The guy who knows a guy

For those of you that have sent me hate regarding a certain someone: don’t believe everything you hear. Things have been taken completely out of context.

I’m not going further into it because frankly, I don’t like making personal shit public, and I’m sure none of you want the drama on your dash.

      Sam would eventually learn of Ash’s noisiness; he wasn’t terribly loud, not by a long shot, but he displayed every token of pleasure he received this from long overdue joining with some sort of hum, audible buzz.

The fact he’s somewhat straddling Sam only excites him further, because it gives him the illusion he’s in charge. Not that it’s the thought that excites him, Ash is generally enamored with the fact he’s on top of Sam to begin with, he’s just pleased he actually went through with it.

Ash breaks the kiss and his eyes, in all their dreamy haze, take in Sam’s expression, and there’s a rumble of pride in Ashley’s chest. He leans in again, this time, lips trailing on Sam’s jawline; he was very much the sort of boy who’d appreciate the physical perfection of whomever was the source of his infatuation. An involuntary and slight buck of his hips only proves this sentiment.

                    “Mm, we have the same scar.” He murmurs when he reaches the small, aged slice just before his chin; half talking to himself, half admiring Sam.

Tilting his head to make room for the other’s wandering lips, Sam let out a sound close to a purr, deep and rumbling. God knew he enjoyed attention, could happily sit back while his partner kissed him all over.            “Do we? Mm, I wonder what else is the same.”

He pointedly rolled his hips upward, matching the slight buck from Ash, and causing friction between them as their clothed bodies rubbed together. Fingers curling around the edges of that blue shirt, Sam began to push it back off his shoulders, dipping his head down to nibble at his collarbone.

   It didn’t help he was easily worked up, and just the touch of Sam’s hand on his thigh, the tilt of his head as he made eye contact with Ash. He muses, silently of course, that his eyes were goddamn gorgeous. Especially when he looked at him like that.

                              “You frustrate the everlovin’ hell outta me, Sam.”

Uncharacteristically so, Ash’s voice comes off as unusually flat & deep. His own eyes, a dark, solid brown, are intent on staring at the older man, and then in one fell swoop he nearly throws himself on Sam, not bothering to consider whether or not he could take the sudden weight of a lusty-Ash.

Not rough, but not gentle, Ash gives Sam a token of affection – or rather, desire, in this situation – that he’s so desperately wanted to offer for what felt like forever, and hadn’t been brave enough to do so. A wonder what lust made even the shyest of boy scouts capable of.

To say that it was startling might have been a vast understatement. Ash had always been so shy when it came to these things. To be nearly tackled by him now was completely unexpected. Not that Sam was complaining. No, quite the opposite. He leaned back to account for the sudden weight of the younger man, hands flying up to support him, dragging him closer against his body with a pleased rumble in the back of his throat.

                 He could practically feel the color drain from his face. For once in his life, he doesn’t get those big, panicky eyes of his; he simply drags his hand back from it’s gleeful little excursion and entwines it with his own, & looks down.

       “Wasn’t even gonna do nothin’.” Comes a childish grumble, mildly frustrated he’d gotten his own gears turning, for lack of better phrasing.

Ashley is thankful for the fact he tossed his ever-favorite blue shirt close to the chair, because he’s more than happy to busy himself with the task of putting it back on without ever leaving the seat; anything to hide the red in his cheeks.

He’s more entertained than he hsould be, he know that, but could anyone blame him for enjoying seeing that brush of pink across the kid’s cheeks? He was adorable when he was embarrassed, and somehw his sulky attitude made him even more so. It positively tickled Sam to see now.

Not that he was going to let him get away that easily.

        “Aw, come on pumpkin, don’t be like that. I was just teasing you,” he said, leaning forward. This time, his hand came to rest on Ashley’s thigh, a playful little smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Earnestly, because really, was there any other way to act around Sam? He moves forward to, though not enough to satisfy his own desire for proximity. No, he tells himself, slow and steady wins the race, and he was determined to win this race. He’d make his move at his own pace.

               He’ll begin by initiating that contact, having sat up so a hand could make easy contact with the knee, nearly the thigh of Sam. He knows how worked up he can get with flirty physical contact, and he hopes that maybe, in some way, Sam shares this trait.

                               “I can think of a few things.” He says, unabashed in the way his gaze clearly trail back and forth between the older man’s lips and eyes.

Ash was getting bold, wasn’t he? Sam was almost impresse, given how shy he’d been thus far. He enjoyed seeing the younger man clearly trying to push himself a little... that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease him, though. No. Sam simply couldn’t help himself. He peered down at the hand on his thigh, warmth crawling up his body and his eyes darkening a fraction before he peered at Ash.

          “Mr. Williams; I didn’t think you’d be so inappropriate.”

"I don’t see a wedding ring. Are you married or happy?"

"If I say no three times, will the candy man come out?"

“‘Cause I always freshen up before I go into battle and kill monsters. I don’t want to leave a bad impression.”

"I'm okay in a scared to death kind of way."

"Well, it's nice to know that tofu really is good for your health."

"No matter which way this goes, I want you to know one thing... I'll never forgive you for dragging me out here."

"Hey asshole! Go fuck yourself!"

"It's only suicide if I die."

"I'm a dirty little boy/girl."

"Give me some sugar, baby."

"Well... I'm glad that's over."

"I told you that C average was nothing to worry about!"

"Well hello, Mr. Plot Point!"

"I'm here to offer birthday greetings, and wish you lots of luck, and if you're really really lucky, I'll even toss in a f--"

"You alright, honey?"

"Well, I guess that would explain the burning sensation."

"Consider yourself officially exempt from my wrath, sweetcakes."

"If you're lucky a little later I'll let you play with my boomstick."

"Try not to blow anybody until I get back."

"Hey lady/man, ten cents a ride, no exceptions."

"I'll be right back, don't do anything quaint until I return."

"I'll take a slow screw against the wall, and make it a double."