Seasons Greetings (3 page)

Crap.

Both Lacey and Sandy were chatting in front of the coffee machine. Russ stood sullenly to the side as Mike pushed past them, absently handing the yellow rabbit off to Lacey.

“What do you guys think about decorating the office for Christmas?” Lacey asked excitedly. “I brought in garland, and tinsel, and some other stuff I found in my mom’s storage unit. Sandy brought some in too.” She tucked the rabbit under her arm, but Russ knew the damn thing was still looking at him. Why did he feel so guilty? He didn’t
do
anything.

“I think it sucks.” Russ meant to hang back, but instead there he was. Mouth open, ready to insert foot. “How can I concentrate on the Easter deadline when everyone around me is all gaga about Christmas? And what’s up with you people anyway? There’s no snow; you can’t have a decent snowball fight. Nothing in this state even reminds me that it’s supposed to be Christmas other than the stupid music and some decorations on a palm tree.”

Four pairs of eyes stared at Russ after his outburst. Mike, Sandy, Lacey, and the damn rabbit. Make that five—Ian had walked up beside them. Lacey looked ready to cry.

“Somebody woke up on the McGrumpy side of the bed this morning.” Sandy shook her head. “We really need to work on your attitude, Russ. I count on you to help keep the morale of the team high.”

“You didn’t score last night, did you.” It wasn’t a question. Mike shook his head sorrowfully. “Don’t worry. I’m not out of ideas yet. We can still fix this.”

*  *  *

“
You
think the holly will look all right over here?” Ian asked. “We can go all around the ceiling with the longer pieces and then maybe add some of the contrast color and those hanging paper things Sandy left.”

“Sure.” Russ was still confused as to how he had been talked into staying after work to hang Christmas decorations with Ian. Unable to concentrate after the scene at the coffee machine, he’d sat at his desk in a daze, so busy avoiding Mike and his thousand and one suggestions that he couldn’t remember what he had agreed to when Lacey and Sandy cornered him at his desk and read him the riot act.

At least Ian was talking to him again instead of silently watching him. “Why are we doing this when I’m supposed to be thinking Easter thoughts?” Russ asked.

“Christmas? Happy Holidays? Season’s Greetings?” Ian grunted, stretching his arm higher as he stepped back to check the position of the garland. “Any of those ring a bell?”

“But it’s not even snowing. How can anybody get excited about the holidays when it doesn’t snow?” Russ knew he was repeating himself, but he had to struggle not to stare at Ian’s ass despite the way he morphed into Suzy Decorator right before Russ’s disbelieving eyes.

“Why are you living in Florida, exactly?” Obviously not satisfied Ian moved the stand of garland an inch higher and gave Russ another one of the weird looks he’d been giving him all day.

Distracted, Russ answered without thinking. “Because it was as far from home as I could get at the time.” Shocked at the truth he had given away, Russ swayed and almost fell off the wheeled chair he balanced on in lieu of much-needed but nonexistent ladder. He grabbed at his end of the long streamer of fake holly before it could hit the floor.

He looked to see if Ian had caught his slip. Ian had taken off his gray, button-down shirt, and the black, sleeveless undershirt worn underneath it did nothing to hide a single muscle from Russ’s overactive libido. Russ tried to change the subject before Ian could respond. “Is it hot in here?”

“Nah, just you.” Ian grinned at him, lean cheeks crinkling into those familiar dimples, and Russ’s strange feeling deepened. “Mike would say you’re having a hot flash.”

“Mike’s an ass.” Russ used his free hand to wipe at the sweat collected on his forehead. Talk about torture. He stared at the tufts of coarse hair visible when Ian raised his arm overhead once again, biceps bulging and forearms flexing as he held the reflective green strands against the corner in yet another position. Russ swore under his breath and shifted to find a more comfortable fit in his trousers.

“He’s
your
friend,” Ian teased as he used the Lacey’s stapler to tack the garland to the wall. “Actually, he’s told me a lot about you.”

“Lies, all of it vicious lies.” Russ replied automatically, busy watching Ian step lightly off the chair he stood on (no wheels, the lucky bastard) and walk across the room to Russ.

“Some of it’s pretty interesting.” Russ struggled not to notice that when Ian stopped, his face stayed level with Russ’s crotch. “Apparently you are quite the legend.” Ian’s voice sounded lower than usual, rougher. Russ felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity. He knew Ian, didn’t he?

“Shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” The sweat rolled down Russ’s face, and Ian’s closeness made him twitch uncomfortably. Why wouldn’t Ian stop looking at him?

“I’ve learned all about how you don’t do relationships. How you only like one-night stands and never do the same guy twice.” Ian licked his lips, and Russ tried not to fixate on the moisture-slicked surfaces. “Put together with some of the stuff you’ve told me, and it’s all beginning to make sense.”

“Did I mention Mike has a really big mouth?” Russ replied weakly. Pink. Ian’s lips were a pale pink. God, he was in trouble. He was definitely going to kill Mike tomorrow, right after he killed himself.

“The only question I kept asking myself was why you never hit on me. And you know what?”

Russ swallowed, unable to answer as Ian’s hands moved in slow motion before coming to rest on Russ’s thighs. “I think you’re afraid you’ll come back for more.”

The chair rocked with Russ’s sudden jerk, only Ian’s firm grip keeping him upright. Oh shit. Russ’s mind went totally blank.

Ian was right.

“Russ?”

“Yeah?” Russ stared down into Ian’s hazel eyes. They were more gold than green tonight. Arousal, sharp and unexpected, jolted through him as Ian turned his head and rested his cheek against the front of Russ’s pants.

“You can let go of the holly now,” Ian whispered. Russ swore he felt the heat of Ian’s breath despite the fabric as he shivered. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t know what to do next. After telling himself Ian was off-limits for so long, this new and surprisingly grabby Ian had him totally blindsided.

“Are you going to make me climb on that chair?” Ian smiled, not his usual cheerful grin, but one darker and edged with purpose. Russ thought there should be singe marks on his pants where Ian’s palms rested on his ass and urged him down to the floor with gentle pressure.

“Ian?” Russ questioned unsteadily as he obeyed Ian’s commanding grasp and allowed himself to drawn off the chair. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Russ.” Ian’s deep voice soothed Russ as he tightened his grip on Russ’s hips and pulled him close enough to press their lips together. “You’ll figure it out.” 

4

Russ
wouldn’t even have called the delicate caress a kiss. Just a light brush that made Russ close his eyes to better concentrate on the sensations the faint pressure roused. He tried to remember all his reasons why this was such a bad idea but couldn’t come up with one. This was good. This was better than good. He knew Ian’s lips curved into their ever-present smile as he stepped back and started to speak, but Russ decided he didn’t want to hear any more words.

He let his fingers trail across Ian’s muscular forearms, holding Ian’s hands on his hips. Russ kept his eyes shut, afraid to look up as he chased after Ian’s lips, and he shuddered when Ian eagerly slid his tongue into Russ’s mouth. Their lips caught and held as they learned each other’s flavor.

Coffee and cherry candy. Ian tasted a combination of the two, and Russ thought he’d die for the right to kiss Ian like this all day—long, sweet, and slow. He felt overheated and dizzy with the reality of Ian pressed up against him. His head spun, and he didn’t notice when Ian moved them toward the couch in the foyer until the cushioned edge bumped the back of his thighs

“Russ.” Ian sighed as he finally broke the kiss. “What am I going to do with you?”

Ian was using that voice again. Russ’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes squeezed shut with the surge of desire created by the low rumble. “Whatever you want?” he finally managed to force out, unable to help the way he turned the statement into a question.

Ian chuckled. A low, heated noise that made Russ shiver in response. Ian stroked one big hand down Russ’s back to the curve of his ass, and long, clever fingers pressed against the seam of Russ’s pants, massaging the material deeper into the crease.

“Oh hell.” Unable to help himself, Russ covered the line of Ian’s jaw with wet, open-mouthed kisses and ground his crotch onto Ian’s leg, seeking the pressure of the firm muscle against the hard ridge of his cock.

“You want this, don’t you?” Ian whispered again. He worked the seam deeper between Russ’s cheeks, moving in small, almost delicate circles until Russ wanted to rip his pants out of the way and let those fingers slide against his skin and slip inside. “You want me?”

“What do you think?” Russ muttered helplessly, searching for Ian’s lips and another heated kiss.

“Tell me what you want, Russ.” Ian’s hand moved back up to Russ’s spine, and Russ sighed with pleasure when Ian finally pushed underneath Russ’s shirt and rubbed the soft skin spot above his tailbone. “Ask me for it.”

Russ thought he would explode from the sound of Ian’s voice; hot and
ohsodirty
right next to his ear. “Anything. Everything. I don’t care.” His voice sounded raw and needy, and Russ couldn’t believe Ian had him so worked up with only a few kisses and touches.

The room spun; Russ felt dizzy and disorientated. Then his face pushed against the cushions and Ian pressed close behind him. He moaned when Ian pulled his pants and briefs down to his knees, all the while muttering wonderfully filthy things into Russ’s ear. The words didn’t matter, only the want and need that made everything sharp and clear enough for Russ to understand the meaning behind Ian’s rough fumbles.

“Oh yeah.” Russ’s hips flexed instinctively up and back as he took the tube of hand lotion Ian must have borrowed along with Lacey’s stapler and opened the bottle. He groaned as he squeezed out the creamy fluid, and his stomach fluttered as he watched it cover Ian’s shaking fingers. Russ bit his lower lip, bracing himself on the couch, spreading his thighs wide against the tension of his pants caught beneath his knees.

There was a second when Russ knew how he must look: the contradiction between his submissive position and the latent power visible in the broad muscles of his back and shoulders. He wondered if Ian saw it, if he got off on the contrast, and then there was no more time and no more thought. There was only Ian’s fingers trembling against him before two pressed deep without further hesitation, the sweet sting, and the burning stretch, and then the needy sounds the two of them made as they groaned.

Russ dropped his head down beneath his shoulders, his mouth open and his breath harsh as he pushed back onto Ian’s fingers. Too soon, but he couldn’t stop. He fucked himself slowly, relishing the pressure and the building sensation of pleasure, the drag and slide until everything inside him relaxed.

He savored the sharp intake of breath as Ian watched him rock back and forth. Ian moaned each time Russ pushed against him and leaned down to lick at the light sheen of sweat coating Russ’s skin.

“You should see how you look.” Ian bit the words out across the sharp indentations of Russ’s spine. His mouth was hot and wet as he sucked dark splotches to the surface. “The way you’re opening yourself up for me—”

Russ grunted at Ian’s shudder. Before Russ managed an answer, a way to share the impact of Ian’s verbal seduction, his coherency vanished with the addition of a third finger, and nothing Russ could do or say made any sense. All he knew was the thrust and circle of his hips until the grip of Ian’s other hand forced him to stop.

“Enough. God, Russ. I can’t wait.”

Damn, but Ian was good at this. Russ lost track of time, but Ian’s pants were down now as well and their skin clung, cemented together with damp sweat. Russ ached at the emptiness when Ian’s fingers disappeared, but before Russ could mourn the loss, the heavy weight of Ian’s body draped over him.

Russ reached back to stroke Ian’s hip. His want was fueled by the tension under the taut skin, the heat from Ian’s burning flesh melted into his, and Ian’s hands gripped at his hips roughly. The air surrounding them became charged with electricity, sparking as Russ heard the crinkle of the small packet and then finally knew the smooth, hard thrust of Ian’s cock between his thighs and the insistent press against where he’d stretched himself slick and open.

Ian hovered for a breathless second, body motionless except for his hands. They traveled greedily over Russ’s arms, caressing and squeezing the firm muscle until Russ shivered and moaned again. He shoved his face into the couch and spread his legs wider in welcome.

“So good.” Ian gritted out against Russ’s neck. “It’s going to be so damn good.” With those words the wait was over, and Ian slowly rocked his hips forward. Small, tiny pulses and Ian lost himself and pushed deep at the same time Russ gave up waiting and pressed back in demand.

Russ couldn’t help but tremble. He panted, breathless as he rode the sensation of being stretched around Ian and Ian, hot and hard and so alive inside him. It was overwhelmingly intimate, and he wanted to run and hide away before he broke into a million pieces. But Ian knew, and Ian wouldn’t let him hide. Instead Ian pulled him up and back, settling Russ down on his cock, driving deeper as his hands stroked over Russ’s neck and chest, soothing and arousing at the same time.

“Come on,” Ian breathed. His teeth caught the curve of Russ’s ear, guttural murmurs lost in the side of Russ’s neck. His fingers dug deep into Russ’s skin, splayed out against his belly, and held him firm as they rocked together. Sweat and tension built until Ian hit that perfect spot, and Russ had no choice but to let everything go.