Page 45 of Saving Mr. Bell

“Arlo Thomas was here?”

“Classy.”

“Property of Arlo Thomas?”

“I don’t think that would stand up in a court of law.”

Rudolf laughed. It cut off abruptly as I slid my lubed fingers between those perfectly muscled cheeks of his and brushed the pad of my thumb over his hole. He relaxed forward, resting his forehead on his arms, the only sound his labored breathing. “So this is how I get you to shut up,” I teased as I pressed the tip of my thumb inside.

“Until I start squealing, yes.”

“You can squeal as loud as you want here and no one will hear you.”

Rudolf laughed silently, his body shaking. “On my first night here, I would have taken that as a threat.”

I pushed my thumb deeper to open him up. In this position, all bets were off to how long I’d last once I got inside him, so the least I could do was offer a measure of foreplay. I gave him a few strokes with my thumb before swapping it out for a finger, and then two, Rudolf gyrating beneath my ministrations. My other hand wasn’t idle, sliding over thigh, stomach, and nipples, before finally wrapping around Rudolf’s hard cock. I kept it still, just feeling the weight of it resting in my hand as I gave his arse my full focus, Rudolf’s moans coming at more regular intervals. And because it was him, they were almost musical. I might have joked about the music we’d been playing being the carol of Rudolf Bell. This, though.Thiswas the carol of Rudolf Bell.

“Fuck me, Arlo. Fuck me like you mean it.”

How was I supposed to turn down a request like that? And I did mean it as I climbed on the bed, rested my hands on his lower back, and pushed slowly inside. This would be someone else soon. But today, it was me. And I was going to make him come so hard he’d see stars.

We found a rhythm quickly, Rudolf’s back muscles flexing as I drove into him and he pushed back. In this position, hepersonified topping from the bottom, Rudolf still managing to be the one in charge. I stroked his cock while I fucked him. Or at least I thought I did, but maybe it was more Rudolf fucking my fist. We filled the room with harsh pants and moans as we worked toward our common goal. My hands left indentations on his skin from how hard I gripped him as I thrust harder and deeper, straining to fuck him the way he wanted it. “I could fuck you forever,” I gasped out, barely aware of what I was saying as pleasure gathered at the base of my spine.

Rudolf shook beneath me with silent laughter. “Lovely sentiment, but I’d be way too sore.”

We let our bodies do the talking after that, coming so close together it was as near as damn it simultaneous. Certainly the closest I’d ever managed. I dealt with the condom immediately before joining Rudolf in the bed, my lover still breathing heavily. He turned his head toward me and I kissed him. Kissing was the one thing missing from the fuck I knew would prove the yardstick for sexual partners for years to come.

We lay together under the covers for some time, sometimes kissing, sometimes talking about meaningless stuff, sometimes tracing patterns on each other’s skin, but always touching. It was a moment in time I wished I could freeze. A moment that told me I’d been right to fear falling for Rudolf, but that it was too late because I already had.

Chapter Seventeen

Rudolf

The last few days had lasted both a lifetime and no time at all. And yes, I recognized that wasn’t possible, but that was how it felt. Arlo and I were inseparable. We’d baked bread together. Mostly Arlo, with me watching and pretending I was interested in what he was doing rather than just him. We’d chopped wood. Complete role reversal there, with Arlo doing the watching andurging me to do it shirtless so he could take some photos to sell to the media. We’d bickered during both.

We’d gone for long walks in the snow without running into any more wolves. We’d played stupid board games that I’d deny playing until my last breath, but that had made me laugh so much I couldn’t breathe. We’d bickered some more. We’d worked our way through Arlo’s supply of condoms, my lover still unable to come up with a convincing reason he’d had them with him.

We’d made a snowman. The biggest and best snowman. Arlo’s words, not mine, but I’d secretly agreed. We’d shared things about ourselves from the past six years. Thoughts. Hopes. Dreams. Arlo dreamed of winning an Oscar for one of his documentaries. I just dreamed of being happy and fulfilled, of having the freedom to express myself. We’d played the piano some more. I’d even attempted to teach Arlo a more complicated piece, fitting my hands over his like some parody of the famous scene fromGhost,but without the pottery wheel.

The tree, however, remained undecorated, apart from the snowman Arlo had placed on it a few nights ago. “It might catch on,” I said.

Arlo rolled his head my way from where he sprawled across the sofa in just a pair of shorts. “What might?”

I slid my hand up his thigh, loving the feel of the hair beneath my palms. But then there wasn’t anywhere on Arlo I didn’t like to touch. Crease between his neck and his shoulder. Soft inner thigh. Ticklish armpit. Hell, even his ankle hadn’t escaped my attentions. I’d mapped every inch of Arlo and still intended on checking I hadn’t missed anywhere. “Minimalist tree decorating. You could trademark it and pass it off as some kind of statement. A rage against the commercialization of Christmas or something. Follow it up with a documentary.”

Arlo threw a cushion at me. I caught it and threw it back, laughing when Arlo’s supine position meant he couldn’t move fast enough to avoid it and it hit him in the face. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, Thomas.”

“I told you what happened with the tree. I got a better offer. Would you rather I’d taken one look at you on your hands and knees as naked as the day you were born and said, hang on, I’ll be back in a bit once I’ve decorated the tree.”

“If you had, you wouldn’t still be breathing. And I’d have set fire to the tree. Which would have made all my efforts in chopping it down with my superior axe expertise completely pointless.” Arlo rolled his eyes at “superior axe expertise,” but I let it go to wander over to the tree. “It doesn’t seem right that only you’ve put your stamp on it, though.” I rifled through the box of decorations, bypassing the snowmen to see what lay beneath. Angels? Nope. Didn’t really do it for me. Little Santas. Better, but not ideal. “Ah!” I announced. “There isn’t really anything else that could represent me, is there?”

I plucked out a reindeer and, after some careful consideration, added it right next to the snowman. So close that they touched when they swayed. “Voila!”

“Voila indeed,” Arlo said with a laugh. He pushed himself up to sitting on the sofa. “C’mere.”

I went, Arlo wrapping his arms around my back and burying his nose in my crotch. “Want me to blow you?”

Was that even a question? Was the pope Catholic and all that jazz? I couldn’t imagine ever saying no to an offer like that from him. “Yeah!” I could already picture the rest of the afternoon. We’d made tentative plans to revisit the treehouse to see if we could see the wolf cubs again. That wouldn’t happen. The afternoon would be a slow, sticky celebration of naked bodies and I was all for it. They had wolves in zoos. Or I could just look at a picture of one.

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