Sam kicks off his shoes and pads further into the hotel room. It’s much nicer than his own—a suite. There’s a stiff couch that probably folds out into an extra bed, a big screen tv, a bar but no kitchenette. The door to the bathroom is open, but the door to the bedroom looks purposely shut.
He places the wine bottle on the bar. Maybe Thomas will be able to find a corkscrew before he leaves for the airport.
Well, time to get down to business.
“Couch?” Sam asks. “Standing? Bar?” He looks over to the open door. “Shower?”
“Ah,non, the bed is fine.” With shuffling steps, Thomas leads him to the bedroom. “Sorry, it is habit to keep closed for guests.”
The bed is king sized, as expected. It's littered with hard, decorative pillows in fun sizes, which is unexpected, but San appreciates them nonetheless.
“Should we talk first?” he asks. “About limits and stuff like that?”
“I sleep on the right side, so we should keep to the left.”
Sam’s first instinct is to laugh, but he tamps down on it. This thing feels fragile, and the last thing he wants to do is scare Thomas off. “I meant like… Do we kiss?”
“Oh. Not this time. We—we can work up to that.”
“This time?” Sam repeats. It’s supposed to be a one-time thing. Fuck, get it out of his system, move on.
“Sorry, I get ahead of myself.” Thomas sighs and studies the bed. “But if it is so bad we never want to do it again, I do not think kissing would have helped.”
“That bad at kissing, are you?” Sam teases.
Thomas huffs and pulls off his shirt. “Do a good job tonight and maybe you will find out.”
He grabs the lube from the nightstand and tosses it onto the mattress, towards the foot. He shoves most of the pillows off except a cylindrical one he tests with a squeeze.
Thomas turns to Sam, his eyes dipping down. “Well?”
Oh, okay. So now, then.
Sam shucks off his shirt and steps out of his jeans, toeing his socks off. He leaves his boxers on, just in case there’s a stall for time, but when he pops back upright, Thomas’s sweatpants are already around his ankles and he’s stroking himself to hardness.
So he doesn’t wear underwear. Yeah, that’s cool. That’s fine.
Thomas is still pulling himself when Sam kicks his boxers off. “Does it get much thicker than that?”
“Hey, I’m still soft!” Sam’s never had a complaint about his size before. “Yeah, it’ll get thicker, just give me a sec.”
Thomas exhales. “I am glad I did not try to buy condoms, I would have chosen smaller.”
“Smaller?”
Thomas climbs onto the bed, the hard pillow still in his grasp. “You will have to prepare me more, I only did two fingers.”
“Why the fuck did you think I had a small dick?”
Thomas bends over, the pillow planted firmly underneath his hips. It pushes his cock up, trapping it up against his stomach.
Sam expected him on his hands, but Thomas’s full chest rests against the mattress—his back arching at an obscene angle. His arms fold above his head, hiding his face while his elbows nearly touch the headboard.
Though he fell into the position almost casually, it’s one of the most erotic things Sam has ever seen.
He climbs up onto the bed, right behind Thomas, and he jerks his cock a couple of times.
Thomas’s ass is so enticing like this—so round and perky, teasing him with a flash of his hole. His waist, in contrast, nearly disappears at this angle. It makes Sam want to grab him, want to use him.
