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Ian’s brows darted together. “Our room?”
Before everything went to shit, Alek and Ian had shared a bedroom. They’d chosen the largest room on the second floor and cannibalized the room next door to make an ensuite bathroom. The windows were plentiful and the view of the forest stretched on endlessly. Their bed was a simple, solid walnut frame. The sheets were white, for obvious reasons.
As far as Alek was aware, Ian hadn’t set foot in their room since the day they broke up. He’d nailed the door shut the very next night while Alek was entertaining an escort in his room.
Alek laid a hand on Ian’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart under his fingertips. “Yes. You’re too big to share a queen properly and I want a bath in our tub.” Alek was starting to look and smell like he belonged in one of those plaid-wearing, chronically depressed, nineties grunge bands.
Ian grunted noncommittally.
“What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “It’s stupid… It’s just, the last time I was there, you were breaking my heart, you know?”
Alek leaned in until they were both touching everywhere that counted. “Let’s do my room then. My mattress is much better than yours. You can give me another bed bath, instead.”
“Nah.” He dropped his hands to Alek’s hips. “I’ll open it up. Do you want to rest on the couch first?”
“Definitely not.” Alek walked through the doorway, taking care not to look in the direction of the parlor room, where the piano was surely waiting for his return. He called over his shoulder, “If you want to help me up the stairs, you’d better hurry.”
Upstairs, Alek sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, shamelessly studying the way the fabric of Ian’s shirt tightened over the muscles in his back while he removed each nail and board that barred their entry. When he was finished, Ian stashed his hammer in his back pocket and held out his hand to pull Alek up. Alek would have protested, but his legs did feel rather weak between the stairs and their earlier kiss.
Ian held the door open and stood aside. “After you.”
It was like walking into a time capsule. A pile of Alek’s clothes lay crumpled on the floor beside the laundry basket, shed like a snake leaving the husk of its molted skin behind. A half-empty glass of water rested neatly on top of a coaster on Ian’s side of the bed. Alek’s vision snagged on the mirror over their dresser. He hardly recognized himself and it wasn’t only because of the bruises and swelling that marred the landscape of his face. His reflection was a ghost, a phantom shell, a wretched beast that ought to be put down.
Alek walked to his side of the bed and ran his finger over the end table. A thin layer of dust, but perfectly habitable. He picked up the book he’d been reading and flipped to the pagehe’d last dog-eared. Ian had locked up the room just before the villain was revealed, but Alek already knew who it was, so it didn’t really matter. He dropped the book down on the table and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Help me get undressed?” Alek asked.
Ian froze, his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in his neck.
“I promise I won’t bite.”
“Liar.”
The thick outline of Ian’s dick strained against his jeans. Good. The only consent Alek would accept was enthusiastic, and despite all the heavy petting that had transpired since their reconciliation, Alek couldn’t shake the fear that Ian might not want him now that he was broken.
Ian removed Alek’s sling, then button by button, opened the front of Alek’s shirt. Goosebumps rained over Alek’s skin as Ian’s fingers grazed up his chest and over his good shoulder to slip the shirt off. Ian slid the final sleeve around Alek’s cast agonizingly slow, like he was playing Operation and Alek would emit a loud buzz if he hurt him.
With eyes downcast, Ian kneeled and removed Alek’s socks. It was a strangely intimate thing, having his freshly minted fiancé take off his socks for him. Next, Ian tucked his fingers inside the waistband of the slippery black and white track pants Alek wore. The pants were Ian’s. Alek wasn’t fanatical about sports or athleisure, but Ian had been adamant that Alek size up to a looser fit. Given the Rorschach inkblots of bruises that had blossomed everywhere Alek landed, he’d been inclined to agree.
When Alek’s dick bobbed free, full mast and ready to go—he may have lost music, but at least he could still get it up—Ian paused, swallowing hard. He sat back on his heels and chewed on his lip, his eyes focused on the tip of Alek’s cock, where a drop of precome beaded.
Alek clenched and unclenched his left hand, his body coiling with unreleased sexual tension as he fought the urge to grab the back of Ian’s head and show him where he belonged. But he’d have to tread lightly. He couldn’t treat Ian the way he had before he dragged him through three weeks of simulated cuckoldry.
He stroked Ian’s cheek with his thumb. Ian’s eyes fell closed as he leaned into Alek’s touch.
“If you’re waiting for my permission, you have it,” Alek encouraged.
Ian opened his eyes and lunged forward, his mouth enveloping Alek’s dick in warm, wet ecstasy. A moan escaped Alek so fast he didn’t know that the sound was coming from him until it hit his ears.
The once-familiar reality of Ian’s mouth was so much better than Alek had fantasized about during the last three weeks of their separation. His imagination had failed to supply the details; how Ian’s mouth vibrated as he hummed his appreciation, the squeeze of painful pleasure when Ian gagged on his cock, the hypersensitive zap when Ian twirled his tongue around his crown. Ian used his hand to milk what he couldn’t fit in his mouth and sucked hard like he was starved for Alek’s come.
If Ian kept that up, Alek would blow his load right down his throat, which was not necessarily something he was opposed to, but he’d rather come with Ian inside him. Maybe if he riled Ian up enough, he’d forget the doctor’s orders. Alek grabbed Ian by his hair and pulled him off of him.
Ian wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm. Never better. I still want that bath though.” He brought his fingers to Ian’s chin and guided him to standing.
