Page 86 of Show Me 1

“Oh fuck,” I moaned when he tagged my prostate and then pulled out and did it again. He slammed into me over and over, his breaths going ragged and strained with effort. I unraveled from the inside out, fraying threads of ecstasy spinning loose from my toes to the top of my head, everything a sensation of suspension.

Then came the crash, sudden and intense, rushing in from the corners of my vision and taking me over, head to toe. “Sam,” I cried out, my hips bucking the air. He wrapped a big fist around me just in time and squeezed the back of my thigh tighter, his thick cock pulsing hotly inside me as he fell apart, too.

His cries landed across my back, heating my skin beneath the warring mix of kisses and nips of his teeth.

He slid his arms up my forearms, hands closing over mine where they clung for dear life on the risers, and he bore my weight easily as I rested back against him. We swayed together as we caught our breath.

“Was it as good as you’d hoped it be?”

“Even better.” I sighed happily. “Why the hell did we wait so long?”

“Lack of optimal setting. Though we did do it in that dugout that one time.”

“Mmmm, the U’s stadium. Fuck, that was a really good one.” Spring of senior year. Another time we’d tried to film something and had forgotten about the camera halfway through. We’d published it to the site anyway, and it remained one of our most popular videos.

Sam hummed his agreement against my temple and then kissed down the side of my face. He relaxed his grip on me, sliding a hand down my torso and then folding me into my arms, his penchant for postorgasm affection kicking in full force.

“This is my favorite feeling in the world,” I admitted drowsily.

“It is?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Good.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Because it’s mine, too.”

Too lazy to change back into our street clothes, we threw our jackets on over our football gear and headed home hand in hand.

“What’s next?” Sam asked, nodding politely as someone passed us on the sidewalk.

“I was thinking a dog.”

He laughed. “I meant more immediately.”

“Me too.” I winked, then swung our hands gently. “Cooking shows and naps?”

“At the same time?”

“Definitely.”

A drowsy contentment settled in my bones and wrapped around me as we walked, warmer even than the coat I was wearing. It remained the rest of the walk and even as we changed and cleaned up ourselves and the apartment.

It was still there when we dove onto the couch and I burrowed into Sam’s arms, listening to the patterns of his breaths slow as he dozed off not five minutes into a pound cake challenge, my head pillowed on his bicep, fingers of one hand still laced with his. I thought about freshman-year Jesse and how he’d convinced himself that romance and true love lived in big moments. In showy, extravagant gestures and loud declarations. I thought about how naive he’d been, and also how lucky to find someone who’d shown him the truth. That the deepest and most abiding love was tucked into the ordinary moments like these.

I snuggled deeper into Sam’s warmth and drifted off to the familiar sounds of cake battles and Sam’s soft snore, perfectly, completely content.

—End—