Maybe he would invest in some satin sheets. It wouldn't be the gayest thing he'd done since he'd officially come out; he could probably get away with it unscathed.
Not that the cool cotton he was currently wrapped in was anything to scoff at, of course. The soft drag of the material over his blood-warm skin was nothing short of rapturous in that moment. Then again, in that moment, he was also not a little bit inebriated.
It'd just been half midnight on Sunday when Sam rolled into bed after spending the weekend at Jess's house. His father would be home in the morning, and he would have been most displeased if he'd known what his youngest had been up to.
Sam scoffs to himself and flips onto his stomach, shirt rucking up and legs sprawling. It had been a great weekend. He'd gone home with Jess after school on Friday, the two juniors beyond excited about their plans for the next few days. Movies, alcohol, and one-on-one time they hadn't had in weeks since Christmas break. Of course, alcohol and slumber parties led to truth or dare, which led to trading clothes with Jess. Which somehow led to a fashion show, which in turn led to Sam shaving his legs below the knee. Which led to rutting lazily against his own sheets back at home, feeling sensual and soft with his newly bare skin.
He passes out before getting anywhere near completion, but sleeps satisfyingly heavy enough that it doesn't matter. And when Sam wakes in the morning to the worst morning wood he'd had since 7th grade, he doesn't think twice about blaming it on his silken appendages.
He spends the morning waking himself up properly, one hand down his boxer-briefs and another tracing ticklish lines over his torso, tossing around under the covers and arching near-painfully when he dips his fingers lower to tease his entrance.
Once he's come, he sighs and grins exuberantly in satisfaction, knowing his lips are bruised from biting back groans, and that his legs are smooth enough to rival any girl's.
He could get used to this.
