“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”
“You’re drunk.”
“No. I mean it. I’ve always thought so. I’ve just never been able to tell you. You’re burly and strong, but your eyes are soft, always warm. And that smile—God, I could come just looking at that smile.”
“You’re the good-looking one, Ralph. That face on those billboards is not just selling houses.”
“Are you suggesting I use sex appeal to close deals?”
“Maybe not in all cases... but being blond and adorable does have its advantages.”
“Stop the presses. My contractor thinks I’m adorable. I think you may have just made my day, Bo Bryson.”
“The day’s not over, Ralph.”
He took Ralph’s hand and guided him from the kitchen back to the den. He knelt in front of the fire, lowering Ralph’s boxers so he could step out of them. He was eye level with Ralph’s crotch, getting a good look, admiring the thickness of his serpentine shaft, fat, and curving to the juicy plum at the end.
“See something you like?” Ralph asked.
Bo looked up, then stood, sitting Ralph down on the mattress. “I like it all.”
He lowered his own underwear, keeping his eyes on Ralph the entire time. Ralph’s eyes were glued to Bo’s semi. He reached out, trance-like, pulling him closer, mouth open for a taste.
“No,” said Bo. He stepped out of the loose drawers and guided Ralph farther back onto the mattress. “Not yet.”
“This is torture. I need you in my mouth.”
Bo laid next to him. “I want you to be still. Just lay there, face up.”
Ralph complied.
Bo was on his side and he began tracing his finger up Ralph’s body, starting just above the groin—purposely avoiding Ralph’s fleshy flagpole below—and following the light treasure trail up, circling his belly button and laying his hand flat there.
“I could lose a few pounds,” Ralph said, nervously.
“Will you just be quiet,” Bo said. “You’re fine. Perfect. Indulge me.”
He took his fingers further up Ralph’s sternum and chest, observing, feeling Ralph’s rapid breathing slow. He combed his fingers through the curly hair, circling a nipple, resting his hand on the pectoral there.
Ralph heaved a deep sigh.
“That’s it. Relax.”
Bo laid his head on Ralph’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat, feeling the warmth radiated on his cheek and ear.
Ralph combed his hand through Bo’s thick brown hair. “I could get used to this, you know.”
Bo wrapped his arm further around Ralph and squeezed. “It’s nice. Isn’t it? Just being still, touching.”
“It is,” said Ralph. “But I want to touch you more. I want to taste you. I want every bit of your body in my mouth.”
“Kiss me first.”
Ralph did, and it wasn’t rough or rushed as his words may have suggested. It was slow, his tongue slipping in tentatively, exploring. Bo’s opened wider for him, enveloping Ralph’s lips, his beard bristles ticklishly catching on the sandpaper of Ralph’s day-old scruff.
When he pried away, Ralph was looking at him, face reddened from friction. He was grinning that million-dollar billboard-smile.
He reached low and found Ralph’s engorged cock.
