Page 93 of Must Love Christmas

Simon wished he could be surprised by this insight. He wished he could at least pretend to hide his adoration. But he’d felt his own eyes crinkle round the edges every time he looked at Garen or heard his voice.

He picked up the bowl with the pink icing. “Your chest is almost too hairy to paint.”

“I am Russian,” Garen said in a broad Slavic accent. “Remember, our national animal is bear.”

Simon chuckled. “You said you identified as Scottish.”

“Scottish and Russian,” Garen replied in his regular voice. “Just like you’re Greek and English, right?”

“Greek and British,” Simon corrected. “Lately ‘English’ feels very specifically Anglo. It’s not a label I feel welcome to use anymore.”

“Because of your dad?”

“Yeah, and not just because of how he’s been treated recently. There’s a general mood down there now, like certain people don’t want to share English-ness with immigrants. It’s only a minority, but it’s a loud one.”

Garen angled his head so Simon could paint the side of his neck. “Do you think things will ever go back to the way they were?”

Simon paused. “Doubt it. This year’s been so…”

“Cataclysmic?”

“Exactly.” Simon wanted to say that meeting Garen was the best part of the last twelve months, and he wouldn’t trade that just to be rid of all the bad events, including his illness. But unlike his boyfriend, he wasn’t keen on blurting out his feelings.

He dipped his brush into the pink icing again. “In other news, I’ve got no idea where else to paint your hairy self.”

“Just do your best,” Garen said.

“Actually, there are two other bare-ish spots.” Simon drew the brush over Garen’s left nipple.

Garen arched his back and released a throaty laugh. “That feels good.”

“Does it?” Simon did the other side, a bit more firmly, making Garen squirm harder. “Oh look, we’re all out of nipples. Hold on, we can start over.” He bent over and licked off the icing he’d just applied, watching Garen’s face light up with pleasure. Then he moved to the other side and sucked hard, swirling his tongue until he’d lapped up all the sweetness. “Time to reapply.”

This time he used his fingers to smear the icing over Garen’s nipples, pressing and pinching until they were fully covered and Garen was bunching the towel beneath him in his fists. Then Simon feasted again, this time with a light, flickering tongue, the better to tease.

“Och…” Garen slid his hands over his own hips toward his rising erection. “Are we done soon?”

“The plan was to paint you first and fuck you second.”

“It’s a great plan, but please hurry.”

Simon set down the brush and plunged one hand into the bowl of pink icing and the other into the yellow. Then he dragged his fingers down over Garen’s ribs, creating streaks against his skin.

“What a mess,” Garen gasped out. “Can’t believe this was your idea.”

“Just you wait.”

Garen took him in hand and began to stroke, swirling his thumb over Simon’s cock head. “I told you, I can’t wait.”

Simon didn’t need convincing. He hurriedly cleaned his hands on the spare towel, then grabbed the condoms and lube from Garen’s bedside table.

Still on his back, Garen asked, “You want to switch places so I can ride you again?”

“No. You stay.”

Garen’s brows dipped. “You sure you’re—”

“I’m sure. I don’t know how good I’ll be, but I want to try.”

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