Chapter 21

King heard Sam from the other room, calling out Carmina’s name. He rolled out of bed, wide-awake, and rushed into Sam’s room. “Sam,” he said from the doorway. He’d learned not to shout at him. If he shouted, Sam just thought it was part of the dream. Everything in the dream was so loud and chaotic. Most of the time, if King just said his name in a normal voice it pulled Sam out of the nightmare. “Sam,” he said again. “Wake up.”

“Berkovitch,” Sam said in a broken voice. “Oh, God, Richie.” He started to cry and King stepped over to his bed.

“Sammy,” he said, his voice rising. “You’ve got to wake up. It’s all good.” He tried to remember what Jane had done that night in the hotel. She’d become part of the dream, talked Sam through it, right? “We got her,” he said. “We got De La Cruz.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Sam said, his voice breaking.

Jesus save us, King thought, his mother’s favorite expression of horror slipping through his mind. This dream was new. “It’s okay, Sam,” he said, his own voice shaky. “We got him, too. We’re taking them home.”

Sam began to thrash around on the bed, and then he let out an ear-piercing scream. The scream woke him up and he sat straight up, his hair a sweaty mess as he stared at King with glassy eyes. Then he scrambled back on the bed away from King, his hand searching for something. It took King a minute to realize he was looking for his gun.

“It’s me, Sam,” he said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “King. It’s King.”

Sam was panting, his eyes wide and darting around the room. “King?” he asked, sounding confused.

“Yeah, brah. King. We’re at the apartment. In your room.”

“Did we do it?” Sam asked, still confused, frowning at King.

“Do what?” King asked. Was he still asleep?

“Have sex,” Sam asked.

“What?” King asked, shocked at the question. “No, man. No. You had a nightmare. I heard you from the other room. I couldn’t wake you up.”

“Oh, shit,” Sam said, covering his face with his hands. He ran them back through his sweaty hair. “It was a bad one, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” King told him, not bothering to lie. It wasn’t like Sam couldn’t figure that out from the condition he was in. “You were in it deep.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He pulled his legs up and rested his head on his bent knees, wrapping his arms around them. “I haven’t had one in a while.”

“You want an Ambien?” King asked, reaching for the drawer. He knew the team doc had prescribed some for him last year.

“No,” Sam said, holding up his hand. “I don’t want to get addicted to that shit. It was hard enough to stop taking them last year.”

“What can I do?” King asked. He felt helpless, which wasn’t a feeling he was used to. He didn’t like it.

“Nothing,” Sam said. He slid down and grabbed a pillow, rolling onto his side, facing away from King, hugging the pillow. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Great,” Sam said angrily. “Thanks. That helps. Just go, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” King demanded.

“I’m going to off myself,” Sam said. He looked over his shoulder at King with disgust. “Jesus. I’m just going to try to go back to sleep, okay? I’m tired.”

“Roll over onto your stomach,” King told him, “I’ll rub your back.” That had worked in the past after one of Sam’s nightmares. After the park today, it would be torture for King to be in a bed with Sam and not get busy, but King would gladly suffer to make Sam feel better.

“No,” Sam said, hugging the pillow tighter. King ignored him and climbed on the bed.

“Yes,” he said, trying to pull the pillow away. Eventually Sam gave up with an aggrieved sigh and let the pillow go. He rolled over onto his stomach immediately.

“Fine,” he snapped. “Just do it. Whatever makes you happy.”

He hadn’t rubbed Sam’s back on a bed before, so King took a minute to figure out the best way to do it. He ended up straddling Sam’s ass, and started reciting football stats in his head. The scars on Sam’s back made him want to cry every time he touched them. Sam swore to him they didn’t hurt anymore. Thank God the burn scars weren’t that bad. The worst ones were the three long gashes where the blown door had slashed him, and two bullet holes in his side. One had gone clean through and one had cracked a rib. That rib saved his life. Gently, King ran his hand over the scars, more to soothe himself than Sam. Without a word he leaned over and began to knead Sam’s shoulders, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles right next to his shoulder blades.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned. “Right there. Shit, I’m tight.”

King had to bite his lip not to take that comment where he wanted to go. “Just relax,” he finally said. “I’ll take care of it.” Slowly, Sam’s muscles relaxed, and King could feel the tension leave his body. King worked his way down Sam’s back, kneading and rubbing his tight muscles. Every once in a while, Sam would moan and King’s unruly dick would get that much harder. He was as high up on his knees as he could get, so that Sam didn’t figure out what a perv asshole he was, getting jacked up when Sam was still suffering the effects of a nightmare. When King reached Sam’s lower back, he was careful to keep his hands above the waistline of Sam’s boxer briefs.

Then Sam’s hips moved, and King watched in surprise as Sam ground his dick into the mattress. “Sam?” he asked.

“That feels so fucking good,” Sam mumbled as he humped against the bed again. His eyes were closed, his right cheek pressed to the bed. He had his arms resting over his head.

“Yeah?” King asked. He let his thumbs slide onto Sam’s ass, still covered by his briefs. He rubbed slow circles just below Sam’s hipbones and Sam groaned, pushing his ass off the bed into King’s touch. King accepted the invitation and placed both palms on Sam’s ass cheeks, squeezing them.

“Fuck, yeah,” Sam groaned.

“The massage?” King asked, needing clarification before he took it further.

“Your hands on my ass,” Sam said. “More.”

King hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sam’s briefs and pulled them down a little. Sam lifted his hips up to give him room and King pulled them down, exposing Sam’s perfect, firm ass.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” King said quietly. He moved off to the side and slid Sam’s briefs all the way down and off over his feet, then tossed them aside. “More?” he asked.

“More,” Sam said, his eyes still tightly shut. He thrust his ass up, asking for it.

“I want to massage that asshole,” King told him bluntly. “If you don’t want it, tell me now.”

“Lube in the drawer by the bed,” Sam said, shocking and exciting King. This wasn’t what he’d expected when he’d come running in here.

“You sure?” King asked again. He was going to make damn sure it was what Sam wanted each step of the way.

“I’m sure,” Sam said. “Get the damn lube before I lose this vibe.”

King reached over and pulled open the drawer in the bedside table. He pushed aside some clean underwear and saw a dildo right next to a tube of lube. “What the hell, Sammy?” he asked in astonishment. “What’s this for?”

“Me.” Sam turned his head to face King, blinking his eyes open. “I’ve seen your dick. I was working up to it.”

“Holy shit,” King said. “For how long?”

“I think before I even knew we were going to get to this place,” Sam admitted with a sigh. “The truth is, I like it. I just didn’t tell anybody.”

“God damn,” King said in awe. “I could have helped with that.”

“Help now by fucking me with a real dick,” Sam told him impatiently. “Do I have to engrave an invitation on my ass?”

“No,” King said, laughing. “The dildo pretty much said it all.” He pushed the drawer shut. “You like it real slick, or with a sting?” he asked.

“Slick,” Sam said. “Lots of lube.”

“You got it, babe,” King said. “Ass up.”

Sam rose onto his hands and knees. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to do this,” he said, and King couldn’t tell if he was having second thoughts.

“I want you to tell me every step of the way that this is what you want,” King told him, moving around between his legs. “You hear me?”

“This is what I want,” Sam said. “Hurry up. I’m growing old here.”

King squeezed some lube onto his fingers and rubbed it around Sam’s asshole as Sam moaned. He slipped the tip of his finger into Sam to test him, and Sam immediately relaxed and let his finger slide in. “Damn,” King said in appreciation. “You do know what you’re doing.”

“I mean it,” Sam said, his voice rough. “I want your dick. I’ve had enough of dancing around this. Let’s do this or forget it.”

“Settle down, Sammy,” King said, pushing his finger in further. “I’m going to fuck you. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shit,” Sam said, breathing heavily. He lowered his forearms to the bed. “Trust me when I tell you that doesn’t hurt. More.”

“More fingers?” King asked. Sam nodded. King slid his finger out until just the tip remained and pushed a second in beside it. Sam hissed in a breath. “Too much?”

“No,” Sam said. “Fuck them into me.”

“Do you finger your asshole?” King asked. “That’s hot. I like to finger my ass when I masturbate.”

“King, you’re killing me,” Sam said, sounding like he was talking through clenched teeth. “I’m ready for dick. Do it.”

King pulled his fingers out and Sam moaned. He squeezed more lube on and set the tube down. This time he pressed both thumbs into Sam’s asshole and began to work it gently, fucking into him and pulling it open wider, loosening him up a little. “This ass is tight, Sammy, no matter what you think.”

“King.” Sam’s voice had a warning in it that went straight to King’s dick. King couldn’t not obey that voice. He moved in closer to Sam, his dick so hard it was bouncing in front of him, eager to fuck Sam at last.

“I don’t know how long I’m going to last,” King confessed. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long that I’m pretty damn close right now.”

“How long?” Sam asked, spreading his legs wider to give King more room.

“When did we meet?” King asked, only half joking. “That long.”

“Then do it,” Sam told him. “Right now. This ass is yours for the taking.”

“Condom?” King asked.

“I don’t want to,” Sam answered, surprising King again. “Look we’ve both been tested recently by the team, and I haven’t fucked anyone but Jane in years. And I wore a condom with her, and so did you. But if you want to, that’s okay, too.”

“I’d feel better if I did,” King said reluctantly. “I want to get tested again just to be sure before we take that step.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “They’re in the drawer, too.” King leaned over, Sam’s ass pressed to his dick, and opened the drawer again. “You are a fucking tease,” Sam said tightly. “I’ll get you back, you know.” King laughed as he grabbed the box of condoms. He pulled one out and passed it to Sam.

“My hands are too slippery to open it,” he said. “Hurry or I’m going to come on this ass and not in it.”

“Now he’s in a hurry,” Sam complained, tearing open the foil packet. “Here.” He passed it over his shoulder and King slid it on.

“My hands are shaking,” King told him. “I can’t remember when I’ve been this excited to fuck someone. I haven’t fucked a guy in years.”

“Good,” Sam said. “Do you need me to do it?”

“Got it.” King felt funny, like he ought to say something memorable before he fucked Sam for the first time, but he couldn’t think of anything. “Ready?” he asked, wishing it was more, wishing he thought Sam was ready to hear more.

“Yes,” Sam said, impatient again. “Give it to me now. I’ve been wondering about fucking a real dick for years. Show me.”

“Why me?” King asked, rubbing the head of his dick around Sam’s hole. He watched it open and contract, trying to pull him in. It was erotic as hell.

“Because you’re the one I want to do it,” Sam said. It wasn’t the words King wanted, but it would do for now. He held his dick steady and began to push into Sam. “Yes,” Sam hissed, pushing back against him. King’s knees went weak as the head of his dick suddenly popped into Sam’s ass like a key in a lock. Sam was panting. “More. All of it,” he demanded. “I can take it. You know I can.”

King took him at his word and continued to press forward, every inch or so reversing and pulling back, but not out. Sam was groaning as King worked his dick into him. King could tell it was pleasure and not pain. “You like this, don’t you?” he asked breathlessly.

“I fucking love it,” Sam said. “Do me hard, King.”

King pushed in all the way and Sam shouted wordlessly. King stayed there for about half a minute, letting Sam adjust. “Move,” Sam said at last. King moved. He was hesitant at first to fuck Sam too hard. But Sam was thrusting his ass back, trying to make it harder on his own, so King obliged. He fucked him hard enough that you could hear his hips slapping into Sam’s ass, and his balls were swinging. Sam took it all and practically begged for more. King pulled all the way out and shoved back in and Sam gave a loud shout.

“Fuck, yeah,” he said. “Do it again.”

King set up a rhythm, pulling all the way out and shoving back in whenever he thought he might come too soon. The push inside Sam’s hole was a hot flash of almost painful intensity that pulled him back from the brink a couple of times, but eventually it began to push him even closer. “Sammy,” he said. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” Sam demanded, his voice hoarse. “Fucking come in me.”

That was all it took. King fucked him hard for two or three strokes and then he came, straining to stay upright through the intense pleasure, pressed deep inside Sam’s ass. “Sammy,” he groaned. “Sam.”

“Don’t pull out,” Sam begged, rising onto his hands again. He reached under himself and King could tell he was jacking himself off. “Stay inside. Stay. You’re still hard. Shit. Shit, I’m going to come.” King felt it, felt Sam’s muscles pulse around his dick as he came. “King, shit,” Sam cried out. “God.” He arched his neck and threw his head back. When he was done his body went limp and he nearly collapsed under King.