Page 55 of Men in Shorts

At the sight of John’s wet, naked form, Fergus could barely wait to yank off his clothes, nearly stepping into the shower fully dressed.

The scalding water made Fergus gasp. “Ah! Hot! Hot!”

“Sorry.” John adjusted the tap. “Better?”

“Aye.” Fergus checked to see his skin was still on his body. “How do you stand it like that?”

“It’s cold this morning.” John slid his hands around Fergus’s waist, then grasped his arse to bring their bodies tight together. “Or itwas, rather.”

John’s skin was slick and smooth under Fergus’s hands, his arm and chest muscles bulging as he tightened his grip. Fergus felt his own cock turn solid as an iron girder.

John broke away for a moment and handed Fergus the bottle of shampoo. “Wash your hair while I get you sorted.” Then he slicked his hands with soap and took Fergus’s cock between his palms.

Groaning, Fergus tried to squeeze out a reasonable amount of shampoo, but the pressure down below caused him to spurt a large dollop of the milky-white substance.

John smirked at the sight. “Ooh, that looks filthy.”

Laughing, Fergus stooped to fit his six-foot-four frame beneath the showerhead. The tiny stall made it awkward, especially combined with John’s five-foot-eight height.

John stroked him slowly, keeping him hard but not catapulting him toward orgasm. Clearly he wanted more than a quick mutual wank, and Fergus was happy to oblige. He shampooed, rinsed, then reluctantly conditioned, wishing his hair wouldn’t turn into a frizzy auburn disaster without that second, time-consuming step. He needed to leave for work, but he needed something else first.

Fergus leaned over and murmured in John’s ear. “Can I fuck you this morning?”

“You’d better.” He turned away from Fergus and pressed back against him. “I wish we could do it right here.”

“Me too.” Fergus bent his knees to slide his aching cock in the valley between John’s arse cheeks. John flexed his glutes to clutch at him, and Fergus could wait no longer. He turned off the water and pushed open the glass door. They grabbed towels on the way out, hurrying toward the bedroom.

Theirbedroom. Even after three months of cohabitation, Fergus was still elated to wake up beside John every morning and fall asleep beside him every night. Not to mention all the moments in between—watching telly, cooking dinner, or just having a whinge-fest about work or uni over a cup of tea.

And of course there was the sex.

They made their way toward the bed, stepping over John’s scattered clothes, shoes, and university books.

“Sorry about the mess.” John sat on the bed and ran the towel over his hair. “I was looking for my wallet.”

“Did you find it?”

“Aye, at the bottom of the wardrobe.” John gestured over his shoulder to the oaken container where the two of them crammed all their clothes. “I’d left it in my jeans pocket and when I hung them, it fell out.” He grinned at Fergus. “That’s what I get for putting my things away like a civilized person for a change.”

Fergus returned the smile as he finishing drying off. This bedroom had seemed so spacious back when he’d slept in it alone. Now, with John’s clutter occupying every horizontal surface, the room often felt cramped. But one look at John in their bed reminded Fergus thatcrampedreally meantcozy, becausespacioushad really meantlonely.

With a single swipe of fingers, John’s hair settled perfectly against his scalp and forehead. Fergus loved the feel of those silky, espresso-colored strands against his hands, stomach, and thighs. Watching him dry it was one of those everyday actions that doubled as a massive turn-on.

John tossed the towel aside, then turned to kneel on the bed, gripping the wooden headboard with both hands. He gave Fergusthe lookover his shoulder, a look that needed no words.

Wasting not a moment, Fergus knelt on the bed behind John. “Mind the headboard.”

“Oops.” John stretched up to plant his hands on the wall. “Don’t want to break it in half this time.”

Fergus chuckled, remembering how they’d put a hairline fracture in the restored-driftwood headboard two nights ago when they were in a similar position with roles reversed.

He reached around to grasp John’s cock, provoking anOchof longing. Fergus kissed his way down, stroking all the while, and by the time he made it to John’s arse, his boyfriend was trembling with need.

Though they’d not much time for teasing, Fergus did it anyway, swirling his tongue around the outside of John’s smooth, clean hole, feeling John’s cock jerk with each swipe.

“Fergus…” he whimpered. “If you don’t fuck me this instant, I’m gonnae die.”

“Always so dramatic, you.” Fergus reached over to retrieve the lube and the box of condoms from the bedside-table drawer. Though John was still usually the top, he always seemed eager to have Fergus inside him.

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