Title: When a Man Loves a
…
Author: Tinnean
Pairing: Sam/Richard
Rating: PG-13
Feedback email: Tinneantoo@aol.com
Date: 3/2001
Series/Sequel: This is
Part 6 in The Connection series, and follows Bad Moon Rising
Disclaimer: They still
belong to Lawrence Kasdan, and I’m still just filling in all the blanks.
Archive: If I sent it to
you, please feel free. Otherwise, just let me know; I’m so easy, of course I’ll
say yes!
Summary: Richard muses on
his first meeting with Sam.
Warning: m/m spoilers for
the movie
Note: I have been unable
to find out what Richard does for a living, so I’ve deliberately kept it
ambiguous. Since this is set in the late 70’s, the hotel is still using room
keys.
For Silk because she
writes great slash. And for Gail who beta’d, and who wanted to see what Richard
and Sam were up to, and wondered what they’d be doing on the first day of
Spring.
*****
When a Man Loves a ….
Part 1/1
Richard sat at the small
booth at the back of Hollywood’s latest nightspot. Sam had taken him to
Ariadne’s the last time he had flown into LAX on business.
Now he was toying with
the swizzle stick in his drink, something new the bartender had come up with,
called a Dirty Banana. It consisted of Kahlua, crème de banana and milk over
ice in a beer stein. Richard liked it because he could drink as many as he
liked and only get a mild buzz.
He needed all his
faculties when dealing with Sam Weber. The actor was one of Hollywood’s bright
new stars, and he was making quite a name for himself. But the name he wanted
least, and struggled hardest to avoid was fairy.
And if Richard had too
many, he got very affectionate.
He had been drinking
hazelnut daiquiris the first time he had dined with the man who comprised
one-seventh of the clique his wife Karen had belonged to in college. Richard
raised the glass stein, his eyes glued to the man who was coming to mean more
than an all too infrequent fuck.
****
He had gotten into LAX
and marveled at the difference between the warm California sun and the blustery
Chicago winter he had left behind.
His company had sent him
out on business, and for once he had been more than happy to leave his wife and
two sons. Well, not the boys, he didn’t like leaving them, but some bug had
gotten up Karen’s ass, and she had been surprisingly willing to see the back of
him. If Richard didn’t know better, he would have sworn she wanted him away so
she could meet with a lover.
But he knew Karen would
never be unfaithful to him. Not because theirs was the love match of the ages,
but because she was deathly afraid of contracting herpes. And how would she
possibly explain that, when everyone in their circle of friends knew that
Richard was as faithful as the day was long.
He had taken a cab to the
Regent Beverly Wiltshire and checked in, trying to conceal his amazement at the
domed ceiling and mirrored walls and acres of plush carpeting. He snapped his
mouth shut and filled out the card the desk clerk had slid across the marbled
expanse of counter to him.
It hadn’t taken him long
to get settled. It wasn’t a luxury suite, but it had a fully stocked
complimentary bar, a bed that was so large he was sure he would need
breadcrumbs to find his way out, and an antique desk on which to do his work.
He showered and changed
into casual clothing, then went down to the restaurant on the first level.
“Yes?” The individual
guarding the entrance eyed him disdainfully and curled his lip.
“Um, I’d like a table for
one, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir. We
require more formal attire than you are currently garbed in..”
“But…I’m staying in this
hotel!”
The look the maitre d’
gave him clearly said he could not be held responsible for that!
Richard had never been
treated so cavalierly before, and had no idea how to react. He could feel the
heat of his anger coloring his cheeks, and battled it down. He wouldn’t give
this little worm the satisfaction!
“Richard? Richard
Bowers?”
He turned to face a
handsome, tanned man, who looked amazingly familiar. “Yes?”
Sam Weber was enchanted.
He had become a trifle blasé when it came to appearing in public, but here was
someone with ties, however fragile, to his friends from college. He saw the
exact moment Richard recognized him.
“Sam.” He reluctantly
accepted the other man’s hand.
The maitre d’ had known
him immediately, and was practically salivating to have such personable actor
on the premises. “Mr. Weber! May I get you a table, sir?”
“Thanks, but I’m really
not dressed for it.”
“Oh, for you we will be
happy to bend the rules!”
“No, that’s quite all
right. My friend and I will go somewhere else. How does McDonald’s grab you,
Richard?”
The maitre d’ looked as
if he had swallowed something particularly nasty. “Please, Mr. Weber! I insist
you dine with us.”
Sam grinned and cocked an
eye at Richard. “What do you say, Richard?”
Richard had always been
jealous of his wife’s friendship with the good-looking actor. For the first
time, he could see the charisma that affected others so greatly. And it was
directed at him!
He smiled. “Sounds good,
Sam.”
Sam felt a kick in his
gut. He had always thought of Karen’s husband as a stuffed shirt. Now he saw
something of what had attracted her to the businessman.
The maitre d’ snapped his
fingers and as if by magic, a waiter dressed in a formal, pressed white shirt
with pleated front and bow tie appeared. “Table for Mr. Weber and his party,
Peter. Somewhere out of the way, sir?”
“Yes, that will be fine.
I don’t mind signing autographs, but not while I’m trying to eat.”
Sam smiled, and Richard
felt a kick in his gut. He had always thought of Karen’s friend as a spoiled
young man who had everything he wanted presented to him on a silver platter,
without ever having to work for it. Now he understood why there was talk of him
possibly replacing the star of the show he was on.
They followed the waiter
to a table in a secluded corner. The waiter took their drinks order and
deferentially handed them menus. Richard took a sip of water from the crystal
goblet before him and opened the menu. And began choking on the water.
Sam looked up and smiled.
“It’s okay, Richard. This one is on me.”
The waiter had returned
and was placing their drinks on the table. “Oh, no, Mr. Weber. This one is on
the Beverly Wiltshire. We are honored!”
“Thank you, Peter.” Sam
was all graciousness. “I’ll order for both of us, shall I Richard?”
Dumbly, the other man
nodded and raised his daiquiri. He took a healthy swallow and sat back to watch
his wife’s friend, unable to tear his eyes from those expressive lips.
Both men took their time
eating, making it a languid, sensual activity. Sam chose an entrée for himself
that would need to be eaten with the aid of his fingers. He didn’t make a
production of nibbling on the main course, but he made certain that Richard was
watching him whenever he would slide a fork into his mouth to gently remove a
morsel, or lick his fingers clean.
He noticed that Richard
was unable to tear his eyes from his mouth, and was in danger of spearing his
mouth with his own fork.
When the meal was finally
finished, Sam sat back in his seat and sipped at his coffee. “I hope you
enjoyed dinner, Richard?”
“Yes. Thank you. It was
quite good.” He took another sip of his daiquiri and looked wistfully at the
actor. “I imagine you’ll have to leave now.”
“There’s nowhere I need
to be.”
“Would you care to see my
room?” Richard closed his eyes in mortification. How gauche was that? “I
mean…would you like to come up for a nightcap?”
“Sure, Richard. I’d enjoy
that. Let me just sign a few autographs and we can go on up. Oh, and don’t
finish that drink. I want you fairly sober!”
By the time they got to
the twenty-fifth floor, Richard was feeling the effects of all those daiquiris.
Sam got an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon, buddy. I’d better get you tucked
into bed.”
Richard leaned against
Sam as he reached into the other man’s pocket to retrieve his room key, and
found him rock hard in his trousers. As he slid the key into the door, Richard
slid his tongue into his ear. “You gonna join me, Sam?”
Sam chuckled. Plastered,
Karen’s uptight husband was one sexy guy. “It’s what I had in mind all along!”
****
The next morning,
Richard’s head felt as if the entire Chicago Philharmonic was banging out the
1812 Overture, complete with cannon and bells. His mouth tasted as if a herd of
rampaging elephants had passed through. He groaned and buried his head under
his pillow.
A warm hand caressed his
ass under the covers. His naked ass! Oh, God! What had he done?
Heated lips teased across
his shoulder, and he could feel hairy thighs rubbing along the backs of his
thighs.
Oh, God, what had he
done?
The lips fastened on his
ear lobe and suckled gently. “Morning, babe.”
Cautiously, Richard eased
toward the edge of the bed. And eased toward the edge of the bed. He knew it
had to be around there somewhere. Finally his toes found empty space and he
whipped himself away from that seductive embrace, yanking the sheet with him
and holding it in front of him like a shield.
But the action upset his
delicate equilibrium, and his stomach was in revolt. Richard clapped his hand
over his mouth and ran for the bathroom, uncaring that he gave the occupant of
his bed a heady glimpse of his taut buttocks.
Sam lay back on the
tangled sheets, his cock half-hard along his thigh and slid one hand under his
head, while the other stroked his shaft to full erection.
Richard brushed his teeth
and swallowed a couple of aspirin. He regarded the bottle thoughtfully, then
swallowed two more. Studying his face in the mirror, he winced. And he needed
to be at work in less than an hour.
He rubbed his hand over
his chin, which bristled with a heavy growth of morning beard. Slapping on some
‘Lectric Shave, he turned on his razor and ran it over his chin and cheeks,
then tipped his head back to work on his neck and jaw.
A warm, wet tongue lapped
its way up his spine. “Turn around, Richard,” Sam whispered.
Helpless to do anything
else, Richard turned and leaned back against the sink. He couldn’t believe that
the actor was sinking down to his knees before him. “You took too long in here,
Richard!”
“Sam!” The name came out
a moan as a hot mouth swooped forward and took his hard cock deep into the
willing throat. He shuddered at the feel of teeth scraping along his shaft, of
a tongue dipping into the slit at the tip of his cock. Of hands rolling his
balls and stroking the sensitive skin behind them.
The razor dropped to the
floor and Richard’s fingers twisted in Sam’s thick, dark hair.
“Sam, I’m going to come!”
Richard tried to pull free. He knew how Karen hated it when he started to come
in her mouth.
Sam growled and dug his
fingers into the crevice of the other man’s buttocks, drawing him closer. Like
the roar of an avalanche, Richard’s orgasm overtook him and swept him away, and
he poured himself into Sam’s eager mouth.
Letting Richard’s limp
cock fall from his lips, Sam leaned back and smiled up at Karen’s husband. “I
love the way you taste, Richard. I want to taste you again.”
“I have to meet a
client!”
Sam rose to his feet, his
expertise as a stunt man evident in his graceful movement. “Tonight, then.
Don’t say no to me, Richard. I hate when people tell me no!”
“Sam, I’ve never
done…whatever we did last night…before!”
“You did great, babe.”
“Um, should I be feeling
sore, Sam?”
“Well, not unless you
pulled a muscle in your sleep, babe.” He drew the other man into his embrace
and kissed him, letting him taste the remnants of his orgasm in his mouth. “You
fucked me!”
****
They had one more night,
before Richard had to return to Chicago. Sam saw him off at the hotel. “I’m no
good at goodbyes, babe. Tell Karen I said hi, will you?”
And he was gone.
Richard finished packing
and made sure the contracts were all in order. Vice president in charge of
pencil pushers, that was him!
He cast a last glance
around the room and spotted Sam’s sunglasses. He tucked them into his pocket
and pressed his hand over them for a second.
Then he closed the door
behind him and left.
His flight was scheduled
to leave on time, and he waited in the lounge, leafing through a Playboy he had
picked up. Inside was a small article about Sam Weber, The Lords of Larrabee’s
hottest player. Richard smiled and read it.
A shadow fell across the
page and he frowned and looked up. And got shakily to his feet. “Sam!”
The actor pressed a card
into his hand. “This is my private line, Richard. Call me the next time you
come to town!” He squeezed his hand and then he turned and vanished into the
crowd.
When Richard returned to
Chicago, the tender green shoots of daffodils and tulips were bursting through
the soil of the flowerbeds that dotted his front lawn. Purple crocuses and
white snowdrops unfurled their petals.
Spring had come to the
windy city. And to Richard’s heart.