Six months ago, G had thought of sex as just something the body needed occasionally. Before that, when he'd needed that release, he'd donned a temporary cover and found a willing body to take care of things for the night. When Savannah had talked about the trust involved, he hadn't understood. Trust was what he needed to talk to someone the way he talked to Sam...when he did talk.
This, the way Sam touched him with deliberate slowness, the careful thoroughness, was something new. G still wasn't sure it wouldn't break him eventually. But, he was beginning to crave this feeling of being laid open and possessed.
"Sam..." That was not a whine in his voice as G gripped the edge of the mattress tighter. G still couldn't figure out why, but something about the feel of teeth on his skin, even the gentle scrapes, just went straight to his cock and skittering up his spine. He hadn't lied. He wanted Sam's possession as much as Sam wanted to possess. The bites and marks were tangible evidence of something he needed and couldn't quite believe in.
And, yet, it was the attention to his legs that made him truly squirm, something unfamiliar and caring. "You're going to break me one of these days, doing that," he admitted roughly, low enough he wasn't sure he heard it himself.