Page 21

It was sometimes annoying to have a boyfriend with odd work hours, like when Ian had to work night shifts and then slept all the hours that Spencer was awake that day. Or when he worked back-to-back days and they went half the week without seeing each other at all. But then there were times it was great, when Ian had weekdays off and spent lazy mornings in Spencer’s apartment while he got ready for work.

“Hey, do you mind if we run by my storage unit? I need to get Cat the light fixtures for Tyler Street or she’s going to murder me.”

Spencer started pouring the coffee he’d been making into to-go mugs so it wouldn’t go to waste.

“Your relationship with Cat includes an unsettling number of death threats.”

Ian came into the kitchen, taking one of the mugs from Spencer and kissing his cheek.

“You get used to it.”

Spencer hadn’t actually wanted to keep these light fixtures when they’d pulled them out of a house that had been renovated but not well. But there was technically nothing wrong with them besides being modern. He was surprised the Tyler Street clients had agreed to put anything used in the house, but they had insisted on some finishes that blew Spencer’s original budget, so they were happy to save the money on lighting.

He liked to think his storage unit was well organized, with clear pathways and sections for each type of item. If he was going to stockpile things he bought without knowing where they’d go right away, he wanted to exert at least a little control over the situation. They passed the chairs, some of which had come from the Brown Street house’s basement, then a section of tables, including a spectacular farmhouse table with a marble top he’d found at a flea market, before arriving at the lighting section. “These.”

Spencer grabbed one of them by the mounting hardware before passing it back to Ian and reaching for the second one.

Ian inspected it while it rotated in his hand. “These are . . .”

“I know.”

Spencer stood up and caught his own eye in a mid-century standing mirror leaned against the opposite wall.

“Do you need the mirror, too?”

Ian asked as he backed up so Spencer could come down the pathway toward the door.

“No, I, um . . .”

Spencer could feel his face heating as his brain entertained absurd thoughts. But Ian was his boyfriend, so why the fuck not? “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to have sex in front of a mirror.”

He looked up to see Ian cocking an eyebrow in his direction. “Bring the mirror.”

“Oh, that’s not the right period for my apartment,”

Spencer hedged. Also, it was technically true.

He wouldn’t say that Ian ever got particularly bossy, but his cutting gaze said he was unimpressed with Spencer’s aesthetic argument. “Spencer. Bring the mirror.”

It was actually a pain in the ass to bring the mirror. He wrapped it in moving blankets, and they slid it into the trunk with the back seats down. But then he had to make sure it didn’t bang into the light fixtures and they didn’t bang into it or each other. He made Ian keep his hand on it the whole drive back to Spencer’s apartment, but Ian seemed to be finding humor in the whole thing more than he was annoyed or put out by his arm being wrenched out of its socket.

They carried the mirror up the stairs and leaned it against the wall next to the bed, both huffing and sweating a little. “I should get those light fixtures to Cat.”

“Now?”

Ian was suddenly in his space, his voice pitched low.

“Uh . . .”

Ian’s hands were wrapping around his waist, and his lips were on his neck, and it was very hard to focus.

“If you need to go, you should go. But if you have some time, I figured maybe we could try the mirror thing.”

“Oh yeah?”

Spencer croaked. Cat could install the lighting tomorrow. Ian’s enthusiasm for this fantasy was turning his brain to mush.

“I want you to see how you look when I touch you.”

Ian slipped his hand into Spencer’s waistband.

Spencer went pliant in Ian’s arms. Ian stripped him reverently, then laid him out in the center of the bed so he had the best view possible in the mirror. He shucked his own clothing much quicker and crawled up the bed until he was hovering over Spencer, then kissed him within an inch of his life. Suddenly everything was Ian, the heat and weight of his body, the press of his lips and glide of his tongue, his hands trailing over Spencer’s skin and his voice telling Spencer he was beautiful.

After leaving Spencer a gasping, heaving mess, he stood up and went over to the nightstand. “May I use the contents of the drawer?”

It seemed that Ian had been planning something since they’d gotten the mirror into the apartment. Maybe since the storage unit. On the scale of really kinky things people did, Spencer realized this was nothing, but he’d never done something like this before, and he was glad Ian seemed to be taking control of the situation. “Yeah.”

Ian laid his butt plug and lube on the bed next to him. Spencer didn’t have a lot of sex toys. He’d tried out a lot of sex toys, all courtesy of Margot, but he hadn’t kept the ones that felt weird or wrong or scary. So he knew that anything that came out of that drawer was something he really, really liked. Now he felt tension thrumming through him, waiting to see what Ian was going to do.

Ian got back on the bed and knelt between Spencer’s thighs, trailing his fingertips up and down the sensitive skin, setting off an array of goose bumps. “How do you feel about edging?”

Spencer knew what that was, but he’d never tried it. “Won’t that take a long time? Will it be good for you?”

Ian cocked an eyebrow. “Spencer.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Spencer’s temple, his cheek, his jaw. “I’m going to get to listen to you.”

He lowered his body to Spencer’s, his hard cock sliding against Spencer’s hip. “I’m going to get to watch you watching yourself come undone.”

He looked over to the mirror, which drew Spencer’s eyes in the same direction.

In theory, this fantasy had been intoxicating. In practice, it was a little intimidating. Spencer had never thought of himself as particularly sexy. He loved sex, sure, and he had a decent time finding people to have sex with, but being spread out like this, as an object of sexual desire, of Ian’s desire, was overwhelming. He looked back up at Ian, who was patiently waiting to hear what Spencer wanted.

“Okay.”

Ian eased himself up onto his hands and knees. “Only if you want. I’m happy to do anything else, too.”

“No, I . . .”

Spencer reached up instinctively, and Ian immediately moved to meet him in a long, soothing kiss. “I want to do that.”

He felt Ian’s smile against his own lips. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“I know,”

Spencer said. Because he did.

“All you have to do is tell me when you’re about to come,”

Ian said. “And if you stay stop, I stop. At any point. For any reason.”

“I know.”

Spencer knew he could ask Ian for anything. And he had, which is how he’d found himself here in the first place.

Ian kissed his way down Spencer’s body, his mouth curving up into a smile as he pressed it to Spencer’s sternum, his stomach. When he finally took Spencer’s cock into his mouth, Spencer arched up off the bed and swore. He hazarded a look over to the mirror, then back down at Ian’s head as a twinge of embarrassment surged through him. He groaned. Ian’s mouth felt so fucking good, and he was rolling Spencer’s balls in his hand. His other hand trailed up Spencer’s thigh and over to where Spencer’s fingers were already grasping at the sheets. Ian twined their fingers together and squeezed. The pressure of Ian’s fingers against his and of Ian’s tongue against his cock were already frying Spencer’s brain, and this had just started.

Ian hummed against Spencer’s dick, sending a shiver up Spencer’s spine. He was revving Spencer up hard and fast, and if Spencer understood what was happening, it was because he planned to stop right before it got too good.

He sank into the feeling of Ian’s lips wrapped around him, every so often peeking at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t tell if he felt wholly himself or if the reflection seemed like another person entirely, but the image in the mirror was clearly enjoying what Ian was doing.

The head of his cock hit the back of Ian’s throat, and he closed his eyes, trying to stave off the overwhelm of how good it felt. He wasn’t sure if it was Ian’s mouth or the anticipation that was getting to him because he never came this fast. “Fuck, Ian, I’m close.”

And he was right. Ian sat up, face flushed and lips wet, which made Spencer’s dick twitch a little. He loomed over Spencer on all fours, careful not to touch him. “You’re doing so well.”

His voice was breathy, his pupils blown wide. He leaned down to trace his tongue over the shell of Spencer’s ear, which made Spencer moan even louder.

Ian sat back on his knees and smiled a little dangerously, then poured lube into his hand. He pressed one of Spencer’s thighs toward his chest with his free hand and circled his hole with one slick finger.

Spencer was pretty sure he squeaked. He lifted up his other leg so Ian had easier access.

“I’ve got you.”

Ian slid a single finger into him, and Spencer let out a long moan. “God, I love the way you sound.”

Ian kissed the inside of his knee. All Spencer could do was whimper in response.

Ian stretched him maddeningly slowly while Spencer writhed on the mattress. He loved feeling full, being stretched. He tried to fuck himself on Ian’s fingers, but Ian’s other hand came to his hip and pressed him down. “Wait for me.”

Then he lubed the plug and slid it in.

“Fuck.”

“I know.”

Ian twisted the plug, then pulled it out gently and slid it back in.

“Please.”

Spencer didn’t even know what he was asking for. He knew he couldn’t come this way. If Ian didn’t touch his dick, he’d be teetering on the edge forever. Which he guessed was the point. “Ian.”

“I know.”

Ian just kept playing with the plug, sliding it in and out in different rhythms, changing the angle, building the intensity until Spencer was moaning uncontrollably and then backing off. He shifted again and pegged Spencer’s prostate. “Fuck,”

Spencer breathed. He looked up at Ian and realized that he wasn’t looking back down at Spencer but in the mirror. Spencer looked over, and when their eyes met there, Ian started stroking Spencer’s cock slowly.

“Ah, too close,”

Spencer stuttered.

Ian seated the plug, taking his hand away, and Spencer groaned. He may not survive this, but he never wanted it to stop. It was probably terrible that he even knew something like this existed.

“Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

Spencer didn’t know what he needed. Maybe a whole new nervous system at this point. “I . . . Yeah,”

he panted.

Ian wiped his hands on the sheets and slid off the bed, making his way to the kitchen. He looked achingly hard, which Spencer found gratifying mostly, but then he also felt a twinge of guilt that he’d caused them to stop when they were both so clearly into whatever was happening. He heard the tap running, and then Ian was back, helping him sit up and watching him drink before setting the glass on the nightstand. Spencer sprawled back on the bed.

“Sorry about that.”

His heart rate was leveling out, and he felt much more in his body.

“Nothing to be sorry about,”

Ian said earnestly, dancing his fingers over the undersides of Spencer’s knees, which made him squirm. “Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Ian brushed Spencer’s hair off his sweaty forehead, and even that amount of contact made him feel oversensitive. “You still with me?”

Spencer nodded eagerly.

“Talk to me.”

“Yes. Yes, please touch me.”

Ian chuckled and ran his hands over Spencer’s thighs, one hand grasping the base of the plug again. Spencer expected Ian to go back to his teasing, but he angled the plug directly at Spencer’s prostate and thrust in a firm, even rhythm. Spencer was lost. Whatever was coming out of his mouth was muffled in his own ears by the blood pulsing through his head, whatever wasn’t currently rushing to his dick. He thought he had the sheets balled up in his fists, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

Suddenly, he was very aware of Ian, kissing his neck, whispering in his ear. “I’m about to make you come. And I suggest you watch because you’re gorgeous when you come.”

Spencer realized the position of Ian’s body was shifting his head toward the mirror so he could see himself, see them, and Ian wasn’t going to make him watch, but he was offering up this fantasy to Spencer on a silver platter.

Ian leaned back and sped up the rhythm of the plug while he took Spencer’s cock in his free hand and stroked him in time with the thrusts.

Spencer did his best to keep his eyes open, but they were heavy lidded with desire. His skin was flushed and had a sheen of sweat, which from a distance made him look like a hazy dream version of himself. He realized Ian was also watching him in the mirror, and though he already knew what Spencer looked like like this, he seemed to be just as taken by the image. Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, and his back arched, and he came with a deep, guttural sound while he watched himself make a mess of them both.

Ian slowly eased the plug out of Spencer and set it aside, hands coming to rest on Spencer’s hips. “So, so good for me.”

Spencer was still half delirious, but he reached for Ian’s cock.

Ian caught Spencer’s hand and pressed it to the mattress next to his head. He loomed over Spencer and took himself in hand. “I’ll take care of it. You just keep looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Spencer clasped Ian’s hand hard in his and cupped his cheek with the other, wanting to watch him come but unable to look away from the intensity in his eyes.

“Like I just blew your mind.”

When Spencer finally did look down, he realized Ian was stroking himself with the hand covered in Spencer’s come, and Spencer couldn’t stop watching. “You did. You are.”

He dragged his eyes back up to meet Ian’s just as he bit his lower lip and grunted, coming across Spencer’s stomach. And then he was leaning down and kissing Spencer breathless.

They dragged themselves to the bathroom, and Spencer dropped the plug in the sink because that was the absolute last thing he needed Norman getting into.

“Was that what you wanted?”

Ian asked as he rubbed soap over Spencer’s torso.

Spencer laughed, sounding absolutely delirious to his own ears. “I don’t know that I even knew what I wanted until you did it.”

He ran his soapy hands up Ian’s back. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head up to meet Ian’s gaze.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

Ian was gently washing lube off Spencer’s ass, which probably deserved thanks in and of itself.

Spencer held firm to Ian’s waist. “I want to, though.”

“Okay.”

Ian ducked his head down and kissed Spencer until the water ran cold.

———

The next day, they had leisurely morning sex, then lay around waiting for the inspiration to get up and make coffee. Ian refused to touch the Chemex for fear that he wouldn’t do things the way Spencer liked, so Spencer knew he’d have to be the one to get up eventually. He rolled onto his stomach and looked at Ian’s face, which was radiant in the early-morning sun. “Can I draw you?”

“Uh . . .”

He looked startled, though to be fair, it was the only thing either of them had said in a while.

“I mean, only if you want. And I always let the model keep nudes, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Spencer.”

His eyes softened. “You can draw me.”

Spencer rolled out of bed and found his underwear, then went to the kitchen and made coffee and fed Norman before gathering his drawing supplies. He pulled his desk chair over to the side of the bed and put his feet up on it, balancing his sketchbook on his knees.

“Do you want me to move?”

Ian had rolled onto his stomach and was facing Spencer, hugging his pillow.

“No, that’s good.”

Ian wasn’t exactly nude. The sheets were pulled up to his hips, though slipping down slightly to expose the curve of his ass on one side. But his face was so sleepy and content that Spencer figured the intent of the drawing would be clear. He took a sip of coffee, then realized Ian could neither reach his on the bedside table nor drink from it if he could. “If you want to sit up at any point—”

“I’m okay.”

Ian smiled. “So you always let the model keep the nudes? Do you do this often?”

Spencer blushed. “Actually, no.”

He started moving his pencil over the paper, sketching in rough shapes. “I haven’t done this since college. It was sort of my party trick. You know, spend the night, get a drawing.”

Ian cracked up, trying not to move too much.

“What? Don’t tell me men aren’t knocking down the door to draw you naked.”

“In college, no. I was pretty shy and kept to myself. I had been the one out kid at my Catholic high school, and no one was overtly mean, but it certainly wasn’t a thriving social situation. So it took me a while—and a lot of trial and error—to figure out how to even approach men like that.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey.”

Ian cut him off. “It’s okay. I was lucky that my parents were really supportive. I mean, they didn’t take me to Pride or anything, but they never made me feel weird about it. I don’t know if my grandma ever really understood, but she never said anything negative in front of me. My grandpa probably wouldn’t have been a massive fan, but he was dead by the time I came out, so we’ll never know.”

Spencer choked back a laugh. “It shouldn’t have to be that way, though, for any of us.”

Ian nodded into his pillow. “Were you out in high school?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Spencer idly started sketching in the curve of Ian’s shoulder. “I was hanging out with all the artsy emo kids, being as alternative as possible. Hot Topic, custom MySpace layouts, driving out to the beach to listen to My Chemical Romance while the tide rolled in. I think my parents were more concerned about my refusal to cut my hair than they were about my being gay.”

“Is that when you got into skinny jeans?”

Spencer extended his leg and pressed his toes into Ian’s ribs, trying to tickle him without getting out of his chair. “My jeans aren’t even that skinny anymore.”

Ian laughed and grabbed his foot, massaging firmly into the sole.

Spencer groaned. “You need to stop that, or you’re going to be stuck here all day and miss your shift.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Ian rolled onto his side and applied both hands to his task.

Spencer laid his sketchbook and pencil on the bed and slouched in his chair. He wasn’t going anywhere.