Latest gay erotic stories: Safe Deposit – Chapter 3
Thomas’s hand was on his thigh, inching closer to his zipper. He let out a breathy chuckle and his hand disappeared from Sam’s leg, reaching up for his cheek and turning Sam’s face further into his. Sam groaned at the loss of touch but didn’t fight it.
The first press of Thomas’s lips to his was chaste. Sam gave into it, not pushing it any further until his mouth opened just a fraction. Thomas took it for the sign it was and pushed his tongue into Sam’s mouth, a bit roughly, if Sam did say so himself.
Not that he minded.
He lost track of time as they sat, necking like teenagers. Thomas was straddling his lap and grinding into him before Sam came up for air, turning his head before he passed out. Thomas made a sound too quiet to be a groan and sat back a bit, resting on Sam’s thighs.
“This is so fucking crazy,” Sam panted. Thomas was playing with the waist band of his pants, and it was almost too much after all the petting.
It had been a really long time.
“Is it?” It comforted Sam to hear that Thomas was out of breath, too. “I mean, it was kind of inevitable, right?”
He marveled at Thomas’s ability to use words like inevitable with his cock straining against the fake denim of his jeans. Thomas’s hands felt him up under his shirt; that lack of inhibition was impossible to resist, even if it was less than a surprise.
“I don’t know man, it kinda came out of nowhere, don’t you think?”
Thomas’s face was pressed to his collarbone and his lips tickled when he talked. “You complaining?”
Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Not at all.”
They’d been building toward something, before, but Sam could feel the atmosphere shifting; Thomas was winding down and sliding off his lap even though they were both still hard.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Thomas was smirking. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy.”
Sam shifted position and tried to get comfortable again — a tall order given the throbbing in his groin. Thomas was drinking out of his beer and offered him some; Sam waved him off and watched the head of the bottle slide between his lips. He had a very graceful neck, and his smaller body made Sam want to pick him up and throw him onto a bed somewhere. He hadn’t fucked a guy in years but he sure as hell remembered how to do it. See if he kept that teasing grin on his face when Sam pried his legs apart.
They’d see who wouldn’t be getting off easy —
“Whoa, down boy,” Thomas said. His bare foot was resting on Sam’s crotch and he was wriggling his toes and arch. “We’ll get to that.”
Sam shoved his foot away in mock annoyance. “What are you, a fucking psychic?”
“Watch your mouth. I have popsicles I could be eating in front of you.”
Sam laughed; it felt good in his throat. “You prick.”
“I had to do something. You were losing it.”
His feelings from earlier seemed far away; it seemed crazy now that he had tried to leave.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“You were gonna run out the door.”
“It’s a weird situation.”
Thomas took another swig of beer and looked intently at him. Sam knew he was going to say something penetrating again and tried to brace himself.
“So what’s really going on here?”
Thomas’s gaze was level and intense, and Sam could feel the words about to pour out of his mouth. It was crazy, what Thomas could get out of him with just a look. He couldn’t hide anything, and he wasn’t sure he liked that.
“I…don’t know.” It was true, at least on the surface. He really didn’t know why he was so obsessed with this shit. But there was something about it that was important; he could feel it. It was just that he was ambivalent about whether he wanted to find what he had come looking for.
“Other cases get to you like this?”
It was a lie. Sam often forgot cases once they were done. Most of his work involved cheating spouses and runaway teens, and the vast majority of the cases ended with divorce and extended groundings. It paid well, but it wasn’t as exciting as he’d imagined it would be when he started out.
Thomas was unconvinced. “What’s the last case you spent a year investigating?”
“Fuck you, twenty questions. Why did you say yes? Baking not thrilling enough for you?”
Thomas didn’t move, but he grew tense. “Something like that.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Unbelievable. “So, what, I can bare my soul and practically have a panic attack on your couch but you can’t share anything?”
He shook his head and then looked back at Sam, grim. “I had a great job that I hated. Coworkers weren’t exactly Friends of Dorothy. Quit and moved here to open a bakery; property is cheap. Bought a house from a dead guy’s niece for cash.”
Sam sat, glaring at the beer on the table.
“Then some guy calls me with this insane story.” The snap was gone from his voice and he just sounded tired. “I thought, what the hell? Take a chance. You had a fascinating tale, I could solve a mystery, maybe find a secret fortune. Do something besides sit in this fucking house feeling sorry for myself.”
The bitter tone didn’t suit him, and Sam almost wanted to pat his head or something so he’d stop sounding like that.
Then then elf smirk reappeared on his face, this time with a sharper edge. It was sexy — painfully so — but it was mad, too, almost cruel. It made Sam’s heart pound and his palms sweat.
“And you were just begging for it, on the phone, by the way. I could hear it.”
Sam’s cock throbbed and he bit his lip, angry. How could he be so fucking fragile? He wasn’t a teenage boy in a locker room, and he wasn’t such an easy touch that he couldn’t handle some miniature Ashton Kutcher with a paneled living room dry humping him on a couch. He was a grown man.
He had dignity, damn it.