Page 25 of In Frame
“I’ve had toys up there—”
“And you’ve never had anything bigger than that little one, and we’re getting you ready.” Sam adjusted fingers, curled, moved them differently. White-hot supernovas burst abruptly behind Leo’s eyes; gasping, he quivered on Sam’s hand, hanging between crystalline drops.
Sam stopped doing the marvelous thing. “Have you…never…found your…”
“I mean…I thought…I’ve felt good…but this is…it’s different when you do it!”
“I hope so. For one thing, I know what I’m doing. And I like doing it to you.” Sam did the thing again. Leo let out an honest-to-God shriek and rocked his hips frantically, chasing that sensation. Sam, under his breath, added something mildly uncomplimentary about Leo’s previous partners and none of them getting him to feel this good; Leo got breath back enough to say, “Oh, that’s unfair, I did feel good, no blaming anyone else, it’s just you’re some sort of genius…”
“Glad you think so, but this is about you.” Sam slid the fingers back, plunged them in again, a thrust: finding that spot and working it relentlessly. “The way you react, the way you feel it all…you feel that, me doing this to you? That’s you feeling it. Your body. What it can do.”
“With your help, yes…” Even the air had become incendiary. Every nerve ending crackled. His cock smeared a pool of its own wetness over his stomach. “I need…please…it’s good because it’s you, you’re doing it, but please do more…you said you’d fuck me, you’d show me how that feels, so please…”
“A little more.” Sam twisted fingers, stretched him, opened him: playing with him now, getting him slick and ready, pressing a third finger in evidently just to torture Leo’s senses,which had collectively become firecrackers and sugary rain.
Ice cream, he thought tipsily, and giggled, which was not a sound he’d expected to make at this point. He did feel a bit drunk. Intoxicated. Floaty.
“Still good?” Sam. Checking in. So kind. Big worried golden eyes, and a bit of hair falling forward into his face.
“Sprinkles,” Leo explained. “Ice cream.”
Sam thought about this for a second, then leaned down to lick the tip of Leo’s cock, a swipe of considerate tongue. “Delicious.”
Leo, to his own surprise, ended up giggling more. This made Sam laugh, and then they were laughing together, smiling at each other, Sam’s hand moving inside Leo’s body and the coziness of familiar sheets all around.
“Okay.” Sam moved the hand. Leo’s muscles rippled unhappily, empty. “Okay, I’m going to…um, it’ll be easier if you turn over. As far as angles and this being, well. Easy.”
“No. I want to see you.”
“Definitelya bossy bottom. But I like seeing you, too.” Sam made a lunge, grabbed a pillow. “Here. Under your hips.”
Leo squirmed around. “Satisfied? Or is there anything else? Where do I put my hands?”
“Anywhere you want.” Sam knelt above him, over him; close enough that Leo could see every flex of muscle, those small taut nipples, the thick shaft of that cock. Sam bent to kiss him; Sam had, after all, saidanywhere, so Leo reached up and wrapped a hand around the girth and felt all the heat and veins and textured-satin thickness.
Sam’s hips shifted into the grip; his cock slid through Leo’s hand. “Your hands’re pretty good there. And you can touch all you want. But you want something else, too. Tell me what you want. I know you want to say it.”
“I want you,” Leo whispered. “Inside me.”
“Happy to.” Sam stretched out an arm, scooped up a packet—oh, yes, they should indeed use condoms, Leo remembered amid the clouds—and took care of putting it on, plus some extra lube. He knelt back between Leo’s thighs, after. “Okay, we’ll take this slow, and you stop me if it’s not feeling good, understand?”
“Yes, understood, just get on with—” The words dissolved. Sam had moved, and the head of that big thick cock pushed into the entrance of his body, and Leo forgot how to know anything except that.
So big. So much. Pressing forward and in, and it did not hurt, not precisely likepain, but he felt stretched, pulled wide open, stuffed to the brim—
He wasn’t certain he could take more. He tried pushing back, opening up, breathing; his body trembled and struggled to accommodate the width. Sam moved more, sunk deeper, and Leo gasped and clung to Sam’s shoulders—when had he begun holding on?—and might’ve been crying a bit. His vision blurred.
“Oh, Leo,” Sam was saying, voice cracking, “Leo, look at me, you’re okay—tell me you’re okay—God, you feel so fucking good—so good, taking this, taking me—is it hurting, am I hurting you, do you want me to stop—?” One hand, not the lube-messy one, came up to stroke Leo’s hair. The other was taking some of his weight. “God—you’re crying—”
“Because it feels,” Leo managed. “It feels…you feel…so large…so much…I’m not hurt.”
“Are you sure?” Sam kept petting him: comfort for the both of them. “We can stop.”
“Don’t you dare! I like feeling you.” He shifted his hips experimentally. Sam hadn’t stirred, no doubt afraid to. But that cock filled him up in a way he liked, hard and piercing and satisfying in a bone-deep sense, as if he’d needed this all his life.
He wriggled again, and suddenly something got evenmore right: celebrations of glitter streaked along his veins. “Oh.”
“More good sounds?” Sam kissed him: a quick brush of lips, eyes intent on Leo’s. “You want more? This angle?”
