Chapter 10 Sam
Chapter ten
Sam
The fire had burned down to soft embers, the glow casting dancing shadows against the trees, stretching the night longer than it felt.
Everything was warm, languid, and hazy. The slow pull of the gummies turned my limbs to liquid.
And Liam’s hand was still in mine.
It should’ve felt weird. But it didn’t. It felt warm, solid, natural, like this was just what we did now.
I let my head tilt slightly toward him, studying as the firelight played against his skin, the way his attention kept drifting outward even while he stayed right here with me.
Deep bronze from the week in the sun, the angles of his face softer in the glow, his beard a little fuller after days of letting it grow.
He looked good. Too good.
And that thought? That was the problem. Because for the first time, I wasn’t thinking about Liam as just my friend. I was thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t have been.
Ways that weren’t fucking platonic.
We’d been friends for years.
Years.
I’d told him things I didn’t tell most people. Confessions and drunken overshares over the bar top at the Stag & Lantern while he mixed drinks, both of us talking shit and pretending we weren’t avoiding whatever heartache had followed us in that day.
There were parties through the years, late nights dancing at the Rainbow Taproom, all sweat and glitter and laughter. He’d crashed on my couch after countless fire pit hangs and way too many beers, snoring with his boots still on. I’d toss a blanket over him and roll my eyes.
I knew about his conquests. God, did I know. He never bragged, not really, but he also never held back if you asked. And I always asked. That’s what friends did.
But this?
This wasn’t that.
This wasn’t friendly or familiar or safe.
I wanted to touch him. Not just like this or just a hand in his.
I wanted to know what it would feel like to press against him. To run my hands through that ridiculous hair of his. To trace my fingers over the ink on his arms, across his shoulders, down the solid plane of his back. To feel the weight of him. The heat. The want.
Ever since I smacked his ass earlier this week, I hadn’t been able to shake the thought of him from my mind. It had planted something in me. A spark. And now it was spreading like wildfire.
“What the fuck?” The words slipped out before I even realized.
Liam turned his head, brows lifting. “What?”
My stomach flipped. Shit. Had I said more than that? Had I actually fucking said it? I didn’t, right? Right?
I swallowed, forced out a short, awkward laugh, and ran a hand down my face. “Shit, these gummies are kicking my ass,” I murmured, shaking my head. “Forget it.”
Liam watched me for a second longer than necessary. His eyes were still knowing, like he wasn’t quite convinced.
But then, finally, he just smiled. “Yeah, alright. Blame the gummies, Sammy.”
I shook my head, forced myself to smile like I wasn’t unraveling inside.
The fire crackled between us, the night deep and still.
And Liam’s hand was still in mine, like he’d anchored himself there without ever thinking about it.
Neither of us let go.
Eventually, the warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to fight off the creeping coolness of the night air.
Liam let out a slow stretch, his free hand running through his hair as he sighed. “Alright, I guess we should clean this up.”
I nodded, my body felt a little too loose, but I stood anyway. I shook off the lull of coziness as I gathered the empty bottles and cups and placed them into the bin we’d been using for trash.
Liam moved with me, picking up our tumblers, kicking dirt over the last of the smouldering embers.
We worked in a quiet, familiar rhythm. Liam moving ahead of the moment like he always did, already finishing things before I realized they needed doing. The same way we had back at my house that night after rafting.
Easy. Effortless. Like we’d done this a thousand times before.
The last of the bottles clinked into the trash bag, and Liam tied it off, tossing it by the picnic table to deal with in the morning.
“Alright, Sammy, bedtime.”
I huffed out a laugh, stretching my arms overhead, feeling the deep pull of exhaustion setting in.
I turned toward my tent, the fire crackling behind me, the warmth still clinging to my skin. But before I could take a step, Liam’s hand caught my wrist.
His grip was gentle, but sure. Just enough to stop me.
I turned, my breath catching slightly as I faced him.
And then he pulled me into a hug.
It wasn’t one of those side-armed, half-hearted bro hugs. It was full. Intentional. His arms encircled around me like he meant it. Like I needed it.
My body moved on instinct. I slipped into the space he made for me, arms looping around his back, palms pressing against the solid muscle there. He was warm. The faint scratch of his beard brushed my temple as I tucked into him.
And God, he smelled like the lingering smoke of the campfire, summer wind, and something else I could never quite name. Something that was just… Liam. It surrounded me in a way that made me ache, that made me want to bottle it and breathe it in on days I couldn’t see him.
I let myself lean into it, let my chest press a little too close, let the moment last a second longer.
And then, before I could even think to pull away, he kissed me.
A quick kiss on the cheek: soft, warm, the barest brush of lips on skin. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence we hadn’t said out loud yet.
I froze. Not because it startled me, but because everything inside me lit up at once.
Heat flushed under my skin, something curling deep in my stomach, tight and nervous and electric.
He pulled back, his hand still on my wrist, a lazy grin spreading across his face. His eyes sparkled, firelight catching in the gold of them, and he winked. “Sweet dreams, Sammy.”
And just like that, he let go. He turned and disappeared into his tent.
I stood there for a second, my cheek still tingling, my pulse a little too fast. Then I whispered, “What the actual fuck.” Shaking my head, I turned and climbed into my tent, hoping sleep would erase whatever the hell that just was.
As I stepped inside, I thanked God that it was dark and Liam couldn't see my hard-on. It had been brewing all week, but that kiss on the cheek had sent it into overdrive. I zipped up the tent behind me and let out a sigh of relief as I was enveloped in the darkness.
I quickly stripped off my clothes and grabbed my lube from my toiletry bag. I also snagged a dirty shirt from the clothes pile. That was my usual cleanup plan. Lying down on my sleeping bag, I squeezed a generous amount of lube onto my palm and began jerking off.
It had been a long week of blue balls, and I needed to take care of this tonight before falling asleep.
As I stroked myself, I thought about all the hot guys from the campground that week who had caught my eye.
There was the guy with the chiseled abs at the pool, the rugged hiker with the strong jawline, and the cute blonde who had smiled at me by the campfire.
But as I continued to jerk off, my mind wandered back to Liam.
What would it be like to have him in front of me, naked and wanting?
To run my hands over his chest, to feel his lips on mine?
My fantasy took over. I imagined Liam's eyes locked on mine as he sucked me off, his tongue swirling around my tip before taking me deep into his throat. Or maybe it would be me doing him. Pinning him against a tree trunk as we kissed roughly before dropping down onto my knees to take that big beautiful dick I’ve seen at the pool all week into my mouth.
As the images played out in vivid detail behind my closed eyes, heat coiled tight in my core, energy building, rising, until suddenly, release.
Muscles tensing as hot cum shot across my abdomen, my body trembling through the aftershocks.
My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, heart hammering, the haze of the pleasure slowly fading.
Sweat slicked my skin, cooling in the night air. I reached for the dirty shirt I’d set aside earlier, using it to clean up the mess, wiping away the slickness from my hands and stomach before tossing it into the corner.
Then, I just lay there, staring up into the darkness.
Knowing sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon.
Because one person kept popping into my head.
Liam.
I swallowed hard, shifting onto my side, thoughts circling like vultures. Replaying every interaction, every lingering touch, every stolen glance from tonight. Hell, from the whole week.
The fire pit. His hand in mine. The way he looked at me when we laughed too long at something stupid. The warmth of his arms when he pulled me into that hug. His smell still clung to me, or maybe it was just my memory refusing to let go.
And then the kiss.
A kiss on the cheek. Just the cheek. Liam kisses everyone on the cheek. He’s affectionate. Physical. That’s just who he is.
So why did it feel like more? Why did it feel like something that set my skin on fire instead of just a friendly goodnight?
I dragged a hand down my face, trying to will the thoughts away. Trying not to get swept up in the possibility of something that might not be there. My brain was doing backflips, and my heart hadn’t stopped its irregular thumping since he let go of my wrist.
It was just a kiss.
But God, it didn’t feel like just a kiss. Not when my whole body responded like it had been waiting for that exact moment. Or when the imprint of his lips still ghosted across my skin like a brand.
And not when every part of me was now aching with the question I couldn’t answer:
What the hell was happening between us?
Liam