by Tara Lain
Sammy closed the door behind Lucien and stood there staring at the floor. Or it would have been the floor, except his damned dick was sticking out in his view. What in hells had come over him? After complaining for months that he didn’t have a boyfriend, here came the most luscious guy on earth, just begging to give Sammy the orgasm of his life, and what did he do? Sheeee-it!
“Merwar.”
Sammy stared at Al. “Did you have something to do with this? Did you make me feel weird?”
“Merwaooowr.”
“No use denying it, cat. You don’t like Lucien.” Sammy threw his hands up. “Oh hells, I’m talking to an animal.”
At least it sounded like he might get another chance to go out with Lucien. Next time he would not blow it.
Sammy shook his head, turned out the light by the door, and wandered over to the bed. He stripped, then hung up his good pants and shirt in the tiny closet. A glance down showed an intruder in his view. Hard to ignore that the old dick monster hadn’t quit hoping. He sighed, crawled into bed next to Aloysius, and pulled a bottle of lube out of the drawer. “Sorry you have to see this, fella, but desperate issues require immediate measures, and I suspect my condition is all your fault.” He squirted the juice into his hand, lay down under the covers so Al didn’t have to watch too closely, and closed his eyes. At least he could imagine Lucien sucking him off while he spanked his monkey.
“Merwaor.” Al jumped off the bed and padded out of the sleeping area. Clearly not a voyeur.
Sammy grabbed hold of his cock and started to stroke. It was cool to imagine Lucien kneeling in front of him, those carved lips wrapped around his cockhead and tongue circling. Good. Some more strokes. Lucien licking up one side and down the other while he squeezed the head. Better. Oh yeah, going to come. Picture that gorgeous face. Coming. Look at that long brown hair sweeping around the pointed ears. Coming…. What the hell? Oh! Jism spurted from his slit into his hand, filling it with hot, sticky cum, as the vision of the most beautiful man in the world leaned over to kiss him. But in this picture, that beautiful man was not Lucien. Hells and damnation. Even with Lucien as a possible fantasy, Sammy was still jerking off to Ryder.
When Aloysius jumped back up beside Sammy, his purr vibrated the bed.
RYDER LOOKED up from the history book he was studying on his e-reader and saw Maybelle Revere sort of floating down the sidewalk in front of the history building. Maybe a new boyfriend? “Hey, Maybelle.”
She turned her head toward him. Man, was she on drugs? Finally her eyes seemed to focus. “Hi, Ryder. How ya doing?”
He held up the reader. “Trying to get ready for my Chinese history exam.”
“Ooooh, gooood.” What was wrong with her?
“Is everything all right? What’s new?”
Maybelle adjusted her cardigan sweater over her ample chest. “Oh yes, everything is fiiine. Have you met the new boy?”
Ryder frowned. “Which new boy?”
“Lucien. Have you met Lucien?”
“Yes, briefly. When I saw you all at the restaurant the other night, remember?”
Her eyes unfocused again. “Oh yes. Did I see you? Yes. Isn’t he wonderful?”
“I can’t say. I only met him for a minute.”
“A minute is all it takes.” Maybelle walked away from him, completely oblivious to his existence as far as he could tell. This was weird.
He jumped off the stone wall he was sitting on and fell in beside her. “Is everything okay, Maybelle? You seem a little distracted.”
She frowned. “I do? I said everything is fine, Ryder. It’s perfectly fine.” She marched away from him with purpose and went up to another girl Ryder knew a little. They started to talk, and Maybelle seemed more normal. At least she wasn’t alone.
Okay, he had to finish studying. He walked back to the wall and leaned, opening his e-reader again. Han Dynasty. Divided into commanderies. A giggle made him raise his head. Not just any giggle.
Sammy walked down the sidewalk toward the art building beside none other than Mr. A-Minute-Is-All-It-Takes. Ryder scooted back under the branches of the tree overhead. He didn’t want Sammy to think he was spying. Not that the guy would even notice Ryder. Sammy looked totally besotted, staring up into Lucien’s glacial eyes like they couldn’t freeze the ass off a Siberian husky. Sammy’s fingers intertwined with Lucien’s as they walked, and Sammy glanced shyly up through his eyelashes. Ryder felt his chest contract and heat press behind his eyes. Why did this whole thing feel so wrong? Why did that guy get Sammy?
Damn. Ryder forced his eyes back to the e-reader. Study, do the test, and then find Sammy. The Han was founded by the rebel leader Liu Bang, who became known as…. His phone rang. Well, shit. He wanted to ace his test.
He grabbed the phone, glanced at it, and sighed. His parents were totally enamored with calling him on the phone. They’d even learned how to text.
Ryder pushed Accept. “Hello.”
“How are you feeling, son?” His father’s deep voice.
“Well, sir. I think I’ve stopped growing for the moment.”
“Such changes can be quite overwhelming.”
“Yes, but I’m doing okay.”
“How are your friends taking it?”
“Surprised but nothing more.”
“Good. And how is everything?”
“All right, but there’s a new student here who is, um, concerning. He has befriended Samlyn.”
His father’s voice sounded gruff. “Perhaps that’s a good thing. You can pull back without a problem.”
Ryder’s heart squeezed tighter. “He’s my friend.”
“And too close a friend, your mother and I believe. You know that.”
Ryder frowned. “My friendships have been useful.”
“Yes, that is true. But maintain perspective. You will have to separate soon. Your time there is almost over.”
No, damn it. The pressure in his chest hurt. “Yes, sir. I must go. I have to study.”
“Very well. You take your responsibilities at school very seriously.”
“Yes.”
“Remember which community is yours.”
“Yes, sir.”
The phone clicked off. Ryder stared at it. Shit. He had to study, but his hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the damned e-reader. Almost over. Over.
Sammy.
SAMMY GAZED into Lucien’s eyes as they walked the last few steps to the art building. Of course, the twitching of Al’s tail kept getting in the way.
Lucien squeezed Sammy’s hand and sent a zing of fire straight to his cock. “Do you like the idea? We’ll meet for an early dinner and then go shopping for a gift for the Witch Master and his spouse.”
Sammy nodded, but it felt a little weird. He wanted to go in on the group present with the other young witches; he didn’t have a lot of extra money for an individual gift. “I guess that will be okay.”
Lucien squeezed again. “And don’t worry about the cost. It will be my delight to purchase something for so great a leader, but we will make it from both of us.”
“You don’t have to do that….”
He held up a hand. “I want to, Sammy. Truly.” He smiled his glowing, angelic beam that lit up whole rooms. How could Sammy say no to that?
“Thanks.”
They unlinked hands to go to their individual easels on opposite sides of the large classroom. Sammy grabbed a partially completed abstract of a vase of flowers he had started in the last class and set it on his easel. He’d used a picture he’d seen in a magazine for inspiration but had taken off from there. The picture had been photographic quality, but his painting was abstract. More about the essence of the beauty and color than the thing itself. It was going well. For today’s class the instructor had set up a still life in the center of the room with a table, some books, and bottles. Hmmm. Sammy really wanted to paint the flowers. Maybe he would get to the bottles and books later. Bottles were a great challenge because of the transpare
ncy of the glass.
As Sammy arranged his paints, he glanced over at Lucien. Pale eyes gazed back at him. Wow. How cool was it to have such a beautiful man look at him like he was dinner? Lucien winked, and Sammy smiled. It was tough to believe after all this time without a boyfriend that a guy like Lucien would be interested in him.
The cat had taken his favorite place on a chair by the window behind Sammy. He didn’t seem to like Lucien any better, but at least he’d quit the constant growling.
Okay, deep breath. Sammy stared at the partially completed flower painting and plunged in. Plunged was the right word. For him, painting was a lot like diving into water. Sounds became muffled, his breathing slowed, but his sight became sharper, more focused. Almost on its own, his brush picked up paint and began to deepen the shadows inside the flower petals. But a viewer would barely be able to tell they were petals. The painting was more like “flowerness” than an actual flower.
The edges of Sammy’s vision blurred. Soft, warm oil poured over his brain and out through his brush. Dark, dark. Then light, light. People came in the class, students asked questions, the instructor walked around and gave encouragement. Sammy heard it all from a distance. He breathed underwater in a world of light and shadow. Red, pink, white, white. Purple, blue. He could almost smell the sweetness, feel the silky petals. Then dark. Whoa. Deep. Away. Like night. He was drowning in the water. His throat closed on a shout. This hadn’t happened before. Where was he? Panic crawled up his spine. Couldn’t catch his breath.
Help.
“Sammy, that’s extraordinary.”
Like a light shining into deep water. “What?”
Mr. Woodard’s hand gripped his shoulder and pulled him from the depths. “You always do fine work, but this is brilliant. Your best yet.”
Sammy tried to focus his eyes. His heart beat so fast he thought he was having a heart attack. “Really?”
Mr. Woodard cocked his head. “You okay?”
No. Yes. “Fine, thanks.”
The instructor smiled. “I shouldn’t have disturbed you, but I believe it’s finished, Sammy. Don’t gild the lily, literally.” He laughed.
“Oh. Yes.” Sammy looked at the painting and finally saw an abstract storm of color and dark out of which exploded pure flower essence. “Thanks.”
“It’s about time to clean up anyway.”
“It is?” He looked at the clock above the door to the studio. Over an hour had passed.
Mr. Woodard walked away, giving the class instructions for the next session. Something about learning to make thick white paint. Sammy shook his head. He couldn’t get the smell of flowers out of his nose, even with the turpentine he was using to clean his brushes. Where had he gone? Too scary.
Sammy loaded his tubes of paint, brushes, and palette knives back into his case. Lucien came up beside him. “I agree with Mr. Woodard. That is a great piece of work.”
“Thanks.”
“Amazing how you captured the colors of the flowers so exactly without actually creating the form of the flower.”
“What colors?”
“Of the flowers you were painting.”
“But I don’t have the picture I took the painting from anymore. What do you mean?”
Lucien nodded toward the still life many of the students had been using. “You captured the colors in the bouquet perfectly.”
“What bouquet?”
“Are you playing a game? The one on the table in the arrangement Woodard did. Sammy, are you okay?”
Sammy stared at the still life. The one he’d examined when he came in the room and decided to paint later, the assemblage of books and bottles on a table without flowers. There hadn’t been flowers, had there? He was sure there hadn’t been flowers. But now there were. Flowers exactly the same colors as the ones in his painting. His heart beat fast again. Whap. Aloysius landed on Sammy’s shoulder, and he reached up and petted his head. Sammy whispered, “Were there flowers there before, Al?”
“Mwar.”
Sammy shook his head. Mr. Woodard must have brought them in while he was painting. He’d been so absorbed he hadn’t noticed, but he’d observed the colors. Yes, that was it. Someone had brought the flowers. Maybe it was like when he fell asleep. The dark place he went to had allowed him to predict the flowers would be brought into the room. Predict? He’d started the painting last week.
Lucien took his hand, and Sammy looked over at his beautiful face. Sammy would like to paint his angel sometime when he was actually conscious. Lucien gave him a squeeze. “I have another class, but I’ll pick you up tonight, and we’ll have dinner and go shopping, okay?”
Sammy swallowed. “Yes, that will be great.”
“See you at six, all right?”
Sammy nodded, and Lucien walked off in his elegant stride toward the door. Sammy gathered his tackle box and scratched Al’s neck. The soft fur soothed him. “Let’s go get coffee.”
Yeah, coffee would save him. He double-timed his way to the coffee shop and pushed inside. Nobody seemed to notice Al, so he wasn’t worried. He peered through the crowded room toward the back table he and his friends favored. No Chen. Just Ryder. Gods, he hated feeling uncomfortable around the man, but those were the facts.
Deep breath. He walked over, stroking Al for moral support. “Hi, Ryder.”
His friend looked up, kind of startled. “Oh, hi, Sams.” His eyes looked red.
“You okay?”
Ryder picked up his coffee, and it sloshed a little on his hand. “Yeah. I had a history exam.”
Hmm. Did that explain anything? Sammy sat across from Ryder. Aloysius immediately jumped down, crossed to Ryder, and started licking the coffee off his hand.
Ryder scratched the cat’s neck with his other hand. “Thanks, boy. That feels good.”
To make Ryder feel good, Sammy would gladly lick him all over, but he didn’t want to go there. The man seemed so down. “Was the test a bitch?”
“No. I think I did all right.”
“So what’s wrong, buddy? You seem really depressed.”
Ryder shook his head. “Just my parents.”
Ryder had parents? “You never talk about your family much. What did they do?”
He sighed. “They want me to come home after I graduate and, uh, join the family business.”
“You don’t want to?”
“No, I want to stay here.”
“They live in the South somewhere, right?”
“Um. The South. Anyway, I have a while before I have to worry about it.”
Sammy smiled. “But I can hardly believe we’re seniors. We have to make plans to do something with this life.”
Ryder sipped his black coffee. “I’d like to stay here, get a PhD, and teach like Dr. Barth.”
“Sure. You could have your own harem of adoring females.” Did he sound bitter?
Ryder shrugged. “I guess.”
Boy, the guy didn’t even rise to the bait. He must be upset.
Ryder sipped his coffee, then stared into it. “Sams, what do you know about that new guy? Lucien?”
Why did he want to know? “He’s from Europe, he’s an art major, and his family has money.” And he’s a great kisser, but better not say that. “Oh, he’s gay.”
Ryder’s gaze flipped up. “Really? The girls sure do love him.”
“Well, who wouldn’t? The guy’s gorgeous. It’s like with Dr. Barth. All the women know he’s gay, but they still stare and drool.” Sammy’s stomach clenched. “Why, what girl’s been talking about him?”
“Maybelle. She was practically sleepwalking, she was so smitten.”
“Really?” Funny, she wasn’t that way the other night at the young witches’ dinner. She’d stared at him and been admiring but certainly not smitten. “Odd.”
“I thought so too. Could he be dating her?”
An ice pick stabbed his gut. “Hell, no!” Ryder looked stunned. Sammy took a breath. “I mean, he’s seeing me. Like I said, he’s gay.”
Ryder reached out and put a hand on top of Sammy’s. Dear gods, he did not need this confusion. Ryder stroked Sammy like he did Al, and every caress went to all those embarrassing places. “It’s okay, Sammy. I believe you. I just hope you’ll be really careful. None of us knows him at all.”
Sammy needed to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t. Ryder had touched him so few times in their three years of friendship. No way was he passing up this experience, no matter how much his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe.
Aloysius, who had been quietly lying beside Ryder’s arm, started to purr so loud the table vibrated.
What had Ryder said? Oh yes, be careful of Lucien. Well, hells. Lucien was no man of mystery. Not compared to Ryder, now that Sammy thought of it. What did he know about Ryder, really? “Look, I’m just dating the guy, not getting married or anything.”
“Still….”
Ryder stroked his thumb back and forth on Sammy’s hand. Sammy might promise him anything if he’d keep doing that. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good.” Ryder’s deep green eyes gazed at him softly. “I want you to have such a great life, Samlyn. I want you to have everything that’s good and true and beautiful.”
Sammy’s heart broke. Did Ryder really say that? When Sammy knew so well that what was good and true and beautiful was sitting right in front of him.
Chapter Four
SAMMY FLIPPED on the light inside his front door as Lucien walked in like he owned the place, carrying a large package wrapped in silver and white. He set it on the small table by the kitchenette wall. “Do you really like the tea service?”
Hells, what’s not to like? Pure silver in an exquisite Danish design, all simple lines and elegant balance. Lucien had wanted something more traditional, but Sammy convinced him that Killian and Blaine were informal and eclectic. Elaborate curlicues weren’t going to cut it.
Lucien practically jumped up and down at his gift. “I have some wonderful sweets I’ve ordered from home, which I plan to present to the Witch Master along with the tea service. Since you’ve assured me he loves tea, I think these sweet biscuits will delight him and his husband.”