by Aislin, Amy
“The best things do come in small packages,” he said, so quietly Bo had to strain to hear him. The throaty sound of his voice reached into Bo and made him quake. When Sam leaned his forearms on the table and leaned forward, Bo mimicked the movement, bringing their faces only inches from each other. “Wanna get out of here?” Sam asked, breath ghosting over Bo’s face. Bo licked his lips as if that would give him a taste of Sam. Sam followed the movement, eyes darkening.
“Definitely.”
Chapter Five
The drive home was excruciating.
It also lasted about five hours.
Fine, maybe it took less than forty minutes, but it felt like five hours.
Excruciating.
Sam tried not to break land speed records—he wanted to get them home in one piece, thank you very much—but it was hard when he could feel Bo’s gaze on him, when he could see Bo out of the corner of his eyes, leg bouncing with either nerves or excitement, bottom lip between his teeth.
He’d barely resisted the urge to plant his lips against Bo’s in the parking lot, but he hadn’t wanted to invite trouble. Toronto was a pretty progressive city, but still. He wasn’t about to take any chances with Bo’s safety.
“What’s your favorite color?” Bo asked out of the blue.
Sam shot him a look.
“What?” Bo laughed the laugh of a dying man and shifted in his seat. “I’m trying to distract myself.”
Fair enough. “I don’t know. Green?”
“Boring.”
Now Sam laughed too. “What? How is that boring?”
“Green and blue are every guy’s favorite colors. Pick a new one.”
“But then it would be a lie.”
Bo rolled his eyes. “Fine, let’s try something else. Favorite movie? Wait, can I guess?”
“Sure.”
Bo drummed his fingers against his chin and narrowed his eyes on Sam. “Casablanca?”
“Never seen it,” Sam admitted.
“Me neither, actually. Butch Cassidy?”
“Nope.”
“Damn. Those were my only two guesses.”
Sam snorted a laugh. “Think newer. But not too new.”
“That helps…not at all. Thanks for that.” Bo thought about it some more. “One of the original Star Wars movies?”
“Nope. Back to the Future.”
“Ooh, good choice. The first one?”
“I love all three, but the first takes the cake.” Sam tore his eyes off the road to take a quick look at Bo. “What’s yours? No, wait. I want to guess too.” He thought for a second, then said, “Zootopia?”
Bo chuckled. “Not a bad guess. Incorrect, but you’re on the right track.”
“On the right track in the sense that…it’s about animals?”
“Sort of.”
“‘Sort of,’” Sam repeated. “What about that new one, the one where the pets cause trouble when their owners aren’t home.”
“Incorrect again.”
“Am I right that it’s an animated movie?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Sam grumbled.
Bo’s grin was all faked innocence. “You didn’t ask.”
Cheeky little shit.
“Just tell me,” Sam demanded.
“How to Train Your Dragon.”
“Never seen it.”
“It’s great,” Bo said, peering out his window as Sam took the off-ramp at Ford Drive and went north. “It’s about prejudice and friendship and acceptance.”
He seemed lost in thought and Sam wondered what was going on in his head, until Bo looked over and Sam caught the look in his eyes. The air in the car heated by about a million degrees.
Sam swore under his breath. “Don’t look at me like that.” He heard his own voice and it was deeper than usual. “Not while I’m driving.”
He used one hand to rearrange himself in his pants. Bo followed the movement. He licked his lips. Sam groaned.
Bo looked like he was about to unbuckle himself and lean over the center console for some ill-timed fellatio, but—
“Bo, I swear I will crash this car if you come anywhere near me.”
Pouting, Bo sat back in his seat. “I just…really fucking want you.”
“Oh, you’ll have me.”
Sam parked in Bo’s driveway because his house was first. (By about a dozen feet, but still. It counted.) Bo was waiting for him on his side of the car and Sam didn’t hesitate. He picked Bo up, sat him on the hood of the car, inserted himself between his legs, and kissed him.
They inhaled each other. It was like they’d waited forty years for this kiss instead of forty minutes. Bo’s lips were soft and he tasted a little like beer. Sam placed his hands at Bo’s lower back and scooted him forward, aligning their erections.
Bo moaned at the contact and then started to chuckle against Sam’s lips.
“What?” Sam asked. He couldn’t help but smile back.
“Nothing.” Bo shook his head and ran a hand through Sam’s hair. “Just want you.”
Sam kissed him once more, then helped him down. “Let’s do it then.”
Inside the house, Bo had barely taken off his shoes before he was racing up the stairs. “Last one in the bedroom has to…”
Sam followed at a much slower pace, waiting for whatever Bo was going to say.
“…blow the other!”
“Oh, such as a hardship,” Sam teased, pausing at the top of the stairs. Laughter from the bedroom on the right had him turning in that direction.
Bo was kneeling on the bed, shirtless, his jeans undone at the waist. Lube and a condom sat on the night table. Sam looked his fill. Bo’s arms and shoulders weren’t overly defined but they had a nice shape to them, evidence of the physical work he’d been doing in the last month. His stomach had no definition whatsoever, but it just made him appear more human, more approachable, and had Sam falling for him even further.
“You owe me,” Bo said, a glimmer in his eyes.
Adrenaline pumping, Sam pushed him back on the bed and crawled over him. “Do I?”
“Mm hmm.” Bo moaned when Sam’s lips nipped his hipbone. “You were the last one in the bedroom. You lost.” He ran a hand through Sam’s hair. He seemed to like doing that.
Sam pulled Bo’s jeans and boxers down to his thighs, uncovering his stiff dick. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Bo was hard and long, not quite as large around as Sam. Just perfect. Sam licked Bo’s tip. Bo covered his face with his hands.
“You good?” Sam asked, then licked up Bo’s veiny underside.
“Fuck,” Bo said, laughing. “It’s been so long I’m afraid I’m going to blow before you even get undressed.”
“I can fix that.” Hopping off the bed, Sam shucked his shirt, jeans, and underwear in a few seconds, leaving them puddled on the floor next to Bo’s discarded T-shirt. While he was at it, he took Bo’s jeans and underwear the rest of the way off, leaving them both in the nude.
“Fuck,” Bo said again, eyes going from Sam’s cock to his chest. “Are you even real?”
“You tell me,” Sam said and, settling back between Bo’s legs, took him entirely into his mouth.
Bo’s next word sounded a bit like, “Nghfshm.” Sam groaned in satisfaction around the cock in his mouth and heard Bo lose his shit.
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” Bo almost sobbed. Sam ran his tongue under the ridge of Bo’s cock head and squeezed the base of his dick with his hand. Bo tasted salty and earthy. “Sam.”
Letting Bo pop free of his mouth, Sam grabbed the lube and slicked up a couple of fingers. Bo widened his legs and, if Sam wasn’t mistaken, he sighed in relief when Sam inserted a finger inside him, stretching him open. The sounds Bo made had Sam gritting his teeth against the urge to rut against the bed.
When Bo was nicely stretched (and sweating and swearing—Sam was quite proud), Sam put on the condom, slicked on some lube, and knelt at Bo’s entrance.
“Like th
is?” Sam asked, breathing unsteady.
Bo nodded. “Wanna see you.”
Fuck if that didn’t melt Sam’s heart.
He entered Bo slowly, using both hands on Bo’s thighs to steady him. The sight of himself entering Bo was hot as hell. Sweat dripped down his back.
“Yes, more.” Bo gasped, fisting the pillow behind him.
Fully seated inside Bo, Sam let Bo’s thighs go and fell onto Bo’s chest. Bo’s arms circled his shoulders. Sam buried one hand in Bo’s hair; the other threaded underneath Bo’s back, trailed down his spine, and gripped his ass, impaling him even deeper onto Sam.
“Bo, fuck.” Sam tucked his head in Bo’s neck. “You feel so good.” He wasn’t even moving yet and he was about to blow.
“Gonna do me, big boy?”
Sam managed a huffed laugh. Then he moved, pumping his hips. Bo hissed long and loud in his ear. It was a good hiss if the way he met Sam thrust for thrust was any indication. Sam propped himself up on an elbow to get more leverage and watch Bo’s face.
Bo’s eyes were closed, his mouth half open. The blissed-out look arrowed straight into Sam’s balls, drawing them up tight against his body as he continued to pump.
“Gonna come?” he asked Bo. He wanted Bo to come before him but he wouldn’t last much longer.
Reaching between their bodies, Bo took his dick in hand and pulled once, twice, three times. His eyes popped open and Sam felt a splash of come land on his stomach. Bo’s groan was low and ragged.
The sound combined with Bo’s clenching ass around his dick threw Sam over the edge and he seated himself to the hilt inside Bo and came, fingernails surely leaving imprints on Bo’s butt.
Spent, he collapsed on top of Bo, but only for a second; he was so much bigger than Bo and didn’t want to squash him, so he extracted himself gently, holding onto the condom, and rolled them so they lay face to face.
“Holy fuck,” Bo whispered. He looked utterly ravaged.
Sam got up to dispose of the condom and grab a warm, wet washcloth from the bathroom in the hall. He wiped himself quickly, rinsed the cloth, and went back into the bedroom, where Bo was splayed on his back like a starfish, dick hanging limp.
Sam laughed at the sight.
“I’m so done,” Bo said.
“I can tell.” Sam wiped him down gently, his stomach, his penis, his ass, his thighs. He returned the cloth to the bathroom and came back to find Bo tracking him with his eyes. He didn’t know if he was supposed to stay or not, but then Bo made room on the bed and patted the spot next to him. Sam lay back down, Bo’s head on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” Bo said.
Oh. “I’ve never been thanked for sex before.” It was kind of nice.
“Sex gets me out of my head. So, thanks.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Sam teased. “Any willing body would’ve done the trick.”
“No,” Bo said. “No, definitely not.”
Well, that was nice to know. Sam’s chest might’ve puffed up.
Bo’s fingers wandered over Sam, tweaking his nipples, tracing his abs, poking his belly button. They played with his gingery pubes, stroked his awakening dick, fondled his balls. Heat pooled in Sam’s belly.
“Round two?” Sam asked.
Bo grinned and kissed him. “Round two.”
§§§§
“THE CHICKENS ARE DYING—”
Bo jerked awake and turned off the ancient radio alarm clock he’d pilfered from Laura’s room weeks ago and snuggled deeper into his pillow. It was 6:00am and he’d have to get up in a few minutes for PomPom’s and the chickens’ morning feeding. PomPom was going home tomorrow; Bo was really going to miss the little guy.
He rolled over in bed and the empty side next to him triggered a memory of last night: naked skin and roaming hands and bruising kisses and soft kisses and orgasms and gasps and sighs. But where was Sam? Had he gone home already? The disappointment that hit him made him angry. They hadn’t made any promises, so Bo had no right to already feel possessive. He’d just thought what they’d shared had been special. Something more than just a fuck.
It smelled like coffee. Sam must’ve made some before he left. Or…Sam had made some and was now bringing it upstairs to the bedroom? Bo heard muffled footsteps on the stairs and grinned into his pillow.
“Hey.” A smiling Sam walked into the room wearing only his boxer briefs and carrying a tray with a couple mugs of coffee, a small creamer filled with milk, and some sugar in a small cup. He set it on the night table then crawled into bed to kiss the stuffing out of Bo. Bo chuckled against Sam’s mouth and tightened his arms around Sam’s shoulders. Sam fell on top of him. The blanket was between them but it just made the morning seem cozier for some reason. “I brought you coffee,” Sam said when he extracted his tongue from Bo’s mouth. “But I don’t know how you take it.”
“Milk and enough sugar to make your teeth ache,” Bo said, voice a sleepy grumble.
“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” Sam pecked him on the lips before sitting up to make Bo’s coffee.
“One more,” Bo said when Sam dumped three heaping teaspoons of sugar into Bo’s mug and appeared to call it done. Sam raised an eyebrow, light brown eyes amused, but did as asked. “Mmm…” Bo thought about it then said, “One more, but just, like, a little.”
Sam snorted, dumped another half teaspoon of sugar into Bo’s mug, and handed it over. Bo sat up to take a small tentative sip, not wanting to burn his tongue.
“Thank you,” he said, rubbing Sam’s arm with one hand. “Why are you up so early anyway?”
“I usually go for a run at this time,” Sam said over his own mug.
Ugh. Mr. Tall, Sexy, and Fucking Good In Bed was athletic, too? So unfair. Why did he have to be so perfect?
Bo strategically ignored the past four weeks where Sam had taken his frustration and anger over the whole being-sued thing out on him because whatever. It was old news and they’d worked that out.
Sam was perfect. Perfect for him anyway, which amounted to the same thing.
“Want to come with me?” Sam asked.
“For a run?” Bo snorted and set his coffee mug on the night table next to him. “Fuck no. I don’t run unless it’s to catch the bus.”
Sam laughed and watched Bo crawl across the bed. Taking Sam’s mug out of his hands, Bo placed it on the tray. He straddled Sam’s thighs. Sam’s breath stuttered.
“Good morning,” Bo said, grinning at him.
“Good morning.” Sam’s voice was a growl and his hands clenched Bo’s waist. “Do the animals need to be fed right this instant?” he asked against Bo’s mouth. “Or can they wait twenty minutes?”
Bo rubbed his erection against Sam’s, said, “They can definitely wait twenty minutes,” and pushed Sam’s shoulders until Sam fell back on the bed.
§§§§
Two hours later, Bo was putting the finishing touches on breakfast when Sam walked through his back door and into the kitchen, sliding the screen door closed behind him. He was freshly dressed and smelling so yummy Bo was tempted to eat him instead of the eggs and toast he’d made them.
“Hey.” Sam leaned over the counter to give him a quick kiss. “Thanks for feeding me. Again.”
Bo joined him at the table. “I couldn’t let you pay last night. I invited you.”
“Actually I was talking about the stew from a couple nights ago.”
They served themselves some eggs, toast, and fruit in silence. The morning sun poured into the kitchen, giving everything a rosy glow. It hit the flowers he’d put on the table just right, making the purple petals shine.
“What do dwarf Canadian primrose mean?” he asked.
Sam swallowed before replying. “What do you mean?”
“You know how roses mean ‘I love you’ and symbolize love and passion and the bond between lovers, and other flowers mean…other things.” That was unintentionally vague, but what did Bo know about flower meanings? “What do primrose mean?”
/> Sam blinked at him. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say they mean ‘Sorry I tried to kill you with carrots.’”
Bo snorted into his orange juice. They ate in relative silence, enjoying each other’s company. Sounds filtered in from outside: chirping birds, PomPom splashing through the mud puddle in his pig pen, clucking chickens, wind through trees, cars passing by on the street out front.
“Why are the chickens dying?” Bo asked, remembering the aborted news announcer he’d cut off on the radio this morning.
Sam looked toward the backyard as if he expected to see a pile of dead chickens right there on the lawn. Bo laughed his ass off at the look on his face: a combination of horror and confusion.
“Fuck you,” Sam said, but he was laughing. He trapped one of Bo’s feet between his underneath the table, just like he had last night at the pub. “I don’t know why the chickens are dying. Look it up later.” He paused, then asked, “Why don’t you use your cell phone as an alarm?”
“I used to.” Bo spread jam on his toast. “But whenever I’d check it for the time if I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d inevitably also check my emails and Facebook. I didn’t want to do that anymore, so now I sleep with it off.”
“Smart,” Sam said.
The chickens gave a loud cluck outside, in sync, as if rehearsing for a chorus.
“Sometimes I wish my chickens were dying,” Bo muttered.
“They make damn good eggs though.” Sam forked the last bite of eggs off his plate and into his mouth. “Fresh, organic. Chickens don’t produce eggs forever, do they? What does Laura do when they stop?”
“She kills them and eats them, then buys new chicks and starts the cycle all over again.”
Sam’s fork fell onto his plate with a clatter.
Chapter Six
Sam walked out of his house late Saturday morning after putting a load of laundry in the washer to find Bo standing at the bottom of his driveway. A newer model white SUV, license plate VETDOC, was pulling away from the curb. Sam recognized it as the one belonging to the vet Laura worked with. Doctor Rajan came by every couple of days to assess the state of the animals and ascertain whether they were ready to go home.