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My only response was grunts and groans. I reached under me and started jerking myself, working my foreskin over my head.

My release wasn’t going to stay contained much longer with Jake throbbing inside me. He met my thrusts, sending him deep and to exactly the right spot.

Jake’s grip on me tightened and his moaning shifted. I clenched around him and stroked myself faster.

“Oh, man… I’m gonna cum.” He fucked me harder and cried out.

That was all it took. As he unloaded in me, I shot my load under the table. My whole body quaked, and the shop filled with the sounds of us climaxing. Jake’s arms came around me, pulling me up to him as he slowed his thrusts. His lips found my neck, and he dropped kisses there as he hugged me.

“I want that again and again,” I managed to say.

“Anytime.” He slipped out of me, and I already missed the connection. “Maybe you can fuck me sometime too.”

I turned to face him and our spent cocks collided, providing a nice friction that had us both shuddering. “Anytime.” I reached around and squeezed his butt.

For a moment, he stared at me with the sweetest smile on his face.

“What?”

“Just... taking all this in. You, here in our workshop on Christmas Eve. I want to remember every detail.”

“We’ll have other Christmas Eves,” I said softly. “This is the first of many.”

“I love you,” he whispered against my ear. “I love you so much, Nico.”

“I love you too,” I gasped. “Always, Jake. Always.”

“I’m not sure how we’re ever going to work at this table again,” Jake said eventually.

“Maybe this is reserved for taking a break and doing exactly what we just did.” I peppered his face with kisses. “I was going to build a proper workbench in here to match what you’ve got, so this table could have… other purposes.”

A blush crossed his face as he nodded. “Keeps us from having to rush to the house.” He pulled me against him. “And that’s good because you’re hard to resist.”

I kissed him, slow and unhurried. “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

“Merry Christmas, Nico.”

Eleven

Jake

Dinner was a few hours away, but I already hated the seating arrangement around the dining room table.

With only time to finish one chair, Tommy let me borrow three oak kitchen chairs. I’d picked them up yesterday before he and Sarah headed out of town to his parents. Now I saw how mismatched they really were. They looked like guys from the visiting team who’d walked into the wrong locker room.

I tried the good chair in different positions. But it deserved to be at the head of the table. Frankly, nothing would make the oak chairs better.

“Stop,” Nico said behind me.

He was in the doorway with two mugs, cozy in flannel, his hair still wrecked from sleep. He’d beaten me out of bed by an hour so he could get started on the food prep.

“It looks stupid.”

“It’s a table with chairs around it.” He handed me a mug. “Have a seat.”

“In which one?”

“Any of them. That’s the point of a chair.”