Page 50 of Give Me What You Will

“Don’t stop,” Frankie commanded smoothly. “You have two choices—cum in your pants. Or cum on yourself so I can watch.”

Sammy clumsily pulled his dick out. And it was beautiful—just like him.

“I’m close,” he muttered, the tip leaking already all over his hand, face flushed from the rough cock sucking.

“Make a mess—I wanna see you cum again.”

And Sammy did, arching and putting on a show for his viewing pleasure. And fuck, he was so goddamned sexy. Frankie’s fingers flexed over his throat, wanting to sink to his knees and…

Hot thick, ropey cum spurted from Sammy’s tip, and he shouted in relief, face straining, head tossed back in utter abandonment. It captured how he felt when he climaxed, and seeing it reflected back at him—knowing Sammy felt the same— hit something close to his heart that he wasn’t ready to feel.

Overcome with need, Frankie released him and dropped his lips over Sammy’s spurting cock. Nervously ignoring the butterflies in his stomach, he sucked him into his mouth.

Sammy shouted again. This time it was his name, followed by a guttural, throat-aching cry. He bucked into his mouth and Frankie took it, letting his thick, wet cock slide into his mouth and sucking him down, loving the feel of him unloading more. Sammy tasted salty and good.

Fuck. He hadn’t expected to like this. He hadn’t expected to like cock at all. But here he was, sucking harder, letting the creamy liquid coat his tongue as he swirled it around Sammy’s dick before swallowing it and hoping to suck out just a little bit more.

“Frank!” Sammy twisted beneath him, hands dragging through his hair and vibrating against him. Frankie felt him soften in his mouth and pulled back, noticing the cum still on Sammy’s fist, and he licked the rest off.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” Sammy’s moan was long and hard. Possibly the sexiest fuckin’ thing he’d ever heard.

Frankie felt his cock twitch as their gazes locked and held. Liking the fiery, intense look in his best friend's gaze, Frankie parted his lips over his hand and tongued his fingers into his mouth, sucking him clean of cum and making Sammy’s jaw unhinge in surprise, followed by more sexy fucking groaning, and… he needed to kiss him.

He stilled.

It was one thing to kiss in the heat of the moment. But to do so after they had already orgasmed and were still panting messes felt more intimate somehow.

He swallowed, suddenly nervous again and unable to look away from him. Sammy must have felt the same, because he too was staring, chest heaving and coming down in slow breaths. His eyes searched his face, dipping over his lips.

Frankie had never in his entire life wanted to kiss someone this much.

And it was Sammy he wanted to do this with.

Deciding to be courageous for five fucking seconds, he leaned forward tentatively. Sammy watched, stiffening, but he didn’t move away. Heart beating like he had just stepped into the arena, he hesitated against Sammy’s wet lips, his eyes open, waiting, watching.

Sammy’s lips were soft and so fucking sweet. Finely coarse stubble grazed his skin, which Frankie wasn’t used to, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he sort of liked it. The kiss was soft, agonizingly so. Sammy sucked in a tremulous breath. They had just sucked each other’s dicks, and yet this—this moment right here—was vulnerable. Raw and exposing.

Frankie deepened the kiss, wanting to explore, to take his time. Sammy wasn’t returning the kiss, as though waiting for him to run again. And maybe he should. Sex was one thing, intimacy was another. And this delicate thing growing between them felt tender and small and on the verge of something more.

Something… incredible.

“Sam,” Frankie heard himself rasp out, and Sam gasped against his lips and finally opened his mouth to return the kiss, but the sound of a loud engine roared behind them, and they both jumped back.

Frankie tucked his cock away and sat back, his mind going haywire. Before he could process any of it, he heard a truck pulling up in his driveway.

“Shit,” he turned to glance out of the car and saw it was Ryan’s truck.

He looked at Sammy and saw nothing but thoroughly tousled sex hair and red-rimmed lips from the brutal dick pounding he just took.

Sammy tucked himself away and he saw something shift in his expression. Frankie realized it was his mask. The one Sammy wore for everyone else. The smart-mouthed, stone-faced man who took shit from no one. Gone was Sam, the version of him that let Frankie explore him with a soft, tentative kiss.

Frankie glanced quickly behind him, noting that the angle of Ryan's truck prevented him from seeing into the car. He reached across the cab, smoothing Sammy’s hair back and needing… more. The neediness surprised him, because never in his whole fucking life had he felt needy for anything or anyone.

Sammy shot him a surprised look and shook his head.

His rejection stung, and for the first time, anger washed over him. “This conversation ain’t done.”

“It’s a short conversation, Frankie.”