Page 24 of In Frame
“Got an idea,” Sam said, “stop me if you don’t like this,” and got back between Leo’s legs, which parted further instantly. Sam’s mouth and tongue came back, only lower—lapping at his balls, decadent and filthy, and Leo gasped and made all sorts of noises and swore that he was going to come, he had to, he needed—
Sam’s tongue flicked lower. Behind his balls. Over sensitive skin. One hand coaxed Leo’s leg up and out of the way.
“Oh God,” Leo said, “oh myGod—” and then Sam was licking himthere, right over his hole, and Leo had never even imagined but it felt so good, so wrong and dirty but so hot andwet andgood—
He might’ve screamed. Or wailed. Or some other utterly uncontrollable noise. He was absolutely coming, shaking into pieces, flying and falling and spilling release all over himself, sobbing with drawn-out euphoria, feeling the jets of his own climax spurt across his stomach and chest.
Sam lifted that head, dark hair standing up and fluffy, eyes all golden and self-satisfied. “Definitelya good sound.”
Leo whimpered a bit.
Sam kissed his inner thigh. “Leo Whyte. My Leo, tonight. God, if you could see the way you look…just feeling everything, letting me see everything, how good you’re feeling…fucking gorgeous.”
“I can’t think,” Leo said pathetically. “You’ve broken my brain.”
“And we’re not even done yet.” Sam scooted up. “Stay put.”
“I couldn’t move if I wanted to.” Melted. Liquid. Ice cream in sun. “How’re you going to top that? Or, in this case, me?”
Sam laughed more. It made his eyes even more radiant, sunnily happy. Leo liked that. “Got plans for you. And, yeah, me on top. Unless you want it the other way. Um…I do want to kiss you. Got mouthwash? Y’know, since I just—and some people don’t like—”
Leo flopped a hand weakly toward his bathroom. “Anything you’d like. Is that a sort of gay sex politeness?”
“Not necessarily, but I’m not gonna horrify you too much.” Sam went, and came back. He’d also brought towels. Leo, busy being a puddle of ice cream, lay in place appreciating the view.
“God, you look good,” Sam said aloud, accidental telepathic mirroring, and Leo let out a breath that wanted to bea laugh but was tired.
“Something funny?” Sam sat back down. His hand skimmed over Leo’s body again, shoulder to hip; Leo wondered whether Sam simply liked touching, an anchor on that side as well. His words carried a scent of mint, cool and refreshing. “You do look good like this. And all the time. But right now, all naked and messy because I just got you off, and you loved it, and you look like everything I’m gonna dream about forever…”
“Ah,” Leo observed, “you like me well-fucked and in bed with you,” and batted his eyelashes. Dramatically. Regaining energy.
Sam muttered something that sounded like, “Fuckingperfect,” and kissed him. Hard. Fierce. So deep Leo felt it everyplace inside, resonating. Head to toe.
His spent cock stirred, taking an interest. Even more so when Sam began to fondle him, to tempt and caress and summon hardness back. Leo breathed out, softly—he’d meant to say words—and ended up simply watching.
Sam’s hands—broad masculine hands—on his vulnerable half-hard length. The contrast. The tenderness. The devastating sensitivity. He blinked rapidly; he wanted more, he wanted Sam to never stop touching him, he wanted to come again with those hands on him, with Sam inside him, above him, all around him.
“So sweet when you’re getting attention.” Sam trailed a finger over his tip, over the slit; sensation flared and rolled upward, a coruscating wave of too much and not enough. “You need that, don’t you? Someone making you feel good, thinking about you, paying attention to you…and I get to. Because you jumped in front of my camera.” His voice was quiet, wondering. “Because I was lucky enough to be the guy who was there. Me and my fucking job. You know what I do. And you said yes. To me asking you out. How’d that even work?”
“I like you,” Leo said hazily. “You. Not your job. Sam. Areyou planning to fuck me soon? Only I might actually come from you doing this, right now, with your hand, so if you’ve got plans, we should get on with that.”
“Oh,” Sam said, “you’re the bossy sort of bottom, okay, got it,” and kissed him. The kiss came with a bottle-snap: lube, Leo’s rainbow-filled head understood. “You know we’ve already had awesome sex. It doesn’t have to mean penetration. Not that I don’t want to be inside you—the only guy ever, which, wow—but I’m checking in one more time. You want to try?”
“How many times would you like me to say so? Yes, thoroughly. Soon if possible.”
“Brat. Behave. Guessing you’ve at least maybe tried some things? With the toys?”
“Mmm. Yes. I had a girlfriend once who liked to put the smaller one inside me—it vibrates—while she, er, you know, got on top of me. I’ve never tried anything terribly large.”
They both paused to eye Sam’s cock. Sam’s cock sat up and happily redefined the wordlargein its favor.
“Well,” Leo said eventually, “I do enjoy lots of attention, and that’s certainly…a lot?”
Sam snorted. “Thanks. Here, though, starting slow…” His fingers brushed Leo’s hole, not shy about it. The lube made everything slippery and welcome; Leo’s hole, still slightly wet from Sam’s earlier ministrations with that talented mouth, fluttered and clenched eagerly.
“Shh,” Sam soothed gently, and moved a finger. The first intrusion came easy; Leo’s body knew the feeling of opening up, though never with a man, and he knew about bearing down and pushing back and relaxing. Sam’s finger slipped into him, penetrating him, and he gloried in the rush of it.
Sam was cautious with him, to the point at which, two long fingers buried deep in his body, Leo demanded, “More, please, can we get on with this?” and earned himself a light swaton the thigh from Sam’s other hand plus a calm, “I’m not going to hurt you, so no.”
