Cold Feet (7 page)

But Ryan wasn’t going to back out now. He reached for Sam, sliding his arms around his lean body and pulling him close until their lips touched.

They snogged on the sofa for what felt like hours. Sam lost all track of time, caught up in the slow, sweet press of lips and slide of tongues as they explored each other’s mouths. They let their hands roam too, innocently at first, stroking into hair or cupping a cheek, angling the other’s jaw to deepen the kiss. Then Ryan spread his hands out on Sam’s back and slid them down until he was holding Sam’s hips. Sam started a slow, dirty grind over Ryan’s erection where he could feel it, hard and straining through his tracksuit bottoms. Sam smiled into the
kiss,
glad to know Ryan was as turned on as he was.

Neither of them was in a rush to take things further, though. Sam’s arousal was warm and lazy, like the gentle glow of the fire as it burned down in the grate as they kissed, both too lost in the moment to notice. Sam thought about suggesting they move things up to bed, but he was afraid of breaking the spell. He couldn’t believe he finally had
this, that
he’d finally got to touch Ryan like this, and he didn’t want to do anything to mess it up. So he carried on, letting Ryan lead.

Ryan got bolder the longer it went on. He dragged his lips away from Sam’s and kissed Sam’s jaw and down his neck as far as he could reach. He found the sensitive spot near Sam’s ear that made him chuckle and squirm, but when Ryan pulled away, apologising, Sam grabbed his head and held him there.

“Nah, it’s good. I like it. Don’t stop.”

Sam’s cock was leaking now, sticky in his underwear. He wondered if Ryan was wet too, and his cock jumped at the thought. “Fuck,” he gasped.

“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was muffled against Sam’s neck where he was still kissing it between the words. “God… I’m going to come in my pants if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“I’m not too far off either,” Sam admitted.

“Do you wanna go up to bed?” Ryan asked. “We could maybe….”

Sam pulled back to look at him. Ryan looked fucking gorgeous like this, flushed and desperate, and all because of Sam. “Make each other come?”

Ryan nodded, lips parted and wet.

Sam grinned. “Let’s do it.”

They hurried up the stairs and into the double bedroom where they were sleeping now. Sam took off his hoodie,
then
decided his tracksuit bottoms needed to come off too. They’d only get in the way. Ryan stripped down to his T-shirt and underwear as well, and Sam hid his smile as he noticed the damp spot on the blue fabric of Ryan’s boxers.

They climbed under the covers together, shivering as the cool cotton touched their skin. But soon they were kissing again, generating heat between them, the chill forgotten. They lay on their sides, legs tangled together, and Ryan kissed Sam hungrily now, more desperately than he’d been downstairs. He hooked his leg over Sam’s thigh and shifted closer, rubbing his cock against Sam’s hip.

Sam was dying for more now, and he knew instinctively that Ryan was holding back, waiting for Sam to do something. So he trailed his hand down Ryan’s side and around until he felt Ryan’s hardness against the backs of his fingers. He stroked lightly up and down his length, and Ryan groaned and pushed against him again.

“Fuck, yes. Touch me.”

Sam fumbled as he tried to push Ryan’s underwear out of the way, clumsy with impatience. But he finally managed it. He curled his fingers around Ryan’s cock, and it felt perfect in his hand, thick, hard, and slippery with precome. Ryan had given up trying to kiss Sam now. He let his head slip forward to rest on Sam’s shoulder and panted as Sam stroked him. Sam could sense Ryan’s urgency, and he didn’t want to make him wait after however long they’d spent snogging on the sofa.

“
Yeah, Sam
.” Ryan sounded pained, then, “
Fuck!
” He came, spilling thick and hot in Sam’s fist, his body shuddering with it. Sam stroked him through it,
then
wiped his hand on his T-shirt before tilting Ryan’s chin up for a kiss.

Ryan was already reaching down to touch Sam, finding Sam’s erection and working to get it free from his underwear. “Your turn,” he murmured.

“You don’t have to,” Sam said, half-heartedly. Because if Ryan didn’t, Sam was going to go and do it
himself
in the bathroom, and it was too bloody cold in there.

“Yes, I do.” Ryan shut him up with a kiss.

Sam was breathless from the combination of Ryan’s hand stroking him and the intensity of his kisses. His heart felt too big for his chest. It was almost too much, and for a moment he questioned his wisdom in letting this happen. How would he be able to go back to being just friends after this, now he’d know what he was missing?

Ryan got a nice rhythm going, and Sam was ridiculously close already after all the build-up and having Ryan’s dick in his hand. He wished he’d had it in his mouth… and, oh God, even the thought of that was enough to edge him a little closer.

“I want to suck you next time,” he gasped, his verbal filter obliterated by rampaging hormones. He had no idea if there would be a next time, but he bloody hoped so.

“God, are you trying to make me hard again?” Ryan chuckled. “Because it’s working.”

“Yeah. Maybe. I— Ohh!”

Sam lost the power of speech as Ryan found the sensitive spot on his neck again and combined it with a gentle squeeze to the head of his cock to devastating effect.

Sam came so hard he saw stars, or maybe fairy lights, but definitely something sparkly. When he was done he felt wrung out, still shaky as he moved to tuck himself away. He had a wet patch on his boxers where Ryan hadn’t caught it all, but he didn’t mind. Clingy after coming, he wanted Ryan’s arms around him again. Not even caring how needy he seemed, Sam snuggled in close, burrowing his nose into Ryan’s neck and breathing in the wonderful scent of his skin. Sam’s too full heart gradually slowed and settled, but the panicky “what-have-I-done?” feeling lingered, as uncomfortable as the damp, sticky patch in his underwear.

They must have fallen asleep like that, because Sam woke hours later to find the lamp still on. He was warm and blissfully comfortable, but he needed to go to the toilet. He carefully extracted himself from Ryan’s arms without waking him and crept across the landing to use the bathroom. He relieved himself, shivering with cold by the time he’d finished. Then he went back to bed and tried to slide in without disturbing Ryan.

But as he curled in close, Ryan stirred and mumbled, “You’re freezing.”

“Sorry.” Sam started to sidle away. “I needed to pee.”

“S’okay. Get back here.” Ryan wrapped his arms around Sam and stopped him moving. Ryan spooned around him, still half asleep, and the soothing warmth of his body and the soft huff of his breath soon had Sam drifting off again too.

They slept late in the morning, not waking until it was bright outside. Sam surfaced from sleep slowly, the layers of heaviness peeling away as he lay and stared at the ceiling, where a bright shaft of sunlight cut into the room. The memory of the night before crystallised, and Sam smiled, despite the accompanying lurch of anxiety.

Then he suddenly remembered what day it was.

He rolled onto his side and poked Ryan in the ribs. “Hey, sleeping beauty. Happy Christmas!”

Ryan grunted and cranked an eye open. “Have you got presents? If not, I’m not interested. Lemme go back to sleep.” He closed his eyes again.

“No.” Sam’s smile slipped. He wished he’d thought of it in time, though. Not that they could have got much at the village shop, but it would have been nice to have
something
to exchange on Christmas morning. “Sorry. Fuck… you didn’t get me anything, did you?”

Ryan sighed a long-suffering sigh and opened his eyes again. “Don’t be daft, when have I been to the shop without you?”

“Oh, yeah. Good.”

Sam thought about offering Ryan a Christmas
blow job
, but he didn’t want Ryan to feel pressured to reciprocate. He might already be regretting what they’d done the night before.

“What’s the time?” Ryan asked.

“Dunno, hang on.” Sam leaned out of the bed for a moment to reach for his hoodie. His phone was in the pocket. “Bloody hell, it’s eleven already. We’d better get a shift on if we’re going over to Mari’s for noon. I need a shower. I must stink.”

“No more than usual,” Ryan teased.

“And someone made me jizz all over my boxers last night.” Sam glanced sidelong at Ryan. His heart skipped a beat as he waited for Ryan’s reaction.

Ryan blushed, but he smiled too, and Sam breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Things weren’t going to be too weird.

“Go on, you have first shower, then,” Ryan said. “I’ll go after. I’m a bit sticky too. Funny that.”

They walked up the hill to Mari’s just a little after midday.

“It’s warmer today, isn’t it?” Ryan said.

The air was definitely less crisp, and the snow was starting to turn slushy in places. Their footprints from the day before were melting down to the road beneath, the patches of dark grey tarmac in stark contrast against the white of the snow.

“Yeah. I reckon so,” Sam replied.

It looked as though they might be able to leave tomorrow unless any more snow fell. Sam felt as though he should be more excited at the prospect of going home.

In his pocket, his phone buzzed with notifications as he walked, so he got it out to look. Messages were pinging in now he was in range, and then Ryan’s phone started too. They stopped for a moment to read through their texts. Sam’s were Christmas greetings from family and friends. Presumably Ryan’s were the same.

“I’d better phone home later,” Sam said. “Remind me.”

“Yeah. Same.”

Mari greeted them at the door and surprised Sam by giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Ryan got the same treatment. “Happy Christmas,” she said. “It’s good of you to come. It’s nice to have company on Christmas Day, other than the cats.”

Sam handed her the bottle of cheap wine from the village shop they’d brought as a contribution. “This is for you. It’s nothing special, I’m afraid, but it’s the best we could manage without being able to get to a supermarket.”

“We brought some beer too,” Ryan lifted the bag he was holding.

“Oh, thank you. That’s lovely. ”

The cats mostly ignored their arrival, apart from Nerys who came to say hello, winding herself sinuously around Ryan’s ankles and miaowing until he picked her up.

“Oh, look. She remembers you,” Mari said.

Sam reached out a hand to stroke her, but she ignored him, rubbing her head against Ryan’s chin and purring. Sam could hardly blame her for snuggling up to Ryan, but he was a bit miffed at her lack of interest in him.

“Okay, Mari.” Sam rubbed his hands together. “We’ve got a Christmas dinner to cook, yes? What do you need us to do?”

Mari proved to be a force of nature in the kitchen. What she lacked in strength due to her arthritis, she more than made up for in leadership skills. She plied them with sherry,
then
told them exactly what she needed from them. They got the turkey in the oven to roast, then peeled and chopped all the veg ready for cooking later. Sam sipped cautiously at his sherry as he chopped. It was sweet and rather medicinal tasting, he decided, but it gave him a nice warm feeling in his belly. He noticed that Mari refilled her glass twice in the time it took him and Ryan to finish
their
first. She was obviously keen on the stuff.

Once all the dinner preparation was complete, they took their drinks through to the main room. Sam was amused to notice that the cats were all lying or sitting in the exact same spots as yesterday.
Creatures of habit, obviously.

“How about a game of Monopoly?” Mari asked.

The boys nodded. Sam thought a game sounded like a good idea. It would be a long afternoon without something to keep the conversation going. Mari was lovely, but they didn’t have a whole lot in common, given the age difference.

They set the game up on the dining table. The Siamese cat, whose spot was on one of the dining chairs, relocated to Sam’s lap when Sam sat down, and Nerys jumped into Ryan’s lap.

Sam grinned at him. “She loves you.”

Ryan stroked her silky head. “What can I say? She’s got good taste.”

“Yeah, right,” Sam teased, even though he secretly agreed.

Mari thrashed them both at a game of Monopoly that took a good couple of hours.
After that they got out a pack of cards to play Cheat, and she proved to be fiendishly good at that too.
She was so good at
bluffing,
it was hard to tell when she was lying.

“How about poker?” Ryan suggested when the game of Cheat was over. “Not for money, though. I don’t think I dare play for money against you, Mari!”

She cackled. “You’re probably wise, boy. Get the counters from the game of drafts in the
cupboard,
we can gamble with those instead. But we should get the potatoes in to roast first.”

After a few hands of poker, Mari had nearly all the counters and Sam and Ryan were nearly out. When Sam bet and lost his last two counters on three queens that lost to Mari’s full house, he excused himself.