Page 212 of Men in Shorts

“Aye, my halo was a brilliant disguise.” He flipped his hand to press the back of it—the part not yet warmed—just above Duncan’s navel.

“All right, that’s it.” Duncan seized Brodie’s waist with both hands.

The shock of cold stopped Brodie’s breath. It was a right battle to show only a slight wince. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Duncan flicked a glance down, then bobbed his eyebrows. “That’s definitely not all I’ve got.”

“Show me, then.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely show you.” Duncan planted an icy foot on Brodie’s shin.

“Aaaah!” Brodie tried to wriggle away. “Stop!”

Duncan held him fast. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m not sorry.” He slipped his arm around Duncan and pulled him close. The warmth of chest-to-chest contact made him gasp.

Their kiss was clumsy at first, thanks to their laughter. But their mouths soon softened as legs tangled and bodies aligned.

What a gift it was to hold Duncan again, to kiss him endlessly, to relearn his angles and curves. It was all Brodie had wanted this Christmas.

Part of him had feared that their time apart would alter their relationship. He’d grown and changed so much while away, how could their connection not be affected?

Duncan had changed too. His demeanor during their last game today proved how much he’d mellowed. That fiery heart still burned within him, but now he could contain its flames so they wouldn’t damage others or start a larger inferno.

Miraculously, they’d growntogetherinstead of growing apart.

One thing hadn’t changed, though: the way Brodie’s body craved Duncan’s touch.

“I want to feel you,” Duncan whispered, shifting his hand down between them. “Is that okay? Let me know if this is going too fast. It’s been a while.”

“It’s okay—no, more than okay. It’s good. It’s—” Brodie’s breath heaved as Duncan gently took hold of his cock. “It’s affa good.”

Then he lost words, overwhelmed by the zaps of pleasure zooming through him, all the way down to his toes. Duncan slowly stroked him, easing his foreskin up and down and giving the base of his shaft a firm squeeze just the way he liked it.

Duncan brushed his mouth over Brodie’s, drifting the tip of his tongue under his upper lip. Brodie sighed and reached lower, for the thing he craved above all else right now.

“Mm-mm.” Duncan batted his hand away. “You first. You did win the bonspiel, after all.”

“It was technically a draw, so to be fair we should have simultaneous orgasms.”

Duncan shifted to kiss his throat, still stroking him. “You would’ve won if you’d thrown that last stone.”

“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll never know.”

He moved lower, to Brodie’s chest. “You also won Naked Race Under the Covers.”

“This is extremely true.”

Duncan barely teased him at all, nipping the rise of Brodie’s hip bone—a spot that always made him squirm with anticipation and a hint of ticklishness—before bringing his mouth so near his cock that Brodie felt his warm breath.

Then he kissed it with open lips, just under the ridge of the head. A drop of pre-come appeared, and he licked it off with a low, hungry noise.

Brodie moaned and closed his eyes, but only for a second. He would witness every moment of this miracle.

He ran a hand through Duncan’s hair, the lighter brown strands glinting in the faerie lights. Then he clutched it as Duncan took him deeper and deeper with each long, slow, tight stroke of his mouth.

He swept his gaze over Duncan’s broad shoulders, over the familiar constellations of freckles, over the subtle flex of muscles as his hands worked their magic. The rest of him was covered by the duvet, all but one bare foot sticking out on the side. Brodie had always loved those feet, despite Duncan’s claim they were battered ugly from the miles they’d run and the footballs they’d blasted into goals.

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