stop, then start up again, but this time heading back toward Sam’s door. He changed his mind!
Ian’s footsteps reached the door, then paused. Sam heard a sort of foot-drag sound, then Ian started walking away again. Slowly. Shit! He changed his mind. Again!
Sam listened to Ian make the circuit three or four more times before he realized Ian was pacing. Impatiently? Had he made Ian impatient? Sam leapt away from the door and started shoving random items into his backpack again.
He was in the bathroom, grabbing whatever, thinking about how Ian had actually wanted to feed him before taking him home and fucking him, when he realized he needed to take a shower. He froze mid-reach, staring at himself in the mirror.
He knew what was going to happen when they got to Ian’s house, and he definitely needed to wash first.
Okay. Ian would probably let him take a shower there, right? He wasn’t inviting Sam over to sleep with him. He wanted to stay awake with him. And he’d want Sam to be, you know, clean before they got all dirty. So Ian would let him take a shower.
Or maybe he should ask. He groaned at himself in the mirror. Oh, God, no. That was dorky, wasn’t it?
Sam argued himself into a mental dither. Finally, he took himself firmly in hand, grabbed his toothbrush, and determined he’d simply ask if he could take a shower when they got to Ian’s place.
When he whipped the front door open, Ian was standing right outside it. Sam watched his shoulders drop—if he didn’t know better, he’d think Ian’s shoulders had been trying to climb to his ears.
“I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” Ian said, smiling a small, tight smile. Sam stared at him. Seriously? Why would he ever change his mind?
“Ready to go?” Ian asked in a stronger voice.
“Totally.” Sam nodded and threw his backpack over his shoulder.
Ian looked at Sam in his living room and thought about what he needed to say, now that they’d made it this far.
Yes, he wanted to see Sam. But he had some rules . . . maybe he should call them guidelines. He had some guidelines he needed to put into place before anything else happened, especially after that kiss. He didn’t really want to do this now, but they needed to have the conversation he’d been avoiding since the first time they hooked up.
He also needed to make sure Sam understood that this might not lead to anything. Thinking you maybe might kinda want more than sex wasn’t good enough. What if it turned out he didn’t? He couldn’t mislead Sam. Jurgen would never forgive him.
Ian took a breath. “So, if we’re going to start—” he cleared his throat “—seeing each other regularly, maybe we need a few, um, parameters.” Parameters—that was the perfect word.
Sam stopped looking around and turned to Ian, silent for a long second. “Parameters?” he asked.
“Yeah, so there are no misunderstandings about how serious this is going to get.”
Sam fiddled with the strap of the pack hanging in his hand, frowning. “You’re going to put a limit on how serious this will be? What’s this , exactly?”
Okay, yeah, excellent place to start. “This is you and me, hooking up a few times a week because we have hot sex. And I like you, you know, platonically.”
This time there were many, many seconds of silence while Sam studied him with slightly narrowed eyes. “Sooo . . . by ‘seeing’ me, you meant you’ll see me naked in bed a couple times a week, but you won’t be seen with me. In public. Were you going to get me a Batphone or something, so you can call me up and tell me when to meet you in the Batcave? What about Batgirl, is she invited? Because I don’t really want to perform for her or, you know, involve her.”
Ian laughed, but it fell flat on the floor. He choked it off. “Well, yeah, it’s about sex—”
Sam pointed a finger at him. “I’m not going to be someone’s secret gay hookup.” He pulled his hand back and slapped himself in the
Ian’s footsteps reached the door, then paused. Sam heard a sort of foot-drag sound, then Ian started walking away again. Slowly. Shit! He changed his mind. Again!
Sam listened to Ian make the circuit three or four more times before he realized Ian was pacing. Impatiently? Had he made Ian impatient? Sam leapt away from the door and started shoving random items into his backpack again.
He was in the bathroom, grabbing whatever, thinking about how Ian had actually wanted to feed him before taking him home and fucking him, when he realized he needed to take a shower. He froze mid-reach, staring at himself in the mirror.
He knew what was going to happen when they got to Ian’s house, and he definitely needed to wash first.
Okay. Ian would probably let him take a shower there, right? He wasn’t inviting Sam over to sleep with him. He wanted to stay awake with him. And he’d want Sam to be, you know, clean before they got all dirty. So Ian would let him take a shower.
Or maybe he should ask. He groaned at himself in the mirror. Oh, God, no. That was dorky, wasn’t it?
Sam argued himself into a mental dither. Finally, he took himself firmly in hand, grabbed his toothbrush, and determined he’d simply ask if he could take a shower when they got to Ian’s place.
When he whipped the front door open, Ian was standing right outside it. Sam watched his shoulders drop—if he didn’t know better, he’d think Ian’s shoulders had been trying to climb to his ears.
“I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” Ian said, smiling a small, tight smile. Sam stared at him. Seriously? Why would he ever change his mind?
“Ready to go?” Ian asked in a stronger voice.
“Totally.” Sam nodded and threw his backpack over his shoulder.
Ian looked at Sam in his living room and thought about what he needed to say, now that they’d made it this far.
Yes, he wanted to see Sam. But he had some rules . . . maybe he should call them guidelines. He had some guidelines he needed to put into place before anything else happened, especially after that kiss. He didn’t really want to do this now, but they needed to have the conversation he’d been avoiding since the first time they hooked up.
He also needed to make sure Sam understood that this might not lead to anything. Thinking you maybe might kinda want more than sex wasn’t good enough. What if it turned out he didn’t? He couldn’t mislead Sam. Jurgen would never forgive him.
Ian took a breath. “So, if we’re going to start—” he cleared his throat “—seeing each other regularly, maybe we need a few, um, parameters.” Parameters—that was the perfect word.
Sam stopped looking around and turned to Ian, silent for a long second. “Parameters?” he asked.
“Yeah, so there are no misunderstandings about how serious this is going to get.”
Sam fiddled with the strap of the pack hanging in his hand, frowning. “You’re going to put a limit on how serious this will be? What’s this , exactly?”
Okay, yeah, excellent place to start. “This is you and me, hooking up a few times a week because we have hot sex. And I like you, you know, platonically.”
This time there were many, many seconds of silence while Sam studied him with slightly narrowed eyes. “Sooo . . . by ‘seeing’ me, you meant you’ll see me naked in bed a couple times a week, but you won’t be seen with me. In public. Were you going to get me a Batphone or something, so you can call me up and tell me when to meet you in the Batcave? What about Batgirl, is she invited? Because I don’t really want to perform for her or, you know, involve her.”
Ian laughed, but it fell flat on the floor. He choked it off. “Well, yeah, it’s about sex—”
Sam pointed a finger at him. “I’m not going to be someone’s secret gay hookup.” He pulled his hand back and slapped himself in the
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