Touch and Trust by Sean Michael

Author:Sean Michael
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay Romance
Published: 2012-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

Sampson and Alain

Alain woke from a dream of Harry -- a familiar one where he was searching the club, searching for his master, for his lover, for his Harry. He had a thousand things to tell about -- days and days and days of sorrow and mistakes and new people and new lessons and Kestrel's help and Sampson's hands and the blue walls and Des and and and...

And he couldn't find Harry.

Still.

Damn it.

He gave up searching only moments before he woke. It was a shame, really. Harry might have liked Sampson.

Alain woke up wrapped around a warm body, almost clinging.

Sampson's hands, large and thin and warm, slid along his back, Sampson making some sleepy soothing noise.

Oh.

Oh, yes.

So much nicer than dreaming.

He cuddled in, hands exploring Sampson's belly, stroking and petting gently, careful not to disturb anything. Sampson's murmur was soft, happy. He drifted, sometimes asleep, sometimes not, just listening to Sampson's heartbeat.

"Your skin is so soft," Sampson murmured. "Like flower petals. Or a butterfly's wings."

He purred softly, pleased all through. He worked hard to keep his skin perfect, desirable, markable. "It aches for your touch."

"Mine specifically? Already?"

"I..." He blushed dark, hid his face in Sampson's chest. How fickle and flighty and impossibly naive he must sound. "You must think I'm silly."

"No. No, I um, think it's ah, great. I... um. Well my hands ah, ache to um, touch." Sampson squeezed him. "I mean um, you specifically."

"Oh." He relaxed and grinned, pushing even closer. "Okay. Good."

"You think, um, other people are um, gonna ah, censure us?"

"Us? No. But you'll get lots of warnings, I'm sure." Alain sighed, hand petting Sampson's hip. "Lots of people are... mad at me." Maybe even furious.

"At you?" Sampson sounded disbelieving. "Why would anyone be mad at you?"

"Because after Harry died, I did some really bad, really stupid things. Lots of people wouldn't mind if I left the club, but Kes -- Kestrel -- helped me."

"Yeah, but, um, Harry died and you were, ah, left all alone and nobody, um, touched you. Of course you did stupid things -- you, ah, just wanted someone to um, touch you!" Sampson's arms tightened, held him close.

He nodded, eyes filling with tears. "Yes. Yes, that's it exactly."

"Oh, don't um, don't cry. Ah, please. You aren't ah, alone anymore."

"I'm sorry. I just..." He blinked quickly, clearing his eyes. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. It just feels so overwhelming, having someone understand me."

"I just don't want you to um, be sad." The long fingers wiped his cheeks. "You don't have to um, be sad anymore."

"Okay." He nuzzled into the touch, already distracted.

"You're so, um, sensual." Sampson chuckled. "We're never um, gonna make it, ah, to another um, scene. You keep, um, distracting, ah, me."

"I imagine we'll find our way back to the playroom, eventually." He grinned, nuzzling Sampson's chin.

"With all this, um, beautiful skin just, ah, waiting for my, um hands to ah, mark them, I'm um, sure, too."

"Oh, yes." He shivered, hips shifting of their own accord, pushing towards Sampson.

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