Page 57 of Give Me What You Will

“Don’t,” he heard the plea in his tone, and so did Frankie, who led him back against the wall.

“I don’t want you to end our friendship—and you don’t want me to touch you,” Frankie drawled, both hands sliding down his chest, gripping fiercely as he went, hips pushing against his. His strong, firm hands were on his waist, pushing himself between his stance, widening it so that he could feel the full, heavy pressure between his legs.

Sam groaned, “No…”

Frankie was hard. So aroused and so big that he felt it rub against his own cock through the thin material of his slacks.

“Please, fucking don’t do this to me,” he whispered.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Frankie challenged. “Being told no—when all we want to do is get what we want.” His hands fisted his hips, undulating roughly against him, pinning him to the wall like a helpless butterfly. “I ain’t perfect, Sammy. I’m selfish and greedy, and I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Sam took a hard breath through his nostrils, trying to force his body not to react—not to let his cock thicken any further. Frankie relentlessly humped into him, grinding their cocks together through their suit pants, edging them on. This was so fucked up, and he knew it. He was letting Frankie take whatever he wanted, knowing full well he would be the one who would suffer in the end.

Frankie reached between them, slipping his own cock out first, its fat, red head glistening with precum, looking wet and ready for him. Sam whimpered and swayed into him.

“Fuck you,” he cursed, which Frankie ignored, pumping his cock a few times, forcing him to watch as he then reached for Sam, and without any resistance, took his dick out of his pants.

“Fuck…” Sam nearly cried at the sensation of their cocks touching for the first time. Sliding perfectly together, long, thick, and pulsating with need.

“You feel so good, baby,” Frankie drawled, humming at the back of his throat and palming their cocks into his fist.

He shuddered. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Baby?” Frankie taunted, slowly stroking them upward, pulling on the fleshy meat in his hands. “You don’t like it?”

He loved it. That was the problem.

“Tell me you don’t like it, and I’ll stop,” Frankie challenged, his calloused hand fisting them root to stem, dragging upward.

Sam collapsed against the wall, letting him work them, unable to fight anymore, unable to do anything but surrender to the power of Frankie’s will against his own.

“That’s it,” he murmured, “Fuckin’ touch us, Sammy. Feel how good this is.”

“Oh God,” Sam strained, fingers bunching, jaw clenching. He couldn’t know how they felt together. He couldn’t keep doing this to himself. Frankie’s strong grip tugged and tugged, black-brown eyes leveled with his, a command and a request glinting in his gaze.

Frank leaned forward and kissed him, just like he had in the car.

He melted, opening his mouth and letting him probe with his tongue and lips. The kiss felt less passionate and more exploratory, and somehow, equally hot.

Damn it.

Damn him!

Frankie leaned back, their gazes locked, and Sam’s cock began to pulsate at the tip, leaking in his fist. Sam clenched down hard, fighting himself, fighting how much he wanted this.

“I fuckin’ love watching you do that,” Frankie admitted roughly, gaze riveted to his cock.

“What?”

“Leak for me.”

“Oh fuck—fuck you.”

“Oh yeah, baby, I know. I fuckin’ know. You’re so hard, so ready for me,” Frankie purred, lips moving to his neck and sucking hard. Jesus, it felt good. The sensation of his mouth on his throat, teasing and taking the flesh like it belonged to him. Like he owned him. His resolve in that instant broke, feeling their cocks being stroked, his neck being sucked. It was so much. Too much. He couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed their pumping cocks, joining Frankie, who let out a hissing whimper against his neck. He felt teeth scrape along his jaw, Frankie’s massive chest caging him into the wall behind him, fist fucking him into sweet, hellish oblivion.

Sam humped upward in a wild greeting to the firm grips. He loved how Frankie’s cock was just a little bit bigger than his. Just like how Frankie was just a little bit bigger than him. Not by much, just in muscle and mass alone, while Sam beat him in height. And yet somehow, they fit. They matched.

“Frank,” he panted, arching into him, the unraveling happening quickly now.