Sam sat beside Clay in the evening commute back home from the pub, lost in his thoughts. The early evening sunshine shone directly on his face from the parted windows, and he used a palm for cover. Clay was fast asleep, his head lolling on Sam's shoulders, drool pooling down his lips onto his shirt and his hand resting on Sam's ribs.

They'd said their goodbyes and stumbled out the pub at four o'clock, giggling and livened up from lunchtime drinking, so when Clay had suggested Sam should come back to his place for tea - in a sexy, playful tone that wasn't fooling anyone - Sam was more than happy to oblige. When they'd left the table and got lost in themselves, kissing as they wandered out into the streets, Frank had yelled after them. "Make him beg, Clay!”

Sam had given him a flip as they ambled into the tube, but he still hadn't been able to stop smiling.

Clay hadn't made him beg. Not at all. But he'd made Sam desperate by fucking him slowly but thoroughly until he was writhing and gasping. They'd been fucking face to face, Sam's legs bunched up on Clay's shoulders, devouring each other's lips and swallowing their moans and whimpers.

Sam's cock had jerked and pulsed between them as Clay hit him just right inside, knocking the orgasm out of Sam in thick, sticky spurts that made Sam's head spin. Clay pursued him just right after, riding the waves as Sam clenched and shuddered around him, moaning out his name, their mouths still clumped together, sharing each other's breath as the kiss lost all coordination as they came together.

Afterwards, Sam lay staring up at the ceiling, Clay asleep and worn out - his breathing was soft and even, steady and soothing, drowning out the mechanics of the bustling world outside; cars screeching, birds singing, kids shouting as they padded about in the amusement park a few blocks away.

Sam's thoughts swirled around the conversation with Frank earlier. It wasn't that Sam didn't want to fuck Clay, he really did, and he hoped he'd get around to it eventually but that was for Clay to decide whenever he was ready, and he didn't want to push.

Clay liked having his ass played with, but being fucked with two fingers couldn't in any way compare to Sam's cock. It wasn't something casual that came up in their conversations, and Sam felt that there was no need. The first time he'd asked Clay to fuck him it'd been more of an altruistic offer. He'd wanted to be Clay's first — first guy anyway — and it had been an easy thing to give to him. Sam had been fucked so many times before, even if he usually preferred to be top, and he knew it would feel good.

But being fucked by Clay was beyond fucking incredible. It was more than the magical sensations and the orgasm at the end of it. He didn't like to think too much about why that might be so, and damn Frank for calling his attention to it and making him question everything.

Sam wanted things to be simple - to give Clay a few clues on how fun, thrilling and sensual the gay world could get but he was suddenly afraid of this whole arrangement with him as he feared it was turning into something he was unfamiliar with and wasn't ready to deal with.

He sighed quietly and rolled onto his side to watch Clay as he slept. Clay's skin had a fervent golden glow to it and the warm brown sprinkle of beauty marks on his neck made him look as though he was dusted with cinnamon.

With Sam stroking his hair, Clay stirred in his sleep and rolled onto his side away from Sam, but he snuggled back, missing Sam's warmth and pressing the curve of his arse into Sam's groin.

He murmured inaudibly, sighing in content as Sam slung an arm around him, pulling him closer.

It was much later when Sam finally drifted off too. He woke up, enveloped in darkness when the sudden flash of the lamp coming on almost had him crashing on the floor in fright.

"God, I'm so sorry." Clay apologized, standing by the bed in his boxer briefs as he pulled up a pair of jean shorts over his tight ass. "I'm hungry and too lazy to make something. We can eat out if you like or simply sit back and have pizza."

"Oh, yeah," Sam's mouth watered at the thought of it. "Eating out sounds fine. I'd shoot myself if I have to stay on this bed alone waiting till you get back. I'll dress and meet you out front in a few minutes."

"Okay."

They came back a little after seven, stuffed and having spoonfuls of ice cream for dessert. They'd also brought along a pizza box and stripped off their clothes, their pricks smashing against each other's as they got tangled up in each other on the bed, pulling their cups of ice cream and making out between dips.

The ice cream was superb, but things turned sweetly sour soon. Sam denied stealing from Clay's cup but the red head wasn't fooled.

"You're such a terrible liar," Clay murmured as he licked ice cream off Sam's skin, slow and sensually. His tongue was cold from the ice cream. He nibbled on Sam's nipples, but his breath was hot. His tongue trailed lower, teasing as it went in light, feathery kisses over Sam's pecs, making blood rush into Sam's dick as it rose to meet him. "And you look cute while at it."

"I'm glad you love it." Sam's breathing was tense as he smiled down at him. Clay's response was muffled as he sank his mouth around Sam's dick, but Sam was sure it was agreement.

"Mind if l suck you too?" Sam reached out to fist Clay's dick before he moved around, rearranging them so they were lying on their side, top to tail.

They licked and sucked and drove each other out of their minds with hands and mouths, fingers and tongues. The thick stretch in Sam's mouth and the taste of Clay's salt on his tongue made the hot, wet suck of Clay's mouth on Sam's cock more sweeter. He drew Clay's thighs apart, searching for his hole with a spit-slick finger.

As Sam's finger made its way in, pressing into that tight, wet heat he imagined it was his cock sliding in, fucking Clay open and senseless. He came with a growl and a jerk of his hips, eyes clenched shut and that image burning in his head as he emptied into Clay's mouth and the red head gobbled down every one single drop of his spurt. He fucked Clay with his finger, curling and twisting and sucking him harder to wrench the orgasm out until finally Clay groaned and threw his head back, clenching tightly around him, pulsing and shooting in Sam's mouth in thick, hot tasty spurts.

Worn out, they managed a shower together, sticky from sex and ice cream with Sam giving Clay a second orgasm by rimming him hard as the shower droplets came down upon them.

Before Sam had a chance of pulling his pants on, Clay snuggled up beside him on the bed and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "Please stay over tonight."

Sam didn't even need to think about it. "Okay." He put an arm around Clay and pressed his face against Clay's stubble, breathing in soap and aloe and clean skin. "But I'll have to get up at the arse-crack of dawn to get some cleaning done back home before I go to work."

"Boohoo. Who cares?" Clay's hand slipped over the crown of Sam's hand and down to rest on the back of his neck.

Sam didn't care either. He wished the weekend could go on forever.