9. Chapter 9 #3
Sam took a hard breath through his nostrils, trying to force his body not to react—not to let his cock thicken any further.
Frankie relentlessly humped into him, grinding their cocks together through their suit pants, edging them on.
This was so fucked up, and he knew it. He was letting Frankie take whatever he wanted, knowing full well he would be the one who would suffer in the end.
Frankie reached between them, slipping his own cock out first, its fat, red head glistening with precum, looking wet and ready for him. Sam whimpered and swayed into him.
“Fuck you,” he cursed, which Frankie ignored, pumping his cock a few times, forcing him to watch as he then reached for Sam, and without any resistance, took his dick out of his pants.
“Fuck…” Sam nearly cried at the sensation of their cocks touching for the first time. Sliding perfectly together, long, thick, and pulsating with need.
“You feel so good, baby,” Frankie drawled, humming at the back of his throat and palming their cocks into his fist.
He shuddered. “Don’t call me that.”
“What? Baby?” Frankie taunted, slowly stroking them upward, pulling on the fleshy meat in his hands. “You don’t like it?”
He loved it. That was the problem.
“Tell me you don’t like it, and I’ll stop,” Frankie challenged, his calloused hand fisting them root to stem, dragging upward.
Sam collapsed against the wall, letting him work them, unable to fight anymore, unable to do anything but surrender to the power of Frankie’s will against his own.
“That’s it,” he murmured, “Fuckin’ touch us, Sammy. Feel how good this is.”
“Oh God,” Sam strained, fingers bunching, jaw clenching. He couldn’t know how they felt together. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. Frankie’s strong grip tugged and tugged, black-brown eyes leveled with his, a command and a request glinting in his gaze.
Frank leaned forward and kissed him, just like he had in the car.
He melted, opening his mouth and letting him probe with his tongue and lips. The kiss felt less passionate and more exploratory, and somehow, equally hot.
Damn it.
Damn him!
Frankie leaned back, their gazes locked, and Sam’s cock began to pulsate at the tip, leaking in his fist. Sam clenched down hard, fighting himself, fighting how much he wanted this.
“I fuckin’ love watching you do that,” Frankie admitted roughly, gaze riveted to his cock.
“What?”
“Leak for me.”
“Oh fuck—fuck you.”
“Oh yeah, baby, I know. I fuckin’ know. You’re so hard, so ready for me,” Frankie purred, lips moving to his neck and sucking hard.
Jesus, it felt good. The sensation of his mouth on his throat, teasing and taking the flesh like it belonged to him.
Like he owned him. His resolve in that instant broke, feeling their cocks being stroked, his neck being sucked.
It was so much. Too much. He couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed their pumping cocks, joining Frankie, who let out a hissing whimper against his neck.
He felt teeth scrape along his jaw, Frankie’s massive chest caging him into the wall behind him, fist fucking him into sweet, hellish oblivion.
Sam humped upward in a wild greeting to the firm grips. He loved how Frankie’s cock was just a little bit bigger than his. Just like how Frankie was just a little bit bigger than him. Not by much, just in muscle and mass alone, while Sam beat him in height. And yet somehow, they fit. They matched.
“Frank,” he panted, arching into him, the unraveling happening quickly now.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he reassured effortlessly—the way he always did.
Something cracked like a gunshot in his chest, and he knew what that meant. Their stroking was getting more frantic, and Frankie licked up his throat before leaning back and spitting down onto their joined cocks.
Sam gasped and jerked, hipping upward to receive it.
Frankie growled and did it again, his spit lubricating them.
“I’m—I’m…” Sam couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
He watched Frankie watch him with that hooded, intense gaze that kept him locked in this moment, their cocks and hips moving as they fucked each other’s fists until Sam was writhing against him.
His free hand shot out, grasping Frankie by the back of the neck and hanging on as he felt himself fall apart at the seams, his orgasm bearing down on him.
Frankie reached out, collaring him roughly by the throat, hips fucking him, cock spearing into their fists. “Wait… not yet…” he commanded. “Let me fuck you some more, baby.”
Sam gasped, shaking violently, forcing himself not to come and not sure he could.
“You’re beautiful,” Frankie rasped roughly, so unexpectedly. So fucking like him. To be affectionate and sweet and…
Fuck-fuck-fuck!
Sam cried out, undulating into Frankie’s furious pumping grip, and he came.
It was violent and messy and endless, ripping through his body like nails and scraping through his system, destroying him from the inside out.
Frankie grunted out a humming sound—a mixture of pleasure and relief, and came against him, shuddering and not stopping, as though he needed to milk the thick, hot ribbons of cum out of their bodies.
The orgasms finally subsided, and their breathing was hard and hot, fanning each other’s faces as Frankie released them. With a predatory gaze he had never seen from him before, Frankie squeezed his fingers over his throat, opened his mouth with his thumb on his jaw, and…
Smeared their combined bliss over his lips and into Sam’s mouth.
He jerked, his cock miraculously pulsing one last time, tasting their ecstasy on his lips.
“Get on your knees and clean me up,” Frankie whispered.
“Fuck.”
“Do it.”
Shaking, he sank down the wall and dropped to his knees.
Frankie gave him little room to maneuver as he slipped his limp dick into his mouth and sucked.
It was dirty and animalistic and exactly what he craved.
He tasted salty and sweet, like him. The musky scent seared into his brain as he eagerly lapped him up, slipping his tongue beneath his balls and all the way up to the tip.
“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, fingers brushing tenderly and intimately through his hair.
Sam should have expected this from Frankie.
Of course, he was all handsy and gooey after a fucking orgasm.
He was also like this after the gym, after riding in the car all day, after one too many beers… When he was… happy.
Sam’s heart thudded weakly.
“My turn.”
Frankie pulled him to his feet and dropped to his knees, sucking down Sam’s limp cock with such sudden authority and possessiveness that he gasped loudly, collapsing against the wall, another wave of shivers and shakes racing through him.
He hungrily watched as Frankie greedily pushed his face into his balls and into the hair between his legs, nuzzling him, cleaning him.
And Sam had never had any lover do this.
Frankie cleaned him for a long time, nearly reviving him. Grating his teeth along his pubic bone, he finally stood. “I never thought I would enjoy…”
He wiped a trembling hand over his face, still catching his breath. “Sucking cock?”
Frankie smiled roguishly, looking him up and down victoriously, as if he had won.
Sam blinked, the hazy fog of their passionate moment in the stairwell evaporating. “You think that’ll make me stay?”
Frankie licked his lips, chin tilting up and looking like the epitome of a conquering king. “I know it fuckin’ will.”
Sam straightened, about to tuck himself away when Frankie shook his head and, with a sudden, insistent tenderness, gently slid him back into his briefs, sliding the zipper of his pants up.
He continued to straighten Sam’s blazer, buckling his belt and taking care of him.
Taking care of him after destroying him, because that’s what he did to the women that fell prey to him, thanking their lucky fucking stars that they got both the teeth and the warmth.
The possessiveness and the consideration.
“I can’t fuckin’ do this,” Sam said, unable to keep the ache from his tone.
“Do what?”
“This…”
“You already are, baby.”
He was and they both knew it. He had wanted this for years. To be claimed by this man. To crawl, begging, over hot coals to be possessed by him.
Frankie shifted nervously again, looking uncertain. “You—uh, wanna come back up? Watch the fight?”
Sam wordlessly shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to be ignored again—not after watching him nuzzle and kiss his fucking dick.
Frankie nodded, fingers twitching. “Come back to my place, then.”
He stared, lips parting in stunned silence.
“You left Papi’s box at my place.”
Shit.
Sam raked a hand over his tired face. “Spare key still in that hide-a-key rock?”
Frankie’s lips turned upward, licking his lower lip. “Yeah. What time is your flight tomorrow?”
“Around 10.”
Frankie nodded, covering the passing emotion by scrubbing a hand over his mouth and glancing up the stairwell. “I shouldn’t be longer than a couple more hours.”
He couldn’t ignore the vulnerability in his eyes and hesitated, swallowing hard and trying to look somewhat in control of his conflicted emotions. Going back to Frankie’s meant only one thing. And for the first time all evening, he suddenly knew exactly what he needed to do.
“Yeah, okay,” Sam replied.
“Yeah?” Frankie asked hopefully.
“I said I would.”
Frankie reached out, cupping the side of his face, “Good. See you in a couple of hours.”
He watched him race up the stairs back to the arena, wondering how the hell he was supposed to survive this man.
I can’t.
And I never will.
That’s why I have to leave.