by J. M. Snyder
“Good sex can do that for you. Beer or wine?”
“That wasn’t just good sex, buddy. That was amazing sex.”
“It was pretty good,” Sam said, nodding.
Lincoln rolled his eyes. “Wine. And don’t bowl me over with those compliments, Sam. Wouldn’t want them to go to my head.”
Sam took two red wineglasses out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. “Oh, please. You know you’re fantastic.”
He grinned. “Fantastic is better. You want baked or mashed with the steaks?”
“Baked is easier. You don’t have to peel them.” Sam moved to the wine bottles. They’d all gone nuts buying booze that first day, and though they’d drunk plenty, tons of bottles remained. It was like the guys had planned to be there a month instead of just a few days. “Cabernet, Pinot Noir, or Syrah?”
“Let’s go with the Pinot.” Lincoln peered at the bottles. “You’d think we went to Napa on a wine-tasting trip.”
“That should totally be our next guys’ trip.”
Lincoln leaned against the counter as he watched Sam open the bottle and pour some into each of the glasses. “Would you go?”
Sam handed him a glass. “Only if you’re a part of it.”
“I would be. Not sure I’d be able to keep my hands off you, though. That could be a problem. You know, if you didn’t want to continue. Or want the guys to know.”
“I don’t really care about them knowing. The timing of such a trip with everyone’s schedule, that might be harder.” Sam shrugged. “We could always go on our own and just make it an ‘us’ trip.”
Sam spoke casually, as though it was just two buddies taking a trip together, but it suddenly sounded like two guys taking a romantic wine-tasting trip together, and that seemed really significant. And while Lincoln would seriously love that, he sincerely doubted Sam was looking to make that sort of commitment. Or public statement.
“Yeah, we could,” Lincoln said, deciding to go with noncommittal.
Sam had left the kitchen to stand at the windows in the dining room that overlooked the parking lot. He seemed suddenly pensive, and Lincoln figured the talk of anything beyond the weekend snowed in here likely made Sam uncomfortable.
He took his wineglass to where Sam stood and linked one arm around his friend’s waist, leaning against his back, and looking out at the snow.
“I’ve never seen this much snow here,” Sam remarked. “In California, I mean.”
“Yeah. Mostly I try to avoid it. Thought I was this time.”
“Come on, Linc. It’s January in the mountains.”
“I mean, like this. Ellen suggested October before it starts getting crazy, but it wasn’t feasible for everyone.” He kissed Sam’s ear. “Including you.”
“I’m definitely a busy guy.” Sam took a sip of wine, then smiled sardonically. “I gotta tell you, though, I’ll never make a snow bunny.”
“You’d make a pretty cute one.”
“Nah, I dressed as one for Halloween when I was little. I was such a dork, no one gave me any candy.”
“So sad,” Lincoln murmured. “What are you thinking about?”
“Is that your version of ‘penny for your thoughts’?”
“Sam.” He tore his gaze away from Sam to look out at the parking lot covered in snow. With only their two cars, it seemed both a little eerie being at such a quiet, abandoned place, and also a little exciting. Made no sense. “You got all quiet when we were talking about a trip for wine-tasting. We don’t have to, you know.”
“I like wine.”
He sighed. “We don’t even have to think beyond these couple of days. That’s the agreement we made, right?”
“Hmm. Agreements can change, babe.” He pulled away from Lincoln and put his wineglass on the table. “Think it’s okay to take a walk? A very short one.”
“A walk? In that?”
“I’ll bundle up and not go far, I promise. I need some fresh air.”
Lincoln narrowed his eyes. “Are you going for a smoke?”
Sam reddened. “Just a teensy one.”
“Sam, I thought you gave that up.”
“I have…mostly. Sometimes when I’m stressed, I have one.”
Lincoln studied him carefully. He looked a little stressed, harried. And all of a sudden, Lincoln’s own good mood slipped away. Obviously, hooking up, even for a weekend, was too much for Sam. Any thoughts of continuing after this, if Lincoln ever really had any, flew right out of his head.
All right. So he wasn’t going to pressure Sam for more. Not even the rest of their time there. And he could play it cool.
He forced a smile that felt tight on his face. “Okay. But if you aren’t back in five minutes, I’ll have to go out after you. I’ll get the potatoes in and start seasoning the steaks. I can make a salad out of the stuff we didn’t use, too.”
“I’ll be quick,” Sam promised. “I’m going to take my phone and give a short call to my agent, too.”
Lincoln returned to the kitchen while Sam bundled up to go outside for his cigarette and phone call. Lincoln took several more sips of wine and set about doing what he said he’d do.
He rebuked himself for ever thinking this could go deeper than what it was. And okay, yeah, the great sex had made him start to go there. But Sam had made it clear that it was casual, buddy sex. Sam wasn’t even out to the public as bisexual. Probably really never would be. In fact, Lincoln wondered if his call to his agent was some reaffirmation of that.
Lincoln was glad he had a career where no one really cared that he was gay. Oh, sure, there’d been one or two clients over the years who hadn’t wanted the gay dude to be their attorney, but those clients usually were curtly referred to other law firms, and honestly, Lincoln hadn’t had to deal with it.
He would never be in front of the cameras on a daily basis and liked it that way. It was impossible for him to walk in Sam’s shoes and know what it was like. Lincoln would not judge Sam’s choices. And ultimately, he guessed, Sam would choose to marry a woman and raise a family with her.
Ten minutes passed before Sam came stomping up the stairs. Lincoln had figured he’d give him fifteen, so he was glad when he didn’t have to go out and make him come back inside.
Sam came hurrying inside. “Oh, my God. It’s damn cold out there.”
“Did your lips freeze over your cigarette?”
Sam chuckled. “Almost.” He peeled off thick snow gloves and set them on the little wooden storage bench beside the door. “It’s really cold, but I don’t think the snow is as hard as it was. Just a few flakes while I was down there.”
“That’s good news,” Lincoln said, while not knowing if it really was. Sure, he wanted to go home, but he didn’t want this to end, even if he was determined to be low key with Sam the rest of their time there. “My cat will be happy to see me.”
“Probably not just your cat, Linc.” He shrugged out of the heavy down jacket and hung it on a peg.
“Oh. Sure. My co-workers, too. So they don’t have to cover for me.”
Sam picked up his earlier discarded wineglass. “Feeling a little sorry for yourself?”
“Nope.” Lincoln shrugged. “But I already told you, I’m not dating anyone and I just saw my brother. I see friends and loved ones pretty frequently. I doubt they have much time to miss me in an extended weekend.”
Sam came into the kitchen. “What can I do? Want me to put the salad together?”
He tried not to wrinkle his nose at the smoky smell. “Just sit at the table and enjoy your wine. I’ve got this.”
“Okay.” Sam leaned over like he was going to kiss Lincoln, but Lincoln sideswiped him to the other side of the kitchen. “What the hell?”
“You smell like an ashtray.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You want me to take another shower and brush my teeth or something?”
He waved that away. “No, no. No need for that.”
Sam grabbed the wine bottle, then sat at the ta
ble, watching him. “What’s up? You went from hot to cold in the space of fifteen minutes. Is it the smoking?”
“Nothing,”
“Lincoln.”
He opened the broiler and put in the steaks. “You were pretty freaked out earlier. About the wine-tasting and the whole idea of us being, I don’t know, something. I don’t want to make things weird for you.”
“Do I have to remind you again that I was the one who suggested it?”
“Yeah, you did. As a ‘friends with benefits over the weekend.’ Not to take romantic-couple trips together or anything else beyond the now. And I don’t want you to think there’s any pressure for that.”
Sam smiled. “You really are fucking adorable, you know that?”
“Oh, sure. I’m always adorable when I’m on my high horse,” Lincoln cracked.
“I suggested this because I want it, Linc. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill. I wanted a smoke because sometimes I get anxious and it doesn’t have anything to do with you or us or being stuck here in the snow. Okay?”
Lincoln blew out a breath. “All right. Sure. As long as you don’t feel uncomfortable with anything.”
Sam snorted and poured himself more wine. “Do you actually think I’d do anything that made me uncomfortable?”
His lips twitched. “Well. I did. But now that you mention it, you’re a pretty strong personality.”
“Absolutely.” Sam held up his wineglass. “Now come over here and toast me.”
Lincoln grabbed his own glass, walked to the table, refilled it, then clinked it with Sam’s.
“To old friends.” Sam waggled his eyebrows. “Very intimate friends.”
He laughed and took a drink, his mood much improved.
* * * *
“So, what do you think?” Lincoln asked some time later. They lay on the big, lumpy brown couch in the living room in front of the lit gas fireplace. A wood one would have added more to the ambiance, but well, it was what it was. He lay lengthwise on the couch, and Sam laid on him.
“About what, babe?”
“Do you see yourself settled down with a wife and a kid on the way, say, within the next five years?” He kept his tone casual, light. He didn’t want Sam to know that the answer was as meaningful to him as it was. Five years was a long time. A lot could change for both of them in that time.
Sam shrugged. “I don’t know, man. It’s not in my plans right now. Whether it’s a woman or a man. I’m not even sure I’ll ever want kids, Linc.”
“Fair enough.”
“I mean, I live a pretty free and selfish life, you know? I’m gone a lot. I can take any job I want, wherever I want. All that probably would change if I had a kid to be responsible for. I like the way my life is now.”
“That makes perfect sense to me.” Lincoln snuck a hand under Sam’s shirt and ran his fingertips over the hard abs.
“Mmm.” Sam arched slightly into Lincoln’s touch. “What about you?
“Me?”
“Kids, I mean. I know you don’t want a wife, but what about the whole ‘marriage and children’ thing?”
Lincoln gave it some thought. “Never really considered it. Sure, if the right guy came around and we both wanted marriage, I could see myself doing that. But children? I just don’t know.”
“What do you look for in a guy?”
You.
He almost said it out loud, but instead he said, “I guess someone kind of like you. Clearly I’m attracted to you and your type. And I love your drive and ambition. I like a guy who knows what he wants and goes for it.”
“That sounds a lot like yourself, too.”
“I intend to make partner at my firm by thirty. Maybe even some day open my own firm. We’ll see. But yeah, I have ambition, goals. I want to be Elmer Fudd.”
Sam frowned. “Elmer Fudd?”
Lincoln laughed. “I want to own a mansion and a yacht.”
“Oh, my God.” Sam laughed breathlessly. “You’re too much.”
He smiled and moved his hand up Sam’s torso. “I love your laugh.”
“It’s just a laugh.”
“Sure. And you’re just a guy. Actually, you’re probably already Elmer Fudd.”
“I don’t own a yacht. I get seasick.”
“Mansion?”
“I own a nice house,” Sam admitted. “It once belonged to Errol Flynn.”
“A lot of talent and a little bit of looks, and see where it gets you?”
“A little bit of looks?” Sam turned in his arms, then kissed him, deeply, maddeningly. “Take that back.”
“Will you stop kissing me if I do?”
“No.” His tongue slipped between Lincoln’s lips and twirled against his own.
“Mmm. Back.”
Sam’s hand moved between their bodies to cup Lincoln’s growing erection through the fabric of his jeans. He groaned. “What do you say I go get a condom and the lube while you get naked?”
“Gonna fuck on the couch?”
“Looks like a great place to me,” Sam said hoarsely. “Want to feel you clench tight around me.”
Lincoln’s arousal spiked, and as Sam stepped away, he wrenched off his shoes and the rest of his clothes as fast as he could. He felt a little weird lying naked on Ellen’s couch, but also a little excited, too. Okay, a lot excited. He’d never had sex on a couch before.
He leaned up on his elbows and waited for Sam. He was not disappointed as the other man arrived bare-ass nude, the condom already rolled onto his stiff dick. He held up the bottle of lube rather triumphantly.
Lincoln couldn’t help but grin.
Sam grinned back. “Get on all fours.
“You ever fucked on a couch before?” Lincoln asked as he knelt on the cushions.
“Of course. I’ve fucked everywhere,” Sam asserted. “You haven’t?”
“Nope. Bed, obviously, and table. Walls.”
“New experiences are good.” He playfully smacked Lincoln’s ass, then knelt on the couch behind him and squirted out a large amount of lube. “Later I’m going to totally rim you.”
Lincoln shook. “Fuck.”
“That comes in just a moment.” Sam shoved two lubed fingers up Lincoln’s ass.
“God,” he moaned. “You don’t mess around.”
“Like you said, I go for what I want.”
The third finger slipped in, spreading him, and Lincoln shoved himself against the invading digits. God, he couldn’t wait for Sam’s cock inside him.
“Do it,” he ground out.
“Are you sure you’re ready?”
“So ready.”
Another slap of his ass and the fingers withdrew. Sam’s cockhead teased along the crease of his buttocks. It felt great, but Lincoln wanted, needed, more.
Propping himself on the couch with just one hand, he fisted his erection while Sam pushed into him.
Lincoln’s cell phone sprang to life on the coffee table. The Flintstones theme ringtone.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Ignore it, Linc. Whatever it is can wait.”
Sam pushed in, balls deep. The phone stopped ringing.
“Unbelievable,” Sam muttered as he began to thrust deep, fast and hard into Lincoln.
“I’ll say,” Lincoln panted.
“You-you really are tight.”
“Talk later,” Lincoln said, echoing Sam from earlier. “Fuck.”
Sam dug his fingers into Lincoln’s hipbones, pumping into him at a frenetic speed. “Not gonna-gonna—”
“Yessss.”
Chapter 5
Sam got up the next morning before Lincoln. He left the bedroom after kissing Linc’s cheek, then went to the window in the dining room to gaze outside. It looked like it had stopped snowing. A good sign.
He texted his agent.
Weather’s getting better. I think tomorrow I’m heading back to LA.
Sam went into the kitchen to start the coffee. As he pressed the ON button, his agent texted back.
/> Thank God. Was going to send tanks to get you out. Need you on that plane Friday.
Sam texted back.
I’ll be there.
He opened the fridge, thinking he might as well get breakfast going. Linc spent enough time looking after others—especially Sam, it seemed—so the least Sam could do would be to make breakfast.
All of this had definitely been unexpected, Sam mused, as he took out the carton of eggs and a leftover baked potato from last night. Sure, he’d come on this trip to see Lincoln, but he hadn’t thought this would happen.
He’d been almost as surprised as Linc when he’d suggested they start something. He didn’t generally romance guys, yet now he was thinking of something…more.
But he knew he would have to be careful. His career had to be his number one priority, at least for now, and he couldn’t afford any missteps. But if he could work it out to continue seeing Lincoln after this weekend, then he wanted that.
He cut the potatoes and tossed them into a pan with a little olive oil and herbs.
Same knew his PR people would be against the relationship. But fuck them. And maybe some day he’d just come out with the truth anyway. It didn’t have to be career suicide these days.
Sam had always been a little bit in love with Linc. Gorgeous, a born leader, brilliant, hot. Okay, yeah, gorgeous and hot might make him shallow. But there was nothing wrong with physical attraction. Even extreme attraction.
The point was, he would have likely given up on his high school buddies a long time ago if it weren’t for Linc. Things had never been the same for him with the guys after Charlie died, since they mostly reminded him of Charlie.
But not Lincoln.
“What’s not Lincoln?”
Sam turned in surprise to see the man standing on the edge of the kitchen. He wore only a T-shirt and a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants. A shadowed beard covered his chiseled jaw. Damn.
“Did I say that out loud?” Sam asked, a bit breathlessly.
“Er, yeah.” Lincoln yawned. “Point me to the coffee.”
Sam laughed. “I’ll do better and pour it for you.” He grabbed a mug, filled it, added cream, and thrust it at Lincoln. “It’s stopped snowing.”
Lincoln peered outside, absently scratching his belly. “I was beginning to think it never would.”