This wasn’t real. This was a dream—a fever dream, probably. Never mind that Sam wasn’t sick—there was no other explanation for his current situation.
The air was cool on his flushed skin and he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. He paced around the man kneeling on the floor in front of him, hands laced behind his back and head bowed, and wondered how they’d ended up here.
Sam had just meant to come for his jacket, left behind in the office at Crawford Hall where they’d interviewed the janitor.
That damn janitor with the sparkle in his eyes, the twisting motion of his mouth that made it look like he was wondering how Sam would taste. Sam hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him.
And now here they were—he and the janitor. Call me Gabe, the man had said when he’d let him in and led him through the halls to retrieve his jacket. And when Sam had picked it up and shuffled his feet, not wanting to leave, Gabe had reached out and curled his fingers around Sam’s wrist.
When’s the last time you had sex without being afraid of hurting your partner?
Sam had forgotten how to breathe.
Gabe glanced up as Sam prowled around him, his eyes gleaming almost gold in the pale yellow light.
“You gonna look all night or are you gonna sample the merchandise?” he taunted gently.
Sam crowded right into Gabe’s space, a foot on either side of his knees, making Gabe lean back so they could keep eye contact. Sam could see the way Gabe’s pupils had dilated at Sam’s sudden movement, but he made no sound.
Sam caught the back of Gabe’s neck in one hand and his chin in the other, tilting the smaller man’s head back and exposing his long throat. Gabe swallowed hard and held very still.
“You have no idea,” Sam whispered. “No idea what I want to do to you. What I’ve wanted to do ever since that horrible line about ‘more ass than a toilet seat’.”
Gabe’s lips twitched but he didn’t move, staying pliant and still in Sam’s hands, waiting for direction.
“You’re not going to touch yourself,” Sam said, and Gabe’s eyes fluttered shut, but he nodded, quick and unsteady.
Sam turned Gabe’s head, running a thumb across the pulse that was beating fast but strong in his neck. The skin was soft under Sam’s fingers, and he suddenly itched to suck a bruise into it, mark Gabe, claim him, and he was bending before he could think about it.
Gabe arched into Sam’s touch, a broken noise falling from his mouth as Sam set to work. Gabe tasted like salt and sunlight and strawberries and Sam thought dimly that he could stay like this forever and not regret a second of it.
He kept Gabe’s head tilted to the side, licking and suckling and then biting down, almost hard enough to break the skin as Gabe shuddered and began to breathe in harsh, open-mouthed pants.
Sam didn’t ease off until the skin was a livid purple and Gabe’s hands were fisted in his pants, struggling to obey Sam’s order.
Only then did Sam take a step back and inspect his work as Gabe whined, protesting the loss of contact.
“Patience,” Sam grated. He tipped Gabe’s head up and licked a long, wet stripe up his throat to his jawline. Gabe’s pulse was faster, beating wildly under Sam’s tongue, but he managed to stay still as Sam nibbled his way along his jaw, taking his sweet time.
Sam lifted his head when he got to Gabe’s mouth, looking down into Gabe’s eyes. Gabe looked back, pleading silently. Need you. Please. Sam groaned, so hard it hurt, and dipped his head to capture Gabe’s soft lips.
Gabe opened his mouth and kissed back frantically, but Sam gentled the kiss, forcing him to slow down. He kept the touches of his tongue light and teasing until Gabe took a shaky breath and pulled back a little.
Sam pressed forward, deepening the kiss, his head spinning as he sank into it. Gabe’s breath puffed warm and sweet across Sam’s cheek and Sam couldn’t get enough. It was a little like going mad, he thought distantly, in the best possible way.
Finally, though, he tore away, lungs heaving as though he’d run a race. Gabe looked positively debauched—his hair wildly mussed, eyes dazed, lips kiss-swollen—and Sam groaned and took a step back, fumbling with his zipper.
Gabe’s eyes widened as Sam pulled himself out. “Sweet mother of all things holy,” he whispered.
Sam gave himself a quick stroke, tip to root, shivering at the pleasure that rolled through him, and moved back into Gabe’s space again, catching Gabe’s head with his free hand and slipping his thumb into Gabe’s mouth.
Gabe whimpered around it and began to suck, pupils blown, as Sam stroked himself in counter-rhythm, watching the way Gabe’s mouth moved around his thumb.
He stopped when he felt the pressure gathering at the base of his spine, though, and pulled his thumb free as Gabe swayed toward him.
“Open wide,” Sam growled, and slid his cock between Gabe’s parted lips.
Gabe’s hands came up to clutch Sam’s thighs, his eyes sliding shut again as Sam cupped his head and began to thrust shallowly into his mouth. It was tight and wet and perfect, and Sam was distantly afraid he was going to embarrass himself and come too soon.
He kept his movements slow, well aware of his size and worried about choking Gabe, but Gabe made an impatient noise and tugged on Sam’s leg. Harder.
“Taking… control, ah—is one thing,” Sam managed through gritted teeth, holding back his release by sheer force of will. “Being a complete bastard is… another, Jesus.”
Gabe pulled off with a soft slurping noise and looked up at him. “No gag reflex,” he said. “Now come on, Sam, fuck my mouth like you mean it.”
Sam shuddered and obeyed. He caught fistfuls of Gabe’s hair, holding his head still, and began to pump his hips, the slippery slide threatening to drive him out clean out of his head as Gabe made encouraging noises, pulling him impossibly deeper, until the head of Sam’s cock was nudging down Gabe’s throat.
Gabe’s fingers were tight, bruising where they gripped Sam’s thighs. His pants were tented, his arousal difficult to miss, but he hadn’t touched himself once.
Sam could feel his orgasm swelling, threatening to crack him open at the seams, and he only had enough time to gasp a broken warning before Gabe swallowed him deep again and Sam came with a wounded noise, emptying in helpless spurts into Gabe’s mouth.
Gabe hunched over, throat fluttering spasmodically around Sam’s cock and wringing the last desperate drops from him, until Sam forced his hands to loosen. He twitched, oversensitive, as Gabe’s tongue swirled over his frenulum, and took a step back, dragging in much-needed air as Gabe released him.
Sam pulled his pants up and turned to see to his partner. He stopped and stared when he realized there was a wet patch on the front of Gabe’s pants.
Gabe met his eyes and shrugged a little ruefully. “Guess I didn’t need any help,” he said, lips twitching.
Sam held out his hand and helped Gabe to his feet, pulling him close. Gabe was warm and soft and fit against Sam perfectly, smiling up at him with calm trust in his eyes, and Sam couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing him, cradling Gabe’s jaw in his hands. He could taste himself on Gabe’s tongue, bitter salty tang mixed with strawberries and the faintest taste of chocolate.
After a minute, though, he lifted his head, chasing the end of a stray thought. “Hang on,” he said, frowning. “You… called me Sam. I never told you my name.”
Gabe’s eyes went wide. “Oops.”