Page 59 of Takeover
“How’s the back?”
“Hurts like fuck.” Sam coughed a laugh and smiled. “I love it.”
Michael pushed wet curls out of Sam’s eyes. “Still want me inside you?”
“Yes, please.” Sam nipped Michael’s shoulder. “Until I can’t think.”
With pleasure. He pulled Sam out of the stream, rotated him once more, then pressed his front against the wall of the shower. “You know, it’s going to take a while for me to come.”
Sam arched back. “Really? I hadn’t considered thatat allwhen I went down on you.”
Ofcoursehe had. Michael bit Sam’s neck, hard enough to evoke a flinch, then spoke in his ear. “Yes, but how long can you keep from coming?”
“As long as you want me to.” Sam turned his head to the side and there was the edge of that sly smile. “Until you say I can.”
“A fine answer.” Michael kissed the spot he’d bitten, then stepped back and retrieved the condom and the lube, and sheathed himself before spreading lube on his cock. Then he worked a slick finger into Sam.
Sam hissed. “Don’t… need to be gentle.”
“Maybe I do.” Michael eased the head of his cock inside Sam and groaned against the tight heat of his ass, then worked himself deeper with slow, easy strokes.
Sam’s breathing hitched with every movement, half moan, half gasp, entirely unrestrained. When there wasn’t any space left between them, Michael held himself deep in Sam and enjoyed the way Sam trembled against—and all around—him. “Maybe I should just—” Michael kissed the drops of water on Sam’s back. “Just fuck you like this.”
He withdrew and thrust in again at the same languid rate, as far into Sam as he could. “You feel so damn good.”
Again and again, he slid into Sam, savoring Sam’s every groan and shudder, his wordless sounds of pleasure, the slow slap and grind as flesh met flesh. The ever-present pulse of the shower, like a heartbeat.
Sam shuddered and his hands slipped down the wall. He rocked back as Michael slid forward, taking every inch of Michael’s cock. Michael wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him up, holding him—them both—still. Together.
Sam lolled his head back in a silent cry.
“Do you like this?” Michael whispered into Sam’s ear.
“Yes.” The word was a tiny thing, all air and quiver.
Michael moved again, gentle thrusts that rocked them against each other. “And this?”
“Yes. Don’t—” Sam lost himself in a groan when Michael pushed in deep. “Don’t stop.”
Michael didn’t, lost in Sam’s heat, the rush of Sam’s lungs, his groans, and the taste of Sam’s water-splashed skin. The shower thrummed until the very air seemed to hum with the pulse. Sam shuddered and slid against him, wet and warm, his fingers splayed on Michael’s hips. What felt like eternity might have been minutes—so hard to tell this far into the trance that was Sam, but a sharp need prickled over Michael’s skin, quickened his blood.
He thrust faster, with more force, and Sam threw back his head and gasped. That was all the invitation Michael needed to pick up the pace.
“Fuck.” Sam bent his head down, hands once more braced against the tile in front of him. Flesh against stone, muscular arms full of strength. He matched Michael’s rhythms and force, milking Michael’s cock with each stroke, singeing Michael’s nerves with fire.
Michael’s vision grayed, a sudden spike of pleasure cascading lightning down his veins. He hissed against Sam’s back, fighting against the need to bury himself deep and repeatedly in Sam’s lithe body until they both shattered. After a moment, Michael slowed down and caught his breath against the knife’s edge of want.
Seemed that same blade had found Sam as well. Short puffs of breath shuddered Sam’s back and his arms were locked against the shower wall, nails biting into the grout. When Michael wrapped a hand around Sam’s cock, Sam’s whole body quaked.
“Close?” Michael stroked Sam’s cock and thrust deep.
Sam grunted low, then answered. “Fuck, yes.”
He sped up. “How close?”
This time the only answer Sam gave was a laugh that sounded more like a sob that only intensified the headiness, the buzzing in Michael’s blood.
He kissed behind Sam’s ear. “Good.”
