“I mean, have you thought about it?”
“No,” Thomas replies with a breathy gasp.
“You should definitely think about it.”
“Rightnow?!” the smaller man wheezes. “Is this what you are thinking of when you are inside me?”
“No.” Sam’s mind usually only wanders when he’s trying not to come too fast. “It’d just be nice to have you around, I guess.”
“I am already around!”
Sam pulls out slowly, just to get Thomas to make that face. His eyebrows draw up in the middle, his mouth hangs open. A low moan rumbles out of his chest.
“We could compete in equal machinery.”
Sam snaps his hips forward and Thomas keels up with a cry. His back arches up, away from the bed, strung tight like a bow.
“This was better when we were doggies.”
Sam wants to laugh, but he’s slightly offended. “Why was it better?”
“You werequiet!”
Sam huffs and leans forward, bracketing Thomas between his forearms. With his weight better distributed, he pistons his hips forward at a ruthless pace.
Thomas reacts immediately—his hands claw at Sam’s back, his legs lift to wrap around Sam’s hips. “Yes, yes, yes, yes,yes!”
Sam isn’t the only one who got more talkative when they started facing each other.
“It feels so good. You are sogood!So—ahhhh!”
Sam only barely manages to wrap a hand around Thomas before he comes in ropes all over his own stomach.
“So, as I was saying—” Sam slowly pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, rocking against Thomas who whines.
“And absolutelynoconsorting with the enemy,” Adam says in full seriousness.
Their strategy meetings have devolved into Ferraro witch hunts earlier than usual. Traditionally, the red scare started in the last quarter of the season, but everything sped up after the photos were released.
Sam can’t help it, his lips twitch every time he remembers the sleeves of the Ferraro race suit splayed out on the ground of his driver’s room. Thomas gulping down his cum, his own dick trapped in Nomex.
Adam doesn’t think it’s funny. “Do you have something you'd like to say, Samuel?”
Oof, the full name. “No, sir.”
“I don’t ever want to see a red suit in my garage again, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
They’ve already done this whole song and dance in Adam’s office—the last thing Sam wants to do is rehash that awkward conversation in front of everybody.
Man, if Adam had just seen him, he’d understand. The golden boy of Ferraro fell to his knees and slurped Sam’s cock—of course he’s smiling.
Then again, maybe it’s for the best that he keeps the memory to himself.
They’re dismissed, and Lucas hangs back, walking with Sam to hospitality. “I hear Thomas will be stealing my seat next year?”
“Have you signed the contract yet?”
