Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
WILL
Day Ten
We let Jill drive home without us. We’re only a short walk away, and something tells me sitting in silence in Jill’s car would be an awkward experience.
Sam and I need to talk.
‘I guess the whole fake boyfriends thing went a little far then, didn’t it?’ Sam asks.
‘At least you can say you’ve seen me naked now.’
‘For when we’re quizzed on it?’
‘When we’re quizzed on it.’
With Sam, it’s easy.
‘Sam. I don’t know why we kissed,’ I say. ‘Just now, like that. But I know I liked it.’
Sam stops. Cast in the orange glow of a street lamp, he looks like a hazy dream, one I can’t grasp.
I check that we’re alone as he steps closer to me.
‘I liked it, too.’
‘But are you ready for this?’
Sam’s forehead rests against mine. ‘I’m ready.’
We reach for each other, as if by not touching, we’d lose one another. His arms are strong under my grip. His body finds mine.
My breath catches.
‘Sam…’
He kisses me. It’s soft at first, but as my grip tightens, so does his.
I push him to the wall, pressing against him, kissing him hard now, my tongue finding his.
He tastes like mint, with a hint of sweetness, like a strawberry lightly dusted in sugar.
His hands slide down my back, cupping my bum, and my hands cradle his neck.
Every muscle under my hand makes me want to rip off his clothes and observe him the way he observed me.
Something primal has awoken within us, my hands slipping under his T-shirt, tracing over his skin. With every kiss, I lie against his washboard body like he was my life support.
He comes up for air, his hands on my face. He breathes deeply, and I’m certain that if we could, we’d be fucking right here on the street.
‘What are we doing?’ he whispers.
‘This is reckless.’
‘Dangerous.’
‘Do you want this?’ I ask.
‘Fuck, yes, I do,’ Sam says. ‘Do you?’
I press myself against him, so that he can feel how hard I am.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
He kisses me again, light, not giving me what I need. He knows what he’s doing.
‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you fall into that bush,’ he says.
‘We kissed.’
‘No. Properly,’ Sam says. ‘Like this.’
And he kisses me again, rough, like our lives depended on it.
Our heads cock, our tongues explore one another’s mouths.
Gone is that awkward testing phase, when he pretended to do it just for research.
His hand is now on the skin of my back, and my hands clutch at the waistband of his pleated summer shorts.
‘I want you, Will.’
‘I’m yours.’
He takes my hand, breaking into a jog, making me keep up with him.
Forced exercise is not my thing, but this is fun.
We run through the empty streets of Athens like we’re the only ones in the city, the only ones in the country, the only men left on earth.
We giggle like we’re getting away with something harmless, like breaking into the set of a movie.
When we can, we push each other against something: a wall, a lamppost, a car.
We kiss, touching places through clothes that only we can touch, knowing what we need, what we want.
It’s like the smell of your favourite meal cooking throughout the day, but you know it won’t be ready until the evening.
We’re teasing and flirting with our desires.
The car we’re leaning against blares its alarm.
‘Shit.’ Sam pulls us away, into the shadows. ‘Let’s hope people didn’t see us.’
‘Let them.’
Foolish, but tantalising. The night is ours. No one else exists. No one can ruin this.
Somehow, we’re outside Sam’s coffee shop. The door is locked, but lights are on inside, a warmth that I can’t wait to sink into. With frantic hands, he unlocks the door, both of us tumbling over the threshold, lost in each other.
I kick the door closed, feel Sam lock it effortlessly as he caresses my body, trying to lift my T-shirt from me. I let him do it, until I stand before him with nothing on, just like I was in the art class.
‘You’re incredible.’
‘Stop it.’
The light of the moon cascades through the skylights, illuminating my body in all the right places.
It’s as if the goddess Selene herself had blessed us, charging us with a sexual energy that nobody else could ever replicate.
Sam breathes slowly, absorbing me like he were an evening primrose, and I his source of survival.
‘You are,’ Sam says. He draws the blinds over the coffee shop windows. ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you in that art class.’
‘Kind of the point,’ I say. ‘I was the subject.’
‘The best muse any painter can wish for.’ His gaze drops to my cock, now standing at full height, forever a shower, not a grower.
His hands touch it, making me gasp as his fingers brush my exposed head.
‘My muse.’ He unzips his shoulder bag, takes out his Polaroid camera.
‘Can I take a photo of you? I won’t keep it. You can have it.’
I eye the camera. ‘You can. You can keep it, too.’
He lifts the camera, frames me, and I stand and wait. The bright flash comes, and then the Polaroid is sliding out, and he puts both camera and photo aside.
I launch myself at him, pulling him closer, kissing him and only breaking away to strip off his T-shirt and his now empty bag. He lets me reach for the waistband of his shorts again, lets me slip them off him, until his Tommy boxers are all that’s left.
Sinking to my knees, I run my tongue over the fabric of his boxers, my eyes locked on his.
‘Be a good boy and suck it.’ His hand reaches for the Polaroid.
Softly, I extract his cock, feeling the weight bounce in front of my face, brushing my nose.
I smell him, every inch of him, inhaling a hint of honey, before taking him in my mouth.
He gasps, growls, and I let him take my head in his hands, allow him to guide me along his shaft, until his balls are against my chin.
Blond hair tickles my face, and I breathe through my nose, looking up at him.
Fuck. That gaze.
He has me locked. Hooked.
He takes another photo.
He’s thrusting now, slowly building the pace. Spit trickles down my mouth, a strand of silver keeping us connected. I never break eye contact. I hold just as much control as he does.
He lets out a groan, and an explosion of sweet nectar coats my tongue and rolls down my throat. He watches me sip every drop before pulling out of my mouth slowly.
He sinks to his knees, meeting me at eye level.
The taste of him in my mouth, fresh, has me ready to burst.
We lie next to one another.
He kisses me, taking my cock in his hands.
His hand strokes me with a hungry determination.
I shiver at his touch, arching my back, my head resting against the floor.
His breath on my skin as he comes closer, kissing my cheek, my neck.
He touches me in all the right places, and before I know it, I spill onto the floor.
He grins as I shake, collapsing with me in a heap.
‘No going back from that, is there?’ he says.
My hands trail down his back, cupping his pert buttocks.
He squeezes me as we lie in the dimly lit coffee shop.
I can’t believe that happened. Sam, next to me like a renaissance painting, his spent cock still standing to attention, resting against my thigh.
I link my arms around him. Once more, he reaches for the Polaroid, takes a photo of the two of us lying together.
Once taken, he puts it on the floor and moves closer to me.
As he lies his head against my shoulder, his golden mane of hair fanned around him, I close my eyes, bathing in the moonlit glow.