Page 103 of Give Me What You Will

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.”