Like No One Is Watching

by Jaime Samms

  Conrad met his gaze. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “You like it down there?” Dusty asked, holding his gaze.

  Conrad nodded.

  Dusty lifted both eyebrows. “Pardon?”

  “Yes,” Conrad managed. “I like it.”

  “Good.” Dusty grinned, and the laugh lines on his cheeks deepened, smoothing out the roundness, elongating his face in a way that made him look older, happier, more solid than ever. That was how he was meant to look, Conrad was sure. That was the Dusty who danced and who sang along with his rock CDs and listened to Conrad prattle on.

  Amazed, Conrad lifted a hand and touched fingertips to those sweet lines.

  Dusty’s eyes fluttered and closed. He sighed, a miniscule escape of air, and the look of peace, of relief that passed over his face made Conrad’s heart skip. Before he could draw back, Dusty turned his head. His cheek pressed into Conrad’s touch, and Conrad cupped his face, stretched up, and kissed him, pouring his own contentment back through the gentle connection.

  The kiss went on a long time, though Conrad’s control of it quickly disintegrated, and he found himself held, both of Dusty’s hands on his face, linking them for a long time as they explored.

  When Dusty finally backed off, Conrad knew his cheeks were flushed. His lips tingled with the bruising heat that lingered, and he could not look away from Dusty’s intense stare.

  “Pretty,” Dusty said, running a thumb over his lips. “Now use it on my cock, yeah?”

  Conrad nodded. “Please.” He waited, gaze still fixed on Dusty’s. Did he need Dusty’s approval or permission for this? Was it that kind of giving? Could it possibly be exactly that? Exactly what he needed, and Dusty was giving it to him?

  Dusty caressed his hair, combing the bangs back. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

  Conrad blinked and the binding spell broke. He grinned, his throat tight, and bent to nuzzle at Dusty’s stomach. Diving down and swallowing his cock seemed so… crass. Better to give the act the attention it deserved.

  He lifted the hem of Dusty’s shirt and moved closer so he could kiss his warm, fuzzy belly. The scent of arousal was strong. So was the smell of Dusty’s sweat and the dark aroma of something stronger than physical excitement. That thing was what Conrad chased, working his tongue and lips, tasting, lapping up every hint of the bigger thing that cranked his own interest to near unbearable tightness in his gut.

  “That’s… oh, yeah.” Dusty stroked a hand over the back of Conrad’s head, encouraging his exploration while subtly guiding him lower.

  Conrad reached for his cock, shoving a hand awkwardly past the waistband of his pants as he wrapped his lips around Dusty’s.

  “Wait,” Dusty panted, tugging at Conrad’s hair hard enough to make him release Dusty. “Don’t touch yours.”

  Conrad glared. His balls ached. “Why?”

  “Wait,” he commanded. “Trust me.”

  Conrad groaned, but he jerked his hand free of his pants and pushed at Dusty’s leg, widening the space between his thighs, exerting some semblance of control over this as he moved close again.

  Dusty kept the tight grip in his hair, and he didn’t get close enough to engulf him again.

  “Con,” Dusty said, throaty and insistent. “Look at me.”

  Conrad curled a lip but moved just his eyes to look up at Dusty.

  “Okay?” Dusty asked.

  Conrad studied him, the flush of his cheeks, the dark glint of his eyes, all backed by the heady aroma of his person wafting up in Conrad’s face.

  “Are you okay with this?” Dusty asked again.

  “Yeah,” Conrad finally croaked out. “Fine.” He swallowed. “I’m—” He closed his eyes and pulled in a breath filled with the scent of Dusty’s control. “Yes,” he said more softly. “I’m okay. Sorry. I just… want….”

  He wanted to believe it was real. That it would last. That he wasn’t going to lose himself again and that Dusty could accept this side of him.

  “You’ll get,” Dusty promised. “Trust me. You’ll get everything you want. I swear.”

  Probably not all he wanted. He wanted what he could feel waiting beyond the sex, but he had a sneaking suspicion that as soon as the come flew, Dusty would retreat again. Opening his eyes, Conrad nodded, fixing Dusty with a look he hoped conveyed his determination. The little man was not going to get away a second time.

  “Oh fuck,” Dusty whispered. “Do this.” He pushed Conrad back toward his dick, and Conrad grinned, more than willing to be guided to the prize. He wrapped his lips around Dusty and sucked, letting his movement and momentum be guided by Dusty’s grip in his hair. He was fine with a bit of rough use. It was gratifying to realize he was with someone who understood he wasn’t going to break, that he didn’t need to be handled with care or treated like a special flower because of who his parents were.

  He applied himself to Dusty’s cock with the kind of abandon he hadn’t ever applied to this task before. Not that he’d had very many opportunities. Past lovers had never given him the chance to be this dirty. He wondered, fleetingly, if he was doing a good enough job. His inexperience might show, but then he’d received enough blowjobs to know what felt good. He concentrated on doing those things and on Dusty’s unspoken instructions.

  He liked that Dusty led the way, and he followed willingly. His own cock ached in his pants, and his balls throbbed with the need to release their load, but he focused, suctioning as Dusty dragged him up hard, moaning around the sting of pulled hair.

  “Oh God, Con.” Dusty’s hips jerked. “Fuck I wanna… I’m gonna.” He yanked too hard, and Conrad popped off his dick with a grunt, wincing at the sharp pull, then panting for breath as Dusty gripped his own cock and pumped.

  Wet heat smacked Conrad in the face, and he gasped, then stared up at the expression of complete relief and incoherent wonder on Dusty’s face as his release shuddered through his body.

  His hand in Conrad’s hair convulsed but held Conrad still as come splashed in his face again, and after a few more spurts and a long, low groan, Dusty’s chin lowered and he looked at Conrad, his eyes glazed.

  “Fuck,” he said, a groan underlying the word. “Jesus fuck.” He swiped at the come on Conrad’s face.

  Conrad stared up at him, transfixed.

  “You now,” Dusty whispered, leaning close to kiss him and suck a bit more of his spend from Conrad’s skin. He pulled back enough to look into Conrad’s eyes. “Cock in hand.” He kissed him again, deep and long, and Conrad fumbled more than once getting his cock free of his clothing. It only took him a few hard, fast jerks to reach the edge, and he pulled back, fist clasped tight around his cock, to look into Dusty’s eyes, waiting.

  “Permission?” Dusty gave a slow, jubilant smile. “Oh yeah, Con, come for me. Now.”

  Conrad couldn’t keep his eyes open as his cock twitched. He released his hard grip, and his orgasm slammed through him. He couldn’t stop the heady moan or hold himself up. He toppled forward, flailing a hand out for the edge of the bed, but Dusty caught him instead, sliding off the bed to the floor to catch his weight.

  “That’s it,” Dusty encouraged, wrapping his hand over the top of Conrad’s and easing the last of his orgasm out. His thumb ran light as a feather over the slick tip of Conrad’s cock, and Conrad shuddered, a deep, racking wave of final release making his body jerk.

  Then Dusty’s thumb was at Conrad’s lips, and Conrad didn’t need to be told. He sucked it into his mouth, tasting himself and Dusty together.

  “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.” Dusty kissed the top of his head. “Oh yeah, Con. That.” Another kiss. “I want to do that to you.” His arms tightened, and Conrad would have crawled into Dusty’s skin with him if he could. He needed to be closer. The thought of Dusty fucking him was so beyond what any other guy would have ever considered.

  “Yes,” he whispered. “I want you to do that….”

  Dusty chuckled. “Y
ou’ll have to wait a bit. Let’s get off the floor, at least.”

  Conrad wasn’t sure he could. Wasn’t sure he wanted to. But Dusty was moving, carefully tilting his body, forcing his weight to his good side and propping his hurt knee out awkwardly.

  “Oh shit.” The post-orgasm lethargy fled, leaving Conrad chilled with the realization Dusty wasn’t going to be able to get up by himself. He scrambled to his feet, shucking his pants as they restricted his movement, and held out a hand to Dusty.

  “I can—”

  “Please.” Conrad took the hand from the edge of the soft mattress Dusty was trying to use to pull himself up. “Dusty.”

  “Fucking knee,” Dusty griped, his tone a bitter wash of anger. “Fuck!”

  “Stop.” Conrad bent and wrapped both arms around Dusty’s torso. “Let me.” Easily, he lifted Dusty’s slight frame from the floor and held him until he had his feet under him. Conrad could feel the weight list perceptibly to one side, even if Dusty appeared to be standing straight, and he took his time letting go.

  “I’m fine.” Dusty brushed at his hands.

  “I know.” Conrad leaned down and lifted his chin so he could kiss him. “I know you’re fine. So it won’t hurt any to let me help.”

  “That makes no sense—”

  Conrad kissed him again, and this time, Dusty moaned and kissed back.

  “Not fair,” he breathed as Conrad pulled away.

  Conrad grinned at him. “Sure it is. You just let me suck your cock, and you promised to fuck me. The least I can do is look after you in between.”

  Dusty’s cheeks darkened. “I should not have—”

  “You should have. You still should.” Conrad cupped his face. “Please don’t pretend we didn’t both just get off spectacularly on that. I know I did.”

  Dusty stared up at him. “Why?”

  “Because you get it.” Conrad swiped a hand over the drying come on his face. “You get me. You have me. And it’s going to be damn hard to get rid of me now.”

  Dusty’s expression was soft, confused, but he didn’t argue. That was fine. He’d learn. Conrad had a lot more to give, and Dusty would eventually figure it out.

  Chapter 11

  HE DIDN’T really have a chance to argue the point with Conrad, who was suddenly all business, helping him onto the bed, lifting his leg onto the mattress, and propping a pillow under it to keep the knee bent at the most comfortable angle. He ached now, from hip to ankle, and wished he’d been more circumspect, but the damage was done. Now he had to ride out the worst of the pain and hope it was better by the time he had to work again.

  Dusty watched Conrad disappear into the bathroom, heard the water run and splash, and shortly Conrad reappeared, completely naked, the hair around his face damp.

  “Well.” Dusty looked him up and down. His cock twitched at the sight. Conrad was far too beautiful to be wasted on a janitor. He deserved better. His skin, pale at his core, over his belly and ass, gradually warmed to a soft gold at his feet and the backs of his hands. His chest sported only a modest patch of curly hair, a trail of it leading down to the nest at his crotch. His soft cock was still gorgeous, hanging at rest for the moment between long, muscled legs.

  Dusty’s mouth dried and he stared.

  “Are you okay?” Conrad asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully peeling Dusty’s too-big jeans off him. He worked them over the knee brace with practiced care and tossed them off the bed. “Do you have sleep pants or sweats someplace?” As he asked, he gently wiped the remains of Dusty’s orgasm away with a warm cloth, then dried him.

  “Yeah,” Dusty managed at last, waving a hand vaguely to the wardrobe.

  Conrad rustled in the drawers, overturning the neat piles and stuffing the clothes back down to close them when he didn’t find what he wanted.

  “I don’t need—oh—in the bottom drawer!” Dusty clamped his mouth shut and bit his lower lip hard to hold back a tirade as Conrad shoved another drawer closed. A T-shirt arm stuck out of it, but Conrad didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he pushed clothes aside in the indicated drawer until he found a pair of sweats loose-fitting enough to slide over the brace without too much trouble.

  “Here we are!” Conrad held up the pants in triumph, turning and kicking the drawer half-closed as he returned to the bedside. He moved with such grace and economy Dusty’s heart stuttered a bit, and his palms sweated. By the time Dusty lifted his hips for Conrad to slip the pants in place, he was half-hard again, the mess his lover had left in his wake forgotten.

  “Well now.” Conrad leaned down and plunked a soft kiss on Dusty’s cock. “Later,” he whispered.

  “Con—”

  Conrad placed a finger over Dusty’s lips. “Later,” he said again. He stood, tossed cloth and towel back in the general direction of the bathroom, and headed for the kitchen end of the room. “Is there food?”

  As he opened and closed cupboards, he chattered, giving Dusty no chance to even answer the question.

  “It won’t take much. I might not be the best housekeeper ever, but I’ve figured out how to make some pretty good meals from not much at all. You’d be surprised how hard it can be to remember to go to the grocer when it’s actually open. I mean, I never think of eating when I’m teaching, right? Or when I’m putting together lessons for the intensive students. You know, they each need a specific focus. Adam has to work on his turnout. He’s a lovely dancer, but the companies are so unforgiving. I ruined my chances trying to go too far too fast, so I know. I want him to get where he needs to be without hurting himself or shortening his career. I know he can get—oh!”

  He pulled something out of the cupboard. “Mussels!” Setting them on the counter, he rummaged to the back of the shelf. “If you have crackers or pita bread….” Whatever else he was saying vanished into the cupboard along with his head for a few seconds.

  “…picnic,” he went on as he emerged. “Do you eat on the bed? I think that would be best this time. Better for you to rest that knee and not try to get up and back down on the floor. Do you have trays? Wine?” He opened the fridge.

  Dusty winced at the sudden silence. He knew what the inside of his refrigerator looked like. The shelves were all but labelled with what went where.

  Conrad’s head poked up over the counter. “Really?” He grinned. “How did you not run screaming when you saw my place this morning?”

  “I was bleeding,” Dusty replied, mortified.

  Conrad snickered. “Where are the wineglasses?” He plopped the wine box on the counter as he stood. “And of course, by the time classes are over and my stomach is turning inside out, all the shops are closed. That’s the trouble with the studio being where it is. Small shops don’t stay open. If I was nearer the mall… but that district is so built up. And the traffic is ghastly. Imagine my poor parents trying to find parking when they drop their kids off. At least the lumberyard across the street where I am lets them park close by if they need to come in to talk to me. They have way more lot than they really need.” He studied the array of food he’d scrounged. “We need more protein. And cheese… ah!” He had bent to the fridge again, and now straightened, mayonnaise and the block of cheddar in hand. “Perfect.”

  He prattled on as he poured wine and brought some to Dusty, giving him a quick peck on the lips before depositing the drink in his hand. He toasted, clinking their glasses together and taking a sip before leaving his glass on the bedside table.

  Back in the kitchen, his monologue ran the gamut of Eliza’s timidity to the lumberyard changing hands twice in the past decade to his apartment being only half-renovated before the lover who had been doing the work had left him. Though that thought slowed him for a few heartbeats, by the time he carried a tray full of food to the bed, he was once more chattering, about his summer class schedule this time, as he settled against the headboard next to Dusty.

  “You’re very quiet,” Conrad noted, reaching over Dusty to retrieve his wine.

  Dusty had hi
s mouth full, but he did lift an eyebrow.

  Conrad laughed. The warm, deep sound floated and settled around them, and he leaned into Dusty a bit, resting his shoulder hard against Dusty’s.

  “You’re right,” Conrad conceded. “I was going on. I tend to do.” He sipped his wine. “You know, this isn’t so terrible for the fact it comes out of a box.”

  “You’re used to better,” Dusty said, his voice sullen. He lifted a cracker, a plain, cheap saltine, and eyed the mayonnaise, cheese, olive, and sliver of summer sausage that sat atop it. “This is hardly gourmet.”

  “It’s lovely,” Conrad argued, taking the cracker from Dusty and carrying it to Dusty’s lips.

  Dusty opened and took the offering, admitting, at least to himself, that the combination of tastes was pretty wonderful.

  “Things can be simple and still be perfect, you know,” Conrad said. “They don’t need to cost a fortune to be special.” He touched the corner of Dusty’s mouth, brought the finger to his mouth to lick away a bit of mayonnaise. He grinned, then leaned over Dusty to kiss him breathless. “More wine?”

  Conrad’s glass was almost empty, and he downed the rest, then hopped off the bed, both glasses in hand. He refilled them, returned, and handed Dusty’s to him.

  “To the simple things,” he said, clinking their glasses.

  Dusty smiled at him. “Yeah,” he said softly. “To simple things.”

  He only wished everything could be as simple as this little picnic, this interlude between them.

  Chapter 12

  OF COURSE, it didn’t last. Conrad eventually took his leave, tucking Dusty up in his bed and drawing the curtains on three sides to eliminate most of the drafts. He kissed Dusty soundly before letting himself out of the apartment, and after a few minutes, Dusty heard the telltale rumble of his car’s engine vanish away into the night’s stillness.

  He sighed and snuggled deeper under his covers, wondering how he was going to manage his work the next day. He had another day of pushing broom and swishing mop before he could take a couple of days off to rest his knee. He should not have tried the jump. He’d known his knee wasn’t up to landing it, and he’d known the fall would hurt. It still hurt—his pride as much as his body.