Page 49 of In Frame
“Oh, absolutely and entirely fuck you. Yes, I would. I feel splendid. High as some sort of very high thing. Clouds. Kites. Comets. What else would you like me to do? I’m right on the edge in any case, so you may not have to tell me much.”
“Wonder if you could come just like that, holding still for me, not moving, just me talking to you…”
“Sam,” Leo practically wailed.
“Bet you could. Not this time, though. Wish I could see you, just the way you said you looked, all spread out and gorgeous and needing me so bad.” He’d started stroking his own cock faster, semi-consciously, along with the words. “Okay. Other hand on your dick. Just real light, just barely touching yourself, got it? A nice little brush with your fingertips…maybe a little more, up and down…”
Leo was just about sobbing with frustrated need now, and Sam guessed he’d either fall over the brink and come on the spot or else get too overwhelmed for anything more within a few seconds, so: “Okay, when I say you can, then you can come. We’re gonna make it feel like everything you need, and it’ll be alot, but you’ve been doing so well, you’ve been so good for me, and you trust me, right?”
“Yes.” Leo’s voice shuddered with ecstasy, with yearning. “Yes, please.”
“When I tell you to, you’re gonna move those fingers—myfingers—inside you, right where you’re feeling so good, and when you do that…I want you to hit your cock for me, not too hard, just like you were doing, just a nice sweet tap, the way you liked it. And you’re gonna come like that, from that. While I’m over here stroking myself, thinking about you doing that. Understand?”
“Fucking hell,” Leo breathed, astonished, craving. “Yes. Oh God yes. Can I—can I—now, or—”
“Yeah. Now.”
Sounds sizzled, wet and glorious, lube and Leo’s hand moving, fingers thrusting and rubbing inside his body. Leo’s other hand also moving, the noise of it—
Leo cried out, broken and shocked and rapturous, and the cry held Sam’s name and “I’m—it’s—God,Sam—” and collapsed into shaky wordless moans.
“Leo,” Sam said urgently, “Leo,myLeo—that sounded so good, you’re so good, so perfect for me, I’m right there too, I’m about to come, baby, thinking of you, hearing you—” and he was, hand moving faster and faster, slicker now with his own want, hearing Leo’s climax pound in his ears, feeling the heat and the rising in his length as it slid through his hand, up and down—
He came all at once, a deep rush of release that swept up and flooded out of him, overflowing banks and boundaries. He came all over his hand and his stomach and even his shirt, spurts landing further than he’d imagined. Awed, lightheaded, he whispered, “Leo.”
“Oh God,” Leo said, still shaky, maybe even sobbing in the aftermath. “Sam…”
“I’m here. I’ve got you. How’re you feeling? Everything good?”
“I don’t know!” Leo stopped crying to laugh, the sound amazed, intoxicated, exuberant; he stopped, audibly shook his head, went on, “Yes. Definitely good. But that was…so much. I feel as if…I think you’ve taken me apart and put me back together. Naked. Not only in the obvious way. I’m very sticky and covered in myself and utterly exhausted but sparkly, head to toes. It’s wonderful and I’m not certain I can do it every time. Was that also, for you…you did enjoy doing that?”With me?said the tone of that question.
“So much. So fucking much.”
“Really?”
Sam shoved himself more upright against the headboard. “That was, like, top five orgasms ever, and the other four had you there in person. And—oh shit.” Time. He’d seen the clock. “Nothing to do with you! It’s—”
“The time,” Leo said, because Leo understood: good at noticing and remembering what people said or didn’t say or mentioned. “I just thought of that too.”
“I’m not getting off the phone until you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. Wonderful, I said.”
“Leo.”
“I’m…all right. Tender. In spots.”
“Not just physically, you mean. Fuck. Sorry. Wish I could be there.”
“So do I, but you are, as much as you can be.” Leo sighed. Sam could see him: sprawled out in a disaster of open robe and exhausted legs and expensive sheets and limp spent cock, worn out and languid and trying to offer reassurance. “You’re here talking to me. I really am all right; I’m only…coming down from it, I think. I may have to buy more robes, if you like debauching me in them.”
“Leo,” Sam sighed, “you’re not exactly proving that you’re okay, y’know,” and Leo, surprised, said, “Oh,” and stopped talking.
Sam said, “I’m not leaving you,” and Leo swallowed hard and said, “I hope you wouldn’t, after I’ve helped give you one of the five best orgasms of your life, you said?” and Sam said immediately, “All five, didn’t you hear me? And that’s not why. I’m here because I want to be here for you, Leo.”
Leo went quiet again, and then, right as Sam started wondering whether that’d somehow come out wrong, said, “I very literally couldn’t think of anything to say. I don’t know what I’msupposedto say. It’s too important, it’s too big, and I can’t get it wrong or make a joke, and I can’t think.”
Other people, Sam thought, might not’ve said that. Might not admit to not knowing, or to wanting—and not choosing—the deflection of humor. But Leo would always say it all: honest as sunbeams, as gold soaking through new leaves and rich earth.
