Page 69 of Give Me What You Will

“No,” he snapped. “Don’t fuckin’ hide from me. There’s nothin’ to be ashamed about. Nothin’. We both want this now.”

Sam’s gaze shot to his, fear mixed with something else, something he couldn’t decipher.

He fingered his hole, watching him. His pulse skittered with the way Sam’s jaw unhinged, his body tense, and then gave. His eyes shone like stars filled with a lustful brilliance that Frankie had never seen before.

“God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he heard himself admit, and it was his turn to blush.

“Gorgeous, huh?” Sam’s eyes searched his face, lip curling upward.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “How come I never saw how good you looked before?”

“Because I never showed you.”

“You are now, aren’t you, baby?” He slid his fingers over his entrance, teasing, swirling. “Showin’ off, aren’t ya?”

Sam bit his lower lip, breath coming out in hard spurts.

“All for me,” Frankie drawled. “Say it.”

“…Fuck,” Sam bucked upward. “For you. Everything is for… fuck…”

“Me.”

“Yes. Fuck, Frank!”

They were both beginning to get desperate, and before he realized what was happening, Sam pushed him against the table. His best friend’s hands were everywhere, and he couldn’t stop the urgent fingers at his belt and zipper. He tried to protest, but Sam was too fast for him, sliding his hand into his open pants and grasping his dick.

Frankie tilted his head back and moaned. Sam’s fingers were hot and strong and…

“Fuck!” For a minute of madness, he let Sam stroke his shaft, pumping him up and down.

He wanted to fuck him.

Right here.

Right now.

But he wanted their first time to be special. Not a roll in Sam’s backyard, for fuck’s sake. He suddenly realized that he could still get what he wanted, but without fucking him.

Frankie grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. Well, he tried to. Sam, the bastard, fought him. He hummed, twisting his wrist the way he would in a wrestling match, and Sam balked, cursing as Frankie easily outmaneuvered him, twirled, and then pushed him against the table, ass out.

He kicked out his legs, widening his stance and positioning himself over him, forcing his chest down over the table. Sam growled, panting heavily, and Frankie yanked down his running shorts. Seeing the bare flesh of his ass, a coursing thrill shot through him.

“I ain’t gonna fuck you like this,” Frankie breathed, palming his cheeks with both hands, “But I can tell you need to cum, baby. You’re a fuckin’ mess, aren’t ya?”

Sam nodded, and he released the tension in his back, releasing himself fully into Frankie’s command.

Fuck, he was beautiful, and he wanted to spend more time appreciating him, but he knew they had the whole weekend. All weekend to marvel, savor, and enjoy.

“Goddamn, baby…” he murmured and reached for him, sinking his fingers into his hips and hard muscle, palming his ass and then… slapping it.

Sam gasped.

He did it again and watched it jiggle as the flesh reddened, his cock bouncing between his legs.

“Fuck, you look good,” Frankie praised, reaching around him and stroking his shaft, rubbing the tip of his precum over the slit of his dick, feeling his entire body quiver against him.

Sam pushed his ass backward against him, rubbing against him like a cat in heat. A moan grated from the back of his throat at the insistent press, but he had to stay focused. He wanted Sam to cum—he needed him to.