Page 67 of In Frame
Leo lifted a sticky hand, wobbled it, pretended Sam could see him. The flush of climax had receded; his drying skin was a bit chilly. “Ah…”
“Leo,” Sam said patiently, “we’re taking care of you. Aftercare’s important. You being comfortable is important. Do you feel like you need to shower, or just clean up and get warm?”
“Ah…the latter. It’s late and I’m tired. Will you—should you get back to helping with books?”
“I’m not leaving you.” Sam’s voice settled firm and incontrovertible into Leo’s ears and chest and stomach. “I’ll stay right here, okay?”
“Okay,” Leo echoed, more quietly than he’d meant to. Felt good somehow. Like contentment.
He cleaned himself up and got dressed and sipped tea. He put on fuzzy socks in shaggy aquatic teal because Sam told him to stay warm. He finished the tea with Sam’s voice beside him,and he went and brushed teeth and got ready for bed with Sam beside him, with Sam gently asking questions about his comfort and offering guidance and suggestions.
Leo, basking in the suggestions and the nudges and the care, began to feel a bit odd: not arousal, or at least not a bright quick leaping sort of arousal. More a pink and fluffy diffuse cloud, expanding and floating around in his head. Drowsy, like morning roses, and calming as steam from a cup of tea.
He nestled into his bed and told Sam that he felt very warm and very flowery, and Sam laughed and asked what sort of flowers. Leo said, “Roses, of course, the big floppy cheerful kind, I’ve always liked them,” and yawned. “I’m so very well taken care of.”
“You sound like it. Rest, okay? Text me when you wake up.”
“I promise. Will you be doing something for yourself later? At your hotel? Will you let me know?”
“I might,” Sam said. “I’ll tell you if I do. Thinking of you.”
“Mmm. Kinky. I’m your fantasy. Let me know what fantasy me does so I can try to recreate it in person.”
“You in personismy fantasy,” Sam said. “Nothing too kinky, just you. The way you feel. The way you look when you come, when I get you to come for me. Maybe alittlekinky. Might try spanking you. You like sensation.”
“Now you definitely have to tell me everything you’re imagining!”
“Go to sleep, Leo.”
“Iam.”
“Are you?”
“I am now.”
“You’re still talking.”
“There is that small detail.”
“Go on,” Sam said, tender and assertive, “you need to rest,okay? I’ll be here when you get here. I’ll be here.”
“I know,” Leo said, “go have fun with Colby and Jason and the strawberry tarts, I’m going to sleep, I know you’re here, good night,” and hung up on Sam’s amused sound, and wiggled toasty toes under blankets and sock-fuzz.
He sent a heart. Because he could; because he meant it.
Sam sent a heart back, plus,Go to sleep, Leo!
Leo sent over the blowing-a-kiss emoji, and set down the phone, and wriggled down into his pillows and blankets. The pillows were cool and plump and familiar, being his; he felt himself smiling, cheek pressed into the topmost. The blankets tucked anchoring weight around and atop him.
He thought of Sam, and of lovely lingering lassitude in his bones; he thought of his family, of his parents loving him and wanting to meet Sam, and of leftover crumble for a post-run morning snack. He thought of Sam getting on with Colby and Jason, and how good that was, how warm it felt. He thought of getting on a plane tomorrow, and the future unfolding.
He thought of being himself, openly and proudly and excitedly, the way he’d been with his parents. He thought of doing that at Sam’s side, in love, because he was and he knew he was.
Today had, he thought, been a good day. His pillows and toes, snug and cozy, agreed.
Chapter 7: In Bed, Happily
Leo gazed at the hotel bed, and fell in love. Not with Sam, because he’d already done that. With mountains of fluffy pristine white bedding, and pillows with patterns of marine life, including a seahorse picked out in fuzzy thread, with eyes of aquamarine sequins. “It’s marvelous. I want to take every single pillow home with me.”
