“Why?” Jasper asked, his brows pulling together in a puzzled frown.
Sam shrugged. “I think it’s easier for her to pretend I’m still whole that way.”
Jasper stepped towards him till they were less than an arm’s length apart. “You are still whole,” he said fiercely. “You’re still you, Sam.”
When Sam said nothing—his heart beating in his chest like a panicky bird—Jasper added fiercely, “You’re still the Sam Alderton I’ve looked up to all my life. How could you ever think of yourself as lacking in any way?”
“I’m—Christ, Jasper, just look at me. Why would anyone—” He broke off, shaking his head.
Jasper closed the distance between them in two swift steps, setting his hands on Sam’s shoulders and gazing into his eyes.
“Why would anyone what?”
Sam choked it out. “Want me.”
“Want you?” Jasper echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. “Hell, Sam, couldn’t you tell how much I wanted you outside in the snow? You had me so hard I thought I’d spend in my drawers!” His tone softened then, his gaze turning soft and vulnerable. “Not to mention the fact that I’ve wanted you more than anyone since—God, since I can remember.” The bob of his throat betrayed his nerves.
Sam blinked, overcome by a heady mix of disbelief and gratitude and a feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something very important.
And then—thank God—Jasper pulled Sam closer and set his lips against Sam’s, and they were kissing again, and everything was suddenly so much easier. Hell, Sam even forgot about his missing arm as he let Jasper walk him backwards towards the bed, till the back of his knees touched the mattress and he let himself fall back, drawing Jasper’s lithe, slender body down on top of him.
Jasper’s mouth was intoxicating, and his delicious scent overwhelmed Sam’s senses. Sam could barely think, and when Jasper pulled at Sam’s neckcloth, yanking the linen aside to bare his throat and press his lips to the exposed skin, Sam moaned aloud in surprise and pleasure.
“I think we need to get these clothes off,” Jasper murmured. “Don’t you?”
Sam could only gaze at him dumbly and nod.
They worked together to remove shoes and coats, waistcoat and breeches. Neckcloths went flying, and when Jasper tore off his shirt, he cast it aside with a wild grin that made Sam’s heart squeeze at the joy he saw on Jasper’s face.
But when Jasper reached for the hem of Sam’s shirt… Sam froze.
“Sorry, no—I can’t—” Sam choked out. Just thinking about what lay beneath the left sleeve—not to mention the other scars on his torso—had his cock ready to wilt in his breeches.
Jasper looked briefly shocked; then his expression gentled. “That’s fine,” he reassured Sam. “Keep it on if you prefer.” He winked. “My attention will be elsewhere. I want your cock in my mouth.”
Sam had barely absorbed that declaration by the time Jasper had turned his body around and settled himself on his side, his head at Sam’s groin. Sam found himself entirely unable to formulate words as Jasper took hold of his already stiff cock and guided the firm length to his mouth.
For a while, Jasper teased Sam’s sensitive tip with his tongue, playing with the dusky head, making Sam moan helplessly. Then, when it felt like he could take no more, Jasper drove his mouth down over the whole throbbing length.
Sam gasped sharply at the sudden, overwhelming pleasure and Jasper moaned in response, seemingly loving his reaction. He began to work Sam’s shaft with his hot, clasping mouth, tongue swirling and licking, teeth gently grazing.
For a while, Sam just lay there, lost in the exquisite sensations, but eventually, he managed to make himself move. He wanted this more than anything, but he wanted to reciprocate too, wanted Jasper to feel this pleasure with him.
Shifting his body, he adjusted his position, encouraging Jasper to move too, till he was able to reach Jasper’s cock. And then, heart slamming against his ribs, he leaned forward and licked a broad, wet stripe up Jasper’s painfully hard, bobbing cock.
His first taste of any man.
Jasper’s groan was gut-deep. The distraction made his own mouth slacken around Sam’s shaft, which might have been a disappointment were it not for the burst of salty-sweetness that hit Sam’s tongue as he crested Jasper’s tip. And God, but that was all the invitation he needed to open his mouth and take Jasper all the way inside.
The next moments were like an odd sort of tug of war, as Jasper both pressed more deeply into Sam’s mouth and resumed his own sucking. At first, it felt impossible to Sam, to both give and receive at once. Sam’s mouth hungered for Jasper’s cock, but the sensation of Jasper’s tongue and lips on his own shaft had him so mindless with pleasure he couldn’t remember his own name, much less what he was trying to do. But after a little while, he managed to get into a sort of rhythm, a blissful push-and-pull of surrender and aggression.
Sam’s jaw and cheeks began to ache, but he didn’t care. He was loving this act of determined service. It felt like worship almost. Worship—and lusty pleasure too. And gratitude and affection.
Genuine, tender affection.
Sam didn’t want it ever to end, but of course, it did end. It ended with an explosion of come in his mouth, salt-sweet and copious as sea foam, even as his own spend gushed into Jasper’s in a briny wash.
Afterwards, Sam’s whole body was suffused with pleasure and lazy wellbeing. He lay with his head on Jasper’s thigh as he slowly came back to himself.
Jasper was the first to move, gently dislodging Sam to turn his body so that both their heads were at the same end of the bed. Together, they shifted into place, setting their heads on the same pillow, faces just inches apart.
Reaching out, Jasper hesitantly touched Sam’s cheek, and Sam found himself leaning into the touch, like a cat. He was glad he had when the slight wariness in Jasper’s gaze instantly vanished, and his smile brightened, just a touch.
Just then, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour.
Midnight.
“It’s Christmas Day,” Sam murmured.
“Is it?” Jasper chuckled softly. “Merry Christmas.”
Sam smiled. “Merry Christmas, Jasper.”
They were quiet a moment; then Jasper sighed and said, “Our families will get back later today, I expect.”
“Yes.” Sam couldn’t help but feel sad about that. The loss of this perfect intimacy—just the two of them, safe from the rest of the world in this snow-covered land.
He wanted more.
Impulsively—without thinking the words through before he spoke them aloud—Sam said, “What are you doing after Christmas?”
Jasper blinked. “I—I don’t really know. I hadn’t decided. Why?”
“Come away with me,” Sam said.
Jasper laughed. “Where?”
Sam grinned, feeling suddenly, wonderfully carefree. “I don’t know. Anywhere. I want to go places, and you want to paint. And—” He broke off, biting his lip.
“And?”
Sam gave a shaky sigh. “And at some point, I’ll take my shirt off, and you’ll show me your sketches, I expect.” He smiled. “I hope.”