“Touch me. I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…”
It was a mistake to call Sam, he knows this. But he had appeared, a solemn statue, at Momma’s funeral. And amidst all of the grief, the heedy feel of want surged through him.Sam has changed. He seems taller, if that’s even possible. He’s grown a beard that ages him, his hair is thicker and more unruly than he’d ever seen it. Hutch wants to fist his hands in it and pull. And maybe that’s why he calls, asks for a drink. For old time sake. Because grief holds his heart tight in it’s grip, and he cannot lose Sam as well.
The fact of the matter is that he already has. He lost Sam the moment he left Blackrock. He lost Sam the moment his friend couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.
But it’s clear, Sam is as lonely as he is. There is a hard smile, a manic grin, as they down drink after drink and pretend there is no history between them. They don’t talk about Momma, the woman he let them be who they were. They don’t talk of Momma when Hutch struggles to stand and laughs. They don’t talk of Momma.
Instead they fall into bed, lips and teeth and want. But it’s different, empty in a way it never was before. Sam is in his ear, teeth pulling. “Touch me.” And Hutch doesn’t understand because he is. He’s touching. He’s touching every part of Sam he can get his hands on, but it’s not enough. It doesn’t feel the same. “I don’t care how. I just need to feel something right now…” Hutch groans.
It’s not enough.
