“I have not, no.” Thomas sighs and it’s a soft, wistful sound. “But I think he knows.”
“Lucas knows. About me, I mean. Or, at least, he figured it out yesterday.”
“I am sorry.”
It must be obvious that if Sam’s willing to talk about it with Thomas, the feeling wasn’t returned.
“He said it was common. A common fixation for drivers. Said what I feel for him isn’t love.”
Thomas shrugs. “It might not be.”
“Oh gee, thanks.” There goes their bonding moment.
“What?” Thomas looks genuinely confused. “It is fine if it is not true love. Even if you feel just a like or, how you say, ‘common fixation,’ that does not mean it does not hurt. It always hurts to be rejected.”
“Fuck.” Sam releases a shaky breath. “That’s what happened, huh? He rejected me.”
He had been too distracted by Lucas insisting Sam doesn’t recognize his own emotions to put a label on it.
Rejection. That doesn’t happen often. Usually he's the one turning people down.
“I cannot imagine you are used to that.”
Sam laughs. Is he a fuckin’ mind reader?! “So, um… About that plan you had…?”
“Ouais?” Thomas’s honey brown eyes are like fucking saucers the way they’re glued to Sam’s face.
“Uhh… ha ha…”
How the fuck is Sam supposed to ask if it’s still an option?It always hurts to be rejected. Well, Sam delivered a big, fat pile of rejection to Thomas’s doorstep last week.
But still, if they’re talking to each other, maybe it’s salvageable?
Sam just needs one time. A single time to fuck Lucas, to get it out of his system. One time to reassure himself it isn’t anything special—that the sex isn’t any different from what he can get at a club. That world champions fuck just like everyone else.
Except, well, strictly doggy-style.
“Are you…” Is that confusion on Thomas’s face? Or hope? “Reconsidering?”
“Yeah, um.” What was the etiquette for asking for sex outside of clubs? “Yes, please?”
“Yes?!”
“Only if you are still offering.”
“Ouais, yes, I—” Thomas looks almost scared. “Sorry, I did not think you— I can text you my room number?”
“Sure, that sounds good.” Fuck, what did Sam get himself into? “Should I bring anything? Wine?”
“Condoms. I have lube but?—”
“Yeah, I got ‘em.” Just like planning a potluck. A potfuck. “Anything else?”
“No, I reckon it’s pretty straightforward.” He stares off into space for a moment before adding, “If you change your mind, please text me. It is okay, just let me know.”
“Got it.”
Fuck knows if Sam will follow through with it. It’s a coin toss. Heads, they fuck tonight. Tails, he doesn’t get emotionally scarred from sex with Thomas.
