Page 33 of Saddle Studs
“Nice, nice.” Sam sat crossed-legged in the grass. A barn owl gave a couple of hoots that echoed out into the quiet night sky. Our knees touched, my body reacting by becoming as taut as a high wire. “You know, I can’t stop thinking about that day in the creek.”
I swallowed audibly. “Oh, really?” This peaceful painting session had taken quite an interesting turn.
Sam spread his hands out in the grass behind him and leaned back, looking up at the stars. “It was really fucking hot. But also… it feltright. That was the first time I’d ever done anything like that with another guy and, I dunno, I wasn’t nervous or anxious. I didn’t feel ashamed or bad about it. I just… I wanted more. Is that bad?”
Flames licked at the base of my spine. Not just at the fresh memory of what we’d done, but at the fact that Sam admitted to liking it so much. I’d been worried that maybe he’d done it once and “gotten it out of his system”—even though deep down I knew that wasn’t how any of this worked. “It isn’t bad at all.”I’ve been wanting more for years now.“Society’s bullshit hang-upsteachus what to feel bad about, but sometimes those lessons are built on pure lies and self-hating bigotry. If your heart, if your body, if yoursoulfeels happy about it, then there’s no shame to be had. Even if others try their damnedest to project it onto you.”
Sam nodded at that, head still tilted up at the stars, but I noticed his eyes were closed. As if taking in my words was more important than taking in the vast expanse of the universe. “You’re so right. Why do I feel shame about being attracted to you in the first place? Is it not everyone’s goal in life to share their love with someone they can call their best friend? It’s like I have the winning lottery ticket and instead of claiming it, I ask if I can return it. How fucking insane is that?”
Is that really what he thought about us? That our relationship had been like winning the lotto?
My heart performed gymnastic routines between my ribs. “It’s the sad reality of this world, and it’s what keeps so many people miserable and locked up in their closets. I’m lucky that I was able to get rid of that ‘give a fuck’ muscle early on. If there are no fucks to give, then there’s no shame either.”
Sam opened his eyes and found mine. He smiled, the grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. “You need to start writing self-help books or something.”
“Pfft, I can barely sit at the computer long enough to do my taxes, no way I’m finishing a book.”
“Well think about it. I’d definitely read it, so you’ll have at least one sale.”
“Ah, perfect, I could get a venti green tea lemonade with that.”
“Don’t go too crazy. Stick with a grande.”
That got a hearty laugh out of me. Sam was right about this. Us. How it felt so easy. It’s something I’d felt from the moment I met him. Unfortunately, it took Sam a little longer than me to come to that realization, but hey, better late than never.
The moment of comfortable silence stretched between us, interrupted by another cluster of scattered hoots. Sam’s gaze flicked down to my lips. I felt it. Felt that shift inside him. That “do I lean in for the kiss or do I run for the hills?” tension.
I leaned.
So did he.
We met in the middle, mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like mouthwash and sugar and every unsaid word that’d built up over the last few weeks. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tightening in my hair. I growled into his mouth, pressing forward, crowding him until he was on his knees, back against the fence post.
My thigh pushed between his legs.
He was hard. Thick. Hot. His cock twitched against the zipper of his jeans.
I kissed down his jaw, biting at the hinge where his neck met bone. Sam gasped, rutting up against my leg like he couldn’t stop himself. Like I had flipped a switch and turned him feral.
“Fuck,” he whispered against my lips, his grip tight against my neck. My body was lit up like the stars, a furiously bright heat spreading out through my veins. “Fuck, Benny.”
“Yeah?” I slid my hand down his chest, over his stomach, to where his jeans were starting to strain. I gave him a squeeze, a rub. He tilted his head back and moaned into the night. I leaned in and kissed his Adam’s apple. We were toward the back of the fence, where a large oak tree blocked the view from the house. No one could see us here.
I flicked my tongue against his skin, tasting salt. I was hungry. Famished. I wanted to taste every inch of him. He pulsed against my palm, driving me absolutely fucking wild. A warm, wet spot touched my palm.
I looked down and saw that his cock was leaking through the fabric of his jeans. I palmed him once, slow and hard, and he shivered. “Look at that.”
“Yeah, sorry, I pre-cum a lot.”
“Sorry? Fucking hell, Sam, that’s the hottest thing ever.”
“Really?”
I licked my lips, nodding, kissing him again. “I wanna taste you,” I growled, and his hips bucked against my hand. “But not out here. Too many eyes. Too many goats.”
He snorted, but it came out breathless.
I leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You wanna take this to my room?”
