They broke apart, each of them taking a ragged gasp. Ed wasn’t sure what he expected to see in Sammy’s eyes, but the heavy-lidded passion was enough to melt what little resistance Ed had left. Nobody had ever, ever looked at Ed like that. It was enough to make him flush. He opened his mouth and took another deep breath, trying to inhale the scent of Sammy’s skin. Trying to taste it. Lightning illuminated Sammy’s face, and they both froze until the electric blue faded into darkness, and then crashed together as thunder shook the car.
The road was completely abandoned, but even if a series of trucks raced by, Ed would have no fear of being noticed. The windows were already starting to steam, providing a certain shield between the two of them and the rest of the watery world. When Ed opened his eyes, he couldn’t see through the now opaque windows, and he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see anything except Sammy. And when his eyes were closed, he still saw Sammy clearly, his fingers mapping the smooth lines of his body. His muscled arms. His rigid back. The crests and valleys of his ribs. Ed’s fingers didn’t stop until he reached the cold, heavy barrier of Sammy’s jeans.
Sammy conducted a similar exploration of Ed’s body, but while Ed’s touch was light and searching, Sammy’s was far more demanding. He didn’t think Sammy was trying to take complete control of the situation, but ultimately, that was what he had. He had the strength of somebody who’d spent most of his life playing football and working the farm. Each caress, each touch, came with just enough pressure to remind Ed that Sammy probably would have won the fight, if Ed had goaded him into one. That sense of strength didn’t intimidate Ed at all. If anything, it made his blood pulse harder, and all the muscles from his neck to his groin twisted, tightening with anticipation.
Anticipation of what, Ed wasn’t certain. Other than occasional fantasies and nameless desires, Ed really had no concept of what he was doing in the back of that car. The hunger for Sammy was very real. Real enough to push him closer, to make him grasp at Sammy’s arms and open up to each greedy kiss. But if Sammy asked him, at that moment, just what Ed wanted him to do, Ed would have no real response. He could really only hope that Sammy would know, and in the meantime, he’d follow the other man’s lead.
Sammy, for his part, seemed happy to lead Ed into more and more kisses, each one deeper and more searching. Occasionally, there would be a miscue, and Sammy’s teeth would catch against his lips, or their noses would knock together, or Ed would take a breath just as Sammy claimed his mouth again, or some other similarly undignified mishap would occur. Ed always tensed, but Sammy kept pushing forward, like it didn’t matter. Soon, Ed began to understand. Clumsy, grappling moments really didn’t matter. This wasn’t a competition. Sammy wouldn’t be grading him. All that mattered was the contact, and like Sammy, Ed couldn’t get enough of that.
Sammy rolled Ed to his back and straddled his hips, pressing their cocks together. But their jeans made such effective barriers that the new contact did nothing except frustrate Ed. He smoothed his palms down Sammy’s back and cupped his ass, holding him as close as possible as Sammy’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Ed wasn’t sure who started moving first, but soon, Sammy was rocking against him, his hips thrusting, and the car rocked with him.
“Sammy…we got to get out of these pants…”
“I know.”
Instead of giving Ed the space he needed to wiggle from his drying jeans, he dragged his large hand across Ed’s chest, his fingers settling on Ed’s nipple. The light touch was enough to make his nerves jump, but it was the pinch of the hard flesh that sent a bolt of electricity through him. He arched up from the bed of the station wagon, his gasp lodged in his throat. Ed wanted to beg for more, but he couldn’t speak. Sammy gave him what he wanted anyway, pulling and pinching the sensitive skin between the rough calluses on his thumb and forefinger.
“Pants,” Ed tried again.
“Don’t want to stop,” Sammy murmured against his mouth. As if to prove it, his hips started moving faster. Ed’s rough jeans caught against his cock, and the scrape of material against his sensitive head made him cry out.
“It’ll be better without them.”
“I know. You’re right. Fuck. Don’t move.”
Ed didn’t have any intention of moving—or any space to, even if he wanted to. He lay still, softly moaning as Sammy peeled away from him. Ed expected Sammy to unbutton his own pants, but his long fingers went directly to Ed’s fly. They fumbled with the buttons for a moment before popping them free, finally—blessedly—relieving Ed’s cock from the unbelievable pressure.
Sammy stared at him, as if transfixed by the sight of his erection. Ed had snuck enough glances in the locker room at school to know that, at least by Wyoming standards, he was much bigger than average. But he didn’t know if he was quite big enough to merit such a gobsmacked look.
“Sammy?”
“I didn’t really expect…now I’m not so sure I want to take off my own pants.”
“Don’t be stupid. Let me see.”
Without taking his attention away from Ed, Sammy unbuttoned himself and pushed the flaps of his jeans back, exposing his own shaft. He wasn’t as big as Ed, but that hardly mattered. Especially
