Under My Skin (8 page)

Sebastian leaned back against the counter, clearly at ease in his nude state— and a damned fine sight it was, too. He lifted his beer to take a drink, and listened to Dylan with what appeared to be genuine interest. “And your back?”

“My mentor, Mick, did it over the period of a year or so. My heritage on my mom's side is Welsh— my grandmother was born and raised in Wales and moved to the States right before she had my mom. My name, Dylan, is actually Welsh and it means ‘son of the sea.'”

“Hence the Celtic knot work and the sea beings.”

“Yep.”

“Does your family live here in the area?”

“It's just my mom and I. My dad took off when I was a baby. I never knew him. We were pretty poor. My mom worked hard to keep a roof over our heads and she never remarried. I think the thing with my dad pretty much scared her off from it. And, no, she doesn't live here in St. Louis. She's in Poplar Bluff. That's where I grew up.”

“How'd you end up in St. Louis?”

“I followed my mentor up here right after high school. He was opening a shop and took me on as an apprentice.”

“You've been tattooing a long time then.”

Dylan nodded. “Twelve years. I worked with Mick for five, then opened my own place seven years ago. The business has been good to me. I was able to put myself through college on what I made working with Mick.”

“You've been to college?”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “You don't have to seem so surprised.”

Sebastian looked shame-faced. “I'm sorry. God, that was... That sounded awful, but I really didn't mean it to. I'm sorry.”

Damn, he was so cute when he was flustered. Dylan smiled. “It's okay. Quit apologizing all the time. And, yes, I've been to college. I have a bachelor's degree in business. What about you and your family? Are you from this area?”

“Yeah. My parents got divorced when I was eight but my mom remarried only a couple of years later. Her new husband— ” He laughed softly. “Well, he's hardly new at this point. They've been married nineteen years... way longer than she and my dad were married. But anyway, her husband, Bill, is a good guy. He makes her happy.”

“So you're pretty close to them then? And your dad?”

“My mom and Bill, yeah, pretty much. They live in East St. Louis. I have two teenage step-sisters also, who are fun. We try to get together at least once a month. My dad on the other hand... not so much. He's made it clear he doesn't ‘get’ me, so it's not real comfortable being around him. He's convinced I'm gay because my mom raised me with too light a hand and I didn't have a male influence in my life.”

Dylan frowned at the explanation. “Not that it has anything to do with anything because the whole ‘strong male role model’ theory of gayness is bullshit, but you said your mom remarried. You would have been like, what, ten? Didn't you have Bill in your life?”

“My point exactly. I did and do. But that doesn't matter to my dad. He means I didn't have
his
male influence in my life. It bugs the shit out of him that my mom and Bill have always accepted me for who I am. I'm sure he thinks if I'd been living with him he would have been able to send me off to military school or something and have these ‘unnatural’ urges beaten out of me.” He shrugged. “Now you see why I don't spend much time with him.”

“I get that.” Dylan nodded and took a drink from his bottle. “You mentioned you'd gone to grad school. Masters? PhD?”

“I was working on my masters. I almost had it finished.”

“Was?”

Troubled lines creased Sebastian's forehead. “I ran out of money,” he said in a quiet voice.

Dylan sensed there was more to the story, but decided not to push since it obviously made Sebastian uncomfortable. But he couldn't deny he was powerfully curious. Sebastian was a smart man, ran what appeared to be a thriving business. He couldn't picture him as the type to “run out of money” without a damned big reason.

“So you'll go back eventually.”

“Yeah, maybe. Probably.”

Dylan leaned close and kissed his neck. “I think smart men are incredibly sexy.”

He'd meant it as a total compliment, but for some reason the comment brought another frown to Sebastian's face.

“What is it?” Dylan wished he could get Sebastian to open up and talk to him so he could understand the man better.

Sebastian shrugged and took a deep breath. “It's nothing. It's just a... thing. It's stupid.”

“There's nothing stupid about something that bothers you.”

“You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“Let's just say the whole ‘smart man’ thing hasn't always worked out so well for me when it comes to... well, to situations like this.”

“Situations like this?”

“I told you, you wouldn't understand. Guys like you don't have to worry about it.”

“Guys like
me
? Are we back to the ‘type’ thing again? And are you implying I'm not a smart man?” He was trying really hard not to let the burn of irritation in his gut rise to the surface.

“No. No! That's not what I mean at all. Never mind. This isn't a good conversation to have. Forget I brought it up.”

Dylan took a deep breath, trying to keep from giving in to anger, and trying to look at it from Sebastian's perspective as best he could when he wasn't even sure what the man was getting at.

Trying a different approach, and keeping his voice as calm and even as possible, he said, “What is it about you being a smart guy that bothers you. Do you think people treat you differently?”

Sebastian sighed. “I know they do. And I wasn't implying you aren't smart. You just... you wear it differently than I do. You're good-looking, sexy as all get out with your hot body and your tattoos, and it's obvious everyone likes you. I suspect you could have any lover you wanted— in fact I'd stake my life that you've never had a shortage of them. Whereas I seem to radiate some kind of energy that tells everyone, ‘Look at me, I may not wear a pocket protector, but I'm still a geek.'” He gave Dylan an angry glare not unlike the ones he'd flamed him with over the past few weeks each time he'd come into Rad Tattoos to lodge a complaint. “Most potential lovers don't really find that a turn-on.”

Dylan stared at him.

Jesus, what had happened to the man to make him think such a thing? Someone at some point in time had done a real number on Sebastian to lower his self-confidence like this, and it pissed Dylan off in a big way. Had someone given him shit for being brainy and well-educated? Told him he wasn't good-looking or sexy? Whoever it was had been an asshole of the first order. Yeah, Sebastian came across as being a pulled-together intelligent man, bookish even at times, but there was
nothing
remotely geeky about him. And it sure as shit wasn't a turn-off.

“Look,” he said, taking the two steps that separated him from Sebastian and pulling the man's beautiful body against him. “I can't presume to know what's happened in your life to make you doubt yourself or your appeal. But I sure as hell can show you that I don't agree. I damn well can't even look at you without this happening.” He grasped Sebastian's hand and brought it to his groin, where his dick was already getting stiff again.

A soft, surprised gasp escaped Sebastian's full, parted lips, and his eyes glazed over. His fingers curled around Dylan's girth and squeezed lightly.

“Your intelligence doesn't turn me off in any way.” He kissed Sebastian's stubbled jaw line, his neck, bit at his earlobe. “I told you, I think it's sexy as hell. You're sexy as hell,” he breathed into his ear. “So fucking sexy you're all I've been able to think about for weeks. So fucking sexy I could barely walk when we got to the bar tonight because I had a hard-on the size of Texas from having you pressed up against my back as we rode.”

“I had the same problem,” Sebastian whispered, his voice shaky with what sounded like barely restrained desire.

“Oh, I know.” He rolled his groin against Sebastian's. “Just like the one you have now.”

He brushed another kiss over Sebastian's lips, and rubbed his palms up and over the man's sleek chest, intentionally dragging his thumbs over the copper-colored nipples. “I'm thinking with a drawer full of condoms and a bottle of lube in the nightstand, my bed is exactly where we need to go right now so I can show you in as many ways as possible just how damned hot and delicious you are.”

Sebastian's eyes closed and he let out a soft huff of breath as he nodded. “I won't say no to that idea.”

“Good. Let's take food to bed with us,” Dylan said. “We never ate anything at the bar and you're going to need your strength.”

Sebastian's eyelids fluttered open to reveal a heat that seared straight to Dylan's groin. “As long as we don't have to go anywhere to get it and it doesn't involve having to take time to cook it.”

Dylan grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Do you do Chinese? I have leftover take-out from last night.”

“Perfect.”

“A man of my own heart.” Dylan let Sebastian go, and missed his heat the moment he did. He scooped Hennessy off the counter and set her on the floor, washed his hands, then opened the refrigerator again. He grabbed two cardboard cartons that contained leftover Kung Pao beef and sesame chicken, and stuck them in the microwave. “Grab some chopsticks out of that crock on the counter. Unless you'd rather have a fork, in which case left-hand drawer.”

Sebastian plucked two wrapped packages of wooden chopsticks out of the container, then picked up their beer bottles.

When the microwave dinged, Dylan retrieved the now-warm cartons.

“Lead the way,” Sebastian said, stepping aside to let Dylan pass him.

“Damn, and I was hoping I'd get to follow you so I could ogle your ass.”

Sebastian shrugged, but a smiled teased at his lips. “Your house. You know where the bedroom is.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

In his bedroom, Dylan flipped on the light on the table next to the bed and turned on his Mp3 player in its docking station. The last playlist he'd listened to was still up on it— a mix of rock, pop, and even a few country songs.

When the first song began playing— a country ballad— Sebastian gave him an odd look.

“What?”

“This isn't what you listen to in your shop.”

“That stuff?” Dylan rolled his eyes. “That's Ander's music. Some of it's okay, and I don't mind it overall, but it's not what I listen to in my own time. What do you listen to?”

“A little bit of everything except... ”

Dylan laughed. “Except Ander's music.”

They sat on the bed, Dylan leaning back against the dark wood headboard, propped up with pillows, and Sebastian cross-legged facing him. Chinese leftovers had never tasted so good, nor had the view been so spectacular. Sebastian had started with the Kung Pao beef, and Dylan the chicken, but somewhere along the line they began feeding each other bites.

When a drop of Kung Pao sauce fell on Sebastian's thigh, Dylan leaned down and licked it off. He let his tongue linger, swirling against Sebastian's warm, lightly furred skin.

He heard Sebastian's breath catch. Saw his half-erect cock twitch.

When he lifted his head, their eyes locked. He reached into the carton Sebastian held, picked up a piece of— he didn't even know what because he couldn't tear his gaze from Sebastian's— and dropped it.

Sebastian gave a low hiss and his eyes flamed.

Dylan looked down and discovered he'd unintentionally had perfect aim. The bit of water chestnut had landed on Sebastian's thick and quickly hardening dick.

Oh, yeah.

He took the carton from Sebastian, set it on the bed, and with a hand on his chest, pushed the man back onto the mattress.

Sebastian spread his legs and Dylan crawled between them.

“You look good enough to eat,” Dylan said with a smile.

“What are you going to do about it?” The come-hither look in Sebastian's eyes sent blood rushing to Dylan's cock.

“I'm going to eat, of course.” He lowered his face to the man's groin, where, somehow, the bit of food still managed to cling midway down Sebastian's shaft in spite of the fact his shaft was now at full attention, jutting from its nest of dark curls.

Watching Sebastian the whole time, and getting seriously turned on over the fact Sebastian was watching him as well, he slowly licked up the turgid length of Sebastian's cock, snagging the water chestnut, feeling the spicy bite of the sauce on his tongue again. Then he licked again, from base to tip of Sebastian's rod, ending with a swirl of tongue directly over the prominent head.

Sebastian gave a slow shudder of pleasure.

Inspired, Dylan dipped two fingers into the nearby carton, this time not interested in the meat and vegetables, but rather in scooping up the sauce itself. He brought his dripping fingers back to Sebastian's dick and smeared the goo all over it, taking his time to paint it on everything.

Another hiss from Sebastian had Dylan looking up at him. This time Sebastian's eyes were squeezed close. “Damn. It's tingling.
Damn!
”

No surprise. The Kung Pao was made with chili peppers. Dylan grinned.

Sebastian's hips lifted off the bed and his breathing grew erratic.

“Jesus, you're hot,” Dylan told him.

“No, my dick is hot,” Sebastian gasped.

“Oh, hell yeah. And I want it.” He started with the head, since that would be the most sensitive part of Sebastian's anatomy and probably wouldn't be able to take the burn as long as the rest. He laved his tongue over it in slow sweeps, not surprised to find droplets of cum seeping from the slit to mix with the sauce.

“Shit, you taste good.” Spicy, salty, and to-die-for sexy.

A low moan was his only response, as Sebastian continued to quiver. Even his legs shook. He slid his feet up on the bed until his knees were bent.

Dylan licked some more, lapping up the sauce from all over now, delving into every crevice, over every millimeter, to get it all. By the time he'd finished, Sebastian's hips were thrusting up against his mouth, asking, begging, demanding he suck him off.

“Is this what you want?” He opened his mouth and suctioned Sebastian's hard, eager length into it.

“Yes! Oh, God, yes.”