Too Stupid to Live(Romancelandia) by Anne Tenino

with his hand. He was rewarded with a startled cry that leaked out around his fingers and stuck in his ears, making the urge to kiss Sam that much stronger.
    And fuck, he could taste Sam. Breathe in his heat and sweat and the scent of his hair and Jesus Christ he couldn’t do this.
    So he bit the kid instead.
    Sam came in his hand, pushing his ass back and stroking Ian with downy, smooth skin over wiry muscles.
    To his shock, Ian came too—just popped. Really, really fucking hard, pushing Sam over onto his stomach and grinding into him, fingers digging into his pelvis.
    For a while, Ian couldn’t move. Maybe thirty seconds of panting against Sam’s neck, teeth still on his skin. It was when he started grazing them along the muscle that ran behind Sam’s ear to his clavicle that Ian forced himself off the kid. He shoved himself away, so they weren’t touching anywhere, and listened to Sam’s breathing slowly change from post-coital panting to sleep.
    Then Ian lay there, thinking so fast it was like thinking nothing, but less relaxing. He’d come hard enough that he should be out cold for hours, but between that crazy-strong orgasm and Sam just passing out after? Ian couldn’t sleep.
    Maybe he’d eaten something funny.
    Sam was clearly having no issues sleeping. He hadn’t eaten the same things, probably. Ian rolled onto his side. He meant to roll away from Sam, but his body somehow got the wrong message and he rolled to face Sam instead. The kid was stomach-down, hugging the sheets like a lover, head turned away from Ian.
    Aw, fuck . Ian forced himself onto his back again, and watched the room grow lighter as the sun came up. East-facing window. He’d never fall asleep here with an east-facing window.
    Hell, he might as well get up and leave. His work here was done, he knew the kid well enough, right? It’d be at least an hour until he could get it up again. He was thirty-three; he just couldn’t fuck forever the way he’d used to.
    He should leave before anyone in the house woke up.
    Fuck . Jurgen.
    There was no way he could explain why he’d ignored Jurgen’s request to leave Sam alone. And he had an inkling that Jurgen wouldn’t quite see the “getting to know him first” thing the same way Ian had.
    Why had he done that? He’d never just ignored a request from Jurgen like that. It was totally out of character. Things had just . . . gotten out of hand. Sam had been in that hot tub, looking nervous and, well, cute, and then he’d reacted so perfectly when Ian dropped his towel. As if he could’ve come just by looking at him.
    Ian turned his head, looking one more time at Sam. He snuffled, rubbing his nose in his sleep, then sighed and rolled over.
    Hell .
    Okay, he probably needed to think about this. Come up with an explanation for Jurgen. Staying here, waiting for Jurgen to get up and plan out an ambush, was probably a bad idea, though. Best course of action was to get out of bed before anyone was up, get out of here, and head back to the city until he came up with a reasonable explanation.
    That was why he needed to leave. To think.
    He refused to listen to the little voice inside spouting off opinions about running away and bad decisions.
    Of course, Jurgen was in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking coffee. When Ian walked in, pack over his shoulder and carrying his shoes, Jurgen pointed at an empty cup waiting for him on the counter next to the coffee pot.
    Ian winced, accepted the inevitability of having a conversation with his cousin, and filled his mug. He probably deserved whatever was about to happen.
    “So,” Jurgen said once Ian sat down next to him.
    “So,” Ian returned. He sipped his coffee. Jurgen smiled. Ian cleared his throat. “Sorry. I mean, what can I say?”
    Jurgen shrugged. “Nothing.” He turned back to his paper. “Have a good time last night?”
    Aw, fuck . “Yeah,” Ian said. “Thanks for inviting me.” He sipped again.
    “Sounded like you had a good