We picked the tree at the start of December. In what I’m hoping becomes a tradition, I held the top of the one we chose and watched Pete saw through the trunk. Never going to get tired of seeing him do that.
Or him carrying it around like it weighs nothing.
I sigh just thinking about all those rippling muscles.
Which are probably all soapy and wet right about now.
That thought alone has me taking the stairs two at a time, shedding clothes as I go. I’m down to my jeans and boxer briefs as I reach the bedroom, hopping on one foot to pull them off. I can hear the shower going and I fall onto the bed in my hurry to get naked.
I grin as I spot the book on Pete’s bedside table.
It’s the first book in my new series.
It’s a little darker and spookier than my others, and the romantic element between the two male main characters is a huge part of the story this time rather than a side note. I think it’s my best so far, Pete agrees, but then he’s biased.
He also refuses to read it on the nights I have to be in Bristol.
I give it one last pleased look, then shove my underwear off and get up.
Steam fills the bathroom, along with the scent of Pete’s citrus body wash. I can only make out his outline through the shower doors, but that’s enough to get my cock interested.
I slide open the door and step inside.
It’s a tight fit, but that just means I have to wrap my arms around him from behind and press up against his wet, soapy body.
What an inconvenience.
“Thought you’d got lost.” He tips his head back onto my shoulder, groaning as I lean in and kiss his neck.
“Thought you might’ve started without me.”
“I did.” He grabs one of my hands and moves it lower until my fingers find him hard and standing to attention.
I laugh. “So I see.” I don’t waste any time wrapping my hand around him and stroking him from root to tip.
He groans. “Got to be quick, though.”
Yeah, don’t think that’s going to be a problem. I press closer as I stroke him, my cock slips between his arsecheeks, and it feels so fucking good.
It’s almost a shame we’re going out because spending New Year’s Eve naked with Pete sounds like a fantastic idea. But I know how much this means to him.
So a quickie it is.
His hand slaps the tiles as I thrust against him. I rest my forehead between his shoulder blades, watching my cock slide along his crease. This close, I can feel the warmth from his skin, the play of muscles in his back as he arches into my touch.
Hard to believe this time last year I wasn’t sure I wanted this.
Wasn’t sure it was real.
Taking a chance on Pete, onus, was the best decision I’ve ever made.
He groans, low and rough, hips alternating between driving into my fist and pushing back against me. I recognise the signs.He’s close, thank fuck, because I’ve been on the edge since I got my hands on him.
I kiss his back, his neck, wherever I can reach, smiling into his skin as he cries out. His cock pulses in my hand, hot and heavy, and that’s all it takes to make me come. I grip his hip, fingers digging in as I make a mess of him for a few glorious seconds before its washed away.
We stay like that while we catch our breath, wasting precious seconds that we probably don’t have to spare.
Oh well.
