Brush with Catastrophe

by Tara Lain

  Sammy shook his head. “No, I’ve got some studying.”

  Ryder nodded. “Me too. See you tomorrow, though. Bye, guys.” He walked off, and Sammy knew right where he’d find him.

  Chen looked surprised. “You sure? Not like you to give up caffeine.”

  Sammy laughed. “True, but I need to pick up some stuff for my assignment, so I may get coffee on the way.” That wasn’t totally a lie. He didn’t like lying to Chen, but he and Ryder hadn’t talked about how to handle their relationship around others, so he didn’t want to do a full disclosure. They’d need to discuss that tonight. After Sammy got fucked.

  Chen waved. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Deal.”

  Sammy took off at a jog. Should he stop for coffee? Hells no. He made it to his apartment in half his usual time. Sammy turned the door handle and stepped inside. “Yoo-hoo.”

  “In here, having trouble not jerking off because you are the sexiest creature alive.”

  Sammy laughed and started pulling off his clothes. By the time he took the few steps to get around the screen, he was hopping on one foot, yanking at his remaining tennis shoe, his pants open and his stiff cock bobbing as he hopped.

  Ryder was propped up with his elbows behind him, stark naked, that huge cock stuck up like a flagpole. He stared at Sammy’s circus act. “I don’t know whether to laugh or come.”

  “Let’s see if I can persuade you.” Sammy finally got the shoe off, pulled the sock, ripped off his pants and briefs, and matched Ryder’s nakedness. He dived onto the bed like an Olympic swimmer and swallowed down as much of Ryder’s cock as he could get into his throat.

  “Holy shit. Warning is good.”

  Sammy licked up one side and down the other, pursed his lips around the rosette head, and sucked while he pushed his tongue into the slit.

  “Oh God, Sammy, oh God.” Ryder bucked his hips bronco-style.

  Sammy pulled away, still pumping Ryder’s cock with his hands. “That secret jack-off in class was the most frustrating, sexiest, awe-inspiring sex I’ve ever had. Choose how you want your reward. Sucking or fucking?” Sammy held Ryder’s cock and licked it while staring at him. “Because I don’t think this thing is going to last long either way, and I want you to get maximum pleasure, baby.”

  “Fuck. Let me in that ass.”

  Sammy grabbed the lube bottle off the dresser, left over from their last session, and tossed it to Ryder; then he lay on his back and pulled his legs up beside his ears. He grinned and pointed. “In case you had any doubt, this is your designated target.”

  Ryder chuckled as he sat up and popped open the lube. Sammy held out his hand, and Ryder squirted some into it.

  Scooting on his knees, Ryder moved over to where he could grab a condom from the dresser. He ripped open the package with his teeth, pulled on the sheath, and began lubing it.

  Sammy pushed lube into his hole. Yes, that felt good. He spread his hole wide with his other hand and shoved in two fingers.

  Ryder pushed his hand aside. “Don’t have too much fun there, boy child. I’ve got better equipment.”

  “You can say that again.” Sammy used both hands to spread his asscheeks.

  Ryder pointed that delightfully dangerous weapon at the target and shoved.

  “Yes!” Hot and deep in one push.

  Ryder bent over Sammy and kissed his lips gently. “I’m kind of desperate here.”

  “Go for it, baby. My ass has been aching for you since class. Hells, since forever.”

  Staring into Sammy’s eyes, Ryder pushed his upper body into a plank and thrust his hips, pressing that cock in even deeper, right onto Sammy’s gland. Sammy’s mouth hung open. “Wow.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes, right there.”

  Ryder closed his eyes and snapped his hips—over the prostate each time, switching on Sammy’s gland like a bolt of lightning. Streaks of white light flashed through his head with every pump. He grunted and reveled in the sound.

  Ryder dropped his knees from his push-up position and held Sammy’s legs back as he thrust and thrust. “Oh yeah, close. So close.”

  Ryder pressed his body down against Sammy’s, capturing his cock between them. Every thrust produced friction of the best kind.

  Sammy moaned. “Don’t stop. That’s perfect.”

  “No stopping. I don’t want to stop ever. Ever.”

  Holy hellssss! Hot cum squirted out of Sammy’s squashed cock and rubbed into their skin as Ryder kept hammering until he froze and yelled.

  Wave after wave of thrills shuddered up Sammy’s body from his cock to his head. “You’re so perfect. So perfect.”

  Ryder lowered his full weight onto Sammy, letting Sammy’s legs fall outward. He pressed his soft lips to Sammy’s cheek and then his mouth. “You’re the perfect one, my darling. Perfect in every way.” Ryder rolled to the side and clasped Sammy’s hand. “I can’t imagine how I can ever live without you.”

  Sammy sighed. And yet somehow Ryder would live without him. Or so it seemed.

  Ryder got up for warm washcloths and bathed Sammy’s chest and his own. It was still early, but Sammy didn’t care if he ever moved again. So damned content. Well, the weight and burning heat of the angel charm on his chest stole a little of the pleasure, but right now, not much. He’d have it taken off soon.

  Ryder turned off the light and curled up next to Sammy. Perfect. Perfect.

  LIGHT? MORNING? Sammy opened his eyes, staring at the dresser beside his bed. Light reflected off the old wood. Not sunlight. More like moonlight. Was tonight the full moon? Oh well. He closed his eyes again.

  Sammy scooted his butt backward so he could feel Ryder’s skin next to him. His new favorite way to sleep. Uh, no skin. He edged a couple of inches farther. Just cool sheets. Ryder? His eyes flew open, and he turned on his back.

  Dark. Pitch-black around the window. Dead of night. But the room was filled with a soft glow. On the edge of the bed, the outline of a person glowing in the darkness like hope in the midst of despair. Holy gods, the dream. The vision Sammy had felt compelled to paint. Ryder was sitting on the bed, his body surrounded by a soft nimbus of light—exactly like the painting Sammy had done in class. Even the abstraction was duplicated by the wavering gleam of a halo. Halo? Ryder looked like an angel. A real one.

  Can’t breathe. Make a sound and it might go away. Scared and in awe at the same time, he gazed as the light ebbed and flowed—an aurora borealis of Ryder. Then he heard a deep sigh. Ryder got up and moved beside the bed. Sammy clamped his eyes shut and tried to sound like he was sleeping.

  The covers rustled, the mattress moved, and Ryder pressed tight against Sammy’s side. Sammy rolled over, and Ryder curled around Sammy’s butt and gradually his breath became slow and steady.

  What in hells did I see? Ryder glowing in the dark? Yes, Ryder’s skin was luminous, but enough to actually produce light? Couldn’t be. The moonlight must have come in at an angle so that it shone on and reflected off Ryder’s body. I just couldn’t see the moon from my position. Yes, that made sense.

  But what about the scene? He’d painted it down to the last detail. The painting in class was dry when he touched it, just like his prophetic paintings. Was that what it had been? Had he sleepwalked his way into a prophecy in class and predicted this moment when Ryder would sit beside him on the bed? Maybe he didn’t have to be asleep to paint prophecy? Well, duh. Obviously.

  Just one big fucking problem with this theory. Never did he have any previous inkling of one of his prophetic paintings. No hint he was about to create one. He just woke up on the floor and found the paintings on the easel. But this painting of Ryder had been a dream. A dream that pressed at Sammy’s brain until it finally demanded an exit. It hadn’t just happened. No matter how he sliced it, Sammy had thought up this scene. Either his skill with prophecy was changing, or somehow he’d created the event he just saw.

  KILLIAN SIPPED from his teacup, then sat back on the couch and leaned against Blai
ne.

  “Good tea.”

  “Yeah, it actually is pretty good.” Blaine generally preferred coffee, but when Killian made his own favorite brew in the beautiful tea service Sammy and Lucien had bought them, even the coffee lover was willing to try some Darjeeling.

  Killian stared at the TV—and sighed. The home network was a favorite, since they both loved decorating, but even the design competition couldn’t keep his mind from his worries about the rumbles of unrest in Prague. He stared at the teacup. “I should invite Lucien Eshel over sometime soon and question him about the situation in his home city. He’s bound to know something. Even a young witch would have heard rumors of unhappiness, don’t you think?”

  Blaine glanced up from his teacup. “That’s assuming Lucien was ever a young witch. God, the guy seems ancient, even if he only looks twenty-one.”

  “Yes. I thought the same thing when we met him. He’s an odd one—and quite powerful. Although he’s well shielded, and I wonder what those shields are hiding.”

  “Are you worried about him?”

  “A bit, since he comes from Prague. In my communications from Jimmy and Lavender this morning, they say the coven there is very arrogant right now. They seem to be hiding something. I can’t help but think that Lucien knows what it is.”

  “So have him over soon.”

  “Yes.” Killian sipped. “Maybe I’ll call him tomorrow and make a date to meet him at Mother’s house. I’d rather he not come here.”

  Blaine nodded. “Besides, your family home is so Witch Mastery. Guaranteed to leave any obstreperous witch shaking in his magic slippers.” He laughed. “Want some dessert with your tea?”

  “Ah, you know I’ll never turn down a sweet. Especially you.” He pecked Blaine on the lips.

  Blaine pulled Killian in for a deeper kiss, then sat back. “I actually had cookies in mind, but I’d rather have you any day.”

  “Hey, we can have cookies too.” Killian laughed and got up from the couch. “I’ll go see what we’ve got.”

  He stood. Whoa. Dizzy. He reached out a hand to steady himself.

  Blaine looked up. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I got up too fast, I imagine.” He padded barefoot into the kitchen. The apartment was Blaine’s masterpiece. He’d decorated it in a wonderful combination of modern design and exquisite antiques, producing an eclectic and comfortable result they hadn’t changed much since their marriage. The kitchen was all modern.

  Hmm. Cookies. He opened the built-in refrigerator and peeked in, but the room started spinning. Hells. He stood back up and took a deep breath. Could he be sick? Witches weren’t prone to many illnesses. Subsiding. Good.

  Another glance in the refrigerator showed they’d eaten all the Fig Newtons. He pushed aside the cottage cheese. Aha. He discovered peanut butter brownies. Good thing they were stashed in the back, or Blaine would have finished them off days ago. Killian pulled out the package, opened it, and displayed the brownies on a plate. They looked a little like the sweets Lucien Eshel had given them at the party. Blaine loved them, but they were too pungent and spicy for Killian. They’d made his nose burn. Peanut butter’s better. He grabbed a couple of strawberries and decorated the plate, then carried the plate back into the living room. “Hey, guess what I found.”

  Blaine looked over the back of the couch. “What?” The soft light from a table lamp shone on his handsome face. Handsome human face…. Blaine made all the pain and stress of being Witch Master bearable.

  “Peanut butter brownies.”

  “Yum. Wish we still had some of that stuff Lucien and Sammy gave us. I really liked it.”

  “Most people did. It went fast after we opened it.”

  Killian set the plate on the table and lay back down with his head in Blaine’s lap. His stomach felt weird, and the dizziness wasn’t quite gone.

  Blaine put a hand on Killian’s forehead. “You still feeling strange?”

  “A little, but I’m sure it’s nothing.” He rolled to the side and grabbed his teacup. “Nothing a cup of tea can’t fix.” After a sip, he snuggled into Blaine’s lap and pointed at the TV. “I like that girl’s room design the best. I think she’s going to win.”

  Chapter Eight

  SAMMY WAITED with Aloysius on his shoulder outside the history building. It had been two days, and he and Ryder needed to talk about how they wanted to present their relationship to others before things got even more awkward.

  Ryder walked down the steps. Sammy’s breath caught, and his heart beat fast. Ryder got more beautiful every time Sammy laid eyes on him—and that wasn’t just love’s eyes talking. Anyone would have noticed the change. He wished he could ask Killian about Ryder. Hells, he wished he could ask Killian about a lot of things. The Witch Master had said he wanted to talk to Sammy. Maybe he could make an appointment soon.

  Ryder smiled as he came up beside Sam. The cat sprang from Sam’s neck and landed on Ryder’s shoulder. “Hey, guy.”

  Sammy laughed. “He sure does love you.”

  Ryder scratched the rubbing head. “Of course, he has excellent taste.”

  “He hated Lucien.” Saying the name made his mouth taste bad.

  “Like I said.” Ryder stroked Al, and Sammy leaned in. There did seem to be a connection between Al’s pleasure and Sammy’s. Ryder looked at Sammy. “Want to get some food before we go home, or shall we pick up stuff to cook?”

  “Let’s eat at the coffee shop.”

  Ryder laughed. “Feeding addictions is not the same as nutrition.”

  “Hey, I’m addicted to you.”

  “And I’m very nutritious.”

  Sammy laughed. “The food of the gods.”

  For a second Ryder got a funny look; then he laughed. “So food, then?”

  “For sure.”

  Ryder extended his hand.

  Sammy stared at it. “Okay, let’s discuss this. Do you want to tell our friends and, well, everyone about us?”

  “Yep. Why not?”

  “I don’t know. You were so careful for so long.”

  “True, but not anymore. I’m your boyfriend, if you’ll have me.”

  Wow. He’d heard that statement before, recently. But this time, gods willing, it was true. For a while.

  With a glance toward the heavens, where a lightning bolt might come down and strike him, he slipped his hand into Ryder’s. What a way to go.

  Sammy adjusted his stride to Ryder’s long steps. They were almost the same height—Ryder was maybe an inch taller. They both had long-fingered hands that fit together like puzzle pieces. How funny his dream man had somehow grown into a being who matched him so well. He sighed. But that match would only last for a little while. Fuck that train of thought. No way I want to wreck the present with the future.

  Sammy scratched a hot spot on his neck and felt the chain. “Do you think we have time to go to a hardware store and get this damned necklace off?”

  “Sure. We can go now.”

  He grinned. “And miss coffee? I have my priorities.”

  Ryder laughed and held the door into the coffee shop.

  Inside, Ryder took Sammy’s hand again. Nice. Chen waved from their table. His hand went up, then stopped in midair. Yeah, Ryder and Sammy must have been an interesting sight. Two tall men, laughing, joking, and holding hands. One black cat wrapped around Ryder’s neck.

  Ryder squeezed Sammy’s hand. “I’ll get in line, get the coffee, and order food. What do you want?”

  “A veggie burger with some salad.”

  “No fries?”

  Sammy grinned. “You twisted my arm. Sweet potato fries too.”

  Ryder nodded toward their table. “I’ll order it. Go say hi to Chen. I imagine he’s very curious.”

  “Yeah.” Sammy walked over to the table.

  Chen leaned forward and whispered, “Were you holding Ryder’s hand? What the hells? Isn’t he straight? Did you turn him?”

  Sammy shook his head. “You can’t turn somebody gay. He a
lready was—is—whatever.” Damn, how much personal data did Ryder want to reveal? “Best to ask him for details.”

  “Wow.” Chen’s face cracked open in a huge smile. “That means you get the guy you’ve always wanted.” He put his hand on Sammy’s forearm and squeezed. “That’s so great, Sams. Man, I’m really happy for you. But what happened to Mr. Angel Face?”

  Sammy shuddered. “I think he’s more devil than angel.”

  “Hells, I could have told you that. But I’m really happy about you and Ryder.”

  Sammy gave his friend a gentle punch on the arm. “You’re a great friend, buddy. That’s so generous of you.”

  Ryder and Al walked up to the table carrying coffee cups. Actually Ryder did all the carrying, and Al did all the purring. “What’s generous?”

  “Chen was saying he was happy for us.”

  Ryder set down the cups and took the chair next to Sammy. He covered Sammy’s hand with his own. “Thanks so much. Kind of surprised?”

  Chen nodded. “How many times have we discussed some girl’s tits? I guess you were trying to throw everybody off. But why?”

  Sammy gazed at Ryder’s beautiful face. Yes, why exactly?

  Ryder sipped his coffee. “Like I told Sammy, it’s complicated. My parents never wanted me to stay here for college. They’ve been pushing me to come home practically every semester. And they really didn’t want me to get, uh, personally involved and put down roots here for that reason. I was respecting their wishes”—he looked at Sammy and caressed his hand—“until now.”

  Chen smiled. “I sure understand about parents and their wishes. What made the change for you?”

  Ryder shrugged. “I guess I’d had enough pretending. I watched Sammy and knew I would hate myself forever if I lost the chance to tell him I care for him.”

  Chen smiled. “That’s so great.”

  Sammy put down his latte. “What’s happening with you and Estera?”

  A big crease popped out between Chen’s dark eyes. “I wish I knew. She seemed kind of into me at the party, but ever since she’s been evasive and distracted. I’ve hardly seen her.”