Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

shoulder. Mike sat with the rest of the team at the grouping of tables in a corner. Jessica had arrived and was sitting on his lap. He turned back to face Devin. "I thought you'd talked. Are you still not over him?"
    "Of course. I wasn't as hung up on him as either of you thought."
    Sam rolled his eyes. "Of course. So, what's the problem?"
    Slightly drunk or not, Devin recognized The Voice. The 'I'm a therapist and I'm here to help' voice. Right. Because this was all about helping Devin. Sam had talked him out of his fixation with Mike and now he was, what? Trying to keep him from backsliding, falling back into the familiar pattern of attaching himself to the one person who loved him, no matter how much he screwed up? A distraction would do that. That's what all the men in his life had been, anyway. A distraction from the person he really wanted. This seductive, playful Sam was really close to becoming that kind of distraction himself, a temporary fix to Devin's need for approval and uncomplicated attachment. Devin didn't want that for them. He had no idea how to explain that to Sam without hurting his feelings. Talking to him sober would be a great start.
    "Nothing," Devin said after a few moments. "We should talk. Later. Tomorrow. I'm going to go."
    "I'll come with you." Sam grinned, reaching for Devin as he stood.
    "No, you stay and enjoy the party." Devin motioned to the bartender. Pointing at the team in the corner, he said, "Put everyone's drinks on my tab." Turning back to Sam, he added, "I'll see you at home." Before Sam could say anything else, Devin strolled across the roof, through the door and down the stairs, back out into the cold night air of Bay Street where, in spite of being surrounded by the locals and tourists looking to liven up their Saturday night, Devin still felt alone. He zipped up his jacket against the chill and started walking.
    ****
    Sam swayed back and forth in the kitchen, singing "Put Your Hands on Me" so loud, he knew he would be in danger of a visit from the cops if his neighbor was anyone but Lee. After Devin had left the pub, Sam had loosened up far more than usual with the team. He'd been poured into a cab because he was too smashed to make the two mile walk home. None of that mattered, though. All that mattered was that Devin had texted he was on his way home and Mike had promised to give them the house for most of the night. A night that, he hoped, would end with Sam acting out some of the fantasies he'd been thinking of for the past two hours.
    Sam turned, jumping in place when he saw Devin standing in the doorway to the living room. Mouthing the words 'kiss me baby, tell me you're mine' along with the song, he lurched across the kitchen and landed in Devin's arms, giggling as he attempted to right himself. Devin held one arm to steady him and reached towards the CD player on the counter to turn it off.
    "I've never seen you this drunk," Devin said. "You all right?"
    "I'm better than all right. I've finally got you alone. You have no more excuses to run from me," Sam said. Before Devin could protest, Sam grabbed his face on both sides and pulled him close.
    Their eyes met, Devin's darting back and forth, searching Sam's for answers even as he leaned closer. They stopped inches apart, breath mingling, before Sam leaned up on his toes and closed the distance. The first touch was brief, uncertain. A touch just enough to tempt them into another. Then Sam closed the distance again, closed his eyes and lost himself in the moment. The kiss was sloppy and wet and his hands were scrambling and he couldn't get close enough fast enough. Once the dizziness faded and Sam's feet felt steady on the ground, everything changed. Devin's lips moved over his, steady and sure. His hands held to Sam's waist in a grip so tight, Sam was sure he'd have a bruise in the morning. Devin's tongue slipped against his in a delicious tease. Sam chased it with his, tasting. The only sounds in the room were their heavy breathing and the little moan in the back of his throat when Devin moved against him. The friction from their groins rubbing together nearly caused Sam to come right there.
    "Come upstairs," Sam whispered when they came up for air. He slid his hands up Devin's chest to his shoulders. Sam's fingers weaved together at the back of his neck. Blood pulsed, hot and heavy in his veins. Sam's heart pounded. He'd never felt more alive. Sam needed Devin in bed, now, skin to skin, until he felt whole.