Page 84 of Give Me What You Will

A rush of breath left his lips as Sam grabbed his shirt and roughly dragged him to his mouth, claiming and loving, all at once. Just like him.

“…before you kissed me back,” Sam whispered against his lips, “before you let me touch you…”

Breakfast forgotten, Sam led him into the living room, dropped him onto the couch, and straddled him. Frankie gasped, cock lengthening at the sight of his Superman, his best friend… his lover needing him—wanting him—confessing how far he was willing to go to have him. He knew he would think of nothing else later. But that was for later. Right now, he had Sam’s thick hips under his hands, his hard cock brushing against his and looking downright lethal with the heat in his gaze.

“I have only one request,” Sam said, leaning forward, tonguing the shell of Frankie’s ear.

“I’m listenin’…”

“No one else is allowed in your bed but me.”

His pulse thundered in his ears. “I can do that. But that goes for you too, baby. No one touches you but me.”

Sam hummed, grinding his length against his. “Yes.”

“Okay—we’re exclusive—whatever the fuck that means.”

Sam grinned. It was bright and warm, filling every single empty space in his heart, and he was rewarded with another crushing kiss. He moaned.

“You like pleasing me, don’t you?” Sam whispered, edging his teeth along the side of his neck, over the tender spot he had bruised last night.

“Fuck off.”

“I saw how you got last night, Frank. How hard you fucked me after I told you how much I liked it… How good you are for me…”

He trembled, cock leaking in his sweatpants like a randy teenager.

“My good fuckin’ boy.”

He growled, pushing Sam upward as he shoved down his thin sweatpants and palmed his ass, pinching and squeezing hard, purposefully leaving marks.

Sam gasped and pushed his ass backward, giving him permission, giving him everything.

Frankie, frantic and needy, pulled out his dick, feeling it already throb and lengthen, knowing where he was going—knowing that he was about to feel Sam’s deliciously tight ass and feeling fucking addicted to the sensation. To Sam…

Ah, fuck.

This was happening too fast.

Shouldn’t he be more scared, cautious even? His emotions were starting to bleed into this. But it had always been like this with Sam. So easy. So fuckin’ easy. Like they were meant to…

Sam stroked himself in front of him, and fuuuuuck, all thoughts evaporated from him as he watched the show. His slow, methodical fist moving up and down his shaft, his precum wetting his swollen tip, his chest heaving with breath. Those brilliant eyes of his shone with lust and something else… something possessive.

Frankie’s sex pulsated.

He’d always been the one who was possessive of his lovers. Always keeping them close, branding them with his bruising marks and fucking them whenever he damn well pleased. So, to see the same look reflected in Sam’s gaze—for him—released that feral, possessive beast from his chains, and he gritted his teeth.

“Take your shirt off,” he demanded. “I wanna see your—” Fuck it. “Titties.”

Sam chuckled and peeled off his shirt, revealing those full, hard pecs that made his mouth water. He yanked Sam closer and sucked a nipple into his mouth, becoming all tongue and teeth. Sam arched into him, rubbing their naked dicks together and whimpering.

“Mark me,” Sam commanded breathlessly. “I want you all over my body.”

He groaned and obeyed.

He sucked on his pretty pecs, leaving a trail of wet, reddening bruises on each. His fingernails clawed down his muscular back, and by the time he looked up, Sam was simpering, pupils blown out, cock straining against him.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Frankie pumped his hips upward, sliding his cock against his.