Page 22 of In Frame
“Like the best thing I’ve ever seen. Leo Whyte.” Sam’s eyes shone the way Leo thought his own heart must be.“Wanting to try this with me. I can’t even—God. How’d you even say yes to me?”
“You came to my premiere. You made a joke about bananas.” He hooked a finger into the waist of Sam’s shorts. “You wore a dreadful suit and kissed me in our limo.”
“Itisa dreadful suit,” Sam said, “and this is the best night of my life.”
Leo looked up. The flip comment died on his lips; Sam’s gaze held only truth, sweet as rain on a forest floor.
The moment extended, woven in discarded suit-folds and laced with honesty.
Leo, because he was himself, said, “I’d like to take these off now,” and tugged at Sam’s boxers. “May I?”
“You’re asking? Yeah, of course, go on.” Sam seemed to be about to say something else, but stopped and shook his head. “This is about you. What you want.”
“I want to know,” Leo told him, “everything,” and pulled fabric away, and couldn’t not look.
Sam’s cock was large and thick and curved, with a fatter head than Leo’s own; it was flushed with want, wet-tipped, deeply colored and pushing up. Leo had not thought much about the reality of finding another man’s anatomy physically in front of him, but suddenly he was aware of how very imminent it was. Right there. As it were.
He realized how much he wanted to touch Sam’s length, to find out the heft and firmness and fit of it in his hand.
He even wanted to taste it. To know how it would fit there as well, in his mouth.
He spared a second for some more amazement at himself.
Then again, he’d always liked oral sex with women, both giving and receiving; he was good with his tongue, or so he’d heard, and he loved watching and tasting and listening to a partner fall apart with pleasure. And he knew what he liked,as far as his own cock. So this wouldn’t be much different. In theory.
He put out a hand. Wrapped fingers around Sam’s shaft. Sam groaned.
The length of it felt splendid: hard but velvety, a little wet from all the leaking, hot in Leo’s hand.
He tested a stroke, a pump of his hand up and down. Sam groaned again.
“Good?” Leo inquired, hoping so.
“So much yes. You’re not scared of anything, are you?” Sam dropped a hand atop Leo’s, guiding, adjusting tightness; the next stroke pushed his cock into their combined grip. “Should’ve guessed…you’d jump right in…”
“I like jumping in. How does one know whether one likes something, without trying?” Speaking of trying, he had a thought; he rubbed a thumbtip over Sam’s dripping slit, gathered wetness, lifted his hand. Licked his thumb.
He’d tasted himself once, out of curiosity. This tasted a lot like that, male and musky and maybe a bit sour but in an interesting way, warm and tempting on his tongue. He thought he might like to try it more.
Sam actually swore out loud. More visible need gathered shiny and slick over the head of his cock. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Leo informed him, and knelt, carefully, shirtless and with undone trousers, on the rug at Sam’s feet.
Looking up, he found Sam looking down; Sam’s hand stroked his hair, rested on his head, and Leo got a bit dizzy, except it wasn’t like being dizzy; it was clarity, lightness, brilliance. He needed to be right here. Kneeling for Sam.
His own cock bobbed, stiff and straining. But that felt good as well; he did not need to touch it, not yet. He wanted to make Sam happy; he wanted to learn how it felt to take a man’s cock into his mouth, his throat.
He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Sam’s arousal, feeling the blunt hot weight of it.
Sam said that same word again, shaky, and his fingers tightened in Leo’s hair. “Oh, fuck—God, Leo, you’re so—do that again, with your tongue, just like that—”
Leo did it again, an obliging lick or two. He definitely liked the taste, he decided.
He had a decent idea about what to try, hypothetically speaking; he slid forward, taking more of Sam into his mouth. That felt even better, filling him up, pressing over his tongue.
Sam shuddered all over, and more of that delicious taste landed in Leo’s mouth; Leo, thus encouraged, attempted more, and deeper.
Deeper might be a problem. He choked, coughed, sat back. Took a breath. Wanted to try again. His lips were wet and sticky, and so was his chin.
