Here for You (21 page)

Too soon.

Ian placed his hands under Cole’s back and guided him around in the water. Cole had shut his eyes. “That feels good.”

“I’m glad,” Ian said softly. He loved the way Cole’s entire body let loose, trusting his hands to keep him floating. He couldn’t resist giving Cole one more kiss. He was so beautiful.

Cole’s eyes flew open, and he looked directly at Ian and smiled.

Ian’s world turned inside out at that smile.

“I want you.” Ian touched Cole’s shoulder and squeezed the wet skin there. He framed Cole’s face with his hands. “You’re the last thing I think about when I go to bed. The first thing I think about when I wake. It’s never been like this for me before.”

Cole’s gaze locked with his. Ian knew he must see the truth, simple and clear, in his gaze.

“It’s never been like this for me either.”

Cole began to kiss him, and his words faded away under the onslaught of Cole’s mouth. They were all over each other, lips locked, chests pressing, their limbs coiled. They sank briefly under the water, still kissing passionately.

When they surfaced, they breathed each other’s air.

C
OLE
HADN
’
T
meant to get so carried away, but when Ian kissed him so sweetly in the pool, the words of promise and passion had slipped out. Still, Cole couldn’t help peeking at Ian, wondering what his thoughts were right then as they walked into Ian’s house. Ian, as always, struck an imposing figure, his expression inscrutable.

Cole knew it simply meant Ian was lost in thought, whereas months back he would have assumed Ian was judging him. Or maybe that was what he used to keep Ian away, back when Brendan was still alive? Because Cole could admit he’d desperately wanted Ian from that first day they’d met and had done his best to deny and resist it.

What a relief not to have to fight anymore.

All he wanted at the moment was to lie with Ian and hold him tight. It stunned Cole to realize he wanted to do that more than anything else. Images of Ian over the last few weeks raced through his mind: Ian with him on the beach, fighting the sea gulls off; Ian laughing with him; making love to him, both of them insatiable. Other pictures were there too: Ian searching by his side on that horrible day; Ian holding him as he cried; Ian there with him through the hardest of times. Cole could no more contain his feelings than he could fit the ocean into a bathtub.

But what did all this mean? Ian’s words about how he thought of Cole night and day. This smoldering chemistry between them? Cole didn’t want to chance questioning it too deeply.

Cole reached out and grabbed Ian. He hungered for his skin, his taste. He ached to touch Ian, to be inside him. Ian reached right back, kissing Cole’s throat, his shoulder. Both of them frantic for more, they freed each other of their clothes. The need to be together was overpowering everything else.

Cole’s emotions poured through him as he moved against Ian, desperate for more contact. “
Ian
.” Cole breathed his name. The world felt sublime, ripe with promise.

His hands blazed a trail down Ian’s body, stroking his back, ribs, butt. Cole caressed the base of Ian’s spine down to his crack, and Ian inhaled sharply. That sound alone could become Cole’s favorite thing in the whole world. Cole couldn’t bear it. He kneaded and pressed Ian’s firm asscheeks. He stroked his fingers lightly at Ian’s hole.

“Yes?” Cole asked, begged.

Ian’s face flushed. His blue eyes glittered. “Yes. Hell, yes.”

They kissed fiercely before breaking apart to grab the needed supplies. Cole trembled as he rolled a condom onto his engorged cock. He held off his own needs, pleasuring Ian first, kissing and caressing every inch of him. The sounds Ian made—Cole could not describe what it did to him to hear each cry of pleasure.

First Ian lay on the bed, and Cole climbed on him and, for some time, tasted one of Ian’s firm nipples. He tongued at it, then took it between two fingers and lightly squeezed. Ian jerked.

“Jesus.” His voice was unsteady.

Proud that he could bring out the need in Ian’s voice and wanting to give even more to him, Cole tasted Ian’s taut nipple again. Ian stared at him, his gaze needy for more. Obligingly, Cole sucked and tugged at his other nipple. Cole kissed down Ian’s writhing body. He nibbled at his abdomen, dipping his tongue into the navel. He concentrated on learning Ian’s texture, his essence. He wanted all his secrets unfurled.

Licking down his treasure trail, Cole at last gave all his attention to Ian’s straining cock. He was totally merciless. Ian appeared more than willing to take every touch, every stroke of Cole’s tongue. Kissing the tip of Ian’s cock, slowly, sweetly, Cole felt it pulse at his mouth, hot and wanting. He cupped Ian’s erection, working it root to tip before worshipping him with his mouth. Cole hollowed his cheeks, sucking Ian’s dick, tasting his slick drops of precum. Ian’s head dropped back, and he let out small groans.

Cole sucked Ian’s erection until he climaxed, convulsing in Cole’s mouth, the taste of him exploding on Cole’s tongue, and Cole swallowed eagerly. His passion for Ian was unmatched by anything in his experience. Cole almost didn’t recognize himself—he needed Ian so much. Yet it felt good to need him, because Ian was right there with him, tumbling into all the possibilities between them. As he gave to Ian, Cole gave something to himself too—something he’d kept locked away before. He felt young and hopeful and determined all at once. Whatever else happened, Ian had brought this awareness, this light, to him.

For a time they held each other while Ian recovered. But soon they started to touch once more. Cole kissed the dip of his belly button, his nipples, the hollow of his throat.

Finally, when Ian became hard again, Cole helped Ian up and over to his hands and knees. He wrapped his fingers around Ian’s cock, squeezing playfully. His other hand massaged Ian’s rim and balls. Ian appeared so sensitive there. He bucked wildly when Cole caressed that part of him. Ian gave so much of himself; he didn’t even try to hide. Cole knew it was a gift for him, and he felt grateful for it.

Taking his time, although his own cock throbbed, Cole poured some lube over Ian’s tight entrance. Cole’s heart pounded. Ian was a sight to memorize. He pressed one finger at his pucker. He gave it gentle strokes, flicking his finger back and forth as Ian made incoherent noises. Cole soon replaced his finger with his cock, lining it up at Ian’s entrance.

Ian had turned his head slightly and was looking right at him, his eyes tender. He smiled, his expression so beautiful, so unguarded, so full of desire and hunger for him, Cole knew, and Cole shook slightly with emotion. He would do anything for him at that second…
anything
.

Cole tried to be gentle as he pushed inside Ian. He kept his hand on Ian’s dick, stroking it in a firm rhythm, even as he bucked farther in and then forced himself to wait. Ian let out a low moan and pushed back. Pleasure roared through Cole when he did that.

He thrust forward, snapping his hips, a massive release building inside of him. Ian froze, coming for a second time that night, shuddering violently, splattering warm bursts of cum at Cole’s hand.

Cole breathed deeply. He could smell Ian, and the scent went right to his senses, making everything whirl. His thighs quivered. His balls tightened. Cole thrust again and again, gasping for air. When his orgasm came, it was so hard and so long, it left Cole breathless and light-headed.

They were both spent. Normally they’d get up and shower, but Cole only had the energy to dispose of the condom and clean them both with a washcloth. He gently slid it over Ian, then put it aside, and Ian opened his arms.

Cole went gladly. Ian nestled him close.

A
FEW
hours later, Cole woke and was restless. He’d had an odd dream of past and present and needed to sort out his thoughts. He rummaged in Ian’s nightstand for a pen and some scrap paper. The words couldn’t wait until morning; they wouldn’t be denied. It was like that at times.

“What are you writing?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I should have gone into another room.”

“No worries. I know you like to write at night.”

“Not really, I… I had a dream, is all. My mom’s boyfriend and Brendan were talking. It was weird.” Cole grimaced. “Normally, I try never to recall any of her boyfriends that came and went, but this guy, David, was all right to me. I was writing some of what I remembered about him.”

“Can I see it?”

“You want to?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Cole ducked his head. “It’s only scribbling. You won’t be able to read my handwriting.”

“If I can read mine, I can read anybody’s. Give it over. Unless, it’s too private?”

Cole debated. Part of him was frightened of sharing his past and his writing, which until then he’d kept only for himself. “Okay. You can be honest if it sucks.”

He lay back on Ian’s pillow, watching him read it softly, out loud. Cole practically knew the story by heart:

The house was heavily overgrown with weeds. Half-broken toys were at the boy’s feet. His mother, looking impatient, argued with her boyfriend as the boy pushed his Hot Wheels car near her toes. The adults shouted at each other. Nothing new.

David had stayed longer than the others, almost a month. When he was there, the kitchen wasn’t such a mess, the dishes weren’t caked with old food, filling the sink, and the scrawny cat’s litter box didn’t overflow.

His mom fought with David, which he couldn’t understand. David was so nice.

“When’s the last time you had a bath?” David had soft blond hair and kind eyes. The boy wished David would scoop him up and hold him, but he didn’t do that. “Have you had a bath recently?”

The boy shrugged.

There was silence. “Well, little man, let’s get you into the tub.”

Later, David disappeared behind the door of his mother’s room. She kept it closed most days. The boy knew better than to bother her when he heard grunts and low murmurs. His mother came out, tying the sash of her stained robe, smiling, and made coffee with leftover grounds. She patted his head, something she had not done in a long time.

But when David left them, a week or two later, his mother stopped smiling.

“I
T
’
S
A
first draft,” Cole said when Ian was done. He tried to sound casual and pull himself together, but hearing Ian read it had affected him deeply. A jolt had gone through him as he listened to the words he’d written being spoken in somebody else’s voice. “It needs work.”

Rolling to his side, he laid his hand at Cole’s chest, right over his heart. “Is all this true?”

“David’s based on a real guy, I told you that much. I made up the cat. My mother wouldn’t have bothered with a cat.”

“Cole….” Ian shook his head as if in pain. He dotted kisses across Cole’s shoulder. “You should publish this story when you’re done. Or if not this one, something else you wrote.”

“Naw. I just do it because—”

“Because you have to?” Ian said sharply. “Because it’s part of who you are?”

“Yes, okay? Yes.” Cole cursed under his breath. “And I don’t want some publisher or some agent telling me that who I am—
how I feel inside
—is not good enough. I’d rather keep it in a drawer.”

“What if they tell you the opposite? If you never send it out there, how will you ever know? And there are writing courses meanwhile that you could take. I’d help you and—”

Cole glared at him. “This isn’t your business.”

“
You’re
my business, Cole. Get used to it.”

Cole flushed at the possessive sound in Ian’s voice. “You don’t own me, just because I’m here with you.”

“No, I don’t. But I care about you.” Ian’s voice lowered. “And I hate for something so promising to be hidden away. It’s a waste.”

“Drop it, Ian.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Being told that I totally suck?”

“Well, you do suck better than anybody I’ve ever known.” Ian’s eyes sparkled suddenly.

“Be serious. What if I get rejected?” Cole asked, admitting his fear. “What if they turn me down?”

“What if they don’t?” Ian countered. “But you’re talented, Cole. They’ll take your work.”

Cole laughed a little at Ian’s natural arrogance. Of course Ian would assume he’d get published. Cole’s insides clenched, partly with nerves and partly with emotion that Ian had such faith in him.

“I’ll think about it.” Cole shook his head. “Aren’t you ever intimidated when you work on a big case?”

“Honestly? No.”

“Why do I find that so sexy?” Cole laughed.

“And I’m not worried for you.” Ian met Cole’s eyes. “If you’d simply chance it, send it in, I’d be proud of you.”

Cole didn’t know what to say. He didn’t reply. He stared at Ian, at the affection and belief in his eyes. Whatever happened in the future, Cole knew that Ian had changed him, making him believe in possibilities he’d always denied.

Cole continued to outwardly act mad, but truthfully, a small hopeful part of him was pleased. Maybe he didn’t totally suck. Maybe there was a kernel of ability inside him. Maybe.

Cole wanted it so much, he didn’t dare admit it.

“I’ll drop it. For today.” Ian moved so suddenly, it startled Cole out of his thoughts. He climbed on top of Cole, straddling his hips. “But I believe in you. If you think this conversation won’t come up again, you’re wrong.” Ian turned serious. “You may have had a rough start, but I’m not going to let you use it as an excuse to push away your dream.”

“One day I’ll do it, Ian. I’ll submit a story. I promise—” Cole broke off with a gasp as Ian pinched his nipple.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ian said dryly.

But when he looked at Cole directly, his eyes were kind. He bent his head and licked at the reddened nipple, suckling it with gentle tugs. Cole arched up as Ian gave some attention to his other nipple too.