Chapter 8 #3
Sam met him as he pushed up, slamming their mouths together, bringing their bodies shoulder to hip with a slap, proving without question that this is not going to be a passive experience. There were no pillow princes in this room.
Thank God.
He spread Sam wide and held him while they kissed, the meeting of lips and tongues so fierce it stung. He wanted to eat this man up, and his skin was hot as hell, his cock hard as a rock.
Sam’s hands were firm, his fingertips pressing in, as if he were giving Evan a massage, sliding down his back until they found his ass.
Then those fingers clamped on tight, rubbing them together, making him feel like he was flying—although he was pushing down, grinding into Sam.
His mouth was dry as dust, their cocks gliding together, the way eased by their need.
So maybe he wasn’t flying; maybe he was damn grounded and starting a huge fire.
One way or the other, it didn’t matter.
He gave up trying to make sense of it, trying to rationalize or understand what he was feeling.
Instead, he gave in to the sensation.
One hand pressed against the pillow holding him up, the other one wrapped around Sam’s nape to bring their mouths together.
That was when he felt them—thick, ropey scars at the base of Sam’s skull up into his hair and beyond. Evan pulled their lips apart, tracing the scars even though his hips were still moving. “What the fuck?”
Sam blinked, eyes unfocused. “Uh. Kicked in the head. Damn near scalped me. Had to sew it all back on. Broke one of the bones in my neck.”
“Jesus.” That was insane.
“Yeah. Fun times.”
Sam sounded like a damn goalie.
“You’re amazing.” Evan slammed their mouths back together and went to town. He couldn’t imagine doing what Sam did after breaking his fucking neck. Hell, it was why he had stopped playing hockey.
But it didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was the feel of them and the way Sam held him. Cradling him between those widespread thighs. His feet planted in the mattress so he could hump up against Evan.
“Fuck, I’m close already.” He was feeling like a teenager, like he was going to come like a geyser. He knew he’d not even touched his dick yet.
Sam gave a wild laugh, his head going back with it. His throat bared for Evan to lick and suck and bite. “Feels fucking good, huh? Been a while.”
“For me, too. But you do it for me, man. I gotta tell you, all the way, every bit.”
“Good.” Sam slid a hand down as far as he could reach, which barely brushed Evan’s balls.
Evan grunted because that almost pushed him right over the edge. Sam’s fingertips were callused and rough, and the sensation was enough to send tingles all the way up his spine to burst in his brain.
He reached down between them to grab Sam’s cock because he needed them to be in the same place. At the same level.
“Oh hell, yeah.” Sam growled low, met his eyes. “Just like that, si? Bueno, no?”
Yeah, it was. It was better than so good. It was fucking amazing
Sam bucked when he started stroking faster. There was a still moment, a second where Sam’s body flushed dark. “You’re solid. I like that.”
He grinned and stroked again, pushing at the tip. “So sweet. You’re a needy little fucker.”
Sam tapped behind his balls, sending lightning through him. “You, too. You got big hands; you can handle us both.”
He nipped Sam’s bottom lip. “You’re still pushy.”
“No one’s surprised. Do it.”
He gathered Sam’s prick up with his own, squeezing them both together. It was a solid handful, and the sensation of Sam’s shaft against his made him pant.
Sam started tapping that hidden strip of skin between his balls and his hole, making his eyes cross, and he stroked in time, the rhythm intended to get them both off.
Grunting, Sam panted, the sound fucking feral. He arched up with every single pull of Evan’s hand, and he was never still. One hand stayed on the back of Evan’s neck, and the other was busy at work down there by his balls. The man had some serious talent.
“M’close.” He was riding right on the edge, the friction perfect. All those touches that Sam was giving him made him want to fly apart.
“Uh-huh. C’mon, make me come.” Sam kissed him hard, in a way that his lips bruised immediately.
That was all it took for Evan to go over. He thrust twice more into the space between his hand and Sam’s dick, and then cried out, his whole body shaking with his orgasm.
Sam swallowed, then threw back his head, more heat joining Evan’s.
His dick jumped, a weak spurt leaving it.
How fucking wild that he was doing this, living this life—the life of a man who finally had a joint orgasm with somebody who was really into it in the daylight in an actual bedroom.
Sam’s squeezed his ass again. “I’ll be ready to do it again in a bit.”
Evan couldn’t even move. “Maybe not yet.”
Evan winked at Sam, and suddenly they started laughing—a strange, part embarrassed, part relieved, part total emotional overload sort of sound.
When the chuckle stopped. Sam caught his gaze, holding it, so serious, eyes still. “I’m not sorry.”
The three words made him grin, and he had to admit they were a relief.
“Me either.”
He leaned down, touched their noses together, gentle as a butterfly wing.
“Like not at all.”