Page 49 of Touch of Innocence
Sam shook his head, more in wonder than in any sort of negation. A slight smile came to his lips as he looked at Gunner, standing so close that he could almost touch him if he just took half a step and let himself do it.
“Do you want to hear something pretty funny?” Sam asked, and Gunner, a cautious look on his face, nevertheless nodded a little bit. “It’s just that I haven’t even thought about school ever since I decided to come find you. I’ve been obsessed with nothing else ever since I got kicked out of Harvard, and I just realized that it doesn’t matter nearly as much as I thought it did.”
It was a revelation to Sam. He had never even sent that email to Harvard, he realized. It was probably still sitting there in draft, assuming that it hadn’t just been deleted by now.
“What are you saying? You don’t want to go to school?” Gunner was sidling forward, but there was a look of outright disbelief on his face, which really, was fair enough. People could change, but not that much.
“I still want to go to school.” Sam took that little half a step forward, pulling Gunner to him, not stopping until their bodies were flush against each other. “But I can go to school in Austin if they’ll have me. I can live at home.” He smiled, resting his forehead against Gunner’s. “I can be with you. If you’ll have me. I know there’s a lot of ifs there, but …”
Gunner, grinning widely, teeth gleaming white in the starlight, suddenly pushed Sam against the solid, large frame of the bike. And it was a good thing that it was so solid, because Gunner pressed against Sam, hip to him, erections pressed tightly together through their jeans, and kissed him like his life depended on it.
“Sounds good to me, Sammy” Gunner finally murmured, when that kiss ended. Sam groaned softly, his body pulsing sweetly, achingly, with a desire unlike any that he’d felt before, even with Gunner. There was something more than their physical bodies involved, and Sam thought that was probably why it felt so good.
This bareness between them, this openness and honesty, felt good. They had completely trusted each other, and there was something so perfect about that, a meeting of hearts and maybe even souls instead of just bodies, as it had started out.
Sam pressed his leg between Gunner’s, his hands slipping down to rest on the tempting curve of his perfect round ass. It was like he could never get enough like it wasn’t even possible, but now he was going to get a chance to try, at least.
For how long they made out like that, pressed close together, Sam didn’t know. Neither of them rushed ahead, but finally, it was all getting to be too much. The sky in the east was lightening, the black gently touched with gray, and then gold, and Gunner’s hand was cold as he slipped it finally inside Sam’s pants.
Not that Sam cared about chilly fingers, not when they were wrapping around his warm, throbbing cock, which felt like it had been diamond hard for hours now pretty much nonstop. Skilled fingers rubbed over his entire length, and he moaned and gazed into Gunner’s eyes and let it work him up, far too excited already and very aware that it wouldn’t take long.
“Gunner,” Sam moaned, and his own fingers fumbled at Gunner’s jeans, tugging open the button so that he could slip his hand inside. He found Gunner just as hard as he was, thick and leaking all over himself, and they stroked each other into a frenzy right there on the side of the road as the sun slowly peeked over the horizon and started to light up the world.
Their lips met, their tongues tangling in a frantic dance as they let themselves go. Sam’s hips fell into a rhythm, a dance as old as time itself, rocking, plunging forward, while the pleasure built into a tight coil inside of him and he let it happen. He clung to Gunner as his only stabilizing point, so that the rest of his body could arch and convulse and moans could spill from his lips as he surrendered to the bliss he was being given.
It flooded through him, washing away all of the uncertainty, all of the frustrated longing, which had been his companion for so long. Sam sought out Gunner’s lips and cried out into the kiss as he felt the warm, slippery wash of Gunner’s cum as it coated his fingers.
Only then did Sam’s body truly relax, and he groaned as he clung weakly to Gunner, his whole body feeling like the muscles had been replaced with jello.
“We’d better get home,” Gunner murmured, his lips moving sweetly over Sam’s cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and finally, his mouth. Home. Sam’s home, and Gunner’s home, too, as had become so very clear in the time that Gunner had been gone.
“Yeah,” Sam murmured, his voice still hazy with bliss. “Yeah, baby, let’s go home.”
