Chapter Sam Campbell #5
How’s he supposed to know what that’s like? “But I’ve never fucked Lucas before.”
“Just use your imagination! I am now Lucas. Please, open me up before you fuck me.”
He throws himself back down with a huff, and Sam’s not exactly sure if he could seriously pretend Thomas is Lucas.
He doesn’t dare speak again, but a quick glance around and Sam realizes the condoms are still in the pocket of his discarded jeans. He carefully leaves the bed, but the illusion of stealth is destroyed by the clank of his belt.
Oh well, Rafael probably wears a belt too.
Once he has the packets, he softly sets his pants back down. When he turns back around, he’s surprised to see Thomas sitting upright in the bed, watching him. He clutches the cylindrical pillow close to himself, hugging it.
Sam must’ve ruined the mood. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He holds up the condoms, so Thomas can see them. “Rafael probably wouldn’t have left the condoms in his pants.”
“I thought you were leaving.” Thomas huffs a laugh and wipes his eye with his palm. “Fuck, I really thought you left me with my ass up and everything. A funny story to tell your friends—how desperate is Thomas Dubois?”
Well, as long as he’s ass up and wanting, Sam’s pretty sure there’s no better place to be. “Not if you’re still cool with me staying?”
“Yes, of course.” Thomas sighs, relaxing onto the pillow. “It’s been so long since I have had the sex, I got impatient.” He looks down, eyeing the condom packets. “Three?”
“Yeah, I—” Sam also looks down at them, like he didn’t notice he had three. Like he didn’t stress out for several long minutes about how many to bring. “I wasn’t sure if I was spending the night or not? So one for now, one for morning, one for… Just in case we wake up or something? I dunno.”
He’s learned from experience it’s much better to have too many than not enough.
Thomas still looks confused. “You want to sleep here?”
“Um, it’s more like sometimes I fall asleep after I come.” Deep asleep. Pass out, basically.
“Well, you can sleep in the cum puddles, then.” Thomas smiles and turns, assuming the position again. There’s no way he’s real. Men’s backs shouldn’t be able to arch like that. “Alright, give it to me, Rafael.”
Sam didn’t forget, but the name stings a little.
But that’s what they’re there for—not for Sam and Thomas, but for Rafael and Lucas. He just needs to imagine Lucas, to picture him contorting his old bones into this sexy little position.
It’s easier if Sam focuses on the wide shoulders, the light brown hair.
It’s Lucas. The person in front of him is his teammate. The man he’s idolized and loved for years. He can do this.
“Sure thing, Lucas.”
Sam pops the cap of the lube and pours a small amount onto the pad of his thumb. He rubs it along the rim of Lucas’s hole until it glistens, smiling when it twitches.
Reactive. Good.
He enjoys the occasional quick fuck, but it’s extra special when Sam’s able to take his time. When he can edge his partners until they're begging to come.
And Lucas? He’ll beg so prettily for him. Sam will make sure of it.
He pours more lube between his first two fingers, using his thumb to make sure they’re well coated. Lucas opens up easily to the first finger, but the second finger takes a little more patience, a little more coaxing.
More lube, and Lucas’s hole is positively dripping. It makes the slide easier, and Sam’s fingers squelch with friction.
Once he’s worked the hole looser with both fingers down to the knuckle, he scissors them, stretching the ring of tight muscle.
Lucas’s whole body rocks with the motion, keening, and he humps against the circular pillow that props his hips up.
That won’t do. Sam wants him hard, leaking, and aching for the main event.
Sam’s dry hand slides from holding Lucas’s ass spread open, up and over to his hip bone, immobilizing it with a solid grip. Lucas takes the hint, holding himself still while Sam scissors him open.
When it’s time to add a third, Sam’s hand returns to the cheek, spreading Lucas open again for him. God, what a view. He’s not as hairy as Sam expected, but that just makes it easier to watch his hole.
He works a third finger in, and Lucas eagerly takes it. There’s movement again—Lucas grinding up against the pillow—and Sam’s first instinct is to slap his cheek. Not too roughly, but there’s a sting in his palm that says they really should’ve discussed kinks ahead of time.
Lucas lets out a deep moan, arching his back impossibly further. His leaking dick hovers right above the pillow as he juts his bottom half higher.
A red handprint blooms against the pale skin of his cheek, and Sam massages it before plying him open again. He stretches the hole to three fingers, then four, just to be safe.
Once Lucas seems sufficiently loosened, Sam retrieves his hand and rips open a condom wrapper.
Lucas mewls into the mattress, his ass wiggling back and forth, begging for him. Sam shushes lowly, hopefully in a reassuring way, as he rolls a condom on and pours a generous amount of lube.
Everyone likes a good girthy cock, and Sam aims to please.
He pumps himself twice before lining up. Lucas’s entrance looks so small in comparison, and Sam can’t help but tease him a little bit. He presses his tip up to the hole, like he’s about to enter, before pulling his cock up and letting it fall with a wet smack along his crease.
Lucas lets out an annoyed groan. That’s a shame—he usually loves Sam’s boyish antics.
He thrusts his length along Lucas’s crack, catching the head on his hole with every pass, taunting him. The area is soaked with lube before he finally focuses, lines himself up, and pushes in.
Even with just the tip, Lucas whimpers like he’s already bursting full. He just might be—despite all of the preparation, his hole is still a vice grip around Sam’s cock.
He rubs the base of Lucas’s spine, encouraging the smaller man to relax enough for him to push a little further, a little deeper into his heat.
Push, wait, push, wait. He feeds his cock to his teammate slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed in that tight, wet grip.
Bottomed out, Sam rumbles out a deep, satisfied groan. He lets his head hang forward as he takes a breath and waits.
Lucas throbs around him, his insides tensing as he adjusts to the intrusion. Sam is sucked in, pulled by the vacuum, by the undulating muscles.
If Lucas wants to swallow him whole, Sam just might let him.
Both of his hands rest on hips in front of him, ready to move as soon as he’s given permission to. He’s antsy, his limbs shaking with anticipation, but Sam keeps his focus on the grip around his cock.
When Lucas wiggles his hips, giving him the go-ahead, Sam pulls out slowly—just a bit—before burying himself deep inside again.
There’s a choked gasp, but Sam doesn’t let up. His hands tighten around Lucas’s middle, stabilizing himself, as he pulls out further and slams back home again.
Lucas’s ass pulsates around Sam’s cock. The tight ring of muscle milks him with every thrust, squeezing along the entire length of his rod as Sam picks up the pace, thrusting faster and shallower into the wet heat.
Lucas whines a string of words that are definitely not English. He sometimes switches to German without realizing it, but Sam never expected it to be so hot. The foreign sound only spurs him on more.
Grunts and slaps of skin join the chorus as Sam’s thighs smack against Lucas again and again. He’s so close, but he needs to hold out, needs to make it good, needs to prove he’s—
Lucas’s hand dives down between his hips and the pillow, aiming for his own cock, but Sam is quicker. He grabs the smaller man by the arm and hoists his body upright, flush against his chest.
With the change of position, Lucas wails. His hand reaches up, back over his shoulder, and he grabs a hold of Sam’s curly locks at the crown of his head. He pulls, and Sam follows, his mouth landing at the junction between neck and shoulder.
Sam laps at the skin, nipping it and kissing. They aren’t supposed to kiss, but he’s intoxicated, addicted to the salty taste of tender flesh as he plunges deeper.
Lucas whimpers, his free hand falling to rest over Sam’s grip on his hip. Slowly, so slowly, the smaller man rocks back to meet him, encouraging Sam to pick up the pace, chasing his own high.
Anything for Lucas.
Sam’s grip tightens as he thrusts faster. They’re sweaty chest to sculpted back and every one of Lucas's punched-out breaths, every high-pitched inhale, is loud, no longer muffled into the mattress.
Sam continues to drive forward as his hand wanders up. His steely arm crosses Lucas’s sticky warm chest and holds him tighter to himself. His free hand finds Lucas’s neglected, dripping wet cock, and he pumps in time with his stilted movements.
The smaller man keens louder, sobbing as he sags against Sam’s stone grip. He doesn’t fight for control over his cock—he lets his teammate take care of him as he traces a shaky hand over Sam’s forearm.
He’s beautiful like this—positively wrecked and lost in the throes of passion. More beautiful than Sam could have ever dreamed.
Sam bites down on the shoulder in front of him, burying himself deep while working Lucas’s cock with his lube-covered hand.
“Merde, merde, ah, ouais!” That doesn’t sound like German. “Fuck, Rafael!”
Rafael?
Lucas comes in Sam’s fist, spilling over onto the bed. Once he’s milked dry, he collapses backwards, into Sam.
Sam steadies him, but as his head lolls to the side, it’s Thomas’s face that greets him.
It’s Thomas’s ass he’s buried in.
Fuck, he actually forgot.
“Do not stop,” Thomas demands with a breathy whine. “Push me forward, finish in me.”
Sam’s not exactly sure what to do now that he’s lost the fantasy. He’s not soft—not even a little bit—but it’s like, weird to fuck his childhood rival, right? Especially since the man in front of him is, without a doubt, definitely Thomas.