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It wasn’t that his Armani leather shoes were particularly interesting, but counting the number of lacing holes in them from top to bottom and then again were the only thing that was keeping Rafe from fidgeting out of anxiousness.
The Panama sun was setting, the surface of the black limousine he was leaning against retaining some of the sun’s warmth. He could feel it against his back even through his clothes.
It was what Rafe blamed for the thin sheen of sweat developing between his skin and his shirt, rather than the anticipation that had been brewing in the pit of his stomach since he left the hotel and headed for the prison.
A loud, abrupt buzzing jerked him out of his thoughts, and Rafe let his gaze focus on the prison gates that were sliding open in front of him, wishing the gates would open just a bit faster.
He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, rising in momentum the more the gates opened and revealed the interiors of the compound.
How many nights has he dreamed of this day?
There were some where he felt like he’d lost hope, where he thought he’d never see that devilish grin on Samuel Drake’s face again, smell the faint whiff of nicotine on the man, look into those kind brown eyes that held a certain sparkle.
He never truly gave up trying to find Samuel, no matter how much time and money it took for any minuscule piece of information that pointed to him still being alive. A lot of it turned out to be irrelevant lies spun by those who preyed on Rafe’s desperation and wealth. And those who did paid for their greed in blood.
Thinking about Sam reminded him of that fateful day thirteen years ago, that day where he was the first to run when Sam fell, escaping from that Panamanian jail with Nathan and nothing but a worthless, broken cross.
He was ashamed about his actions, he just would never say it out loud for anyone to hear. His cowardice and fear of dying had outweighed his attraction to Sam at that moment.
And he’d truly believed that Avery’s treasure was all that mattered.
Thinking that his attraction to Sam was a temporary and an unrequited one.
He just didn’t realize that mistake would haunt him for the following decade to come.
There were too many feelings kept secret, too many words unspoken.
But this… This would be his second chance. Their second chance.
The gates opened to reveal a lone figure, dressed in faded clothes with a dusty, obviously very out-of-style duffel bag slung across one shoulder.
God, he’d gotten so sullen.
Those eyes who used to sparkle with mischief and spirit now dark with a permanent frown. He could see the lines of age that developed over Sam’s face even from this distance.
His heart skipped a beat when he realized the look on Sam’s face was one of disappointment though, the realization dawning on the the older man’s face as he took in the fact that the person who came to greet him on his day out of the godforsaken Panama prison was Rafe Adler, and not his baby brother, Nathan.
Rafe’s lips twitched, out of a scornful sneer at himself for thinking that Sam would be happy to see him, or for the fact that he was so, so glad that Sam was truly alive, he couldn’t really tell. But he told himself that it didn’t matter.
It was obvious that it took a bit of effort for Sam to take the first hesitant step towards Rafe.
Heck, Rafe wouldn’t be surprised if Sam just upped and ran in the opposite direction as soon as he got out of range of the prison guards, but Sam didn’t.
Slowly, but steadily, he approached Rafe and the limousine.
Rafe could almost see the hundreds of questions swimming in Sam’s brown eyes the moment he got close enough.
Sam was still taller, Rafe noted. He’d thought that he himself might’ve at least grown a little in the past decade what with all the physical training he put himself through. Yet he still had to tilt his head up to match Sam’s eyes, though this was one of the things he never had any complaints about.
“Samuel.”
The second part of the word ended with a slight croak, and Rafe hoped to God Sam didn’t catch it.
Calling his name only made Sam frown a little more, his brows knit together in confusion, and Rafe could feel his heart sink.
For a second there he’d doubted whether it was worth breaking the older Drake out of prison, when all he’d gotten in return so far was disappointment, and what felt like, rejection.
“...Rafe.”
Sam muttered quietly, lips barely moving, and oh, how Rafe wanted to just sink his fingers into the older man’s hair and pull him into a kiss. Tell him how sorry he was. How much he’d missed him, how he’d longed for him since forever.
He was alive. He was here.
And Sam calling his name was enough to wipe away any negative thought and self-loathing that had crept into his head, so much so he couldn’t help the twitch of a smile that found their way onto his own lips.
He reached out, and let his hand rest on Sam’s shoulder.
Sam had lost weight, but his shoulders were still as strong as he’d remembered, if not stronger.
The warmth radiating from that small touch almost made Rafe feel light-headed, as if the realization that Sam was every bit the living, breathing being he remembered, and not the phantom he’d chased so many times in his dreams was too much for him to take in.
He gave Sam’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a friendly shake, allowed his touch to linger a moment more than necessary before he turned and climbed through the door of the limousine, getting in before Sam could start questioning why his eyes were glistening, or why it was Rafe who was here picking him up instead of Nathan.
Staving off Sam’s questions with silence didn’t last long, as it didn’t take much time before Sam began bombarding Rafe with questions about Nathan, about Avery’s treasure, whether they’ve managed to find it.
It was all he cared about. Rafe thought to himself bitterly, that, and his overrated baby brother.
Rafe didn’t bother answering the questions as they journeyed towards the airport.
All he wanted to do was to get out of this Panamanian heat. It reminded him too much of that week in that jail and his regrets from 13 years ago.
He could feel a pounding headache coming on, and most of it was caused by Sam’s pestering. But he managed to refrained himself from pinching the bridge of his nose, something he was used to doing by now with all the frequent headaches that plague him.
Rafe heaved a heavy sigh, and that reaction, the only one Rafe granted Sam during the car ride, managed to shut Sam up for a moment,
“I know you have questions. And I promise I’ll answer them. But later. Okay?”
The way Rafe had voiced it, it wasn’t open for argument, and Sam got the message.
Although he did silently voice his displeasure by sitting back with a huff, crossing his arms and staring out the tinted windows of the car, giving Rafe his much desired silence.
Rafe let out another quieter sigh in response.
===
They boarded the private jet in silence, when Rafe had expected Sam to come up with a smart-ass quip about him and his jet, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t fresh news that the older Drake often liked to poke fun at Rafe’s wealth, despite the fact Rafe was his patron for some time.
Rafe never minded though, he allowed it because he felt closer to Sam when he was the center of these jokes. Something that was exclusively between them and them only.
The only thing Sam did say though, was to quietly ask about the state of his passport and how he was to get through customs when they settled into the lavish interior of the jet.
“It’s taken care of. You don’t have to worry about it.”
That was all Rafe gave Sam, before a flight attendant appeared seemingly out of nowhere and approached the pair, asking if he’d like a drink and notifying him that the plane was going to take off soon.
“Champagne for me. And bring out the Budweiser for him.”
Rafe told the attendant quietly, gesturing towards Sam, who was busying himself with touching and investigating almost everything he could within reach.
It’s easy to forget that Sam has never seen all these new technology and designs, after being locked away from the world for 13 years.
And so, Rafe indulged him, watching the older male quietly.
It was rather endearing, really, the way Sam’s eyes lit up with wonder at every little piece of tech, the controllers on his seat, the little buttons next to the windows that controlled the shutters, the slim small flat-screen TV that protruded from one of the side panels.
Sam eventually caught Rafe watching him and stopped in his tracks, slowly retracting back into his usual sitting position, embarrassed at being caught like a kid stealing cookies from the jar.
“It’s alright. I know everything is new and strange to you right now.” Rafe assured him.
Sam only looked down at his shoes sheepishly in return.
The flight attendant returned with their drinks, setting Rafe’s glass of champagne on the table in front of him, then handing Sam his ice-cold bottle of Budweiser beer.
Rafe didn’t miss the appreciative glance Sam cast over the attendant as she turned and left, leaving the two men alone, and he couldn’t stop the flare of jealousy and anger that burned within him at that.
Sam took a deep swig from his beer, letting loose an appreciative sigh and grin after.
“Goddamn, does that taste good after 13 years. How’d she know Budweiser was my favorite?”
“Oh, of course the flight attendant on my private jet would know what your favorite beer was, Samuel.”
Rafe snapped sarcastically, unintentionally, as he took a drink of his own champagne.
“...You remembered.”
Sam remarked softly, glancing down at the bottle of beer in his hand and then back at Rafe, who only scoffed.
Of course I remembered. There’s so many things I remember about you.
They didn’t say much to each other after that.
Sam eventually fell asleep in his chair whilst Rafe was checking his phone, prompting Rafe to put his device down just to very carefully recline Sam’s seat so the older male could sleep comfortably for the rest of the flight.
Sam fidgeted in his seat a little as Rafe did so, but quickly settled back into slumber and started snoring softly again. This was probably the best sleep Sam managed to catch for the last 13 years, yet he still somehow managed to subconsciously reach out, grab and snuggle into the fleece blanket Rafe fished out for him.
Rafe, on the other hand, had to resist the urge to touch Sam’s face.
That frown was still there, a slight scrunch of the eyebrows even when he was asleep.
How Rafe wanted to soothe those lines away, soothe Sam’s worries away.
You’re the cause for his worries. You were the culprit.
He balled his fists and forced himself back to his own seat, watching Sam for a while more before he too, succumbed to sleep. Startling awake several times at first because he was afraid Sam would be gone when he woke, that this whole thing was just another one of his forlorn dreams.
===
The jolt from the plane landing on tarmac several hours later woke Rafe from his sleep, and he shot straight up as the first thought that came into his conscious mind was Sam and whether he was still here.
He found the older Drake awake and sitting upright in his seat, typing away at a laptop Rafe assumed he requested from the flight attendant.
“Hey.”
Sam gave him a quick glance, before his attention was quickly directed back at the laptop, absolute bewilderment in his eyes at the new technology.
“Jesus, technology nowadays. Browsing the internet while you’re on a plane?! And all this information on the internet! Do we even need libraries anymore? Or archives?”
He gestured at the laptop with a small flail of his arms and wide eyes, and Rafe couldn’t help but chuckle.
He forced himself to sit up, before he realized he was covered with a fleece blanket, the same blanket that he had put on Sam whilst he slept.
That thought alone made Rafe want to wrap himself up in the material again instead of putting it away.
Sam pulled a pack of stale cigarettes from his coat pocket the moment he stepped off the jet, much to Rafe’s irritation.
He never liked Sam, or anyone smoking in his comfort zone. Far less now that he’s smoking some cheap tobacco from god-knows-where.
The cigarette’s packaging was disgusting, crumpled and dirty, and he could only imagine how stale those cancer sticks were.
The smell of the smoke made Rafe want to gag. Mostly because it reminded him too much of his father’s cigars, the pungent smell always lingering in whatever room the man had been in back in their family mansion.
“You’re not getting in the car with that.”
He warned he handed over his carry-on luggage to the chauffeur.
Sam gave him a pointed look, but nodded in acknowledgment all the same.
Rafe was on his phone checking his emails again when Sam finally joined him, bringing with him the smell of his smoking from outside. It made Rafe wrinkle his nose in distaste.
But on top of the smell of tobacco, he could also smell a whiff of something strong, musky, but familiar. A smell that was only Sam.
It was then Rafe realized that the other man was wearing clothing that had been stored in the prison hold for 13 years. Clothing that was now moldy, faded, and out of style.
He didn’t want to think about the state of cleanliness of Sam’s forgotten clothes after all these years in storage.
Rafe Adler was a man who kept himself presentable, and dressed to impress. So it’s only natural he expected everyone around him to follow suit.
A mental note was made to get Sam a new wardrobe. ASAP.
===
The plane had landed in New York merely because Rafe had to attend a meeting here, which was apparently important enough that they couldn’t just dive right back in where they left off 13 years ago in finding Avery’s treasure.
Sam didn’t question their location, or Rafe’s planned schedules.
Right now he was too busy looking out the car window, taking in the scene of the bustling people and cars. He was itching to explore this familiar yet new city, with so many things to take in in so little time.
Rafe on the other hand, had no intention of letting Sam slip from his sight again. The emptiness he’d felt when Sam wasn’t around for the past decade wasn’t a feeling that he’d missed or cared to endure again.
On the surface, he’d say he’s keeping Sam so they could find Avery’s treasure. But Rafe knew that Avery treasure was the only thing that could anchor Sam to him. So the longer they prolonged actually finding the treasure, the longer Rafe could get Sam to stay.
And his actual dayjob came in handy for this exact purpose.
They were dropped off downtown, at the door of an upscale apartment building.
Sam tried reaching for the luggage but Rafe yanked him away, explaining to him like a mother to a petulant child that there was a bellboy for that, much to Sam’s irritation.
Although that irritation was short-lived as soon as they stepped into the elevator, Sam quickly being preoccupied by the view of this newer version of New York City as they ascended to the top floor.
Rafe led the way to his suite, swiping the key card over the door’s sensor before stepping in with Sam in tow, well aware of the other keycard the concierge had given him sitting in his pant pocket.
It was still too soon, too soon to trust that Sam wouldn’t run away if given the chance. So that extra keycard will have to be kept under his care for now.
He dropped his light baggage and his jacket over one of the dining counter’s chairs as he stepped in, Sam eye-ing over the entire suite apartment as he followed behind him.
“I have a meeting to get to.”
Rafe announced as he began unbuttoning his cuffs,
“And I won’t be back until tonight. Probably late. I don’t know yet. You can use any of the guest rooms. There’s a phone over there,”
he gestured with his head to a phone mounted on the wall near the main door,
“Dial 1 and it’ll reach the concierge, they’ll help you get anything you need, food and whatnot.”
He headed towards the charging port that was in the corner of the kitchen counter, picking up a smartphone and walking back towards Sam.
“This, has my number. It’s already connected to wifi…”
At the look on Sam’s face, he further explained,
“Internet. Wireless Internet. So you can browse websites on this phone, or the TV, or the laptop.”
He stuffed the phone into Sam’s hands when the other male didn’t reach for it,
“Should keep you entertained for the rest of the day.”
He slipped into the master bedroom then, leaving Sam alone to his devices.
Rafe anticipated that Sam would start googling Nathan once he got the hang of using the smartphone, but he wasn’t too concerned.
It’s not like Sam had any money or any way of getting to Nathan, wherever he was.
Nathan could always pay for Sam’s traveling fees, that was true.
But if Sam was smart enough, he’d know staying with Rafe meant a bigger chance of finding Avery’s treasure, and Rafe was willing to bet that Sam would choose the wiser decision to stay.
He stepped into the bathroom, stripping himself down and succumbing to a much needed shower, although he wish he’d had more time to enjoy it before he had to rush out and change into a fresh set of clothes for the meeting.
Clothes. He almost forgot.
He exited his room, fumbling with the buttons on his clean shirt, cursing a little under his breath after a quick glance at the clock. He's slightly behind schedule than he’d planned.
“Sam?”
The older man wasn’t in the living room, so Rafe headed for the guestrooms.
In hindsight, he probably should’ve knocked, because the sight that greeted him when he barged into the first guestroom was enough to stop him mid-sentence.
Sam was in the middle of pulling off his old t-shirt, his arms still caught in the armholes as both of them stood still and watched each other.
Rafe’s attention was quickly diverted to Sam’s torso as he studied the well defined muscles that had formed on Sam’s frame over the years. It took all of his willpower to not just blatantly sweep his gaze all over that body.
Sam blinked twice, out of confusion, before Rafe said,
“Clothes.”
Sam blinked again,
“Yeah..?”
“Uh. Clothes. There’s some new clothes in the wardrobe.”
He cleared his throat. That didn’t help with easing the pounding of his heart. He could hear it it in his ears.
“Don’t know if they fit you. But uh, we can get you some new ones if they don’t.”
Sam pulled off his t-shirt completely, tossed it into the open bathroom door towards the laundry basket, but missed. Rafe’s eyes followed the fabric flying into the bathroom.
”I mean, we’ll get you some new ones anyway. If you don’t like what I picked out. I didn’t know your size. So I uh, just bought some stuff I thought might fit.”
He was feigning at playing cool, but he realized he was rambling by now. So Rafe told himself to shut up lest he continues making himself sound like a fool.
“Yeah, I noticed the new clothes when I opened the closet. Probably should’ve asked first but I assumed they were for me. Heh.”
Sam was rummaging through the closets by now, casting a cheeky smirk over the shoulder as he said the last part. Aware of the effect his naked torso had on Rafe. Still cocky as ever.
”Unless they were for someone else?”
Sam cocked an eyebrow over his shoulder at Rafe.
“Yeah. Uh. I mean, no. I mean, they’re for you. I’ll uh, just leave you to it then. I’ll see you later.”
He turned and closed the door before Sam could say anything else.
Once outside, Rafe quietly leaned against the wall of the corridor, running a hand through his still damp hair as he tried to calm his racing heart.
“For fuck’s sake, you’re not some 13 year old schoolboy.”
He pulled at his still-damp hair, until the dull pain eased his tension somewhat.
“Get yourself together.”
That was accompanied with several smacks to his cheeks with open palms, before he marched back into his own room to continue getting ready for his meeting.
The meeting had proved to be quite the mental struggle for Rafe.
With images of Sam, especially a shirtless Sam, swimming around in his head. He didn’t think he’d be THAT affected by it, but he had apparently zoned out several times during the conference, enough for the negotiating party to suggest continuing the meeting on another day out of concern for Rafe’s health.
Naturally, Rafe declined and they continued, but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t rather be back at the suite apartment with Sam right now.
He left the office building in a hurry, managing to leave before anyone could stop him for further discussions on the newest trade agreement.
===
The suite was dark when he entered. Save for an empty pizzabox and some food containers littered across the dining counter.
Sam must’ve stayed in and ordered food then.
And since there wasn’t a knocked out delivery boy or butler at the door, Sam was most probably still in the apartment somewhere. Maybe asleep in his room.
He held a hand up to the door of the guestroom Sam was sleeping in, but decided to just try the doorknob instead.
It was locked. All was quiet. Sam must really be sleeping then. And perhaps that was for the best.
So Rafe allowed himself to head back to the kitchen area, throwing out all the trash and pouring himself a glass of wine, then settled on the couch, intending to indulge himself and unwind a little before he headed for another shower and then catch a much-needed sleep.
One glass of wine became two, two became three, and before he knew it he’d downed the whole bottle, and had to undo the top buttons of his pressed shirt to get more comfortable. Just something about the pleasant warmth and lull of the wine that felt pleasantly relaxing.
And before he could force himself off of the much too comfortable couch, Rafe found himself lying down and gradually dozing off, despite his attempts to keep his eyes open. His lids and arms felt too heavy, so he curled in on himself as the chill of the room set in.
His last conscious thought was that at least he’d had the mind to set his wine glass on the coffee table before he laid down. Wine stains were a bitch to remove.
===
The accidental nap had mostly been a dreamless sleep, but he woke to a strange warmth that flowed through his body, and chills where his skin was supposed to be covered.
It started out as involuntary shudders that had Rafe squirming in his sleep, until that feeling persisted and began to feel more and more vivid.
Not necessarily an irritating sensation, but it was enough to pull him from his state of blissful sleep.
Rafe's eyes opened, and he blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness of the room.
The sensations stopped when he woke, but soon resumed.
Rafe frowned, eyes now much more focused in the darkness, and he froze in shock when he realized that there was a dark silhouette currently hovering over him.
That was enough to startle him into full consciousness.
Toned arms shot up, wound for a forceful push, his palms connecting with a mass of warm body, and a soft "oof!" sounded.
Rafe squirmed violently after that, heart pounding as he tried to get away from whoever, or whatever was leaning over him.
Then two large hands came up to catch his wrists, gently but firmly securing them on top of Rafe’s head.
“Easy.”
The shadow breathed, low and quiet, but all too familiar.
“Sam!?”
Rafe’s breath hitched in his throat, he writhed under the larger body hovering over him. Fighting against Sam’s grip.
Well, he’d say he was doing his best to escape, but he was probably only putting 20% of effort into it. He blamed the wine.
And the fact Sam was very very warm. And strong. And Rafe liked the weight of Sam on him. A lot.
In his attempt to squirm away, Rafe vaguely realized that the surface he was currently lying on felt more like a bed rather than the suede sofa.
Was he in his room? He could’ve sworn he fell asleep in front of the TV, too tired to move and way too comfortable lounging about after the wine, the TV series playing on the screen having turned into nothing more than background noise that lulled him into slumber.
He twisted his body again, trying to free himself from Sam’s grasp.
The dull hum of the alcohol in his system was still there, thrumming through his veins, paired with Samuel Drake now holding him down, it heated Rafe's blood, the warmth flushing all the way to his cheeks.
He was glad the the room was mostly dark. He’d never be able to live it up if Sam caught him blushing.
When he came to terms with the fact that his attempts at escape were futile, he stilled, body still tense.
And he let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.
“That’s right. Easy.”
Sam chuckled, coaxing Rafe like he was training an animal, and eased up on his grip on Rafe’s wrists, moving back and taking his weight off a little to give Rafe some breathing space, but still caging the smaller man in with his limbs, hovering over Rafe as he watched the smaller male’s facial expressions change in the dim light.
“What are you doing? Why are you in my room?”
Rafe hissed, attempting to push himself up into a sitting position and avoid clashing right into Sam at the same time,
“What am I doing in my room? I’m pretty sure I fell asleep on - ”
He didn’t get to finish before Sam leaned down and claimed Rafe’s lips, forcing Rafe to swallow his words and let out a surprised but nonetheless, pleased, moan.
Rafe didn’t need much persuasion after that, didn’t need any, really.
He pulled Sam down with him as he laid back, kisses growing more hungry, more demanding, nipping and sucking on Sam’s lips as he wrapped his legs and locked them around the back of Sam’s thighs, keeping him there, pulling him in closer.
What Rafe was demanding, Sam was willing to give. Returning the kisses with earnest, until he had to pull away long enough for them to catch a breath, and to watch the gleam of desire in Rafe’s eyes burn even in the darkness of the room.
Rafe was having none of that though, and with a low growl, he quickly claimed Sam's mouth once more, one hand tugging on the older male's head and the other pulling on his shirt and keeping him in place with a vice-like grip.
Sam's hands continued what they’ve been doing whilst Rafe was asleep, moving all over the younger man's form, fondling and stroking the heating skin first over the tightly fitted shirt Rafe was wearing, then undoing the buttons every so leisurely to then map out every dip and curve of his body, ripping breathy moans from Rafe's throat whenever he stroked over his chest.
Sam’s mouth wasn’t idle either, he’d moved onto nipping and sucking at the flesh on Rafe’s neck, discovering a certain sweet spot on the crook of where Rafe’s neck met his shoulder, that when given enough attention, can have Rafe both squirming out of Sam’s hold but yanking him down closer at the same time.
Rafe had thrown all caution to the wind by now, letting lecherous moans and obscenities flow freely from his mouth, as he nuzzled his face against Sam’s head, feeling Sam’s sideburns scrape against his nose bridge as he greedily inhaled Sam’s scent, which was musky, spiced with hints of tobacco. He couldn't get enough of it.
He clawed over Sam’s muscular shoulders and back as he ground his own hips upwards to meet the other man’s crotch.
“Yessss.”
He sighed, right into Sam’s ear, nipping the curve of the shell of his ear, with Sam responding by giving the nubs on Rafe’s chest a light scratch, causing the body under him to shudder.
Rafe arched off the bed, and Sam took the opportunity to slip his left hand under the smaller male’s waist, trailing down to his ass, squeezing the flesh there, whilst his right continued rubbing one of Rafe’s nipples in slow circles with the pad of his thumb.
With his body arched and strung tight like a bow, Rafe pushed his chest upwards even more and tried to get closer to Sam, whining quietly though his nose.
”Ah..yes, right there..!”
Sam could feel Rafe’s hard-on insistently prodding his abdomen, just narrowly missing his own erection.
The fact that he was trying to find friction by rolling his hips upwards didn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He only wished Rafe would actually aim his thrusts better so they could both enjoy the friction,.
He deliberately kept his body just barely out of reach, watching with much enjoyment at how Rafe writhed harder whenever he managed a light rub, but not nearly enough to sate his burning need.
Rafe’s eyes were shut tight, brows furrowed in concentration, mouth open as he gasped for air between his moans.
Sam stopped the ministrations of his hands on Rafe’s body, and waited for Rafe to open his eyes out of question, which he did.
The younger male fixed him with a glare, and was about to come up with a snarky quip about why the hell Sam would stop at this very moment before the look on Sam’s face made him froze.
Sam was watching him intently, showing a slow flick of tongue as he licked his lips, making Rafe gulp in anticipation.
He wanted to be devoured by Sam. Oh god he wanted Sam so much. For so long. Wanted those lips on his own, that mouth over his body, those hands following suit.
Rafe’s own mouth hung slightly agape out of sheer reflex as he leaned forward, ready to capture Samuel’s lips in another scorching kiss, but he found his arms lifted over his head again and held down to the mattress.
“Keep your hands there.”
Sam all but growled, his breath hot and ghosting over Rafe’s front.
Rafe nodded. And Sam released his grip, smoothing his large, warm, and calloused hands down Rafe’s forearms, then his biceps, down his chest and the sides of his body, worshiping all the contours of his frame.
Rafe kept his hands above his head, fingers twitching as he fought the urge to reach down and twine his fingers into Sam’s curly hair.
He stayed as still as he could, whilst Sam continued stroking up and down his body in an infuriating alternation in between feather-light touches and firm strokes, Sam apparently rather satisfied when Rafe didn’t move his hands at all like instructed.
“Good boy.”
Sam purred against Rafe’s lips before giving them a quick peck, then delved in to wrap his mouth around Rafe’s nipple, catching Rafe completely off guard.
Rafe’s body arched again, and one of his hands involuntarily shot down to grasp at Sam’s head. Causing Sam to stop. Rafe whined out of frustration at the missing contact, and Sam kept his mouth just barely away from Rafe’s wet nipple, flicking his gaze up to meet Rafe’s,
“What’d I say?”
The breath that ghosted over Rafe’s wet, sensitive nubs sent shivers up his spine, and he reluctantly reached his arms back to the top of his head and lowered his body down to the mattress.
He decided to hold onto the corners of the pillow his head was resting on this time.
Sam waited just a few moments more before moving his tongue over Rafe’s nipple again, rolling the nub with the tip of his tongue and planting kisses around it, all the while maintaining eye contact with Rafe, daring him to use his hands again.
Rafe was finding it hard to breathe, his head going all fuzzy. He had no choice but to close his eyes from Sam’s intense gaze. Reaching back and gripping onto his pillow seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality.
Reality? He thought.
This can’t be real, right?
He looked down again at Sam leaving kisses all over his chest, the older Drake now too absorbed in his task to notice Rafe watching him.
It must be a dream. Rafe thought to himself. One that feels very real, but still a dream nonetheless.
His head was still buzzing with the residue alcohol in his system, and he was sure the room would be swimming in front of his eyes if it was bright enough to see it.
This must all just be a manifestation of his desire and the wine,right? It has to be.
But how he wished it wasn’t.
Sam had never indicated any sexual interest in him, or any interest that went beyond business, too busy having fun with the ladies on every new port they visited or wiling away on thoughts about Henry Avery’s treasure to realize or reciprocate Rafe’s feelings.
Not that Rafe ever let slip his attraction to Sam. But he sincerely wished he’d had. All those years ago.
A sharp nip on his chest pulled Rafe back to the moment, away from his thoughts.
“Hey. Where are you?”
Sam murmured, nestling himself closer to Rafe’s body, his hands now stroking the sides of his thighs.
“...Nowhere. I’m here.”
He might as well just enjoy this, right? Even if it’s nothing more than a wet dream.
Sam merely hummed in response, before gently coaxing Rafe to unhook his legs from his back, giving him room to slink further down, leaving gentle kisses on Rafe’s toned abdomen and sharp hipbones as he did.
Rafe took the chance to pull his shirt off, grumbling as the sleeves caught on his arms, flinging it into the darkness of the room when he was finally free of it. And planting his hands back on the pillow under his head out of reflex when he was done.
Sam caught that movement, and was pleased enough he gave Rafe’s bulge a firm mouthing through his pants. That made Rafe buck like a wild bronco, almost pushing Sam off of him.
Sam gave a throaty chuckle, holding Rafe down by his hips.
”Woah there, bucko.”
He dove in to mouth at Rafe’s groin again once he calmed down enough.
And eventually unzipped the fly on Rafe’s suit pants, mouthing his length through charcol-colored briefs.
There was already a wet spot on the fabric, pre-cum from the tip of Rafe’s cock having leaked through.
“You like that, huh?”
Murmured Sam, as he alternated between leaving open-mouthed kisses along the appendage and licking long, wet stripes over it.
“Fuck, yes. Please…”
Rafe rolled his hips into Sam’s mouth,
”More.”
“As you wish.” Sam smirked, tucking two fingers into the waistband of Rafe’s briefs before pulling them down until they got caught with Rafe’s suit pants halfway down his thighs, his cock springing free from the confines of the fabric.
Wasting no time with teasing, Sam dove in, attacking Rafe’s member with furious licks and occasional light scrapes with his teeth, rendering Rafe to a mewling mess under him.
A garbled choke echoed in the room, followed by a drawn out moan of absolute bliss.
“F-Fuck! Oh god, yes, Sam…!”
Sam closed his mouth over Rafe's cock, moaning in response and appreciation, eyes focused on Rafe’s contorting facial features despite the difficult angle.
He snaked one of his hands up Rafe’s front, until he reached Rafe’s face, pressing two fingers to Rafe’s swollen lips. Rafe didn’t need any prompting before he eagerly welcomed Sam’s digits into his mouth, coating his fingers with a generous amount of saliva, sucking on them but wishing it was Sam’s cock instead.
He teasingly clamped his teeth down on Sam’s fingers when he felt him begin to pull out and away, earning him a chuckle from the man.
Keeping his mouth on Rafe’s member, Sam guided his slicked fingers downwards to Rafe’s entrance, gently probing the rim and pushing one digit in when he felt Rafe pushing his ass down towards his fingers.
A low whine sounded from Rafe, and Sam stilled his hand, dipping his head to lap at Rafe’s rim around his finger, giving Rafe enough time to accommodate the intrusion and go from whining gasps to needy moans.
When Rafe began rolling his hips and fucking himself on Sam’s fingers, Sam returned to work on blowing Rafe, eventually adding another finger into the wanton body under him with surprising ease.
Rafe could feel his knuckles going white from gripping the pillow behind him so tight.
“Sam…Sam…I need…Ah-I need…”
He was almost begging now. But Rafe really couldn’t care less. He cast Sam a pleading look,
”Yeah? Tell me what you need, Darlin’.”
Sam had moved to lean his head on one of Rafe’s thighs, two hands working in sync at stroking Rafe and pumping into him at the same time, murmuring his words as he waited for Rafe’s answer.
“...Come up here.”
Rafe reached down, cupping his hands on either side of Sam’s head and pulled, guiding the larger male up towards him until their faces were level with each other.
Sam had no choice but to let one hand go in order to support himself as he leaned over Rafe, so he released the hand on Rafe’s cock, whilst the other continued slowly pumping in and out of him.
Rafe allowed himself a moment to gaze into Sam’s face at such close proximity, Sam’s huffs of breath ghosting over his own face, their lips almost touching.
Then he leaned up, tangling his fingers into the curly wisps of hair at the base of Sam’s neck, coaxing Sam into a slow but passionate kiss, feeling their tongues run across each others’.
Rafe came as soon as Sam started to curl his fingers inside him in a continuous come-hither motion, gently scratching that one spot inside him and pushing him over the edge. He didn’t even need anything to encourage his cock before it spurt strings of cum that splattered all over his and Sam’s abs.
Then he immediately went limp, although still trying his best to keep his arms around Sam’s neck, holding him close whilst Sam gently pulled his fingers out of his body.
The older Drake eventually lowered himself until their bodies were flushed together, Rafe grimacing at the feel of his orgasm’s residue sticking between them, but finding himself rather enjoying the feel and weight of Sam on top of him, surrounded by his smell and enveloped in his body heat.
It was a little too hot for his liking, but he wasn’t complaining.
Sam’s right hand smoothed over Rafe’s brow, pushing the stray strands of hair that had escaped and clung to his sweat-slicked forehead and combing them backwards.
Rafe so desperately wanted to open his eyes, stay conscious, they haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.
He could feel Sam’s own erection digging into his hip, and he very much wanted to do something about it. Do something for Sam.
Yet with Sam’s warmth and his soothing stroking of his brow accompanied by the over-consumption of alcohol and his exhaustion, he found his thoughts very quickly filled with a dark, heavy cloud, and he succumbed to the pull of sleep.
===
Rafe jolted awake the next day. The sunlight filtering through gaps in the heavy curtains blinding him temporarily. He blinked. His head feeling fuzzy, but a relaxed buzz humming through his frame.
He snuggled into the pillow, heaving a long sigh.
Then he sat straight up. Eyes wide as he tried to recall what happened last night. He vaguely remembered wine. Lots of wine. Falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV.
Wait, couch. But he was currently in his bedroom.
Then there was Sam. And he…
Rafe looked down. He was naked save for his briefs. With his dick currently rock-hard and straining against his underwear.
“Well…shit.”
That certainly hasn’t happened in a while. Not since he was a teenager with raging hormones.
Rafe groaned, dropping his head back onto the soft pillows and covering his eyes with one arm.
Did what he thought happen… Really happen?
If it wasn’t a dream like he’d thought, Rafe felt a little disappointed that Sam wasn’t in bed with him right now.
He allowed himself another long shower, dealing with his little morning surprise as he replayed snippets of moments and touches in the dark, Sam’s voice, his warmth. That he still couldn’t be certain of whether it was a dream or a memory.
He came with a low groan, watching the water wash away evidence of his climax yet not feeling particularly better, or sated.
Rafe took his time preparing himself for the day, carefully lathering his hair with pomade and pushing the strands back section by section. It always seemed to calm him. Helped him put on that cold, professional mask he so often had to wear.
He checked his neck in the mirror, no bruises or kiss marks. That sort of helped ease his mind and confirm that what he remembered was nothing more than a wet dream.
He chose a charcoal turtleneck with black pants for the day, and was in the middle of putting on his wristwatch as he walked out to the living area when he spotted Sam sitting at the dining counter. Newspaper in one hand and a coffee in the other. He glanced over when Rafe stepped out,
“Mornin’.”
He called out, before he continued pouring over the news.
Rafe tried not to let his hesitance show in his steps as he walked towards the kitchen, pulling a mug from the shelf and filling it with coffee from the machine next to Sam.
“Where’d you get that?” Rafe asked, eyeing the headlines in Sam’s paper.
“Someone sent it up earlier this morning.” Sam replied half-heartedly.
He was bringing the steaming cup of black coffee to his lips when Sam held up a small pitcher of hot milk.
“No milk?”
Rafe shook his head, taking a seat opposite Sam on the counter.
”I like my coffee black.”
“I thought you liked milk in your coffee?” Sam asked, one chin in hand as he watched Rafe.
“That was a long time ago, Sam.” Rafe replied coolly, doing his best not to fidget under Sam’s thoughtful gaze when all he can think about was how Sam’s mouth felt and tasted.
The older man continued to watch Rafe, waiting for further elaboration, but received none. So he went back to his newspaper.
They sat like that for a while, Sam reading the paper and Rafe scrolling through his phone, catching up on the pile of e-mails that had appeared overnight. Work was never-ending. And for once, Rafe found it a good distraction.
”Rafe.”
“Hmm?”
Rafe was too immersed in his emails to bother looking up when he responded.
”Rafe.”
“What?”
He still didn’t look up from his phone.
When in all honesty, it's really him not being able to take looking at Sam right now.
“...RAFE.”
Sam covered his hand over Rafe's phone and smacked it down onto the countertop, prompting Rafe to glare up at the older Drake across him.
“Jesus, Sam! What-”
Sam was in the middle of sipping his coffee, brown eyes meeting Rafe’s over the rim of the cup. And Rafe found himself frozen as he stared into Sam’s eyes.
"What’s wrong?" Sam asked sternly, Rafe's phone still stuck firmly under Sam's palm.
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.” Rafe muttered, eyes now darting anywhere but Sam’s face.
“You’ve been avoiding my eyes the whole morning. What’s wrong?”
Rafe's gaze landed on his phone under Sam's hand, and he quickly jerked it out of Sam's grasp, trying to keep coming into contact with Sam's hand as little as possible.
He was glad that Sam relented after several tugs.
“Nothing is wrong, Sam. I’m just tired.”
Then he left, leaving his cup of unfinished coffee sitting on the counter with a confused Sam looking after him.