CHAPTER 16
Jeremy was pretty sure he’d made a huge mistake, and while he couldn’t give into that feeling publicly, he was internally hyperventilating.
His soul was panicking, all his guts and bones screaming.
But outside, he was smiling and pretending to enjoy the vintage of the wine he had just been served, even though it tasted like ashes, tasted like nothing at all.
‘Delicious,’ he said, forcing a smile. He felt a hand on his knee, and jumped.
‘You’re very handsome,’ came a voice, and Jeremy laughed nervously. A hand grasped his jaw and tilted his head, and Jeremy looked up at the face of Brian Northern Trellis.
‘Thank you,’ Jeremy stuttered, abruptly standing up from the couch, leaving Brian hovering awkwardly.
The apartment was luxurious, but weirdly sparse, with lots of chrome and reflective black surfaces, no pot plants, no photos, an excessive amount of glassware. It looked out onto the twinkling expanse of the city, and the sounds of sirens and car horns filtered through the soundproof glass.
Jeremy looked down at his phone and opened the thread he had with Sam. There was still no answer: the last five messages were glaringly green and from Jeremy alone.
Yep. He’d definitely made a huge mistake. It was hard to know exactly when. And why. And what to do about it.
After the kiss in the gardens – the kiss that felt like jumping off something tall and fatal and surviving, and also like dipping into a hot pool and feeling every muscle un-tense, the kiss that told him Sam knew how to goddamn kiss – they’d headed back to the hotel room.
They had almost run, hand in hand, laughing and joking, dodging other wedding guests.
And in the room, before they’d even managed to lock the door behind them – well, that was something else.
Jeremy remembered the kissing continuing, hungrily, passionately.
He remembered them finally getting to that bed, falling into it, hands still entangled, mouths and tongues still locked, feeling the explosion of their bodies touching and grinding and writhing, the way they’d laughed and grinned as shoes and belts were whipped off, suit jackets thrown into the corner.
Jeremy had seen Sam naked before, long ago through the mists of a locker room, but that was different from having Sam in his tight underpants climb over Jeremy on that bed, hot skin on skin, writhing together.
That was nothing compared to reaching up and grasping at the thatch of his chest hair, biting through the coarseness to find a nipple, reaching a hand down and holding his hardness.
His memories were a montage of Sam smiling as he stripped Jeremy bare, of throwing a leg over, of kissing all the way down from his neck, over his stomach, and taking Sam in his mouth.
He would never forget the rasp of Sam’s beard against his thigh, the sound of Sam moaning, the way their voices and hands and mouths intertwined.
Jeremy was used to sex being like a sprint, a race to get to the finish line so he could leave a hook-up’s house and go home – and he was totally fine with it continuing like that with Sam.
This was passion and urgency that didn’t feel forced or uncomfortable, and Jeremy had been happy to ride it to the inevitable conclusion.
He’d been shocked when Sam slowed it down, achingly, tenderly pulling them back from the brink, almost stopping, slowly and tantalisingly starting it all again.
Jeremy was surprised when, instead of leaving him feeling like the momentum had been arrested, instead of frustrating him, this had raised everything to an aching point of tension, everything heightened and exquisite.
In that space, Jeremy dragged fingers down Sam’s spine, watching him arch and gasp, and was equally responsive as he felt teeth on his thigh, lips on his hipbone, and more.
It spiralled back up to frenetic again, to fevered, to gasping and moaning, until they were done.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
They had lain, twisted in bedsheets and each other, drowsily joking, occasionally kissing, until the early hours of the morning when they’d fallen asleep.
None of it had felt like a mistake then.
It had felt perfect, transcendent, ecstatic.
Jeremy had had enough hook-ups and one-night stands to know that the kind of synchronicity, the kind of respect, hell the sheer enjoyment they had both definitely felt was rare.
The next morning, he’d woken up – hungover, dry-mouthed, stubble-rashed – and looked at Sam sleeping next to him.
He was peaceful, content, his mouth comically wide open, his forehead tucked into Jeremy’s shoulder.
Jeremy, with tentative fingers, brushed through his hair gently, feeling something tender and raw break open inside him.
He realised it was time to be honest with himself, finally – he was ridiculously, wholeheartedly, disgustingly into this man, and had been for a long time.
In his defence, at first he’d hated him. Then he’d assumed he was straight for a long time. And then, after all that, they were friends, and he’d had no idea how Sam felt about him. It hadn’t been prudent to admit that he thought Sam was heartbreakingly perfect and handsome and kind.
Should he tell Sam he had a crush on him?
Surely this was the moment to do so, their naked bodies knotted together under a thin sheet.
Or was Jeremy reading way too much into this?
People had sex all the time – it didn’t mean they were promised to each other.
Had there been even a single sign, other than being horny for Jeremy, that Sam liked him? He hadn’t said anything.
Jeremy had spent the next hour working himself into a lather, trying to guess how Sam felt about this situation, what the right thing to do was.
He wanted to get his phone and message Liz and Anna, and ask their advice, but after slowly reaching over Sam, careful not to disturb him, he found his battery dead, as they hadn’t brought any power cords with them.
‘Good morning,’ came a soft voice against his neck, and Jeremy had turned to see a bleary-eyed Sam looking up at him before nuzzling in even closer.
‘Hey,’ Jeremy had replied, his voice croaky and thick. ‘How did you … sleep …? Oh.’
Before he could make things awkward through forced morning-after small talk, Sam had raised himself off the mattress and leant in for a long, deep and heavy kiss.
At first, Jeremy couldn’t stop thinking about how bad his breath might smell, about how crusty his eyes were, about the probably nuclear state of his hair, but as Sam continued to kiss him, he stopped worrying or even thinking coherent thoughts.
As Sam had finally, slowly broken the kiss, Jeremy sighed with disappointment, both at it ending and also knowing that now they’d have to engage with the reality of the night before. What did it all mean? What did they do now? Where could they find coffee?
But to his surprise, he’d felt himself being scooped up off the bed, firefighter style.
The surprise turned what should have been a romantic and sexy and commanding move into something that briefly looked more like someone stealing a windmill, Jeremy’s arms flying out wildly.
But Sam shifted his weight, and Jeremy found himself curling against the hairy chest, his head resting on the naked shoulder.
He was transported bodily across the room, the bathroom door nudged open by Sam’s foot, and after a second, and a couple of grunts as Sam dealt with the logistics, the shower head started spitting a wide stream of steaming hot water.
‘May I?’ Sam asked archly, shifting to look Jeremy in the face, tilting his head towards the shower. Jeremy nodded, intrigued, and was gently carried into the water and finally set down.
They kissed again, and the contrast between the warmth of the water, the cold bite of the air and the irresistible heat of Sam drove Jeremy into a yet another unexpected moan.
Between half-closed eyes and through the spray, he saw Sam grin triumphantly at him, and then suddenly Sam’s head disappeared from his sight.
He knelt on the shower floor and for a moment he looked up at Jeremy with delicious anticipation, then closed his mouth around Jeremy’s cock. Jeremy threw his head back in bliss.
‘God,’ he said out loud. ‘Sam,’ he amended, groaning, grasping at Sam’s hair, holding himself up by one splayed arm against the tiles.
When he felt things start to build, when he started panting even harder, he pushed Sam’s head back gently and went to fold himself down onto his own knees – however, he felt himself stopped by a firm hand on his chin, tilting his head back up as Sam stood.
‘Please, let me do this,’ he had said huskily.
He’d pushed Jeremy back against the wall, firmly, but not violently. He pinned his arms back too, biting hard against the soft base of his neck. Jeremy could feel his pulse beating wildly against Sam’s mouth.
Held there, almost helpless, Jeremy felt Sam’s hand begin caressing and then, emboldened, stroking.
It was too much – the lack of control, the heat and the wet, the way Sam’s face filled his vision, making deep intense eye contact …
Jeremy felt himself shudder and slump against Sam, suddenly boneless.
‘Oh my god,’ he gasped, hearing Sam chuckle in response. ‘Give me one second,’ Jeremy remembered saying, before taking one last shuddering breath, and then saying, ‘Your turn.’
‘What time is it?’ Sam had asked later, as they’d lounged wordlessly on the bed, sprawled and satisfied.
‘No idea.’ Jeremy laughed. ‘Phone’s dead.’
Sam sighed, sat up – glorious pecs and broad shoulders and the top of his butt suddenly available for Jeremy to admire – and looked through his clothes near the bed to find his wristwatch, because of course he owned a wristwatch.
‘Aha!’ he said triumphantly, picking it up. ‘Oh shit. It’s midday.’