony on the counter and grabbed his own mug. He couldn’t recall how often they’d stood like this in Anthony’s kitchen, clutching mugs and planning the finer points of the next scene and chapter. It was that—the easy sense of being a team, of being friends, of trusting each other, at laughing at each other’s jokes—that he missed most of all.
They drank in silence for a moment. Then Anthony set his cup down. “I’m sorry. For making you feel like I didn’t want you there. At the con.”
“Why do I feel like it would’ve happened eventually?”
“I ...” Anthony tensed. His brow furrowed and he stared at the floor between them.
As Samir watched him, his heart sank deeper. So he was right. Maybe Anthony hadn’t consciously put the pieces together, but Samir suspected that was changing now.
Then Anthony stepped closer. “Samir, I’m sorry.” He pulled in a breath. “I realized something after I got home from MoonCon. And recovered from being sick.”
Samir lifted his gaze, but didn’t speak.
Anthony swallowed. “You were there with me for weeks. In the house. And then suddenly, you were gone. And I had it all to myself again.”
Samir gritted his teeth.
“Samir.” Anthony reached for his face, the soft brush of his fingertips almost driving Samir to frustrated tears. “It’s different there now. Without you. All this time, I’ve been so protective of my space, but it’s just that. Space. Empty space.” He slid his fingers into Samir’s hair. “It’s empty without you.”
Samir’s throat tightened. “What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean?”
Anthony didn’t give him a chance to respond. He cupped Samir’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips. A soft kiss, a tender one, but enough to stop Samir in his tracks. At first, he couldn’t even respond. His body knew what was going on, though, and without any conscious thought, he returned the kiss.
Anthony slid one arm around Samir’s waist. His other hand cupped Samir’s neck, his thumb running along his jaw, and for the first time since he’d set foot into the convention a lifetime ago, Samir relaxed. No wonder he hadn’t been able to make sense of anything—nothing in his world made sense except for this.
He drew back a little, but still held on to Anthony.
“What I want,” Anthony whispered, “is you. This.” He ran a trembling hand through Samir’s hair. “I want the man who makes my house feel empty when he’s not around.” He swallowed hard. “For almost two years, we’ve talked about everything, and maybe I could tell you everything then because it was clear we’d never meet, so I could say stuff I wouldn’t share with people in the flesh. And then we met, and it was even better, until suddenly I felt like I didn’t have it anymore.”
“What? A chat window blinking on the computer screen?”
Anthony shook his head. “SirMarrok on the other end, listening to everything I say, and always having a damn good idea how I should tackle things. I didn’t always do what you said, but it always filled in the blanks.” His shoulders relax and then shrugged. “I want that back. I want my friend back.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Samir startled, surprised how quickly and easily the words had slipped out, much like a perfect sentence at four in the morning when he was too tired to count as “conscious.”
“I’m sorry if I didn’t realize what you really needed at the con,” Anthony said. “But the one thing I don’t want is to lose you. If you’ll be patient with me, and tell me what it is you want me to do, I will.”
Samir gulped. “What about the space?”
“We’ll work on it.” Anthony caressed his cheek. “We’ll find some balance. But I don’t want to push you away.”
Samir started to smile, but then his heart dropped again. “There’s still all the fame and mobs of fans and shit. I’m not sure how to deal with that.”
Anthony kissed him again. “Does it make a difference knowing you’re not in it by yourself?”
“I haven’t been since the beginning.” Samir met his eyes. “You’ve been there the whole time.”
Anthony’s eyebrow rose slightly.
Samir wondered what lines he was supposed to be reading between. Was there—
Oh.
He exhaled and broke eye contact. “I know. I’m the one who disappeared.”
“And I’m the one who should’ve been more supportive. No one could blame you for needing to escape—your entire world has been knocked on its ass recently, even if it’s been positive.” Anthony stroked his cheek. “That’s not an easy thing to cope with. I should’ve been there for you, and now I hope I can be here for you.” He kissed Samir’s forehead. “I just ... I want to be with you.”
Some tension melted out of Samir’s shoulders. With a soft laugh, he said, “In between working on urgent edits, right?”
Anthony smiled and kissed his forehead again. “We can deal with those later. For tonight, let’s just forget about them.”
Samir nodded. “So how are we going to do this? Won’t you get tired of me being so close all the time?”
“With anyone else, yes. But with you, I ...” Anthony looked him in the eyes again. “I can’t stand being away from you.”
“Likewise.” Samir’s voice sounded suspiciously like a croak.
“We’ll figure things out. One day at a time.” Anthony wrapped his arms around Samir. “All I know is, I like being with you a lot more than I like not being with you. And it’s a long drive to see the other.” He grinned. “I think those hours could be spent in more pleasurable or productive ways.”
Samir nodded. “We could do a few days here, a few days there. To cut down on the driving back and forth.” He paused. “I could give you keys to this place.”
“And you’ll get some for my house. I’m just thinking there’s so much space in my house and there are quite a few rooms I never use in the other wing. If you want to move in with me, you can have your own office and bedroom and there’d still be room for whatever else you need. We can always make dates to meet in the kitchen for coffee.”
Samir arched his eyebrows. “You want me to move in?”
“Samir, I want to be wherever you are.” He touched Samir’s face. “Whatever space I’m in feels wrong if you’re not there. It used to be my little fortress of solitude, but ever since you left, it’s just a big, empty building.” His thumb drew slow arcs along Samir’s cheekbone. “Move in with me, get a place of our own, get condos side by side. I don’t care. Just ...” Anthony released a ragged breath. “All I want is to be close to you.”
Emotion tightened Samir’s throat, but he managed to whisper, “I do like your place.”
“Then you’re welcome to move in.”
Samir laughed, drawing Anthony closer. “I don’t know. If we’re in the same house, we might never get anything done.”
“We pulled it off once before.”
“Yeah, but we had a deadline.”
Anthony smirked. “You think it’ll be any different from here on out?”
Samir tensed.
Anthony
brushed their lips together before pulling back to look Samir in the eye. “I promise they won’t be quite as crazy now as long as we don’t end up as late as I was on book eight.”
“Which we might do.” Samir slid his hands down Anthony’s sides to his hips. “Especially if we’re in the same house all the time.”
Anthony tilted his head and slowly leaned in again. “Maybe we should get that out of our system before we get back to work.”
“You really think we’ll be able to?” Samir pressed his hips against Anthony’s. “Or are we just going to write when we’re catching our breath?”
“That sounds like the perfect way to make a living if you ask me.”
Samir didn’t have time for a witty response before Anthony kissed him, and then he stopped caring about a witty response, because holy crap, this wasn’t that gentle “I’ve got you” kiss from earlier. This was more along the lines of “I’ve got you right where I want you and I hope you have the fire department on speed dial.” They both stumbled, caught themselves, stumbled again, and then Anthony’s back was against the wall, but he was hardly passive, sliding a hand up into Samir’s hair and holding him still as he deepened the kiss.
How the hell had he stayed away from Anthony? Even when he couldn’t keep up with all the ways his life was changing, when he was mobbed by people and chaos and didn’t know which way was up, Anthony’s embrace had always been the eye of the hurricane. The one place where everything was calm. The storm wasn’t over, but it had paused, if only momentarily, and walking away to catch his breath was like stepping out into the whipping winds because the shelter was getting stuffy.
He held Anthony tighter and opened to his gently probing tongue, trying not to melt in his arms, though he was pretty sure his knees and spine had already turned to liquid.
Anthony broke the kiss, and they both breathed hard against each other’s lips. Samir hadn’t even been aware of his need to breathe until now—no other man had ever had that effect on him, pulling all his concentration away from things like air and balance in exchange for holy fuck that kiss.
“You, uh ...” Anthony brushed his lips across Samir’s again. “You still have condoms, right?”
All Samir could do was nod and point toward the bedroom, though Anthony’s eyes didn’t follow that gesture. Thoughts like exclusive, and living together, and waking up together every morning raced through his head, and not one of those terrified him anywhere near the level that MoonCon had. All these changes should’ve scared the hell out of him, but all he felt was pure relief.
Relief, and need for the man he’d been away from for two long weeks.
He took Anthony by the hand and all but dragged him into the bedroom, then pushed him down onto the bed, only letting up to kick off his shoes and pull off his T-shirt, before he got on top.
Anthony took off Samir’s glasses and set them on the nightstand. Then he kissed him again, and his hands roamed all over Samir’s body, squeezing and rolling his nipples until Samir gasped and pushed his groin harder against Anthony’s. They could absolutely come in their jeans that way, but the magical word “condom” echoed through Samir’s mind, and he wanted more than half-dressed getting off. He stretched out to reach the drawer of the nightstand, while Anthony’s hands opened his jeans and pushed them down over his ass, then his boxers, and then Anthony’s strong fingers pushed between his cheeks, rubbing there in a way that nearly cost Samir his mind. “Urgh, trapped in my ...”
“Yes.” Anthony’s grin was halfway to diabolical. “Jeans half-down means you’re not running. Or at least not very fast.”
Samir had to laugh, and just then managed to get his hands on the lube and the condoms. Getting the jeans off while on top of Anthony (and Anthony not really helping) was a struggle, but when Anthony got the lube open and withdrew his fingers for a moment to slick them up, Samir got the jeans down to his ankles. And then almost faltered in the quest for freedom when Anthony’s slippery fingers returned to his crack and pushed in. Two fingers, curved just right to hit his spot, and Samir groaned at the invasion, the stretch, the pleasure, and the hint of frustration because he must’ve looked completely ridiculous with his jeans still around his ankles.
“Ah, that’s beautiful,” Anthony teased. “And there’s so much more where that came from.”
Samir couldn’t form words, because Anthony kept finger-fucking him, opening his fingers and sliding along his prostate, then avoiding it, then nailing it again. And again. What discomfort had been there at the start was completely gone—in fact, Samir wanted to open his legs further than the jeans allowed and, in a break from the teasing, finally managed to kick off his jeans. As Samir was pushing back a little, Anthony squeezed his balls with his free hand, then took them in a tight, tight grip that Samir didn’t dare break out of, and pulled his other fingers free.
“It’s a good moment to open my jeans.” He inclined his head, and it took Samir a moment to realize that the comment was a command.
He was tempted to ask—beg, order—Anthony to fuck him the way Dima had fucked Raphael in one of Anthony’s explicit short stories, but hesitated. Not that he didn’t trust Anthony to get rough to the point of almost violent. He definitely did. And there was a scene in one of Anthony’s stories where Dima was rimming Raphael mercilessly until Raphael was begging and damn near crying, and then came with four of Dima’s fingers up his ass. That story had had Samir breathless and fantasizing about Anthony doing that to him one day.
It was hot, but it didn’t belong here with him and Anthony. Not in this space. Not this time. Even their hungriest, most demanding touches were about love and tenderness, and they were hotter than anything that could happen between Dima and Raphael on paper.
“Button. Jeans.” Anthony glanced meaningfully at his groin, where his cock was outlined against the fabric. “You unwrap it and you can have it, all the way, all night, as hard as you can take it.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” Samir fumbled with the top button, but at least Anthony wasn’t one of those sadists who insisted on button-fly jeans, or they’d have spent all night trying to get his pants off. The zipper conceded without any argument, and Samir pushed Anthony’s jeans and boxers over his hips. He desperately wanted to get out a condom and have Anthony fuck him as hard as he could take it, just as promised, but the second Anthony’s fully erect cock was exposed, temptation got the best of him.
He steadied Anthony with a hand on his hip, and then took his dick between his lips. Anthony groaned, which only encouraged him, and Samir swallowed him deeper, teasing with his tongue.
“Samir, God ...” Anthony felt around, probably looking for the pack of condoms.
Samir stopped him with a hand on his wrist. With his other hand, he held the base of Anthony’s cock while he almost deep-throated him.
“Fuck.” Anthony groaned, his wrist twitching inside Samir’s grasp. His protests were halfhearted though, especially when his hips started moving, sliding him between Samir’s lips even as he begged to fuck him.
Then Anthony’s other hand materialized in Samir’s hair, and grasped it tight, stopping his head from moving. He pulled back, forcing Samir to lift his head away, but he couldn’t stop him from stroking.
“I want—” Anthony closed his eyes and sucked in a hiss of breath. “Damn it, you’re such a fucking tease.”
Samir grinned. “I thought you liked it.”
“I do. But I want—” Anthony wrenched his hand free and grabbed Samir’s wrist. “Get on your hands and knees. Now.”
Samir almost melted. He’d had a brief taste of being in charge, but the command in Anthony’s voice turned him on so fucking much he couldn’t imagine disobeying.
He turned around, and struggled to keep himself together as the wrapper tore and the lube bottle top clicked. Then Anthony’s hand was on his ass, and Samir closed his eyes, trembling with anticipation as the mattress shifted and Anthony positioned himself.
“You know, this would
be the perfect time for me to get you back.” He pressed the head of his cock against Samir, but didn’t push in. “For being a tease.”
Samir moaned. He tried to rock, but Anthony held him still.
“Being a tease goes both ways, you know.” He pushed in just enough to let the head of his cock breach Samir, then drew back again. “I could do this all night. Nothing else.” He did it again. ”All fucking night.”
“Anthony ...”
“You like that, don’t you?” He gave Samir even less this time, barely penetrating him before withdrawing. “Don’t you?”
“Yes, but ...” Samir shuddered. “Anthony, please. Fuck me.”
Anthony pushed in again, and Samir braced himself for the inevitable denial, but then Anthony slid his cock in deeper, startling Samir as he slid across his prostate.
“Fuck.” Samir’s arms shook under him. “Oh my God, that feels good.”
“Does it?” Anthony pulled almost all the way out, then did it again, deeper this time. When he was all the way inside Samir, he leaned down, wrapping his arm around Samir’s stomach, and whispered in his ear, “All the way down.”
Samir didn’t move deliberately. His body simply collapsed. Whether it was Anthony’s words, or his body weight, or the fact that Samir was so damned turned on, it didn’t matter because the end result was him sinking onto the mattress and Anthony coming down with him.
“Oh God.” Anthony groaned and started thrusting, hitting every nerve ending just right and creating the most amazing friction between Samir’s cock and the comforter. He nipped the side of Samir’s neck. “You feel perfect.”
Samir nodded, because he was turning into nothing but pleasure, and the best thing he could do was grab the pillow with both hands and get swept away in the sensations as Anthony fucked him—slowly, teasingly, then faster, making Samir desperate to come and at the same time wish this would never end.
Moonstruck Page 30
