Day 14 Worcester, MA
MAX
SO, IT TURNS OUT THAT TELLING Roxie and Blake wasn’t a big deal at all.
Sure, Roxie scowled and teased us a bit.
But Blake just smiled and said he was happy for us.
And it meant that after the show last night, when we went back to the house where we were staying, Sam sat right next to me on the couch, curled up against me while we pounded back a few beers and shot the shit with our hosts.
Nobody gave a crap when I kissed him, or when he rested his hand on my thigh.
I feel like I’m drunk, even when I’m not. And when I am — well, it turns out that drunk kissing with Sam is better than any drunk kissing I’ve ever had. I wonder why that is.
Even mundane shit is better. On our drive today, we stopped at a laundromat, and while our clothes were in the dryer, Sam and I found a park a block away and fell asleep in the grass for an hour.
I’m exhausted, and I feel like my dick is gonna fall off.
But I wouldn’t miss a single second of this for the world.
At the moment, we’ve just finished loading in for our show tonight, which is in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Worcester.
This city has sort of a cool, industrial vibe that reminds me of some of the towns back home in the Lehigh Valley, and I wouldn’t mind poking around more if we had more time.
But I guess that’s a thought for a different trip.
I spot Sam heading into the building just as I’m heading back out, and I grab him by the hand, pulling him over into a corner of the loading dock.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he murmurs back, and his eyes are bright when he looks at me.
I don’t know quite what Sam has been thinking about everything going on between us the past few days, because he’s been playing it pretty close to the vest. But he looks genuinely happy, softer and more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time.
I’m just running my hand up the side of his neck to kiss him when I hear an exasperated sigh behind me.
“All right, you cunts, you need to get this shit out of your systems.”
We both turn to look, and Roxie is behind us, holding her throne in one hand, digging in her pocket with the other. She pulls out the keys to the van and tosses them to me.
“Come back when you’re ready to play without shoving your hands in each other’s pants in the middle of the stage.”
I look down at the keys in my hand, then back up at her. “You mean, you’re actually telling us to —”
“Do you think you’ll be the first people to fuck in that van?” Roxie rolls her eyes at me. “Go on, shoo.”
Sam raises his eyebrows at me, and I grin back, and then we’re both hightailing it down the ramp, crossing the swiftly darkening parking lot to the van. We pile into the back, and I throw myself onto the seat, hooking my fingers through Sam’s belt loops to pull him forward.
“You know, this explains a lot about why those two are always disappearing —” Sam whispers.
“I don’t care, shut up and kiss me —”
We’re getting good at this. Sam straddles my lap, his hands sliding into my hair, and I hold onto his waist as we slot together.
A week ago, I was having a stupid jealous fit about Sam and that guy Damian, and now I have Sam all to myself, making little noises in his throat as he presses himself against me.
It’s a sultry evening, the air in the van a little stuffy after being out in the hot sun all day.
But I don’t care. As long as Sam keeps kissing me, I’ll sweat through anything.
But hey, might as well take the opportunity to be a little cheesy while I’m at it.
“Hot in here, isn’t it?” I rumble, stripping my shirt off and dropping it on the floor.
“Did you just —” Sam starts to snicker. “What is this, an 80s teen sex comedy?”
But he follows suit, and when he presses his bare chest against mine, his skin is warm and a little damp. And I don’t know why it gets me so hard to have him like this, hot and sweaty and real.
It’s not like I’ve only ever gone for super dainty girls or anything.
In the last few years, especially, most of the girls I’ve dated have been as liable to kick my teeth in as make out with me.
I probably would have been into Roxie if she wasn’t already with Blake when we met.
But if somebody had told me two weeks ago that I’d be losing my shit over all the ways that Sam and I are the same — that I wouldn’t be able to get enough of his skinny chest or his ropy muscles or the sharp scent of his cheap deodorant or the faint scratch of stubble on his cheeks — I don’t know if I would have believed it.
Still, I am not at all sorry that I’ve found out the truth.
Sam doesn’t seem to be remotely conflicted about what turns him on.
His thighs are spread wide across my hips, and I can feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against my belly through his jeans as he rocks against me.
He’s kissing me, one of his hands wrapped around the back of my neck.
But the other is spread across my sternum, fingers combing through my chest hair as he licks deep into my mouth.
With a throaty chuckle, I cover his hand with mine. “Something you like?”
He looks down in consternation, then gently butts his head against mine. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, and he sounds a little hysterical. “You are so fucking hot —”
“Sammy —”
I don’t know why that makes me crazy, but it does.
Even before all of this happened, I had no problem with telling Sam he looked nice, and sometimes it was fun to go a little over the top to make him blush.
But Sam almost never said anything like it in return.
So to hear him say that, now, in that tone of voice —
I run both hands up his sides, tugging at his nipple rings, and it’s like I shot him through with an electrical current. He shudders against me, clutching at my shoulders as he whines into my mouth. I break the kiss, nosing along the line of his throat, and he puts his lips to my ear.
“Max — Max —” he pants. “Can I please suck your cock?”
I freeze. And then I can’t help it — I start to laugh.
Sam sits back, looking a little annoyed. “What?”
“No, I’m sorry —” I grab both of his hands and kiss his palm. “It’s just — I’ve never been asked that — like that — like I’m the one doing you a favor rather than the other way round —”
Sam shrugs. “It’s just — I dunno, a handjob is one thing, but putting my mouth on you, it’s — um, intimate.”
Thankfully, I notice the shift in his tone, and I don’t make any more of an ass of myself. There’s something in his eyes, something fragile that I don’t understand, that makes me want to gather him up and hold him. So that’s what I do, stroking my hands down his bare back.
“Do we need to talk?” I whisper.
“No —” Sam replies emphatically. His lips are hot against my skin, and he begins to move, sucking kisses down my neck that go straight to the bright hot ball of want building behind my navel. “I just need to — please, Max —”
“Okay —”
Sam lifts his head, his eyes searching mine.
He gathers up my face in both hands, and when he kisses me I swear I hear violins or some shit, something soft and rosy and slow, and my hands are clutching him close and I feel like I might shatter.
Then he’s sliding off my lap, dragging his mouth down the front of my chest as he sinks to the floor, leaving kisses in his wake.
My best friend is on the ground at my feet, running his open palms up my thighs, and if I were making a list of the most erotic moments of my life, this would definitely be on it.
When he reaches my waistband he hesitates, dipping his thumbs into the hollows of my hips, and I reach down to cup his cheek.
“Everything okay down there?”
“Yeah, I was just thinking —” Sam’s voice is a little raspy, and he looks up into my face, his thumbs continuing to massage my skin. “Do you have any idea how low you wear your towel when you get out of the shower?”
“Is it —” My mouth is weirdly dry. “Um — very low?”
“Mmm —” Sam’s hips are rolling on nothing, his whole body in motion as he dips his head. “I have to keep a straight face while you wave these cum gutters in front of me when all I want to do is —”
His head darts forward, and I feel lips and teeth as he sucks a deep bruise right inside my hipbone. I buck against his mouth, my hand clawing at his bare shoulder, my eyes nearly rolling back in my head —
“Fucking fuck —”
And we’re both reaching for the waistband of my jeans, four hands fiddling with the button and yanking the zipper down, shoving my boxers out of the way and dragging me out into the open.
Sam grabs one of my hands and puts it on top of his head, curling my fingers into his spiky hair.
Then he’s looking up at me, making sure I’m watching as he licks all the way up the underside of my cock, closing his lips around the head and swallowing me down.
“Nnnnnh, Sammy —”
He’s good at this. Of course he fucking is, what am I talking about?
We’ve talked about this shit, and he’s told me that he’s into it — a little fact I’ve probably thought about too much, even before I realized — well, everything.
He’s taking his time, his eyes shut tight as he drags himself up and down, and I can’t take my eyes off him, can’t stop watching my dick bobbing in and out of his —
It's been less than a minute and I can’t feel my fucking face —
“God, dude — fucking hell —”
I don’t even know what I’m saying, babbling nonsense and panting, trying not to shoot my load off all at once.
It’s a good thing we’re not trying to do this in secret, because I don’t think I would be able to keep quiet.
I try tightening my grip in his hair, giving him an experimental tug, and he groans deep in his throat, the sound rumbling around my cock as his fingers grip my thigh.