Page 27 of Give Me What You Will

“You made fun of,” Sam corrected. “And yeah, I am. I’m gettin’ real tired of watching you stick your tongue down—” he cut himself off and pushed back, but Frankie widened his stance, returning the shove, refusing to budge.

“You wanna stick your tongue down Blue-Balls’ throat? Really?” Frankie taunted incredulously.

“Fuck you.”

Frankie’s lips quirked in a dangerous smirk. “You said that already, Sammy. I thought you wanted me to fuck you?”

The way he said it unloosened something inside Sam’s chest, and he shoved him hard, untangling his vicelike grip on him.

Frankie’s laugh was humorless and edged with anger as he stumbled backward. “All right, here we go. You wanna go, Sammy?”

He recognized Frankie’s stance and realized that he was baiting him into a fight.

A fight that Sam knew, with absolute certainty, he would lose.

Frankie had fought for a living until his knee was blown out. He knew how to throw a punch better than most men in Boston and New York City combined. Sam didn’t stand a chance. And in that crazy moment, he didn’t care.

“Might wanna text your fuck buddy, you’re gonna be late,” Frankie jeered.

Sam moved, and once he got close enough, he swung his fist. Frankie dodged it effortlessly, chuckling.

“C’mon, Dr. Samuels, is that all you got?”

He threw another punch, which Frankie evaded and then sidestepped and punched him firmly in the side, right into the kidney. Oxygen escaped his lungs for a mere second, pain sparking behind his eyes, and instead of stopping the fight like a sane, rational person, it only ignited the fuel in his veins.

“Why can’t you just let me go? Huh?” Sam gritted out. “Can’t stand to see me happy without you? Is that it, Frank?”

Frankie, for the first time, flashed a hint of emotion, and in his vulnerability, Sam sprang, slamming his entire upper body into him, causing him to stumble back and hit his lower back onto his father’s old poker table. Dust flew up into the dim light, and he heard Frankie let out a surprised curse, trying to maneuver out of his hold, but instead Sam elbowed backward, striking up into Frankie’s nose. Frankie instantly shoved him back, cradling his nose, blood smearing the side of his handsome face.

Seeing the blood, seeing the fury and violence breaking between them was exactly what he needed. Frankie licked his lips, eyes darkening as he wiped his nose on the side of his shirt, and nodded. The nod of wrath.

Oh fuck.

“Frank…not Frankie anymore. Not your best friend anymore, either. I’m meaningless to you?” Frankie growled, and Sam wondered if he had ever seen him this mad before.

Frankie raked his hand over his face, hand bloodied and uncaring. “You just wanna fuck me, right? I don’t matter—our friendship—after 15 fuckin’ years, doesn’t matter?”

Sam backed up, seeing the grief and pain lining his face, along with the violence. Frankie was all rage. His dark brown eyes were nearly black as he stalked after him. Helpless to the onslaught, Sam was once more pushed against the wall, hard. Pictures rattled and fell off, frames and glass shattering to the floor at their feet. But neither of them noticed.

Frankie pressed his thick arm across his chest, jaw clenching and unclenching, becoming a magnificent beast. He was mesmerized, and flooded with fear and… desire.

The smell of whiskey and dust, beer and sunscreen filtered through his nose. Their breaths intermingled, anticipation pooling into his belly, his fingers itching to touch.

There was a knock at the door.

Frankie’s hold didn’t let up, refusing to release him. Sam swallowed, not sure he wanted him to. He liked this. The angry, almost feral look in Frankie’s expression.

God, I’m so pathetic.

“Hey—uh—guys, Mikey is waiting…” Brendon said tentatively through the wood of the door.

Frankie cocked his head to the side, his dark gaze sliding intentionally over Sam’s lips while licking his own. Something crackled in the air between them, like live electrical wire. He held his breath as Frankie moved an inch forward, using his thickly built body made of pure muscle to press him to the wall, forcing Sam to feel every inch of him.

Fuck.

He shivered, resisting the urge to reach between them and touch. He balled his fingers into his palms, nails pinching into his skin as he shoved down the desire coursing through his bloodstream.

“You gonna imagine me while Mikey’s fucking you?” Frankie asked hoarsely, startling him.