"Don't even start," he instantly grumbled at him, neatening his own shirt as he stood and running a hand through his hair, trying to figure this out. He was turned on, aching a little bit all over, and there was nothing he wanted more than to tackle Sam back down onto the floor, but something had to be said.
"I'm not gonna be some screwed up, twisted rebound for you. You mean more to me than that." That... was not what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell him this shouldn't have happened, and yet here he was, telling Sam he meant to much, that he didn't want to be a rebound for him. God dammit, he wasn't even gay, especially not for Sam, but... well, apparently his manhood had a different opinion.