Under My Skin (7 page)

Dylan trembled beneath Sebastian's touch.

Damn, he wanted this man like he'd never wanted anyone else.

He knelt, spread the globes of Dylan's ass apart, and licked over his quivering pucker.

“Oh, God... ” Dylan moaned softly.

Sebastian delved into him with urgency, spearing him open, getting him as wet and slick as possible. When Dylan's ass surged back against him, and his soft, panting moans brought a new level of ache to Sebastian's cock and balls, he pushed a finger into Dylan, who bucked against Sebastian's hand, then pressed back onto it with a shudder.

Sebastian gave him another, moving them both in a slow circular motion, stretching the tight ring of muscle, then probing deeper. He gave Dylan's prostate a gentle nudge, eliciting another, louder moan from the man, and a soul-deep shudder.

“Sebastian... shit... please. Want you in me now.”

Shaking with need, Sebastian pulled his fingers free and stood. With one hand against Dylan's ass and the other wrapped around his own dick, he guided the tip to Dylan's slippery, pulsating hole. The condom Dylan had put on him was well lubed, so between that and the saliva, when he pressed inward, his crown breached the tight opening with almost no friction.

“Oh,
fuck
,” Dylan gasped, breathing hard.

Sebastian closed his eyes, fighting his body's desperate urge to come right now as Dylan's tight, hot passage bore down on his cockhead. It felt so fricking good. He hadn't been inside someone in so damned long he'd forgotten how good it could be. And yet, even when he had been the top, he didn't remember the pleasure ever being
this
intense,
this
powerful. Dylan's body fit him so damned well. Too well. He could get used to this far too easily.

Dylan's hips shifted. Sebastian grasped them and held him still. “Don't move,” he begged, his voice hoarse.

Dylan instantly stilled, but he was panting hard and Sebastian felt his muscles trembling as he, too, struggled to rein in his primitive urges.

Sebastian took a deep breath. And another. Then, finally, when he felt he had himself under control enough he thought he could last a while, he pushed inward, watching in lust-filled awe as Dylan's body swallowed his cock inch by inch until it disappeared completely and Sebastian's balls nestled against Dylan's.

“Oh, God, Bastian, you feel fucking amazing.”

“So do you.” He leaned down over Dylan, sinking deeper, and buried his face in the other man's neck, breathing in his scent.

One of Dylan's arms snaked up around Sebastian's neck, his head turned, and he pulled Sebastian into an erotically charged, tongue-thrusting kiss that left Sebastian shaking.

“Do you want it slow or hard?” he asked, as he eased out partway, then pushed back into Dylan, feeling every inch of the man's blazing core stroking his cock. He really was in trouble. It would be way,
way
too easy to get used to this, to feel Dylan's sinfully sensual body surrounding him every night.

“Both,” Dylan gasped.

Sebastian pulled out and drove in again. Then again.

“Yeah... oh, God, yeah. Just like that.” Dylan's ass pushed back to meet Sebastian on each stroke.

Sebastian gave up all vestiges of control at that point, letting the blinding urge to plunder take over. The need to fill Dylan full and hard and deep consumed him and he let it, savoring every sensation as he thrust into the man over and over.

His balls ached, and when tingling arcs of energy built inside them and sizzled up into his cock, he knew he wasn't going to be able to go much longer. Dylan was just too hot, too tight, too goddamned sexy.

He reached around and ensconced Dylan's turgid shaft in his palm, squeezing it, then stroking it with a firm, steady motion. He wanted to get Dylan off again and feel his orgasm shuddering through him as he rode him to the edge. Dylan let out a series of breathless moans as Sebastian built a rhythm, working Dylan's cock and plowing into his ass at the same time.

“Fuck... fuck.”

The moans became guttural cries. He bucked against Sebastian. And then, with powerful surges into Sebastian's hand, molten cream exploded from his slit, coating Sebastian's fingers, dripping onto the floor.

Heady with the scents and sounds of Dylan's submission, Sebastian's own release hit him seconds later. He thrust hard and deep into Dylan's clenching passage one final time, and was lost in ecstasy.

Something fuzzy and rumbling rubbed against Dylan's calves.

Sebastian's also, it seemed, startling him. “Damn!” When Sebastian jumped, his softening cock slid out of Dylan, much to Dylan's regret. He was going to have to make a point of getting it back in as soon as possible.

Chuckling, he rose up on his elbows to peer down at the big yellow tabby coming by for another pass at their legs, rubbing and arching her back. “Sebastian, meet Hennessy. Hennessy, Sebastian.”

The cat jumped up onto the island— where she knew good and well she wasn't supposed to be— and bumped against Dylan's hand, demanding attention. He scratched her chin, and Sebastian stroked a hand along her back.

“You have a cat named Hennessy?” He laughed softly... a sound so awesome to hear, heat scudded through Dylan's veins.

“Yep, I do.”

“I have a cat, too,” he said, as he pulled off the used condom and threw it in the trashcan next to the counter.

“Oh, yeah?” A cat person. Damn, was there anything about the man not to like?

“Yeah, a Maine coon named Morgan. Short for Captain Morgan.”

Dylan pushed himself up and turned to face Sebastian, a grin on his face. “Are you telling me we both have cats named after booze?”

“Apparently so.”

“God, what does that say about us?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe that we were drunk when we named them?”

“Or we wanted to be.”

More soft laughter spilled from Sebastian, and Dylan's pulse raced in pleasure.

He burrowed a hand into the hair at the back of Sebastian's neck and tugged him into a kiss. “You have the sexiest smile.”

A faint blush slid up Sebastian's cheeks, which just made him even more appealing. A fucking amazing lover, looks and a body to die for, and a sweet personality to round it out. The man was a keeper.

As he realized the truth of that thought, a tremor of something new and unexpected stirred in Dylan. Sebastian was someone he could see himself with for a while. Maybe a really long while. And that wasn't something he was used to.

It wasn't that he was a one-night stand kind of guy because he wasn't at all. He actually wanted to know and like someone before he slept with him. He'd been friends with virtually all his lovers over the years— still was friends with many of them. He was all for having fun and mutual pleasure and companionship, but he'd never pretended with any of them that he was interested in a full let's-fall-in-love-and-move-in-together relationship. It had always worked out well because the vast majority of them hadn't been looking for that either. It made it easy and clean to get together for a good time, then go home to his own house at the end of the night, or send them home to theirs, and not meet up again until it was mutually convenient. No clingy expectations, no hurt feelings on anyone's part.

His mom worried over it on his behalf, afraid he'd never find someone “special.” She said it was probably her fault because, after Dylan's dad had split on them when Dylan was a baby, she'd never really trusted anyone again. She'd had “friends” from time to time, but none of them lasting. She was afraid her intimacy issues had rubbed off on him.

Maybe she was right. Hell, it's not like he'd had any role models for happily ever after. Even his mentor in the tattoo business, Mick, had had a revolving door of lovers during the years Dylan had worked with him.

If he were being brutally honest with himself, he had wondered on occasion what it might be like to have someone to come home to each night, someone to talk to over dinner, to be there in the dark, lonely hours when he woke up and couldn't sleep. Someone special to share holidays and vacations with. When he'd had those thoughts, though, he'd always told himself the trade-off of freedom was worth it.

But was it? At the end of the day, when he left Rad Tattoos and his clients behind, and it was just him and Hennessey, he wasn't sure.

And for some reason, being around Sebastian was making him wonder all over again. He could easily see himself spending more time with Sebastian. Like twenty-four/seven time. He certainly had no interest in sending Sebastian home tonight. Wanted, in fact, in the worst way, to sleep with him and wake up next to him in the morning so he could see him first thing, kiss him, and lose himself in the man's body and sweet smile all over again. He couldn't think of a better way to start the day. When he stretched his imagination out to the next day, the next week, and even longer than that, the thought of having Sebastian in his bed and life felt surprisingly good and didn't cause the anxiety it might have in the past.

He was getting ahead of himself here, though, and the thought sobered him.

Before he could even think about anything longer-term than right now, first he had to gain Sebastian's trust. The man was here with him tonight, but he wasn't sure Sebastian trusted him. Dylan got the sense Sebastian was somehow waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something hung over him like one of those dark clouds that followed cartoon characters around, waiting to rain on them. Dylan felt like he had to tread with caution because he was certain someone at some time had hurt Sebastian, and the man was skittish. Which meant if he felt threatened in any way, he was going to bail. He'd almost done it earlier tonight until Dylan had convinced him otherwise.

What are you going to do if he does bail? You're starting to care about him, but he might not feel the same about you.

How would he feel? He'd seen how devastated his mother was for years and years, and how hard it had been for her when his dad had taken a long walk and never come back. He'd been the one, even as a little boy, who'd brought her tissues more nights than not when he'd caught her crying as she did dishes or whenever she looked at the picture that sat on her bedside table. He'd grown up with a strong sense that all you got when you cared too much was pain. And he'd never wanted to go through that himself, so he'd lived his life in a manner that avoided it.

Damn it. Maybe he did have intimacy issues over his dad's desertion.

The question was... did he keep letting that fear dictate his life, letting what had happened with his parents hold him back forever? Or did he have what it took to put himself out there and try to find something else? Something more.

He just knew when he looked at Sebastian Keller, for the first ever he thought he might be willing to take the risk.

“We never made it to the bed,” Sebastian said in a quiet voice, pulling Dylan back to the here and now. He wore a troubled expression on his handsome face.

Troubled why? Dillon wondered. He slid his arms around Sebastian's waist and kissed him again. “Not yet, no. But the night's still young. I have plans for your sexy ass yet tonight.”

A flicker of surprise lit Sebastian's eyes.

That caught Dylan off guard. Did Sebastian think that now that they'd had sex, Dylan would expect him to pick up his clothes and get out? Was that the type of men he was used to? Hell, in spite of his preference to keep things simple and un-messy, Dylan would never have expected that of any of his lovers. It came back to the genuine liking and friendship thing. He'd never treated any of his former lovers like they were tricks. It disgusted him to think someone might have treated Sebastian that way.

An urge rose in him to not only take Sebastian to bed and show him all over again just how amazing they were together in a physical sense, but also show him they could have more than that if Sebastian was willing to trust him.

“You know what else is sexy? This.” He lowered his gaze and then his fingers to the area just inside Sebastian's hipbone on the right side. “This was... unexpected.” Dylan looked up at him and grinned.

A self-conscious smile curved Sebastian's lips. “What, did you think I hated tattoos or tattoo artists or something?”

“The thought had crossed my mind a time or two.”

He winced. “I'm sorry.”

Dylan stroked his hip, then knelt and studied the artwork. “Don't be. Just tell me about it.”

“It was my present to myself when I finished college. My big wild moment, I guess you could say. I was a history major and my favorite area of study was Egypt. I actually specialized in it when I went to grad school. My tattoo is of Thoth, who was the god of knowledge, writing, magic.”

“It's a nice piece. You had a good artist. And it fits you.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“It's small,” he said almost apologetically.

“There's nothing wrong with small. It's not about the size, it's about whether a tattoo makes someone feel good, about the importance of its meaning to the wearer. Think about my little old lady with her tiny daisy chain on her wrist. It fits her personality, her life experience, and makes her happy.”

He rose, pulled open the refrigerator, and lifted out two bottles of beer. He opened them and handed one to Sebastian, who took it with a quick smile of thanks.

“What about yours?” Sebastian asked. “I always wondered why you don't have your arms completely covered like so many tattoo artists do. But then I saw your back. It's really, really beautiful.”

Dylan smiled. “Thanks. I may get there with my arms and other spots eventually, but I tend to not be in a rush when it comes to tattoos because they are so personal and meaningful, and, more importantly, so permanent. I'm selective and only put ink on my body that I've thought about carefully. All but my first one. This one.” He brushed a hand over the tribal cross on his left bicep. “I got it when I was eighteen and it was more about being cool than anything else.”

He chuckled, remembering how hot shit he'd felt both as he'd been getting it done and flaunting it around afterward. “I don't regret it, though, because it was kind of a rite of passage for me. It's what introduced me to the world of body art and set me on the path I've been on ever since.”