18. Chapter 18
Frankie heard a car pull up on his driveway, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing. He frowned, not expecting company on a Thursday afternoon. He angled his head from beneath the car and caught sight of familiar boots. His pulse leaped in response.
Kicking out his heels, he rolled out from beneath the car, his creeper wheels squeaking. He was instantly greeted by a slow smile and classic aviator sunglasses perched on a perfect fucking nose over the sexiest stubble-grazed dimpled chin.
“Busy?” Sam asked.
Not anymore.
He couldn’t help but lick his lips, staring up at his best friend. “Yeah, actually I was. Hopin’ to get her purrin’ by the end of the month.”
Sam eyed the dark-orange Chevy Chevelle with the black racing stripes down the middle. “I like this one.”
“Yeah?” This pleased him, considering this car was part of the plans he had set in motion the moment he left Sam’s house two weeks ago. “Been tinkering on her at another shop for a while. The owner is retiring and decided to sell her to me for a reasonable price, knowing I would take care of her.”
Just like I plan on takin’ care of you.
Frankie got to his feet, a slow grin dancing on his lips, sweat beading his forehead and slicking his arms from working in the garage for the last two hours. Had he known Sam was coming, he would’ve at least showered and brushed his teeth.
“You’re a day early, Sammy,” he chided mockingly.
Sam slid his sunglasses off, giving a slight shrug. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”
He hummed, wiping his oily hands on the rag in his back pocket. “Yeah? What couldn’t you wait for, baby?”
“Fuck—that,” he said with a long sigh. “I flew thousands of miles just to hear you call me that.”
“Come here,” he murmured, and they both moved, coming together like nervous, fluttering teenagers, both excited and thrumming with energy.
Sam’s fingers were at the back of his neck, drawing him in for a deep, thorough kiss.
“Fuck,” Frankie breathed against his lips. “Yeah?”
“I missed kissing you,” Sam sighed against his lips, as though he somehow couldn’t believe this was happening—that they were at it again and it was a mutual longing.
Frankie hoped that with everything he had in place this weekend, Sam would finally realize he was in this for the long run, and he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’ve missed you kissing me,” he replied.
Sam smiled, pulling back, but not before playfully nipping at his lower lip. Looking uncharacteristically nervous, he unzipped his backpack and opened it.
“Traveling light, I see,” Frankie commented.
“I didn’t plan on wearing much this weekend… as requested.”
His heart flopped over and his stomach tightened, loving that Sam had not only listened to him the morning he had left, but also wanted the same thing. Them—in bed—all weekend with nothing but time and each other.
“I got you something,” Sam said, surprising him.
“Ain’t it your birthday?”
He blinked as an identical black Audioslave sweater emerged from the backpack. The same sweater they had fought over for years. The same one he had wrapped Nona in and…
“What’s this?” he asked, throat tightening.
“You said that you gave this to Nona… That you buried her with it. I know I can’t ever make it up to you for not being there for her,” He glanced up from the sweater, “or for you. It’s taken me five months to find this, and I’ve developed an ulcer from having to deal with the seller…”
“Sam,” Frankie touched the sweater, feeling the soft black cotton. An unexpected wave of emotion burned behind his eyes.
He was transported back to the last time they were all together.
Nona was strewn out in Frankie’s arms on his couch, cuddling as she always insisted on doing, despite weighing almost sixty pounds.
Sam was sitting beside them, his large hand drifting over her face as she nuzzled into Frankie’s chest. Sam had come over after his shift at the hospital to watch the fight and have dinner, and... everything inside him stilled.
That was love.
That was what their friendship had been for years, but he hadn’t seen it. He never saw how simple it had always been and would always be.
Because love wasn’t complicated.
It was easy.
Natural. Like this.
“You didn’t have to do this,” his voice strained, and his vision burned with tears.
“You shouldn’t have said goodbye to her alone.” Sam kissed his temple, affectionately raking his fingers through his hair. “I should’ve been here with you.”
Frankie hugged him hard, breathing in his faint scent and never wanting to let go.
Sam sighed, kissing the side of his neck. “Do you know how much I envied her? The way you’d wrap her in your arms and cuddle all night long while I sat beside you both, being eaten alive wanting to touch you.”
Something ached painfully in his chest. “Sam…”
“You have me all weekend. We can cuddle and snore on each other all night.”
Frankie chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I—uh—have a surprise for you, too,” he said, feeling as nervous as he fuckin’ sounded.
Sam lifted his eyebrows, waiting.
“I—uh…” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck it, here it goes. I know you said you like it both ways.”
Sam stilled.
“Top—bottom—whatever.”
His best friend smirked and nodded.
“So, I did some research,” he continued quickly. “And I have been…” He let out a puffed breath. “I’ve been doing that stuff they recommended online. Priming and shit.”
His mouth instantly fell open. “Frank.”
“I wanted to experience all of it—with you. And I know you wanted to do this with me, so… I…”
Before he realized what was happening, Sam slipped off his sunglasses, revealing the heat there, along with something else, something predatory and hungry.
Oh fuck.
Frankie backed into his car, trying to catch his breath, recognizing this was how bunnies must have felt before a hawk swooped down on their ass.
“You wanted to please me?” Sam whispered in that grating, raspy tone that sent shockwaves of shivers down his back.
He nodded, whimpering already. “Fuck, always.”
Sam stalked him slowly, eyes dancing over his body. “I’ve always had this fantasy about this garage. You—sweaty, filthy even, and me standing behind you while you were bent over the hood, letting me ride you.”
Sweet fuckin’ Jesus.
“Do you know how many times I jerked off to the smell of gas and fuckin’ motor oil? Christ, I thought I was losing my damned mind with how bad I wanted to feel that ass break against me.”
“Fuck.”
“Will you do that for me, Frank? Will you give me that fantasy? Let me fuck you here?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“I don’t have anything,” Frankie muttered pathetically, blushing from head to fucking toe.
Sam went back to his bag and pulled out a small bottle of lube, and his heart stuttered.
This was happening. Really happening. Sure, he was nervous, but he was also fuckin’ excited, because the truth was, he had spent the last two weeks getting ready, learning how to clean himself and experimenting on the pleasure of his prostate, having bought himself a toy to try with.
And yeah, he figured out real quick that he fuckin’ liked it. Correction, he loved it.
So, the idea that he’d actually get to have Sam—his best friend—his Superman—fuck him, already had his cock tenting in his jeans, his body a quivering mass of need, and he hadn’t even touched him yet.
Sam noticed, lip dancing into a teasing smile, “Do I make you horny, baby?”
He suddenly laughed, getting the movie reference and relaxing against the car. “Fuck off.”
He grinned handsomely, his bright green eyes sparkling.
Fuck, I am so gone for him.
“I’ll be gentle…” Sam said. “I can go slow. And if it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”
He swallowed, nodding.
Sam, still smiling, kissed the side of his mouth, his slightly taller build caging him to the car, which he didn’t mind at all. “I love the idea of getting to take care of you while also taking care of myself.”
He shivered as Sam’s hand slid up his shirt, dragging his fingers upward over his sweaty stomach.
“I think I’m a bit greedier than you when it comes to the bedroom,” Sam murmured. “Though you do get pretty fucking feral when I’m dripping in your cum.”
A whooshing breath escaped his lips and he groaned. “Fuck.”
He’d been dreaming about aggressive, dominant Sam all fucking week. Sam’s nail scraped over his nipple before squeezing his pec roughly, grinding his cock into his hip and letting him feel how hard he was for this.
Frankie was so ready to go off that he wasn’t sure he’d last two more seconds, even though all they were doing was light petting and kissing.
He quickly hit the garage door button, refusing to let there be an audience for his first time doing this.
Once closed, he unbuckled his belt and slid down his jeans.
Sam stepped back, eyeing him and smiling darkly.
“So needy to be fucked, Frank?”
He kicked off his shoes and jeans, erection straining between his legs and tip smeared with precum. “I’ve waited two fuckin’ weeks for you. I don’t care what you do to me, baby. I just need you to fuckin’ touch me.”
Sam’s taunting smirk vanished as he lunged forward, smashing his lips against his, urgent and demanding. They both groaned at the sensation, and Sam, understanding his need because it was his own, quickly fumbled for his own jeans and shoved them down, revealing his naked, throbbing cock.
Frankie’s mouth watered. He wanted to do a million things to him, but all of it could wait. They had time. They had the rest of their lives to explore, taste, marvel.
Sam’s hand roughly palmed his dick and he arched upward, reaching for his, needing the friction, the feel of his best friend. They both sighed as their dicks touched and slid off each other, their tips messily leaking for one another and the anticipation of what was to happen.
“I’m not gonna last long doing this,” Sam rasped.
“Me neither. Just fuck me.”