Don't Read in the Closet volume one (99 page)

"Right.
Sorry, you have to go. I'll sleep." Sam disappeared behind the back of the
couch and as much as Trevor wanted to help him settle in--whatever
that
meant--he didn't have time. He swiped off the last article of clothing and
hopped in the shower. By the time he was done, Sam was asleep on his couch,
making little snorting noises that startled him when he got out of the bedroom.
Quickly preparing them each a lunch, he grabbed his keys and left.

****

He wasn't
worried about Sam all day. He obviously wasn't worried about him stealing the
TV, the most expensive thing there since his laptop went to work with him. He
was concerned that Sam would get bored, and he was a little unsure what he was
going to do with the kid for the next few days, but overall he didn't worry.
They were
both adults, or
mostly adults, they'd work
it out.

So he wasn't
worried when he went home that evening. He was a little concerned when his
"Hello, Sam" went unanswered and he saw the living room was empty,
but Sam's gym bag was still there, so he thought it was a safe bet the kid
hadn't gone. And then he heard the shower going. Trevor smiled to himself,
amused at how easily Sam made himself at home--not that he begrudged the boy a
shower--and changed out of his work clothes before heading to the kitchen to
make dinner.

Twenty minutes
later the food was ready to go in the oven, and Sam was still in the shower. So
Trevor tossed the food in the fridge before he headed down the hall and tapped
on the door. "Sam?"

No answer. He
knocked harder. "Sam?"

Still no
answer. He tested the knob and it gave. Pushing open the door, he saw Sam's
clothes scattered on the floor and he said again, "Sam?"

With no answer
again, he gingerly pushed aside the shower curtain, fearing the worst. Sam was
sitting on the floor with his knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on
his knees, just sitting there as the now-cold water rained down.
"Sam?"

When he still
didn't get an answer, Trevor turned off the water and grabbed a clean towel
then kneeled down beside the tub. "Sam?"

His head slowly
turned and he blinked once before he started shivering. "Sa--sorry."

"It's
fine, what were you doing in here so long?"

"Needed a
shower." He unfolded, grabbing at the shower bar to pull
himself
up and Trevor wrapped the towel around him, briefly
drying off his head and shoulders before tucking it around his waist. Sam moved
slowly as he stepped from the tub, nearly falling over as he put weight on his
bad leg. His gasp became a sob and Trevor took his weight, practically falling
back onto the toilet seat, only to find Sam sitting on his lap, hiding his head
against his chest as he kept shivering. His skin was icy. "Sa-sorry."

"Hey, it's
okay." He reached across the small room to grab a second towel to drape
over Sam's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

Still
overwhelmed by the shaking, he didn't answer immediately. Trevor put his arms
around him, rubbing his back and trying to share some body heat while Sam
relaxed into his arms, hiding his face against his neck, his cold nose sending
a chill down Trevor's back. They were still sitting like that when the
shivering finally stopped and Sam's breathing steadied. He whispered into
Trevor's neck, "Sorry. Just had a nightmare."

"It's
fine. Feeling better now?"

Sam nodded and
nestled closer, his arms shifting from their limp position at his sides to wrap
around Trevor's torso. He tried not to notice that Sam was straddling his lap
wearing nothing but towels, but his heart picked up a notch as his cock took
interest and warred with his brain. Sam was obviously interested, but he was
also used to sleeping around for a warm place with a roof over his head and
whatever else would cause nightmares bad enough to get lost in the shower.

With a soft
moan, Sam shifted his hips closer as he kissed Trevor's neck and Trevor's brain
switched off, just for a moment, to feel the warm, soft expanse of back beneath
his hands. But before his dick could take complete control, his brain recalled
that he
wasn't
going to take advantage--although part of him questioned
if he was taking advantage when he was the one being seduced. That was
semantics for another day, not for when his blood was sliding south. "No,
Sam."

He slid his
hands up and gently pushed at Sam's shoulders until the kid backed off, looking
up at him with dark,
confused
eyes.

"You
better get dressed."

"But--"

"Get
dressed."

Sam's gaze
dropped, but he nodded and slid off, readjusting the towels as he went, still
balancing on one leg. "Sorry."

His groin ached
at the bowed head and soft voice and he wanted nothing more than to tangle his
fist in Sam's hair and pull his head back until the shorter man had to look him
in the eyes. The thought made his cock twitch, and Trevor didn't want to look
too deeply into
that
. Instead his nodded to himself and stepped out of
the bathroom. "Do you need your bag?"

"Yes,
please."

He fetched Sam
his bag then returned to the kitchen to throw the casserole in the oven. He
nearly burned his hands as he did, thinking about Sam and that he should
probably put a bandage on that ankle. Trevor was pretty sure he had one, and
headed to the bathroom after digging it out of the hall closet.
"Sam?" He knocked on the bathroom door before opening it.

Sam was sitting
on the toilet, fully dressed and staring at his leg, jutting out in front of
him, gingerly resting on the floor. He looked up when Trevor entered, whatever
emotion he was showing quickly covered by a bright smile. "Oh, hey. Sorry,
I wasn't sure if you'd appreciate me hopping around."

"Right.
That's why I brought this," Trevor held up the wrap. "Should
help."

"Sweet.
You gonna play doctor?" He grinned and Trevor laughed, tossing him the
wrap.

"If you're
going to be like that, you can do it yourself."

With another
flash of smile, Sam started wrapping his ankle. Trevor watched for a moment to
make sure he did know what he was doing then headed into the kitchen to set the
small table for two.

****

And just like
that, they fell into an easy routine. Sam slept on the couch most nights,
except when he had nightmares, which meant that Sam went to sleep on the couch,
but Trevor always woke up the next morning with the boy sleeping beside him.
Trevor would quietly slip out of bed and get ready for work, leaving Sam to
whatever he wanted, really. For the first few days that meant sitting on the
couch and reading or watching TV, and on the weekend, Trevor joined him. But as
his ankle hurt less, Sam did some cleaning, washed the dishes and even cooked
dinner.

He was a
surprisingly good cook. When Trevor told him as much, Sam blushed and mumbled
about how he had to cook for his mom because she was sick. Trevor wanted to ask
more, but the look Sam gave him silently pleaded him not to. Those looks
happened sometimes, often at night when Sam crawled into his bed before they
were pressed together and he relaxed. Looks of terror, of being lost. Looks
that made Trevor want to wrap his arms around him and protect him, and do a few
other things to him. But he didn't, just let Sam press against him and burrow
his face against Trevor's chest and fall asleep like that.

Sam didn't keep
his entire past a secret. He'd said his step-dad was a jackass--his words--and
that he'd run away from home after graduating high school. He was eighteen and
had a bank account that had originally been for college, but his step-dad had
been draining it to pay the bills, so he had enough for food and clothes but
not to rent a place, which was why he'd been sleeping on the bench. His plan
was to find a job, an apartment and love, not necessarily in that order.

By the eighth
day he was used to Sam having dinner ready and sitting there waiting for
him,
or hobbling around the kitchen putting on the final
touches. So he was surprised when he arrived home to an empty apartment, the
lingering scent of dinner still wafting through the rooms. "Sam?"

There was no
answer. He checked the living room and found Sam's bag was still tucked under
the end table, so he went to the bathroom, but it was empty. Wandering into the
kitchen, he found a note on the table:
Went out. Dinner's in the fridge.

Trevor
wasn't
mad. He was a little annoyed that Sam hadn't given him any more warning than a
note, but he’d left dinner for him and locked the door behind him, even if it was
just the knob, not the dead bolt that he'd need a key for. It would have been
nice if Sam had said something, but the guy was a free adult, who was Trevor to
tell him what to do?

Of course, he
wasn't mad at 6, but he was annoyed at 10, when Sam still wasn't back and he
figured Sam must have gone out-out, since it was Friday night. By one in the
morning he was equal parts pissed and worried. He’d gone out with a bum ankle
and bruises still on his face. Trevor didn't know what kind of guys Sam hoped
to find like that, but he was relieved when the front door opened and Sam
finally limped in.

Being on his
feet all night must have exhausted him, because he was favoring his one side,
although the swaying wasn't solely because he was tired. Trevor stood up when
Sam came into the living room where he'd been sitting in the dark.

"Shit!"
Sam gasped, wavering on his feet before grabbing the door frame. "Hey, I
didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No."

"Oh."
Trevor could hear that happy smile plastered on his face, but it didn't work
well in the dark. "No harm then. You scared the shit out of me."

"Right."

Sam started
feeling the wall for the light switch as Trevor walked over. The smell of booze
was rank. "Been drinking?"

"Just one.
Someone was nice enough to buy me a drink."

"You're
underage."

"What do
you care?"

"Did you
sleep with him?"

Sam slammed his
hand against the wall, glaring at Trevor. "What the fuck do you
care?"

Trevor didn't
know what he was doing, just that he found himself shoving Sam against the
wall, pressing the smaller man between him and the immovable. He expected a
struggle, but instead of fighting, all the tense muscles relaxed and he leaned
into the pressure. "Sam?"

He could hear
him swallow and, pressed so tightly together, could feel the muscles in his
body shift.

"Sam?"

"Please."

"Is that
what you said to him?" He pressed harder and could feel the air whoosh
from Sam's lungs before he eased back and let him breathe again. Immediately
Sam tensed, twisting in the little space he was given to elbow Trevor in the
stomach. "What the fuck do you care!"

He was
expecting it--not that it stopped it from hurting, the kid had pointy
elbows--he tightened his muscles and pinned Sam against the wall again, forcing
a grunt from him.

"So what
if I fucked him? You going to harp on me for going bare too--" the last
word came out a wheeze as Trevor pushed harder and Sam shut up by sheer lack of
air. Snaking one hand into his hair, Trevor yanked Sam's head back and kissed
him hard. The angle naturally opened his mouth and so Trevor slid his tongue
in, tasting beer and something else that made him want to spit.

Instead he just
pulled back, squeezing his fistful of hair. "Go take a shower."

Sam gasped as
he was released, staring at Trevor before he nodded and headed down the hall to
the bathroom. When the door closed behind him, Trevor let out a huff and leaned
against the wall, pressing his forehead to where Sam had been. Taking Sam in
hand like that had made him hard, turned him on, and damn if Sam hadn't been
just as hard when he walked away. Is that how Sam liked it, rough and
tumble
? Was what happened in the alley--what Trevor
interrupted--was that what Sam wanted, or had it just gone too far? He sure as
Hell hadn't been turned on that night.

Did it matter?
Sam wanted it; Trevor wanted it. He wanted it right now, actually. Maybe in the
shower. But the thought of some other guy having already...that made him want
it less. He dragged in air. Not a lot less, but maybe enough to do what he
needed to do.

Collecting his
thoughts, Trevor adjusted his tank top and headed down the hall where he could
hear the shower shut off. He knocked twice then entered, resisting Sam's naked
body to instead turn to the sink and put toothpaste on a brush to clean his
mouth while Sam dried off, watching Trevor as if he would slam him against the
wall again--or maybe hoping he would.