by H M Shepherd
“So if I do this—” Nick delicately ran his fingers along Sam’s jaw and drew their faces so close that Sam could feel his breath ghosting across his cheek. “—you aren’t going to be watching the road to see if anyone’s driving by?”
Sam wanted to say no but wasn’t entirely sure if he meant, no, he wasn’t keeping at least one nervous eye out for witnesses (he was), or no, he didn’t want to do this (he did). But there was no use in lying. Without another word he ran one of his hands through Nick’s thick, black curls and closed the remaining distance between them.
It was soft at first, just a brush of their lips, and then Nick pulled away, leaving Sam both relieved and profoundly disappointed. But Nick only took another drink of wine directly from the bottle and resumed with greater ferocity. Sam could taste the tart green apple of the wine, a flavor he’d never liked before. But it tasted so good on Nick’s tongue that he found himself wanting more. With a gasp he finally pulled away, his chest heaving as he struggled to get his breath back.
Nick climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs and holding on to his shoulders so he wouldn’t tumble off the narrow bench, and Sam finally had the presence of mind to make a move of his own. He kissed the crook of Nick’s neck, nipping at his collarbone and loving the way it caused Nick’s body to shiver. Nick’s free hand flew to the back of Sam’s head, while the other pressed the wine bottle into his shoulder blade. With a small moan, Nick rolled his hips into Sam’s, and time nearly came to a screeching halt.
“Please…,” Sam whispered, not really knowing what he was asking for.
Then Maggie began to bark at the distant sound of hoofbeats from a horse-and-buggy somewhere down the road, and time started rolling again.
Sam groaned into Nick’s neck and reluctantly untwined his fingers from Nick’s hair.
Nick pulled himself away slowly, piece by piece, but left one knee on the bench pressed to Sam’s thigh as he turned to look at his dog. “How much time do you have left?” he asked with a sigh, and it took Sam a moment to realize he was the one being spoken to.
“Two hours. Give or take.”
“I’m going to make you a deal. I’ll take the moment killer out for a quick walk in the yard. You’ll either go home and we’ll never talk about this again and let everything go back to normal. Or….” He hesitated.
“…Or?” Sam suddenly didn’t feel quite so exhausted.
“O-or you go in and wait in my room, I’ll give you two hours you’ll never forget, and then we’ll never speak about it ever again and go back to normal.” Nick finally stepped back, grabbing a leash from under the bench and clipping it to Maggie’s collar. “Choice is yours.”
Sam didn’t have a chance to answer before Nick walked away, rounding the corner of the house where he wouldn’t be able to see what decision Sam made.
MAGGIE, AS per usual, had to sniff out every square inch of the yard before selecting a place to do her business, but Nick found himself grateful for the delay. He lingered a few minutes longer than he needed to, sipping the remains of the apple wine from the bottle until he found himself both out of wine and out of patience.
When he walked back into the house, it was dark and quiet, and Nick wondered if Sam had chosen his first option. He still decided to unleash Maggie and called her to her bed in the living room. He selected a massive rawhide for her, which she began to gnaw on happily, so distracted that she didn’t seem to care one whit that Nick was walking away from her toward his room.
The door was shut. Nick’s hand hovered over the doorknob for several anxious moments as he found himself unexpectedly terrified of what he might find on the other side. He gathered his courage, opened the door… and found an empty room.
Pushing aside the profound disappointment welling in his chest, Nick walked in and turned on the lamp on his desk. The box Olivia had sent him was still there, and he found he couldn’t bear to have it near him anymore. He picked it up by one flap, swearing as the cardboard sliced into one of his fingers, and tossed it into his closet without paying any attention to where it landed. It flipped over, and its contents spilled out, but he slammed the door shut before any of it could escape.
“Are you all right?” Sam asked from the doorway, startling Nick nearly out of his skin.
It took a moment before his heart stopped beating in his throat, but as soon as he was able, Nick motioned for Sam to come in, and shut the door quickly before Maggie could follow him. Sam did, and Nick saw Sam was naked save for a towel around his waist, smelling vaguely of Nick’s sandalwood bodywash even from across the room. “You showered?”
“I hope that’s all right,” Sam said, already starting to blush as he fidgeted with the towel. “I didn’t get a chance to after work, and I was still a little bit of a mess.”
“It’s fine.” Nick had been looking forward to removing every stitch of clothing with his teeth if necessary, but that fantasy paled in comparison to the reality of Sam’s bare skin. His eyes became fixated on a water droplet on Sam’s chest, following it around the curve of one pink nipple before it trailed down between beautifully defined abs. It inched closer and closer to the towel, and Nick thought that maybe, if he were quick enough, he could catch—
“Before we do anything,” Sam said with one hand held up, and Nick realized he’d been unconsciously moving closer. “I just want to be sure that you aren’t drunk or anything.”
“What?”
“Well, you did just drink almost a whole bottle of wine on your own.”
Nick scoffed and waved his hand as if to shoo the ridiculous idea away. “I’ve been drinking wine since I was five. And that—I’ll be needing more, by the way, it was delicious—but that was juice compared to what my nonna drinks. Don’t worry,” he said comfortingly. “I know what I’m doing.” He wasn’t drunk; just miserable and looking for a distraction. He took another step toward Sam and was stopped again.
“Just one more thing. I’m—um, I’ve never done this before.”
“At all?”
“I fooled around with a guy at a bonfire when I was in high school,” Sam said, turning an impressive shade of red, “but we were both too scared to do much.”
Nick finally managed to close the distance between them, and he took both of Sam’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together carefully. He pressed his forehead against Sam’s. “I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me.” He felt Sam nod, and kissed him softly. “Go sit on the bed.”
As Sam walked past, Nick took hold of the towel and watched as it unwound from Sam’s waist. To his credit Sam didn’t immediately try to cover himself, but as he turned to sit, his hands automatically folded onto his lap. Nick watched and waited for a few moments before he knelt in front of Sam, pulling his hands away and uncovering his half-hard cock.
“You’re not going to undress?” Sam asked, his voice wavering.
Nick shook his head. “Not yet. Listen, if you tell me to stop at any time for any reason, I will. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
Nick took his time, sliding his lips down Sam’s stomach and using his thumbs to draw circles on the inside of his thighs. It gave Nick a thrill, feeling the way Sam’s muscles twitched at his gentle touches. He almost lost what tenuous grasp he had on his control, wanting so badly to just plow into the main event, until he looked up. Sam was still flushed and had his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth, and Nick worried for an instant that he was still too embarrassed to continue. But his eyes, normally such a bright blue, were unbelievably dark and hazy. They managed to focus on Nick briefly, and Sam whispered again, “Please.”
Nick breathed deep and forced himself to calm down. His hands moved farther up Sam’s thighs, and Nick followed them with his mouth, planting kisses along the way. Finally he ran his tongue over the tip of Sam’s cock.
The reaction was instantaneous. Sam let out a small cry and dug his hands into Nick’s hair as he contracted around him, nearly bent over double. Nick waited for him to
relax a little, and with one hand in the middle of Sam’s chest, pushed him back, farther and farther, until Sam was flat against the bed, with his legs still dangling over the edge. “Remember,” Nick said, and stopped to lick his lips, “you can tell me to stop whenever you want, and I will.”
Any other man and Nick might have made him beg. Giving head was never one of his favorite activities. He disliked the imbalance that came with the automatic expectation that it was something he had to do for his male partners, and usually had to have at least one small power trip before acquiescing. But Sam, who could probably bench press Nick if he really wanted to, looked so deliciously vulnerable laid out before him that Nick found himself looking forward to the moment he would take Sam into his mouth.
He dragged it out even longer, though, running his hands down Sam’s ribs, then dragging his thumbs along the line of soft skin where his stomach ended, before pulling his legs even farther apart. Unable to resist teasing just a little, he pressed his cheek against Sam’s inner thigh and let his breath play along his sensitive skin as he asked, “The boy you fooled around with before, did he do this for you?”
Sam shook his head, and his voice came out as if he was unable to speak without concentrated effort. “J-just hands. We never—”
Nick interrupted by pressing a kiss to the side of Sam’s cock, and ran his lips up, up farther until he took in as much as he physically could, holding the rest in his hand. Sam keened, and his hips bowed off the bed. He reached once more for Nick’s hair, but only managed to grab at his bangs and push them back off his forehead. Nick moaned softly at the feeling, then again when the vibrations caused Sam to gasp.
“Gott,” Sam groaned as Nick pressed his hips back down and began to suck. It didn’t take long for Sam to start grabbing at his hair again, begging Nick to stop.
“You can come. It’s all right. I don’t have condoms or anything right now, so this is about as far as we can go.”
“I want… with you. Please.”
Nick stayed where he was for a moment, considering. “Okay.”
Sam suddenly sat up, wrapped one arm around Nick’s waist, and flipped Nick over so he was laid flat against the bed. He pulled at Nick’s shirt, as if he couldn’t decide whether to unbutton it or rip it open. “Tell me what to do.”
Slowly, Nick slid from underneath him and stood. He began to strip, starting with his pants and underwear and slowly started to unbutton his shirt. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Then,” Nick said, slipping his shirt from his shoulders, “just start touching me.” He climbed back into bed and rested his head on the pillow, closing his eyes as Sam began to explore his chest. The roughness of Sam’s skin was agonizingly satisfying, and when one of his thumbs caught a nipple, Nick gasped. “There, again.”
Sam repeated the move, then bent down and ran his tongue over it, bit down, and pulled gently. His hands drifted lower, and he mimicked what Nick had done before, sliding down his inner thighs. He reached around and grabbed Nick’s ass, squeezing tight. In response, Nick wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist and rocked against him gently.
“Should I…?”
“Yes,” Nick hissed, and Sam turned so they were both on their sides. He kissed Nick just below his ear and took them both in one hand. “Just, here.” Nick put his hand over Sam’s and began to guide him, making him hold a little tighter and move a little faster. Finally he got him at a good pace, and he let go of Sam’s hand to clutch at his shoulder instead, moaning what he hoped were encouraging words into Sam’s ear.
“Nick…. Nick, I’m….” Sam’s grip faltered, and Nick took over again, holding on to only Sam. His cock was hot and heavy in his hand, and it only took a few more strokes before Sam came. Nick, for his part, was pushed to the edge by feeling Sam completely unravel in his arms, and went over it when Sam bit down on his neck.
They lay there together for a few minutes, listening to each other breathe. Sam got up first and left the room without a word. Nick listened to him walk away, unsure what he was doing until he heard the sink, and Sam returned with a warm washcloth. He ran it over Nick’s stomach, but paused when Nick hissed as the rough terry cloth aggravated his overstimulated skin.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re fine. I appreciate it.”
By the time Sam finished, Nick was so comfortable, he was almost half asleep. He watched through half-closed eyes as Sam dressed.
“Hey,” Sam said before he left, “roll over a second.”
Nick listened, allowing Sam to pull at the quilt underneath him until Nick was able to crawl underneath it. He was just about comfortable when he felt Sam run his fingers over his shoulder blade, causing him to flinch. “What’re you doing?”
“You have a tattoo?”
It was such a strange conversation to have right at that very moment, Nick thought, but he explained, “Yeah. It’s the stemma—the crest for the town in Italy where my family is from.” Nick knew it by heart, even if he didn’t see it every day. It was a red-and-white shield resting on an arch made of two branches of hazel and olive. In the very center there was a tree, with two keys crossed behind it.
“It’s interesting. I couldn’t tell you where in Germany we came from.”
“Yeah, well, good Italian immigrant boys make sure to marry girls from their hometown so their mothers don’t get upset.” Nick rolled onto his back again and looked up at Sam. “It was originally a scale. Like, you know, scales of justice? A bunch of my classmates in law school and I got them done before we realized how stupid we were being. I got it covered up the second I realized that I didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore.” He’d loved law school. The actual practice of law, however, had not been nearly as fulfilling. “I just wish I’d realized it sooner.”
“I should go,” Sam whispered. He covered Nick completely with the quilt, finished dressing quickly, picked up his boots, and left without another word.
And Nick stared at the wall of his empty bedroom and wondered over the magnitude of the mistake he had just made.
“HEY, SAM?” Ellie asked, so softly that she was barely audible over the truck’s engine.
Still lost in thought, Sam took a moment to answer. Truth be told, he would have rather avoided any conversation at all; it took enough concentration to keep the images of Nick and his writhing body out of his mind and focus on the road. It seemed impossible that less than an hour ago, Nick had had Sam trembling under his hands, and the crystal-clear memory of Nick’s olive eyes staring up through his eyelashes as he—well, it made the routine chore of picking Ellie up from work a little surreal. “Yeah?”
“When we go to see Mom next week….” She paused and didn’t continue until Sam stopped at a light and looked over to her. She was picking at her grocery store apron, folded on her lap, pulling at a loose thread in the hem. He’d have to fix that later. “She wrote me a letter a couple months ago. She wants to see you too.”
“Why didn’t you tell me until now?”
She snorted. “’Cause you took so long to make plans, I thought we were never going.”
“Why didn’t she write me, then? Why send a message through you?”
“I don’t know, Sam!” she yelled, exasperated. “All she wrote was ‘PS: Please make sure your uncle comes in with you next time. There are a few things I’d like to discuss with him.’ End of message.”
Sam had seen his sister maybe twice since her sentencing. On the occasions that he took Ellie to the prison, he would only walk her as far as security, reminding her that she was to take as long as she needed and that he’d be right there when she was ready to go. Ellie thought it was for her own privacy, but the truth was that Sam couldn’t bear to see Sarah.
There had been a long string of failed pregnancies between Sarah’s birth and Sam’s, with one infant brother who had lived just long enough for Sarah to become utterly devoted to him before he died one night in his crib. She had been just shy of eleven
when Sam came along, and she had never entirely lost her fear that he would disappear as well. She loved him, of course, but they never grew as close as they should have, and when she moved away to get married, they drifted out of touch. It was only when she had Ellie that Sam realized how much she cared for him; her husband had insisted on naming her Eleanor after his grandmother, but Sarah had dug in her heels and started calling her by Sam’s old nickname. It had touched him deeply, and through Ellie, he and Sarah had begun to form a bond.
That had shattered the night Sarah and Kenny were hit by a drunk driver. He had bled out on the way to the hospital, and she suffered numerous broken bones and permanent damage to her spine. She took Ellie and disappeared for four years, never once contacting Sam. It wasn’t until she’d been arrested that Sam was able to meet with her, and he’d regretted doing so the instant he saw her. The visible damage of her long-term opioid abuse was staggering. Her face was sallow and sunken, her teeth decayed, her hair a dull blonde mess, but what struck him the worst were her eyes. They were wide-open and bloodshot, with the pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and they darted around the room constantly with a paranoia so overwhelming that it was almost contagious. But it was the knowledge that she had killed someone—a mother of four and grandmother of two—that made the sight of her nauseating. She and Sam barely spoke that day, other than to sign a basic form giving him temporary guardianship of Ellie.
Sam had initially refused to let Ellie go to the prison. He’d nearly decided that Ellie would never see Sarah at all until she was released, which had led to such a vicious fight that Ellie had thrown a glass cup at him. He’d ducked, fortunately, and the glass had shattered off the wall behind him. They’d both stood frozen for a minute, until Ellie had asked quietly if he hadn’t realized that her mother had been that way since her father died, and that Ellie had been the sole witness to it all. After that, Sam waited only as long as it took for Sarah to get over her withdrawal symptoms before making their first trip to the women’s prison. He’d gone into the visitors’ area with Ellie that time, but not again since.