Finally, He Touches Me
Part 2
By Lana Lovelace
Trent struggled under the weight of another crate, pulling it from the delivery truck. He was exhausted, having been roused from a good dream, begun only a few short hours before.
"Ugh, why do we even have these midnight supply runs?" he complained to Sam, only a few feet ahead of him, carrying two crates to Trent's one.
"Sucks, doesn't it?" Sam chuckled, "Hawk says the trucks have to go out again early in the morning, so we unload them when they come in."
"Well, I hate it."
Sam laughed again. "Well at least you have help. Last time I got called to do this, it was just me."
"Yeah, thanks," Trent muttered, watching Sam's ass flex in his almost-too-tight cargos.
Both of them had been filling out quickly in adulthood with all the hard physical work and the recent influx of good food to the base. Eventually, Trent thought, Sam was going to have barter with one of the other soldiers for larger clothes, before he split those seams. However, in the meantime, Trent appreciated the view.
As he set that crate in the warehouse and turned to get another, he silently cursed militia life. It had been almost a week since their sexy encounter, and he still hadn't had a chance to repay Sam for the incredible blowjob. The generals had kept them extra busy on one training exercise or another. Even though Trent knew they were preparing for something big, he found it unfair that the two had been on almost opposite schedules for the last week. Yet still, he yearned for his friend.
He'd tried to instigate something a few nights ago, when he--once again--got in too late from twilight flying, but Sam had been practically dead to the world and Trent soon followed him into involuntary sleep. He sighed, pulling himself from the disappointing memory and shoving a crate onto the stack roughly, his arms like liquid.
It SO wasn't fair.
"Only two more," Sam called from outside the warehouse, "Almost done."
"Don't you dare take them both!" Trent snapped, jogging toward the truck on stumbly legs.
Sam flashed him that perfect, white-toothed smile, which didn't completely belie the exhaustion in his own eyes. "No worries on that," he said, "I'm beat."
Trent tried to smile back, realizing he probably looked just as tired. He slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the two matcha stimulant candies he'd filched from the general. If he and his friend couldn't stay awake long enough to get naked, he thought these may help.
But is this the right time?
He thought, gripping the last splintery crate in his gloved hands. A shard of fiberglass speared through a seam, sticking him in the finger. "Fuck!" he cursed, ripping his hand away and pulling out the offending piece.
He picked up the crate.
Last one,
he said to himself, making his slogging way back to the warehouse,
you can do this.
As he struggled to lift the crate, his finger stinging, he felt strong arms encircle him and push the crate onto the tall stack.
"Thanks," he said to Sam, half-consciously sagging back into the larger man, pulling off his work gloves.
Hot breath on his neck sent a shiver up him as Sam leaned in and whispered, "No problem." He wrapped his arms around Trent's chest in a tight hug as Trent stuck his sore finger into his mouth.
Sam's lips, still close to Trent's head, pressed against the side of his neck--once, twice, three times--leaving hot kisses in their absence. The heat traveled through Trent as he turned to face his friend. Sweat dripped down his brow from his recent exertion and his cheeks were flushed. A hunger had replaced the tiredness in his eyes.
Trent smiled, pushing forward and allowing his lips to connect with Sam's. Sam kissed back, tongue pressing through Trent's teeth. Trent gasped as he turned further in Sam's arms, wrapping his own about the taller man's waist. Their mouths quested hungrily for each other.
When they disengaged for air, Sam's green eyes bore into Trent's. "My turn?"