13. Chapter 13 #2
Frankie slowly set the photo down, reaching for the hem of his shirt and drawing it over his head, then tossing it casually to the floor. He licked his lower lip, dark eyes riveted to his. “Come here.”
Releasing a hard breath through his nostrils, Sam did.
Frankie’s broad shoulders were lined with the hours spent working on cars, hitting a heavy bag, and lifting weights.
They were defined and carved out of granite.
Frankie’s naked chest and torso were lightly sprinkled with dark chest hair and Sam had always wanted to drag his nails through it, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.
The dark lines of his tattoos were inked over his olive skin and covered his thick, muscular arms.
Sunlight from the window behind him illuminated him, encasing his best friend like a mirage—a dream made real.
Because Frankie was his dream.
Always. And he never wanted it to end.
“I like it when you listen,” Frankie drawled, eyes dancing with that playful charm.
He snorted, “I think the word you mean is obey.”
“Yeah, that too.”
“I need to kiss you again,” Sam heard himself admit.
Frankie hummed, smiling, and captured the back of his neck, kissing him. It was soft and gentle, yet firm and commanding. Sam reached for his naked shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin, and his body trembled with anticipation.
“You don’t gotta be nervous,” Frankie murmured, slipping his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
Excitement and a dangerous sliver of hope flared in his chest.
“You keep sayin’ that,” Sam said quietly, tonguing the inside of Frankie’s sweet mouth.
He didn’t like the implications of Frankie having come here to rescue him, even though he knew this conversation was about sex and not his occasional panic attacks.
“I’m a grown-ass man, Frankie. I can take care of myself. ”
Frankie’s eyes narrowed, hand fisting in his hair.
“There you fuckin’ go being difficult again.
” He shook his head. “I know you can take care of yourself. I’ve watched you do it for years.
But I...” Frankie’s expression softened.
“I like takin’ care of you. I like it when you need me.
You’ve got your whole fuckin’ life together while mine is…
” he trailed off, sighing. “I love that my best friend is some hotshot ED doctor that I can brag about ‘til I’m blue in the face, but I still get to be the one you call when you can’t be Superman anymore. ”
Sam blushed, inhaling the light scent of beer and Frankie. His lips curled into a smile. “If I’m Superman, you gotta be my Batman?”
“Damn straight I’m your fuckin’ Batman, none of that Robin shit.” Frankie grinned affectionately before kissing him, hard and… lovingly. Sam chased that feeling, hands shaking.
Fuck, it was good to have him like this.
Just like this.
In his arms, his lips pressed against his.
I will never recover from him.
The thought slammed into him like an iron mallet: if he had to live the rest of his life without him, he would always come back to this moment.
He just hoped it would be enough to last a lifetime.
Because Frankie wasn’t his, no matter what he said.
Because he wasn’t gay, and couldn’t—wouldn’t—be with Sam the way he needed.
So, this was it. This was all Sam would ever get.
I’ve already become Papi.
He swallowed the grief, refusing to settle for anything less than extraordinary right fucking now. Sam’s heart swooped painfully hard and he gritted his teeth, fighting down the emotion.
Frankie pulled back from the kiss, sensing it. He could always read him like an open book. He stared, cradling his cheek, his gaze searching him, trying to find him under all his fear.
“You’re my fuckin’ Superman, Sammy. You’re my hero.
You… you’re just incredible, and I knew from day one—with you just sittin’ at that back booth at the bar, your fuckin’ hoodie over your head, your textbooks strewn out in front of ya like you were studyin’ for the biggest test of your life.
” Frankie admitted, taking him off guard.
“I thought I had drive until I met you. Then I realized I didn’t have shit.
You had a rocket strapped to your back, and I wanted that. I wanted to be like you.”
Christ, this man. This affectionate, emotional, wonderful man.
I’m so gone for him.
I’m never going to find this again.
“The last time you let me touch you—kiss you—you told me I was a good man. Yeah, sure. But that only happened because of you.”
Love welled in his body like a dam, bursting from him and breaking down every single defense.
“Frankie…” Sam whispered, heart brimming with a love he couldn’t say. Maybe ever.
It felt like he was catching a fluttering butterfly, its wings flapping against his hand as Sam slowly led it to his bed. Frankie, already breathing hard, his dark eyes piercing and wanting, glanced at the bed and back at him.
Fuck.
His nervous vulnerability was incredible and endearing and so fucking sexy. Sam took it with both hands, slipping his hands around his face and framing him before descending over his lips and kissing him softly, gently, slowly. Frankie exhaled, relaxing against him the second their lips touched.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Sam confessed, their eyes never once looking away as he laid out his heart. “I miss you—all the time.”
Frankie shuddered, his hands finally lifting to touch him, wrapping around his neck and grasping his hips, drawing him closer. “Fuck, I thought it was just me.”
His heart flopped in his chest and he sucked in a breath, kissing him again, deepening it. This wasn’t like their other kisses, crushing and urgent, that somehow felt stolen and wrong. This felt affectionate, vulnerable. So achingly sweet he could cry.
“I wanna…” Frankie broke the kiss, nervous again, but more determined. “I wanna—fuck, I can’t even say it.”
Sam waited, desperate, like a man stranded on a desert island, so damned needy for a drop of water that only he could give.
“I wanna feel you—I wanna fuck you.”
Sam’s cock pulsed beneath his sweatpants, and he felt his tip leak at his words. “And what happens afterward, Frank?”
“I thought about that, too,” he said. “It means you're mine. That you don’t let anyone else touch you but me.”
Sam shivered but refused to show how much he wanted to believe that. “For how long?”
“Does it matter?”
Yes.
“I’ve seen you do this possessive act with other women. You love them and leave them.”
Frankie’s hand gripped his jaw firmly. The intensity in his eyes blazed straight through his fucking soul.
“I ain’t leavin’ you,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “This is the other way around, Sam. You’ve been the one who's been straddling this fuckin’ fence ever since Papi died. Neither of us can give each other the answer we want right now—and maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe we should just…”
“Fuck around and figure things out later?” Sam taunted, his arousal straining against him, loving the possessiveness he never believed in a million years he’d be on the receiving end of.
Frankie’s throat bobbed in a hard swallow. “Yeah. Fuck yeah.”
“I…”
Sam felt the nervousness suddenly clench at his stomach like a tourniquet. Knowing Frankie like this, truly feeling him, connected to his body the way he was to his heart…
It would destroy him.
Frankie recognized his nerves, drawing in his lips against his. “I know. I know…”
Oh fuck.
Who am I kidding?
I was ruined the moment Frankie Casavani smiled at me fifteen fuckin’ years ago.
“I want to feel you,” Frankie grunted, tonguing savagely into his mouth, forcing Sam to give and bend. “I want more. I know you do, too.”
His heart was breaking and racing all at once, and he nodded, “Okay.”
“Yeah?” he kissed him between breaths.
“Yeah.”
“Jesus fuck, thank God,” Frankie wrapped his hand around the back of his head and slammed him into a brutal, claiming kiss that sent him straight into a full-out tailspin.
“I know you’re nervous. But you don’t gotta be right now, all right? I’ll be good to you, you of all people know this.”
Sam trembled. Yes, he did.
He saw the simpering women that Frankie had ensnared over the years, and that magical lasso was now around Sam. He finally understood their simpering, and Frankie hadn’t even fucked him yet.
“Let me show you how good I can take care of you, baby.”
Baby—fucking baby.
His dick throbbed, and he nodded.
Frankie’s hand slid beneath the hemline of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. His hungry gaze moved over his body as his hands brushed over his naked flesh, marveling at his muscles and licking his lips.
“I never…” Frankie’s fingers traced over his nipples, causing a sigh to escape his lips. He wanted Frankie to explore, marvel, and adore. He wanted it all. But he was very aware this was his first time with a man, and he would go at his pace.
“I never thought I’d find another guy attractive,” Frankie continued, surprising him. “I guess it’s just you… your kisses… your fuckin’ body…”
Sam decided that if he were to die right now, it would be of shock and a throbbing cock.
“Fuck,” Frankie’s hands slid down his stomach, stilling at his sweatpants. “Now I’m fuckin’ nervous.”
Boldly, Sam pushed his sweatpants down for him, baring himself first. Frankie’s eyes flicked back to his, cocking his head to the side. “Yeah, just like that, huh?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Your turn.”
Frankie smirked at the challenge, giving him that look—the look that drove him fucking wild. It was a combination of mischievousness and charm that was somehow intense.
Frankie slid his hands over his sweatpants and pushed them down, kicking them off his ankles and standing completely naked in front of him. Sam swallowed.
He wasn’t sure who reached for whom first, but it didn’t matter. The second their naked bodies collided, they both gasped.