Midwinter Night's Dream (10 page)

Errol gave a soft whimper. The saline of precum registered on Joe’s tongue. Errol was close. He backed off and laved the head. Joe’s cock gave a faint throb.

“Joe… Oh my God.” Groaning, Errol fisted his hands in the quilt and rocked his hips. “This is…”

Errol’s shaft thickened, the ridges and veins more prominent as Joe traced them with his tongue. He badly wanted to explore the opening of Errol’s body, but that might not be welcome. Instead he settled for cupping Errol’s balls and stroking his taint, loving it when Errol gave a moan and grabbed Joe’s hair.

“I’m…”

Come on, sweetheart. Come for me
. Joe hummed along the shaft, and with a final whimper Errol came in great, gushing pulses on Joe’s tongue. Salt and something sweet like honey. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Errol, all Errol, and just as unforgettable as the man. Joe sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Errol’s gaze was soft. He reached out and linked his fingers with Joe’s, and Joe’s heart gave a squeeze. This was true intimacy.

Joe leaned over and kissed Errol’s mouth. “Good?”

“Mmph.”

“No ‘the earth moved’?”

“More like the planet spun off into another dimension.”

Joe drew back the quilt and lay down. Errol moved into his arms, and Joe tugged him close before pulling up the covers. With a sigh, Errol draped an arm over Joe’s stomach and tangled one leg with Joe’s. Within minutes, Errol settled into the deep breathing of sleep. Joe petted Errol’s head and kissed his hair. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

This was getting complicated.

* * * *

They awoke to evening, cleaned up, and dressed. It had been years since Errol had had such a pleasant Christmas Eve. Joe made a dinner of pan-seared steak and salad, and after the meal, he pulled out the cards and poker chips.

“If we had a couple of cigars, this would be just about perfect,” Errol said. It’d be picturesque, anyway, as Errol and tobacco didn’t get along.

“Got something better.” Joe set a bottle of whiskey and two tumblers on the coffee table, poured two fingers’ worth into each glass, and handed one to Errol. “Cheers.”

“Here’s mud in your eye.” Errol raised his glass and took a sip, then coughed.

Joe shook his head. “You okay there? Maybe I should’ve brought you a glass of milk.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just deal.”

An hour later, Errol tossed his cards on the table. Ten hands of five-card stud, and he’d lost every one. “I can’t win. You’re too good.”

Grinning, Joe pulled the stack of poker chips to the end of the table closest to his chair. “Lots of practice while on shift at the firehouse.”

“Want to keep playing?”

“Yeah.” Joe got out of the chair and settled on the couch next to Errol. “Let’s play.”

Joe leaned in and kissed him, gently at first, and then more insistently, teasing with his tongue until Errol opened. The bite of whiskey met Errol’s taste buds. Joe’s fingers pushed through Errol’s hair and held him, angling his head back.

Everything about the kiss promised more was on the way, and Errol moaned as Joe shifted attention to his neck, trailing kisses. Errol was already hard and ready for more.
Too many clothes
. He worked the buttons of Joe’s Henley, and Joe made short work of opening Errol’s flannel shirt. They each shrugged them off.

If Errol could see that chest for a lifetime, he’d never tire of looking at it. It wasn’t just the muscles and the smooth skin, although those were wonderful. It was the way it felt when he was cradled in Joe’s arms, the sense of safety and security, like nothing could hurt him.

Errol leaned in and kissed Joe’s chest, inhaling the wonderful, intoxicating evergreen-clove scent of him. Errol smiled against his skin and eyed his target. With a quick swipe, he licked Joe’s nipple.

“Hey!” Joe jerked away, and Errol straightened, putting on his most innocent face. With a growl and a grin, Joe grabbed Errol’s wrists and laid him back on the couch. “Watch it, mister.”

Laughing, Errol stretched out. Joe sealed their mouths together and moved on top. The heat of skin on skin felt wonderful; being completely naked would feel even better. Just the thought made him dizzy. Errol’s heart pounded in his ears. This time Joe might want to go further; Errol certainly did.

The kiss progressed to breathtaking, filling Errol’s senses. He traced his hands down Joe’s broad back, tucked his hands in Joe’s back pockets, and cupped that gorgeous ass. Joe groaned and worked his knee between Errol’s legs, and their hips met. Through the layers of denim, Errol could feel Joe’s hard-on jockey for space with his own. With a mutual gasp, the kiss broke. Errol’s head spun. Just kissing Joe was intoxicating. Joe rocked against him twice, and Errol whimpered.

“’S okay, sweetheart,” Joe whispered. His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he stroked Errol’s cheek.

Errol’s heart gave a little squeeze. Maybe this time it would be more than mutual blowjobs. Not that Errol had any problem with that. It was just… It could be more. And he wanted that. It had been months since Carson kicked him out, and Errol missed the closeness—mind and body. Carson never used endearments, inside the bedroom or out. Joe’s hungry mouth met his, and Errol arched up.

Joe broke the kiss and lifted back. His eyes were dark, hair mussed, lips parted. “Hang on.”

Hang on? Is he kidding?
Errol lay on the couch, gaze following Joe as he stood, grabbed the rolled-up rug, and dragged it over to the fireplace.

They stopped for this?

Joe knelt and unfurled the rug. It was some kind of pale fur, dense and soft-looking, and Joe crawled forward, smoothing the end of the rug. No animal head attached, thank God. With the cheery hearth, it looked homey.

Joe turned, smiled, and patted the rug. “C’mere.”

Ohh…

Errol hopped off the couch and padded over. He knelt in front of Joe, and Joe rose to his knees to meet him. Gripping each other’s faces, they kissed, one chaste press of lips. Without talking they reached for each other’s waistbands, unfastened the button flies, and pushed down denim and briefs.

Errol’s cock butted Joe’s, hot and hard, and Errol gasped. God, this was good. Joe cupped Errol’s butt in both hands and pulled them together, and a zing of awareness went through Errol. The tang of the whiskey persisted when Joe kissed him again, lips soft and lingering against Errol’s as Joe guided him onto his back. The rug had a dense natural pile and was warm and soft as an old sweater, and smelled of cedar. Joe tugged off Errol’s jeans and briefs and then stood and stripped off his own.

Magnificent. Joe was…perfect. The perfect male specimen to model for Escalade. Errol loved the look of Joe in the firelight and tucked that image away to pull out later. Joe sank to his knees and kissed down the middle of Errol’s chest, the scruff on Joe’s jaw an erotic scrape as he headed down. Errol curled his toes. As if he weren’t already aroused enough, practically ready to come just thinking about those lips wrapped around his shaft.

When Joe blew a stream of warm air over Errol’s dick, Errol had to hold his breath to clamp down on his arousal.

Joe looked up. “Don’t come yet.” A low growl filled his tone.

“I—I won’t.” He’d try, anyway.

Joe licked the shaft, sending hot tingles racing through his cock to his balls and up his spine. The wet warmth could only feel better if it engulfed Errol’s dick.

“Oh, fuck.” Errol knotted his hands in the thick fur of the rug. More hot air huffed over the hypersensitive skin, followed by a chuckle as Errol bit his lip.

“Should I stop?”

“No! No. Please
don’t
stop.”

Joe gave him a couple of strokes and swallowed him down. There was nothing like it, the pressure of a hot mouth. The heat and wet combining with the slide of lips and tongue ignited nerves Errol didn’t know he had. Razor stubble grazed his thigh, a hint of teeth ran the length of his shaft, and he squirmed a bit. Errol gasped, sucked in a breath, and let out a low moan.

Holy shit
. If Errol had thought Joe’s hands were talented, they were nothing compared to his mouth. Spontaneous combustion seemed a very real possibility. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a coherent thought. A tremor went through him. Raising his head, he locked gazes with Joe, who hummed something, sending wicked vibrations through Errol’s cock.

Tension gathered in the small of his back, crackled down through his perineum and pelvis, and lit nerve endings on fire. Errol clutched handfuls of the fur and dug his heels in.

Not yet, not yet.

Joe pulled off. “You okay?”

With a gasp, Errol let his legs go limp. “Yeah. Just…really stimulated.”

Nodding, Joe stroked Errol’s cock a couple of times. “What do you want?”

You
. Errol felt heat move into his face. What he wanted was so much more complicated than having sex.

Joe slid up next to him and kissed him. “You can tell me, sweetheart.”

“Can…can you…”

“Can I?”

“Can you fuck me?”

Joe stilled.

Stupid, stupid, stupid
. Errol should have known that was asking too much. After all, they’d barely progressed to oral—

“Yeah.” Joe smiled. “I can do that.”

Thank God. It had been so long
. Errol clenched his ass in anticipation. He took a shaky breath and gave an answering smile. Joe rose and headed for the bedside table. A drawer slid, closed, and he was back. He settled beside Errol and stroked his cheek.

“You have the bluest eyes,” Joe whispered.

Errol turned into the touch. “Please.”

Joe slid down next to him and kissed him, softly stroking Errol’s belly. The teasing touch detoured around his cock and journeyed to his inner thigh. Errol moved his legs apart. Joe snapped open a bottle, and the scent of spice filled the air.

“What are you using?”

Joe chuckled. “Flavored lube in candy apple. Sweet tooth, remember?”

“Mmm. Christmassy.”

There was the unmistakable squirt of the lube, followed by the delicate touch of Joe’s fingers trailing across Errol’s entrance. He shivered at the cool gel and tantalizing pressure—intimate and almost foreign. It had been a long time.
Relax
. Closing his eyes, he bent his knees. A few more feathering touches, and one finger slipped inside. Anxiety flooded Errol, and he froze. Intense. The finger didn’t move.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Just been a while.” Even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

Joe withdrew his finger and resumed administering kisses. He licked at the ticklish spot behind Errol’s ear, nipped at his jaw, and stroked his belly. The caresses helped, and Errol relaxed.

He wrapped his arms around Joe, stroking his muscled flanks. “I’m ready to try again.”

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

Errol nodded and buried his head against Joe’s shoulder.

Again Joe’s finger brushed Errol’s entrance.

You can do this. You
want
this
. This time he took a shaky breath and opened.

Joe kept kissing him and pushed a finger inside, spreading silky liquid in Errol’s channel. Yes, this was familiar, the stroking inside his body. That almost too-good electric zing radiated through Errol when Joe located his prostate.

“Ready for two?”

“Yeah. Yes.” Errol let his knees drop to the sides, improving access. Pressure built, and then the fullness of two fingers inside, pushing and stretching in a pantomime of fucking. Not exactly painful, but a sort of giddiness deep in his belly. Joe twisted his hand, bumping Errol’s prostate, and heat rippled out in shivery waves. Joe was good.

Errol pushed down on the digits. “More,” he whispered.

The fingers withdrew. Joe raised up on one elbow and rolled on a condom, slicked it, and knelt between Errol’s legs.

Errol pulled his knees toward his chest.
Here we go.

Instead of charging full speed ahead, Joe leaned forward and kissed him. “So beautiful, you know that?”

Wide-eyed, Errol looked up at him. No one said that.

Lining up his cock, Joe pressed the blunt tip against Errol’s entrance. The shaft seemed enormous; the pressure intensified, walking the fine line between pleasure and pain. Joe stroked Errol’s cock. The gentle slide stole Errol’s attention, and Joe’s dick popped past the tight ring of muscle. A low burn ran through Errol’s ass, and he tensed.

“Jesus, that’s tight.” Joe’s voice shook as he held steady.

Errol panted and squirmed a bit, trying to adjust. After so many months, the stretch was almost more than he could take.
Relax. Breathe. It’ll be good
. After a moment the spasms quit, and resistance melted away. Errol nodded, and Joe worked forward until he was all the way in.

“Okay?” Voice still shaky, Joe smoothed his hand over Errol’s stomach, and it reassured him.

“Yeah.” And Errol was. Joe was inside him, physically part of him.

Joe nodded, rocked a couple of times, and set up a rhythm. The thrusts scraped inside Errol’s channel, and then the discomfort became a pleasurable shock, tingling along his nerve endings.

Joe leaned over him, powerful arms supporting his weight. His mouth came down on Errol’s, calescent and hungry. Errol responded, lips and teeth meeting in a hard kiss tasting of whiskey and need. Joe gentled immediately, tongue teasing until they had to break for air.

Errol settled into the rhythm. They were in it together, this intimate give-and-take. This was what he needed. He wrapped his legs around Joe’s laboring body. The change in the angle let Joe’s cock slide over Errol’s prostate. The glittering strikes triggered intense electric pleasure that threatened to overwhelm his nervous system. Each thrust pushed him higher, wound him tighter.

The thrusts progressed to pounding, a more chaotic rhythm, rough. Errol moaned and arched up. Joe was going to make him come without touching his cock.

A wild tension built within him, sparkling along bone and nerve and muscle. With a helpless cry, he let go. The orgasm boiled out of him, erupting in white heat.

Joe strained above him, mouth open and panting, head thrown back. He took a few final strokes and yelled as he came, muffling the sound against Errol’s shoulder. For a few moments, it was all they could do to breathe.