They're standing outside in the parking lot waiting for Sage's mom, who always runs late. Sage had texted her when they'd gotten two stops away to let her know he'd be there soon and she'd wrote back, okay I'm almost done at the grocery store!

     In a way, it's his fault. He kind of left it to this morning to tell her Sam was joining them for their break again, mainly because he didn't want to be aggressively attacked by his family in the group chat, which is exactly what happened.

     It went like this:

     Sage: sam's coming for Christmas
     Mom: coming when?
     Sage: Today? With me?

     Mom: wat!!

     Dad: Why is Sam coming over for Christmas? He's not celebrating it with his family?
     Calla: I don't think he celebrates it dad
     Sage: he's muslim and his family doesn't live here
     Dad: Be honest

     Dad: Is Sam your boyfriend?
     Sage: don't start
     Calla: he def is

     Mom: heads up woulda been nice, sage there's no food in the house
     Dad: I'm noting that you have not denied Sam being your boyfriend.

     Sage: I'm leaving this conversation
     Sage: our train gets in at 2 someone pick us up ty

     So this is what Sage is walking into. He's not exactly sure how he's going to look his family in the face and say no, Sam and I are not dating. Which they aren't. It's not like it's a lie. But it feels like a lie, and that's the problem. Because Sage has never been very good at lying to his family.

     While train pick up would normally fall on his dad, he's at the mall with Calla doing some last minute shopping because he always leaves it to the last minute and shopping is Calla's second language so his mom's getting them.

     Sage is standing on the sidewalk beside Sam thinking as they wait that he really didn't think this through. At the time he'd felt bad about Sam spending the holiday alone but had also felt like he didn't want to spend the holiday away from him, either. Maybe it would've been better for them if he did because

     Sam asks as if he's reading Sage's mind, "Did you tell your parents about us?"

     His mouth goes dry. Should he have? He didn't think there was anything to tell. There isn't anything to tell, he knows that and that thought annoys him.

     "No, why would I?" he asks and that's a bit pointed. He doesn't mean for it to come out so harshly. He wishes there was something to tell but, at present, telling his family that he and Sam are fuck buddies offers very little appeal.

     Sam's stance goes rigid and he mutters, "Just wondering what I'm walking into."

     "They don't know anything," Sage says quietly.

     Not true. He knows they know how he feels, that they've seen right through him. And he thinks how is he supposed to hide that now that he's fucking around with Sam? It feels like he's wearing a sign around his neck that says I love this boy. He wonders how it's not completely obvious to Sam.

     He's about to text his mom for an ETA when her car comes flying into the parking lot. For whatever reason she does a lap around the parked cars before she swings to the front and pulls up to the curb. "My mom kind of drives like a maniac," he says glancing at Sam. It's the New York in her.

     Sam's expression is weirdly neutral, giving nothing away. He shrugs, lifting his duffle bag up on his shoulder before he follows a fair distance behind Sage as they come up to the car. Sage gets the trunk for Sam, noting with mild horror the stacks of reusable bags brimming with groceries. He shifts some out of the way for Sam's bag before going around to the passenger side.

     When he slides into the car, he greets his mom with, "Is there anything left at the store?"

     She rolls her eyes at him. "Oh hello mom. Thank you so much for picking me up and for buying all these groceries I'm sure to devour in two days tops. I'm sure your day was very busy and I'm grateful you made the detour."

     Sage rolls his eyes back at her. "Aren't you on vacation?"

     She's grinning at the road. "I sure am. All forms of communication have been disengaged as of zero-six-hundred."

     "How will the troops survive?" he asks, laughing as Sam gets into the backseat.

     His mom turns around and says with far too much enthusiasm, "Sam! How are you? I'm glad you're joining us again."

     "Hi Mrs. Decort," he responds, his tone curt. Sage frowns, wondering if it's going to take the break for him to warm up to his family again.

     But his moms not having it. "Oh, stop, Sam, you know you can call me Nora."

     Sage can see Sam's flushing face in the side mirror and says, "I have to pee."

     Nora scoffs. "I wanted to stop at the farmer's market on the way back."

     "I can't hold it that long," Sage says and it's a lie but seeing as it's the one he's using to pull the attention off of Sam he's got to see it through now.

     "Why didn't you go on the train?"

     "Because that's gross," he responds, putting his seatbelt on as his mom pulls out of the lot. "Why do you want to go to the farmer's market? You've got a cartel's worth of groceries in the back."

     Sage preens at the sound of Sam's stifled laughter behind him.

     "So I can make sauce," she says.

     And that. That changes things for Sage because his mom's sauce beats any Italian he's ever had. His mom may not be the designated chef of the household but she has always made the sauce and its top tier.

     "I'll go back out and get what you need," he says finally.

     Nora nods, focusing on the merge to get on the highway. Then she goes, "So Sam, how was finals?"

     "Not bad," Sam says leaning forward so she'll hear him.

     "Sage told me you interviewed with Merkle," she says next and Sage whole-body flinches. His heart rate jerks, bringing on an instant cold-sweat. His mom was not supposed to mention it. Mainly because he wasn't sure if he was supposed to mention it.

     "I did, yeah," Sam says and his tone is off.

     "Have you heard back from them?" she asks.

     Sam is quiet for a moment before he says, "Yeah, actually, they're proceeding with another candidate."

     Sage startles and then whips around to look at Sam. "You didn't tell me that."

     Sage frowns and he wants to say he's sorry but the look on Sam's face tells him it won't go over well if he does. He was sure that Sam would get the job, even if he fumbled a bit during the interview. Sam's not exactly charming but what he lacks in charisma he makes up with his school and work ethic.

     Merkle's loss, Sage thinks. And honestly, Sam could do better.

❧

     Sam's anxiety spikes on the ride to Sage's place and never comes down. Being around his mom stresses him out and now that he's just openly admitted he didn't get the job at Merkle, he just wants to crawl into bed and never leave it.

     Merkle was supposed to be his safety net job. He'd take it, and keep trying to get something better. He needs a job, any job, to stay in this country. He needs a job that'll help him pay off his student loans and pay for a two-bedroom apartment so his sister will have somewhere to live.

     He needs a job. There are no other options for him.

     He's stressing about it and trying not to stress about it the rest of the ride. Sage follows him to the trunk to help with the groceries. He's quiet but he's giving Sam these not-very-subtle glances that are coming off as very sorry that sucks.

     It does suck but Sam's not going to admit that to Sage. Even though things have changed between them, this isn't what they are, what they do. Sam's not going to have some heart-to-heart with Sage about any of this. That's a wall that's not coming down no matter how physical they get.

     "Do you wanna come with me to the farmer's market?" Sage asks as they carry the bags inside. "You can stay if you want. I won't be long."

     "I think I'll stay, then," Sam answers. He needs a minute to reorganize his feelings, to shove down the shame and disappointment of not getting the Merkle position.

     Sage nods and then goes, "You'll be in the same room as last time. And help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Seriously. My mom went overboard."

     They drop the bags in the kitchen and Sam watches Sage grab his mom's car keys before he walks out, leaving Sam there with Nora, who's unloading groceries.

     "You hungry?" she asks.

     "I'm alright," Sam says even though he hasn't eaten today. "Do you want help putting this away?"

     Nora shakes her head no. "But you can keep me company while I do."

     Sam doesn't see how he can say no to that. It's not exactly a suggestion. So he takes a seat at the island and watches Nora move around the kitchen. "Was your heart set on Merkle?" she asks, her back to him as she shoves bananas into a hammock hanging under the cabinets near the fridge.

     "Eh, I wouldn't say set on it. But I thought it was my best odds. Was going to use it as a safety net."

     Nora turns, then, settling her cool gaze on Sam. Sam tries not to flinch under her unwavering gaze. "You don't think I'm your safety net?"

     "Why would I think that?" Sam practically exclaims. Nora's company is not anybody's safety net. Except, maybe, Sage's. But even then. You don't call a company that does as well as hers a safety net. It's the dream job.

     "Because you're friends with Sage," she says in a tone that suggests it's obvious.

     Sam doesn't even know what to say. Sage and him weren't friends for longer than they were. He's never even considered Decort Incorporated as a potential job, figuring Sage had him black-listed, anyway.

     "Sam," Nora says next, softer now. "If you need a job, I would hire you. You know that, right?"

     "And I really appreciate that," he says quickly. "But I don't want to — I think it's better that I don't — I'm really not sure that Sage would want me to..."

     He has no idea what he's even saying.

      "I think it's best that I figure this out on my own," he says finally.

     "Okay," Nora responds, her tone understanding. He hopes he hasn't offended her. "But for the record, it wouldn't bother Sage at all. And I wouldn't be hiring you just because of my son."

     "No?" Sam can't help asking because why else would she hire him?

     Nora steps forward, leaning against the counter across from Sam, leveling with him, sizing him up. "Do you think I don't know about you, Sam? Because I know about you. I know you're smarter than Sage and Sage is brilliant. Which means you have to be pretty damn brilliant, too."

     "Who says I'm smarter than Sage?"

     "Sage says," Nora answers simply. "And he says you work two jobs while you do it. Overnights. A lot of people wouldn't be able to handle all that pressure."

     Sam has no idea. None. Literally not a single higher thought. He is truly, honestly speechless.

     Nora steps back. "Now, do I think that's particularly good for you? Not really. Do I sort of wish you didn't work two jobs and would take it easy? I do. Which is why if I can help you with some of that stress, I want to. Even if you don't take me up on the job. You should still send me your resume and interview. Let me be your safety net, Sam."

     "Working for you is so far from safety netting."

     "So then come work for me," she says with a simple shrug.

     "I don't know," Sam says chewing his bottom lip. "Can I think about it?"

     "Of course," Nora says. "Look, this conversation can stay between you and me until you figure things out. I won't take it personally if you decide to take me up on it or not."

     "Either way, I really appreciate this," he says next. "Back before I'd met Sage, god, I dreamed of working for you. Your Time's piece blew my mind."

     Nora laughs. "Alright, so explain this to me, why did you and Sage hate each other so much? Why the rivalry?"

     "Honestly?" Sam asks and Nora nods, looking riveted like Sam is about to reveal some massive secret. "He kept stealing my seat in every class."

     It's good. Nora's laughing hysterically and Sam thinks he's dodged a bullet. Now that he's spent some time kissing Sage and not kissing Sage, he's realized he's hated him for all the wrong reasons. Has hated him because it was easier than not hating him.

     And that's not something he should ever reveal to Sage's mom. Or Sage. Or anyone. Yeah, no, he'll just take that to the grave.

     "What's so funny?" Calla calls as she walks into the kitchen.

     Nora stops laughing, looking over at her daughter. Her smile turns into a frown as she crosses her arms. "I thought you were helping your father? Why is there an Aritzia bag on your arm?"

     "It's Christmas presents," Calla says with an insistent shake of her head.

     "For who?"

     "For me, of course."

     Dash comes up behind Calla and goes, "It was payment. Nothing in life is free."

     "It used to cost you lunch to get her help," Nora says.

     "My price went up," Calla responds. "Inflation plus supply and demand."

     "I'm no expert, but sounds about right," Dash says stepping around Calla. "Oh, Sam!"

     Sam has barely blinked before Dash has moved around the island and pulled Sam into his side, squeezing his shoulder. "How are you?" Dash asks cheerfully. "Train ride was okay?"

     Sam nods, trying and failing to loosen up. He thinks he mumbles a yes, it was good but he's not sure because everyone is looking at him and his hearts beating so fast he would pass out if he weren't sitting.

     "So while dad did buy my time with clothes," Calla says. "He did not buy me lunch. So I am starving and am in desperate need of sustenance."

     "The kitchen is fully stocked," Nora says gesturing towards the fridge.

     Calla frowns like that is not what she meant. She shoots puppy-dog eyes towards her father. "I'll whip up something," Dash says. "You hungry Sam?"

     "I'll eat," Sam says.

     "Oh now you'll eat?" Nora responds. "Did Sage tell you about my cooking? Because I do fine in a kitchen."

     Calla drops her bags at the kitchen table before swinging around towards Sam. She links her arm through his and drags him off of the barstool. "Come Sammy, let's catch up while dad does his thing. Mom, please refrain from helping, thank you so very much."

     "I can cook!"

     "She burns eggs," Calla says, leading the way to the door.

      "Oh, so that's where Sage gets it from?" Sam asks and very nearly slaps a hand over his mouth. It's not like Sage had cooked him eggs after a night of them hooking up. In actuality, the only time Sage has made him eggs is when they had most definitely not hooked up. But he knows how it sounds.

     And the silence in the kitchen says Sage's family hears it, too.

     "It is indeed a hereditary thing, apparently," Calla says, her comment sounding the least bit casual. She pulls Sam along with her, saving him from the impending embarrassment. "Wait, where is Sage?" she asks him as they walk into the living room.

     "He went to the farmer's market for your mom," Sam responds taking a seat on the couch. Calla sits on the other end, pulling her legs up so she can face Sam.

     "Ooh, yes, that means mom's making sauce."

     "Your moms making the sauce?" Sam asks, concern in his voice.

     Calla nods. "Yeah, so my mom really can't cook but she makes a damn good sauce. Family recipe."

     "Is the having a thing for pasta a hereditary thing, too? I swear it's a food group for Sage."

     Calla stares at Sam with this funny look and then goes, "No, Sage's thing about pasta is just a Sage thing." Before Sam can respond she goes, "So what's going on?"

     "What's going on?"

     "Well, it's been a few weeks since I last saw you. What's new? How's college? How's life? How's Sage?"

     "Uh, nothing's new? College is exhausting? So life is therefore also exhausting? Sage is likely exhausted, too, I imagine," Sam answers slowly, feeling like this is somehow a trap. "Why are you asking me about your brother? Don't you see him pretty regularly?"

     "Yes, but I imagine you see him more than I do," she says, giving Sam eyes. Knowing eyes. Like she knows something.

     Sam doesn't get a chance to question it.

❧

     When Sage walks into the living room, Sam and Calla both turn to look at him. He's interrupted something but he's not sure what. They're sitting on the couch in silence, which means they were the opposite of silent two seconds ago. His eyes move between them curiously. Slowly, he asks, "What's up?"

     "Dad's making lunch," Calla goes, which is not really an answer.

     "Okay..." he responds, confused. He looks to Sam. "You good?"

     "Did you get everything your mom wanted?" Sam asks, which is also not really an answer.

     "I did..." Sage says, words moving tentatively, like the extra time will help him figure out what's going on. Something is definitely going on.

     "You still have your Nintendo, right?" Calla asks. "Let's play something."

     "You wanna play Nintendo?" Sage asks, now even more suspicious.

     Calla jumps up, saying, "Yeah, it'll be fun. I'll go get it."

     She's out of the room before Sage can question her. Sam's staring at the spot where she just was, not really paying attention to Sage until he walks around the couch and sits down where Calla had been.

     Then Sam looks up, locking eyes with Sage. "You told your mom I'm smarter than you?"

     Sage blinks very thoughtfully. Blinks again, actually dumbfounded. How does Sam know that? "Uhm," he says.

     "I mean, I am obviously," Sam says next, his tone cool. "But I never thought you'd actually admit that."

     "Yeah, well," Sage responds, flushed and uncomfortable. "What else did my mom say?"

     "Nothing worth mentioning," Sam says quickly, which means it absolutely is worth mentioning. He'll have to get it out of his mom, though. It couldn't have been very damning because Sam seems fine. Doesn't look like he's ready to book it out of Sage's house.

     They're interrupted by Calla's return, who's toting the Nintendo in her arms, and then their father who brings out air-fried potato slices and BLTs. "It's turkey bacon, Sam," he says as he sets it on the coffee table. "You guys want drinks?"

     "I'll get 'em, dad," Sage says, getting up and following him out the door. His moms still in the kitchen, sitting at the island with half a sandwich in her hand.

     "Ten stars chef," she quips so his dad passes her, dropping a kiss on her cheek that's stuffed with a bite. "I think I'm gonna do the sauce tomorrow," she says next to no one in particular. "We can have the last of your pork chops for dinner."

     "Uh, no we cannot," Sage says.

     Nora thumps her forehead with her palm. "Oh right, right, Sam. You guys order pizza and we'll have the pork chops. I wanna' clear out the last of these leftovers."

     "That's fine," Sage says distracted as he grabs a lemon La Croix for Calla and beers for him and Sam. He asked his dad to pick up some IPAs in his next liquor run and he'd gotten an assortment.

     Before Sage can get out of the kitchen, his dad goes, "You look good."

     "I've gained some weight," Sage responds with a shrug. He has but he's pretty sure that's not what his dad is referring to. He's not mad about the weight gain, particularly because he knows its a result of all the late night take-outs with Sam.

     His mom is staring at him and he can tell she's actively trying not to say anything. "Well it looks good," his dad says finally.

     "Thanks?" Sage walks out before either of them can say what they really want to. When he gets back to the living room, Calla and Sam are finishing a race on Super Mario. Calla's playing as princess peach and has a full lap on Sam, who is managing to stay everywhere but on the actual road.

     "Drinks," Sage says setting them down on the coffee table.

     "Oh, you're in the way," Sam exclaims, throwing out a foot to kick Sage.

     "You're not coming back from that anyway. You're dead last," Sage responds earning the middle finger from Sam. He seats himself on the floor between Calla and Sam, who are on either ends of the couch, reaching for the only sandwich that hasn't been touched.

     When the race ends, Calla tosses a remote control into Sage's lap. "Bet you can't beat me."

     "How much?" Sage asks.

     "Forty-four bucks. There's a skirt at Altar'd State with my name on it."

     "You're on."

     Sage sets his sandwich down and then picks up one of the Lagunitas cans and holds it over his head in Sam's general direction. "Here," he says.

     "An IPA? What happened to these taste like a yeast ball?"

     "I believe I actually said yeasty ballsack," Sage responds.

     "That's disgusting. I would prefer to live in blissful ignorance thinking you don't know what ballsack tastes like, thank you," Calla says.

     "I don't mean literally."

     Sam toes at Sage's shoulder. Sage fights the temptation to grab his foot and bite it. Explain that to Calla. He'd never live it down. "So you admit then IPAs do not actually taste like yeasty ballsack?"

     "I admit nothing," Sage responds tersely. "Can we start the game now?"

     "Yeasty ball sack," Calla mutters. "Ballsacks taste nothing like yeast."

     Sage spews some of his beer across the room and aspirates the rest, flailing and choking so that Sam has reach down and slap his back.

     "Wow, an even better response than I was anticipating," Calla says as she laughs.

     "You're going to have a little sister, they said. It'll be great, they said."

     "Never been more grateful for long distance," Sam mutters.

     "Wait, you have a sister?" Calla asks.

     "Two," Sage says before Sam.

     "Yeah. An older sister, Faizal, and Laila. She's a little older than you. A senior."

     "And they're back home?"

     Sage feels like he should steer the conversation, particularly because he knows Sam's got a weird thing going with his older sister right now and probably doesn't want to talk about them. But before he can even think of a way to change to the subject, Sam goes, "They are, but Laila just got an ED acceptance to Columbia so she'll be here next year."

     Sage turns at that, giving Sam his full attention. He is instantly annoyed that he didn't already know this but his shock makes him forget about the annoyance. "What? Why didn't you say anything?"

     "Uh," Sam responds, confused.

     And Sage gets it pretty quickly. He didn't say anything because why would he? They're fuck buddies, not boyfriends. Sam doesn't owe him good family news. Even if it is something Sage would want to know, that Sage is excited about for him.

     "What program?" Calla asks and if she notices the tension she's not giving anything away.

     "Engineering. Yeah, the decisions came out on the fourteenth, so you know, she just found out," Sam says sort of sheepishly.

     "That's really great, Sam," Sage says after a moment, his tone very earnest. Because it is. When school ends for them, they'll part ways but at least he won't be completely alone.

     Sage hates himself for thinking about it, about what the end looks like for them, but he knows it's the thing that looms. Olekev's research will wrap up next semester. They'll graduate and then they'll never see each other again.

     He wonders if he should tell Sam how he feels before that, if it's even worth the risk of rejection, or if it's just something he needs to release, hand it over to Sam and let him do what he wants with it.

     They go back to Super Mario but Sage can't get out of his head. He loses the match to Calla, ends up owing her a hundred bucks because they double or nothing it. "With interest!" Calla had exclaimed. She is not a business major but she likes to throw out business terms like she is.

     Their late lunch transitions them to a late dinner and they opt for every frozen junk food item they have, plates of pizza rolls and bagels, chicken nuggets, very bad buffalo wings, and even worse mozzarella sticks and an assortment of chips. Between the junk food and the beers, Sage gets full fast, tired even faster, and somewhere between that decently buzzed.

     He's the one to call it a night, getting up and bringing dishes back into the kitchen. He's loading up the dishwasher in the dark, the only light coming from the night light wallflower by the sink when Sam walks in and passes the last of the dishes to him.

     "Calla went upstairs," he says, watching Sage load the dishwasher.

     "Yeah, she has a way of shirking clean up duty," Sage responds, keeping his voice down, not that anyone would hear him in the kitchen. The bedrooms are at the front of the house.

     "So," Sam says next and Sage turns, giving him his attention, thinking he's leading up to something.

     Which he is because the next thing Sage knows he's being pressed up against the counter and Sam is kissing him.

❧

     Sometimes Sam has dreams so vivid and detailed he has to count his fingers and toes to make sure he's actually awake. They're not exactly nightmares, but they alter the way he sees his own reality.

     Sam has spent the day counting his fingers and toes because nothing makes sense, none of it seems very real, not even his boner that is not a boner but is a boner. It's a metaphorical boner, if you will. A boner of the heart.

     Because...Sage thinks Sam is smarter than him. And Sage bought IPAs. And Sage is constantly steering the conversation when he thinks Sam needs him to (which he does not, okay, he can totally handle a spotlight.)

     Nothing seems real. Which is why he kisses Sage because that always feels real, too real, grounding in a way that no drug has ever done for Sam.

     Sage stumbles back when Sam presses into him, hands scrambling for purchase, taking fistfuls of Sam's sweatshirt. Sam braces his hands on either side of Sage, gripping the counter. In the dark, their sounds feel louder and Sage's hot breath is panting into his mouth. He wants more of Sage in his mouth than just what's in his lungs.

     He parts his lips, coaxing Sage's tongue into his mouth and it's good enough to groan around. Still, he wants more. Sage lets go of his sweatshirt, moving his hands to Sam's face, tilting his head up. It's delicious and dizzying, enough so that Sam momentarily forgets what he wants but then he remembers, pulling away, trailing over Sage's jawline to his neck. 

     Sage moans, not loudly but distinctly enough that it jars Sam and he stops his descent, kissing at the last spot his mouth had landed before he sucks on his neck hard. The moan is a whimper this time as Sage goes slack, stance widening for Sam to step into it.

     So Sage's neck is the secret password.

     Sam spends extra time there, alternating between light and hard bites, soothing the skin with his tongue, sucking down the sounds Sage is making. When he finally pulls away, Sage is panting and his face is flushed.

     He drags his nose up the side of his neck, coming to a rest at his ear. He says, his voice low and unreasonably husky, "You have to be quiet for what I'm about to do next."

     Sage goes still and something about it tells Sam its out of anticipation and not a rejection. Still, he'd rather have a verbal confirmation Sage is on board. He moves his hands between them, sliding them along the waistband of Sage's sweatpants as he asks, "Okay?"

     He follows up his question by nipping at Sage's earlobe before pulling back so he can look at him. In the dark, he can barely make out any of Sage's features, but his eyes are bright, even though his eyelids are drooping sleepily. Sage manages a nod and that's all Sam needs before he's getting on his knees, tugging Sage's sweatpants and briefs down as he goes. Sage is sorta hard but not really, which is better than Sam who is definitely hard.

     He's in his head, thinking again about how to make this good for Sage, how to draw it out, tease him, but his head has greatly misjudged his ability to be anything but fucking eager. Too eager, that he wastes no time taking ahold of Sage's dick so he can lick from the base to the tip, flicking his tongue over the head just once before he swallows him down.

     He bobs slowly, fixating on the way he can feel Sage hardening. He doesn't stop until Sage starts moving his hips, gentle thrusts, like he wants to set the rhythm but doesn't want to hurt Sam.

     Moving a little faster, he runs his hands up Sage's thighs, bringing one to base of his dick where his mouth is stopping short. When he cups his balls with his other hand, Sage makes this noise that probably isn't very loud but feels very loud in the kitchen of a house where three other people are sleeping and have no idea just how close the two of them have gotten.

     Sam pulls off, jerking off Sage as he says, "What'd I tell you about being quiet?"

     Sage's breath is shallow and his voice is raw when he responds, "S-sorry, sorry."

     "Do it again and I'll stop," Sam admonishes and he's a fucking liar, okay. He is not stopping till he gets what he wants out of this and what he wants out of this is Sage to cum in his mouth. Now that he's thought about it, he can't stop thinking about it, won't be able to stop thinking about it until it happens.

     And there's a look on Sage's face, like the thought of Sam not finishing could kill him, and that's doing things for Sam.

     He should probably take care of himself while he's down here. Honestly, it's amazing he has burst the front seam on his sweatpants yet. He lets go of Sage's dick to get his own out and Sage must think he really is going to stop because he whines and goes, "I won't do it again."

     Oh, Sam likes this. Likes having this kind of control over Sage. He's an idiot for not bringing sex into this sooner. He'd always wanted to destroy Sage. Turns out the best way to do it was to get his dick in his mouth.

     "Good," Sam whispers before he spits into his left palm, reaching down to tug at himself, already very much at attention. Sage's eyes are wide and he's sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it. "You like watching me, don't you?"

     That line gets the intended reaction. Sage drops his bottom lip, whole body tensing as he mumbles, "Fuck Sam."

     Sam keeps his eyes on Sage's face as he takes his length again, this time drawing him as deep into his throat as he can without gagging. It must be good because Sage throws his forearm over his mouth and bites down on it.

     This is all still new discoveries for Sam and he tackles it like any good experiment, testing different techniques, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks, moving fast and then slow, swirling his tongue along the tip. All while matching his rhythm with his hand, teasing himself just as much as Sage.

     He's cupping Sage balls he blows him, his own urgency making it wet and sloppy. The sound of it only urges him on and he's sucking hard enough to take Sage's soul from him. In a moment of curiosity more than anything he sneaks a finger down towards his ass.

     Without lube and a better position, he doesn't intend on fingering him. He thinks that probably won't be any good, so he settles for more of an exploring brush and that's when he feels Sage's balls tighten, the jerk of Sage's hips the only warning before he's spilling into Sam's mouth.

     He moans and that's fine because the deal was Sage had to be quiet, not him. And it's hot, it's so hot that he just tilts his head back and lets Sage fill his mouth, coming into his own fist as he does.

     Riskiest, filthiest, most indecent hookup of his entire life. Ten stars. Sam's never going to forget it, no matter how this ends. There's a rush of tears that he shuts his eyes against. Because he knows this does eventually end, and that's a stupid thought to have when you're own your knees praying to a boy you think you may really love.