Page 70 of In Frame
Sam said, “Testing a hypothesis,” and wrapped his hand around Leo’s straining cock, commanding and tight, and the grip resonated everyplace, through Leo’s bones and hammering heartbeat and thoughts.
He made a sound—a broken inarticulate sound, and he couldn’t’ve said whether it was relief or love or begging for more or pure joy—and felt his body respond, hips lifting, balls tense; a small spurt spilled from him, over the head, down to Sam’s handon him. He moaned raggedly.
“You do like sensation,” Sam mused, with satisfaction. “Like this…” He did begin to play with Leo’s cock, then: rough enough that Leo began whimpering, crying out, loving it, rocking helplessly up into the relentless handling. Sam scratched a thumbnail over his dripping slit; Leo screamed aloud as white-hot sensation streaked through him, and felt his head thump against the bed, back arching.
“Definitely an interesting data point.” Sam’s eyes were dancing, Leo registered blurrily. “Might need to test that one again.”
He did. And then again, and again. Stroking, squeezing, scratching, even teasing the slit with a push and scrape of nails. Leo started sobbing with delight, with the onslaught of bewildering ecstasy and anguish happening to his cock, feeling himself growing wetter and wetter, leaking all over Sam’s hand; his head rolled weakly from side to side, and his muscles clenched and shuddered in a trembling instinctive rhythm.
Sam stopped playing with his cock. Ran both hands along Leo’s inner thighs, stroking, soothing. Leo, so lost in sensation that even that tenderness felt magnified to impossible heights, whined and let his legs fall wider, hips jerking, pushing his cock up into empty air.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Sam said, very quietly, hands still caressing Leo’s legs. His eyes were serious, iron under honeyed brown. “I know you like feeling things, I know you like it a little intense, so youcanfeel it, and I lo—I like giving you that, Leo, I do. But I don’t want to actually hurt you. And you’re crying.”
“I’m not…well, possibly…a bit…”
“You are. Tell me how you’re doing? Please.”
Leo took a steadying breath. Met Sam’s concerned gaze. “My dick feels as if you’ve been using your hands to take meapart, but in a very good way, and I would like more?”
“There’s my Leo,” Sam said, and bent and kissed the tip of Leo’s poor reddened cock, while Leo’s brain went momentarily blank and shimmery at the phrasing—himself belonging to Sam, Sam claiming him, Sam choosing him—and then Sam’s tongue began licking him, apologetic and sweet and loving now, stroking him all over right where he’d been left sore and sizzling. The contrast turned Leo’s head into sparklers and twinkling lights, fizzing and short-circuiting and electric.
Sam licked him and caressed him and suckled gently at him for an uncounted while, as Leo lost track of time and space, as the feeling became all he knew. He felt his body shudder with euphoria, slow rippling pulses of happiness; he could not think much beyond that. He had Sam, and Sam was taking care of him; Sam would make him feel everything, all the sharp quick glory and deep thrumming bliss. That was all Leo needed; he gave himself over to Sam’s care gladly.
Sam’s fingers touched him. They fondled his balls, kindly at first, then tugging slightly. Leo moaned in response, partly because he couldn’t help the sound. Sam tapped him lightly, the flat of one hand; it stung a bit, deliciously. Leo trembled with pleasure.
Sam’s mouth lifted from his cock; weight shifted. Fingers touched Leo’s hole, easing his cheeks apart; the fingers were slick, not cold but warm, even hot. They caressed him, pressed into him, opened him up: making him ready for Sam.
That reallydidfeel warm; Leo lifted his head, hazily looking that way. Sam saw him peeking and smiled. “Hey. How’re you feeling?”
“Marvelous. Easy for you. Warm inside.” He couldn’t really see what Sam was doing, from this angle; that was all right. He didn’t need to. He felt splendid, being worked open and soothed and prepared. “Why’s it warm?”
“Heating lube.” Sam wiggled the fingers in him; Leo made a noise he’d not known he could make, an outright blissful purr, and pushed back in reply. Sam went on, “Figured you’d enjoy that. You feel so good, you know. All pink and soft and opened up for me…wanting me inside you…”
“So very much. Now?”
“Now,” Sam agreed, and moved atop him, and into him: condom-sheathed length pushing hard and smoothly into Leo’s body.
Leo forgot to breathe for a moment, on his back and looking up. Sam filled up his vision, his hole, all his sensations. Inside him, above him, that splash of sun along one shoulder, muscles rippling. Everything he’d been missing, everything that plunged inside all the empty places and made them feel right again. He felt so very right, like this: as if he’d always needed to be right here, being fucked so well by Sam, who was gazing down at him with an expression somewhere between reverence and a desperate grip on self-control.
“I’m feeling spectacular,” Leo informed him, because Sam needed to know; and then he wrapped both legs around Sam’s waist for good measure.
Sam’s “Leo—” came out broken and shuddering; his hips moved more, sped up, thrust. His length moved inside Leo’s body, huge and blunt and wonderful; the next thrust hit the spot that set off all the fireworks, over and over, and Leo gasped and clenched around him and made all sorts of noises, cries and pleas and whimpers, inarticulate and euphoric. His cock twitched and pulsed more wet all over his stomach; so much, he thought dreamily, and it felt so good, he felt so good, with Sam pounding into him…
Sam grabbed his legs. Lifted them, rearranging Leo’s limbs. He was nearly bent in half now, under Sam’s weight, with that lovely length and girth pumping into him. He wonderedfuzzily what he must look like, from Sam’s perspective: utterly wanton, decadent, simply begging to be taken. He moaned at the thought.
Sam groaned and thrust harder, deeper, losing finesse and control. “Leo—I’m—God, the way you look, you’re so—”
“Yours,” Leo panted, “yours—”
Sam slipped one hand down to Leo’s cock, not even stroking, merely holding him, gripping him, Leo’s sensitive raw shaft at the mercy of Sam’s large strong hand—
And that was it, oh God that was it: he felt his mouth fall open, felt his body shudder and arch, felt the tingling wild racing wave as it rose up and spilled over and turned all his thoughts to gold and white light. He was coming and coming, all over Sam’s hand and his own stomach and chest; his hole clenched around the wonderful hard thick length buried inside him, over and over, rhythmic and instinctive.
Sam’s whole body grew taut, and his hips rocked forward, and he was coming as well, eyes wide and stunned and full of gold. Leo gazed up at him, loved him, felt loved by him; Sam’s hand squeezed his cock, maybe inadvertently, but the abrupt grip sent another pulse of dizzying ecstasy all through Leo’s body, and he cried out softly, twitching and shaking with pleasure that teetered on the brink of too much, overwhelming, but he needed it, he craved it, and his cock spurted again, weakly.
Sam’s breath caught, even as the climax ebbed from his muscles; he gazed down at Leo, stroked Leo’s dripping cock, reverent and wondering. One finger caressed Leo’s tip, toyed with the slit, rubbed at tender sizzling flesh.
Leo wailed, high and wordless. Sparks crashed through his brain, his body. His hole, opened up and full of Sam’s still-hard weight inside him. His poor overworked cock, which hurt and throbbed and felt incredible, and he thought it must look sored and flushed and messy and wrung out, limp in Sam’s hand. The thought made him sob and spasm helplessly, trembling with anguished bliss. He wanted Sam to play with him some more, to make him feel like this forever: that could be everything he knew, his whole world reduced to fizzing crackling static and the wet slick sounds of his cock in Sam’s fingers, as Sam took him and claimed him and kept him.
