Day 14 Worcester, MA #2
I’m starting to lose it, and it feels like he is too, and that’s making me feel some kind of way. Like, it’s not that I hate myself or anything. I think I’m reasonably attractive. But the way Sam looks at me — the way he makes me feel wanted even when he’s the one doing something for me —
“Sam, fuck — Sammy, I’m gonna —”
He nods once, giving me permission, but he doesn’t pull away —
“Hnngghh!”
I’m spilling into his mouth, my fingers tangled in his hair, my thighs going numb, my whole body shaking.
But I barely have time to think, to ask if I can do anything for him, before Sam is on the move.
He scrambles up onto the seat, reaching over the back of it for his bag and grabbing a small bottle.
Then he’s straddling my lap, undoing his own jeans and pulling his cock out.
He pours a little lube into my palm and wraps my hand around his shaft.
“Here, like this —”
Sam shoves my hand low against my belly, clamping his fingers around my wrist to hold me still, and a light goes off in my brain.
“Got it —” I whisper.
Sam nods curtly, then presses his lips against my forehead and grabs my shoulders with both hands. With a sigh, he begins to move his hips.
I guess I’ve never thought about being fucked before.
I mean, why would I? It’s always been pretty obviously the other way round.
But here I am, pinned against the seat by Sam’s weight, nothing to do but let him use me, and it’s fucking hot.
He’s shuddering against me, his fingers digging into my skin, staccato breath in my face as he picks up speed.
And I wrap my free arm around his waist, dipping my hand below his waistband to grab his bare ass, to support him as he moves.
He’s fucking my fist with everything he has, and something in my lizard brain is whispering yes, if he ever wanted — if he asked —
“Max!”
He’s letting go, shooting halfway up my chest, his shoulders heaving as he comes down from his high, settling back on his heels in my lap.
He gives me a shy smile, and I grin back, cocking an eyebrow and looking down at the mess.
I don’t even know why — I’m just a little punch-drunk, I guess. But Sam wavers, biting his lip.
“Oh, um —”
Sam is out of my lap before I can stop him, sinking back to his knees on the floor. When I realize what he’s about to do, I gasp.
“Dude —”
His eyes are fixed on my face, and I’m frozen in place, utterly mesmerized as he licks up my bare chest, right up through the mess he left behind.
My cock twitches almost painfully, and if I weren’t already completely spent I could almost come again.
I rest my hand on his head, but he persists, licking again and again until I’m completely clean.
When he’s done, I grab him under the arms and haul him back up into my lap, kissing him soundly.
He tastes like both of us, and for some reason that only gets me hotter as I chase the salt-tang of it.
But he’s whimpering, shaking against me.
“Sorry —” he whispers. “Was that too much —”
“No, it was hot as fuck —” I breathe back. “You’re perfect —”
And he’s hugging me tight, burying his face in my shoulder, and I don’t quite know what is going on, why he seems so emotional. But I hold him close, because it’s the only thing I can do.
SAM
I am fucking this up.
I don’t know what I was thinking, letting Max see — everything he saw tonight.
Actually, I guess that’s the problem, because I wasn’t thinking at all.
I know I have to watch myself, that I can’t risk letting him know just how much I care.
But then I start kissing him, and all of that goes out the window.
And suddenly I have no control over what’s coming out of my mouth. Or going into it, for that matter.
But what if this whole thing is just a dream?
What if we get home and Max realizes that it’s not actually what he wants, that being with me was just some crazy fantasy born out of too many days spent in close company?
Crazy shit happens when you’re on tour — everybody who’s ever been out on the road like this knows that.
What will I do if this is all we get? What will he do?
What if he decides that he can’t even be my friend anymore, let alone — whatever we’ve been to each other these past few days?
I could lose my best friend and the love of my life, just like that.
The thing that kills me is that we’ve never been happier.
Max is in such a good mood, and it’s infectious.
Even Roxie and Blake seem to be feeling it — Roxie is a tiny bit softer, and Blake keeps grinning at us whenever he sees us together.
And our last few gigs have been so much fun.
We’re playing better than we ever have before, almost as if we’re anticipating each other.
When I share a microphone with him, it’s like he’s kissing me, and I can barely remember what I’m supposed to be doing.
But then he grins and winks and brings me right back into myself.
I just have to be more careful. Maybe if I give him enough time, someday I’ll be ready to tell him the rest of it. Maybe he’ll decide that this is what he wants, that I’m enough.
Or maybe I’m fucking delusional and I’m going to fall flat on my face.
It’s late, and Max and I are getting ready for bed in the house where we’re crashing for the night.
By some miracle, there’s actually an air mattress, and a finished basement that doesn’t seem to be filled with spiders.
There’s a pullout couch, too, with Roxie and Blake already asleep on it.
But I don’t even mind, because I’m grateful for anything that isn’t the bare floor at this point.
Max is already stretched out on his back, making a show of watching me lasciviously as I wriggle out of my jeans.
Because I’m getting pretty good at shutting off the alarm bells going off in my head, I strip off my shirt too, letting it dangle from my fingers before dropping it on the floor, and Max bites his lip, his eyes twinkling.
But when I sit down on the edge of the mattress, it makes a horrible crinkling sound, and as I try to move into position, Max bounces up and down, giggling as he sends us both jostling.
“Not exactly the bed for a stealth hookup, huh?” he whispers as I finally manage to curl myself into the crook of his arm.
“I guess not,” I murmur back. “Aren’t you kind of tired, though? It’s been a long day.”
“Ugh, maybe.” Max studies my face, tracing my eyebrow with a single finger. “Hey, um — Sammy?”
“Yeah?” There’s something fluttering in the air and I can barely breathe.
“I just wanted to say — I dunno what’s going on, but I’m glad it’s happening.” Max rests his palm on my bare chest. “I mean, I already knew you were the best. But this shit is so much fun. And you’re sexy as fuck.”
“Max —”
It’s all I can manage to breathe out before I’m kissing him.
He’s kissing me back, both of us nearly naked, his weight on top of me, the mattress nearly folding in half around us.
And when he runs a hand down my belly, cupping the front of my thin briefs, I thrust against him, making the mattress groan in protest.
“Bathroom?” Max whispers, and I can hear the laughter in his voice.
“Bathroom —” I agree, and we both scramble to our feet.
I guess I can tell the voices in my head to shut up for one more night.