Moonstruck Page 8

  Anthony found his way into Samir’s T-shirt and pushed it up as he explored Samir’s back, his sides, his abs, and his tiny hard nipples. Samir broke away enough to discard the T-shirt, baring his very nice torso. Anthony couldn’t resist tracing his lips along the line of that neck, then slowly bared his teeth and nipped Samir’s shoulder muscle. Samir nearly jumped out of his skin but pulled him closer with his free hand.

  Anthony supposed there was no point in asking if they were moving too fast. That ship had sailed with a hull full of cats out of their respective bags, but Anthony still had to be certain. “You’re sure?”

  “Is this about the secret passage again?”

  Anthony laughed. “I guess it is.”

  “Can I fuck you?”

  Jesus. Jumping a couple of steps and maybe a matching pair of blowjobs ahead, are we? “Uh.”

  “Yes? No?”

  “Right now?”

  “First I want you naked.” Again with that spine-tingling grin.

  “Practicalities, practicalities.” Anthony pulled off his own shirt and mentally thanked Ryan for all his hard work when he saw the look on Samir’s face. That I could eat you all up look, though the exact wording was probably a lot less innocent.

  “Good start.” Samir took his hand off Anthony’s groin and started on his button and fly without missing a beat. With Ryan, Anthony tended to get naked first and get right to it, with foreplay usually consisting of who’d get the lube and condoms out of the nightstand. But with such a young lover, and their first time, the speed was rattling Anthony just a bit, and oops, he was already almost naked. More out of reflex than a conscious decision, he kicked off his shoes while Samir got down in front of him to get him out of his jeans.

  Still kneeling, Samir met Anthony’s eyes, Anthony’s cock jumped in anticipation. That blowjob was still an option, probably, and he’d love to get one from Samir—if he gave head like he took charge, it would be amazing.

  “Oh damn.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just really like that size.”

  Uh. Scratch that whole “kid” thing, because Samir definitely knew what he was doing and what he wanted, and they were racing right along toward it.

  Well, all right then.

  As Samir leaned close enough that Anthony could feel his breath on his balls, he reached down to touch Samir’s cheek and lips with his fingers. “You next.”

  Samir grinned and sucked his fingers into his mouth, which made Anthony’s toes and all other random tiny digits curl.

  Anthony gently withdrew his fingers. “Jeans. Off.”

  Shivering, Samir sat back and fumbled with his belt, as if his incredibly nimble fingers had suddenly forgotten how to execute everyday tasks.

  “Might be easier to get them off if you’re on your feet.” Anthony extended his hand.

  Samir’s eyes flicked back and forth from the offered arm to Anthony’s eyes. Anthony beckoned, and Samir clasped his hand around Anthony’s forearm. Once he was on his feet, he stripped out of his jeans with ease—as much ease as possible when buckles, buttons, and zippers had suddenly become so complicated. Samir was sexy as hell when he took charge, and downright adorable when he was flustered.

  Samir’s jeans landed in a heap beside the rug, and he started to kneel again, but Anthony stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Wait.”

  “But I—”

  Anthony kissed him, drawing their naked bodies closer together. Any thoughts he’d had about backing off and this being a bad idea had long since vacated the building, but he wanted to really feel and savor this smooth, powerful body.

  Samir was a delicious mix of bold and pliant. One minute, he was giving orders. The next, he was almost boneless, kissing and touching but not demanding at all.

  Anthony gripped Samir’s hair and pulled his head back, and just as he’d expected—and hoped—Samir moaned. His cock seemed to get even stiffer against Anthony’s hip, especially when Anthony’s lips met the exposed skin of his throat.

  “This what you expected this weekend?” he murmured. “Did you think we were going to end up ...” He pressed a kiss beneath Samir’s jaw.

  “I was hoping.”

  “Were you?”

  “Mm-hmm. I wanted ... fuck.” He shivered, gripping Anthony’s shoulders. “Thought it was wishful thinking, though.”

  “Didn’t stop you from making a move.” Anthony wrapped his fingers around Samir’s dick. “Did it?”

  “N-no.” Samir gasped, and his hips started moving, pushing his cock through Anthony’s grip. “Saw a ... saw a chance. Figured I’d try before I lost my nerve.”

  “I see.” Anthony raised his head. “Well, you know what they say.” He stroked Samir slowly. “Nothing ventured ...” He lowered himself onto his knees. “Nothing gained.”

  With that, he took Samir’s cock in his mouth, and almost came himself. This was hardly the first time he’d gone down on a guy, but he’d been fantasizing about Samir for days. And the sounds Samir made ... Jesus. The soft gasp. The low groan when Anthony trailed his fingertips over his balls or ran the tip of his tongue along the shaft. And the way he grasped Anthony’s hair, stroked it, grasped it again, as if he was desperate to somehow reciprocate but only just able to hold on, was going to drive Anthony over the edge. Samir’s hips thrust forward, so Anthony synchronized his own motions to him, letting Samir fuck his hand and mouth while Anthony teased him.

  Samir moaned again. “I want ... I want to fuck you.”

  Anthony suppressed a shiver and glanced up, meeting his eyes. The palpable hunger made him groan, and Samir gasped, so he groaned again. Samir’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling just hard enough to sting his scalp. Shit, much more of this, and Samir wouldn’t be the only one coming.

  He sat back on his heels, still stroking Samir’s cock. “Were you serious when you said you had some things in that backpack?”

  “I—” Samir bit his lip as Anthony squeezed him. “There’s some stuff.”

  “Stuff like?”

  “I could show you.” Samir grasped Anthony’s hair, and judging by the way his knees trembled, it wasn’t to tease Anthony back. “If we go upstairs.”

  “Hmm, I’m curious.” Anthony slid his other hand up Samir’s leg. “But why hurry?”

  Samir muttered something, probably a curse.

  Anthony chuckled. Then he took Samir’s free hand and tugged gently. “We have all weekend. Come down here. With me.”

  He expected Samir to resist—getting down on the bearskin rug didn’t get them any closer to going upstairs to his stash of God knew what—but the kid’s knees buckled as if his body was obeying Anthony with no conscious thought on Samir’s part. He knelt, and then let Anthony lower him all the way onto his back.

  Partly on his side and partly on top of Samir, Anthony kissed him. He started stroking Samir again, and pressing his own cock against Samir’s hip.

  “I want to see what you brought with you,” he murmured between kisses. “And I want you to fuck me. God, I want you to fuck me, Samir.” He kissed him hard, pausing just long enough to add, “But first, I want to take my time with you.”

  Samir ran his hand through Anthony’s hair and small jerks of his hips increased the friction against Anthony’s cock and spurred him on in his stroking.

  There was nothing that wasn’t utterly gorgeous about Samir, the golden and red light on his skin, that need and impatience and courage to get what he wanted, yet he still let Anthony move at his own pace.

  They were going to do this, fine, but it shouldn’t be a forgettable fuck-and-run based simply on a compatible gay male being in the same room. Those were fun, but Anthony cared about what Samir would think of him after. He wasn’t going to destroy what they already had with a couple of quick, thoughtless orgasms or even a kinky game that might go wrong because they didn’t know each other’s offline personas all that well.

  “Okay, as long as I’m not going to die of heart failure.” Sa
mir grabbed him again and practically devoured his mouth, pushing against him, clearly not too keen on only receiving the attention. He urged Anthony on with groans and shudders and open-mouthed kisses that made Anthony dizzy. Damn, all the things he wanted to do to Samir—fuck him, tease him more, get him off with every trick in the book.

  He was about to kiss his way down from Samir’s long neck to his cock when Samir shifted and half turned to grab Anthony’s cock. His hand was strong, tight, and demanding, and it was all Anthony could do to keep stroking Samir because by now he was beginning to lose his mind too. The friction and need increased. He desperately wanted more, and ended up on top of Samir, their bodies rubbing together, thrusting and grinding as they kissed.

  Anthony came first, again nipping at Samir’s shoulders and pulling his hair, which pushed Samir over the edge. The liquid heat spread between their bodies, and Anthony loved that feeling on his skin. Loved that blissed-out expression on Samir’s face even more.

  “Oh God.” Samir slowly blinked and shuddered a few more times.

  “Same here.” Anthony grinned and enjoyed the closeness for several moments, gently kissing Samir’s face, brow, cheeks, chin, then lips. “Take this to the bedroom?”

  Samir nodded. “Soon as I can walk.”

  Chapter 6

  Samir was pretty sure the last week had been a dream. The last hour or so? Definitely.

  And he wasn’t awake yet. After all, there was no way in hell he was really lying in Anthony Rawson’s bed, with a naked Anthony Rawson, a sheet pulled up over them while they lazily made out after the most oh my God mutual handjob ever. On a bearskin rug in front of a fire, no less.

  Way to go, subconscious. Nicely done.

  He broke the kiss and drew back from the hallucination of Anthony that his mind had clearly dreamed up. Fuck, he looked even better like this than he had in Samir’s other fantasies. The written ones and the ones he didn’t even dare put in a Word document that no one else would ever see. Anthony’s gray hair was mussed, a few strands falling onto his forehead, and the low light from the bedside table lamp added just the right gleam to his gray-blue eyes.

  The sheet stopped above their waists, and wow, this dream version of Anthony must have been very, very well acquainted with the inside of a gym. No wonder he gave such incredible handjobs—those arms.

  Samir trailed his fingertips over Anthony’s bicep. “I didn’t realize you had a tattoo.” He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t a wolf a little clichéd for a werewolf author?”

  Anthony chuckled. “Well, it’s better than what was there before.”

  “Before?”

  “Yeah. I had an Army lifer tattoo. Decided to leave all that behind when I retired.”

  “Can’t blame you. This one is really cool, though.” He met Anthony’s eyes. “Ink looks good on you.”

  Anthony smiled and slid closer to him under the covers. His hand rested on Samir’s side, and then slid down, stopping just above where the sheet was draped over Samir’s hipbone. “What about you? Any tattoos?”

  “No. My mother would murder me.” Samir let his hand drift from Anthony’s arm to his chest, running it over the thin salt-and-pepper hair to his perfectly flat abs. A slight imperfection in the skin below Anthony’s ribs caught his attention, and he paused.

  Anthony glanced down. “That’s, uh, a scar.”

  “From?”

  Anthony took his hand and brought it up to his lips. “War wounds.” He paused to kiss Samir’s fingers. “Not as dramatic as it sounds. We were moving some shit around on our base and had to take cover because of some incoming mortars. My dumb ass happened to take cover in the same place some idiot lieutenant had stashed a bunch of razor wire.”

  Samir grimaced. “Uh, ow?”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t fun. Especially this part.” Anthony held up his other hand, revealing a silvery line across his palm.

  “Yikes.” Samir ran his finger along the scar. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to touch it. Maybe to confirm it was real. To confirm the hand was real. To confirm ... oh, hell. This wasn’t a dream, was it?

  I really did fool around with Anthony fucking Rawson in his own damned living room and now I’m in his bed. Whoa.

  Anthony closed his fingers around Samir’s. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yeah.” Samir gently freed his hand and ran it along Anthony’s forearm. “This is all a little, uh ...”

  “Weird?”

  “Yeah. I mean, not in a bad way. Not at all. It’s, um, kind of surreal, I guess? A week ago, you were a guy I knew online. Now we’re in your bed talking about scars.”

  Anthony smiled and touched Samir’s face. “Says the man who launched the surprise attack downstairs.”

  Samir shifted his gaze away. “Like I said, I saw an opportunity, so ...”

  “I’m glad you took it.” Anthony stroked Samir’s cheek. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can back off. I know how it is sometimes. Feels right in the heat of the moment, gets weird afterward.”

  “No, it’s not that. I don’t think. Hell, I don’t even know.” He made eye contact again. “Guess it’s a good thing you slowed us down, huh?”

  Anthony lifted his head and kissed Samir’s brow. “That wasn’t entirely altruistic.”

  “Wasn’t it?”

  “No. I mean, yeah, I didn’t want us moving too fast, but let’s face it.” He stroked Samir’s hair. “It’s not every day a guy my age gets a shot at a hot aggressive guy your age. Gotta make it count, right?”

  Samir laughed. “You’re quite the romantic, you know that?”

  “You did see the bearskin rug and fireplace downstairs, yeah?” Anthony laughed too, and while Samir still couldn’t quite believe he’d gotten that close to his idol in a week, it was clearly happening, and he enjoyed it, and so did Anthony. Nope, not weird at all. Or it was, but he’d roll with it.

  “And by the way, silver foxes are hot. That whole age thing is seriously overrated.”

  Anthony gave him an ironic glance. “Says the guy on the right side of forty.” He leaned down again to kiss Samir. “Can’t say I’m not enjoying my forties, though, so take it or leave it.”

  They both paused, and then laughed like idiots again. Double entendres were apparently going to happen over and over. “I’m looking forward to taking it, then.” Samir leered at him, and Anthony snorted.

  “But to answer your question from earlier, no, I don’t have a boyfriend, locked away or otherwise.”

  “So you don’t get laid?”

  “That’s a different question. I prefer to hunt outside the pack, as it were. Ideally, the guy knows nothing about the whole fame and money angle in my life.”

  “So I’m special?” Samir had meant it as a joke, but Anthony sobered a bit.

  “You definitely are. I don’t read people’s fan fiction, I don’t introduce them to my agent, and if anybody had told me five years ago I’d try to replace the next book in the series with one written by a fan, I probably wouldn’t have been kind. But then, I haven’t followed a lot of my normal rules when it’s come to you.”

  “You don’t usually sleep with other writers?”

  “It’s not that. But I’m a little weird about my space. My house, bedroom, office. And it usually makes me edgy bringing someone into that space.”

  “You don’t bring guys home?”

  “Well, I do, but ...” Anthony chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “Let’s put it this way. If I bring a guy home, he’s either a friend or a fuck buddy. It’s been a long time since I’ve been friends with a fuck buddy, or since ...” He paused, meeting Samir’s gaze. “Or since I’ve been in bed with a friend.”

  Samir pushed himself up on his elbow. “Is that a good thing or a bad one?”

  Anthony ran warm fingers down the side of Samir’s neck. “I don’t know, to be honest. But so far, so good.”

  Samir smiled a little, though he couldn’t help being a bit disappointed. As close as he’d been to Ulfhedinn, he may
have fantasized a time or two about them having a relationship. And after flirting as easily in person as they had online, getting into bed together after some smoking hot kisses—he’d definitely liked where this was going.

  But Samir had been with guys who were territorial when it came to apartments, bedrooms, dresser drawers, bathroom counters. Funny how those relationships never seemed to last, nor end well. Not unless they kept things casual and Samir carefully avoided encroaching on the guy’s space.

  Duly noted, Anthony. No toothbrush in your bathroom, and no change of clothes in your bottom drawer.

  Anthony raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Are you okay with this?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I mean, this part was unexpected, but like you said, so far, so good.”

  “And you never mentioned a boyfriend, so I assume ...”

  “No boyfriend. Haven’t had one in ages.”

  Anthony blinked. “Seriously?”

  Samir nodded. “Seattle is infested with sexy geeks, so getting a date is possible, but most of the time I’m too wrapped up in my own projects to go looking.” And damn, it was too hard not to read anything more into this. Anthony Rawson asked if I have a boyfriend! While lying naked in his bed with me! Just before we might have even more sex!

  As long as he has his space.

  “And besides, if I’d had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have taken the invite. I think. Though wow, saying no would have been hard.”

  “If I’d had one, I’d have been happy to share.”

  Samir shivered with the images Anthony’s comment sparked off in his head. Two silver foxes? Oh, that was the stuff of delicious fantasies right there. Just like the one silver fox he was currently lying naked with—and he could live out those fantasies right now.

  He pushed against Anthony’s chest. “You ready for the next round?”

  Anthony stretched out on his back, grinning. “I was only waiting for you.”

  “Well.” Samir climbed on top of Anthony. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “Because I’m not nearly as—” Anthony closed his eyes as Samir settled over him “—direct as you are.”