Page 56 of Men in Shorts

“You love my drama,” John said.

“I do. I love—” Fergus looked inside the condom box, then sighed. “Really, John? Again?”

“What?”

Fergus shook the box upside down to demonstrate its emptiness.

John’s face crumpled. “Fuck! I knew I was forgetting something at the Tesco yesterday.” He turned and sat on the bed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” Fergus got up and went to the wardrobe, hiding his frustration at John’s forgetfulness. “You’ve got a lot on your mind with your studies.” Having finished a master’s degree less than a year ago, Fergus recalled how most days he’d have lost his own head were it not attached to his neck.

“It’s not all right,” John said. “I’ll buy more tonight, I promise.”

“Okay, but for now…” Fergus reached to the back of the upper shelf, searching for the emergency spare condom he’d hoarded after the last time John had forgotten to buy a new box.

“It’s not there,” John said.

“What do you mean it’s—” Fergus peered into the wooden compartment. “Where’d it go?”

“I found it last week, then just before bedtime the other night I remembered we’d no condoms, so I took the backup, which we then used.” He gave Fergus a hopeful smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a backup for the backup?”

“John!” Fergus clutched his own hair in frustration. “If you’d told me, I would’ve bought them.”

“I’m sorry. Truly.” He tilted his head at the pillow. “Let me make it up to you?”

Fergus sighed and glanced at the clock. There was still time to salvage their morning.

He lay on the bed beside John, who wasted no time kissing his way down Fergus’s chest and abs until he arrived at his cock. With one hand, John gave a long, slow upward stroke, sliding Fergus’s foreskin up so he could work his tongue inside it. There he made tiny, rapid flicks over Fergus’s head, sending a thousand shivers of pleasure racing through him.

Fergus gasped, fingernails scraping the sheets. He wanted to thrust upward, deep into John’s throat, but more than that, he wanted to savor this delirious teasing.

John shifted a little, switching hands so his other one could reach down and cup Fergus’s balls. His warm palm and softly stroking thumb made Fergus squirm, his toes spreading, then curling.

Then John slid Fergus’s sheath down, revealing his swollen, straining head. Gazing at Fergus with utter adoration, he began to feast.

Fergus fixed his gaze on those full lips, how they curved around his cock with such hunger, like they’d been made to consume him. And that tongue, working its way up and down his shaft, then circling his head, delivering so much wetness.

When their eyes met again, John smiled. “I love your cock.”

A wave of heat rolled up Fergus’s spine. “Yeah?” he panted. “Tell me.”

“I love how long it is.” John kept stroking him as he talked, interspersing his words with swipes of lips and tongue. “Even when you’re not hard, I cannae take my eyes off it.”

Fergus closed his own eyes, letting John’s voice wash over him.

“I love how slim it is,” John said. “It fits inside me, and even though it sends me to the moon and back, I can still walk the next day.”

Fergus smiled at the thought of John’s thick girth, which sometimes left him a wee bit wobbly.

“But the thing I love most,” John said, “is that it’s all mine.”

“Yes,” Fergus whispered. “All yours.”

“It belongs in my hands.” John wrapped both palms around Fergus’s shaft. “It belongs in my mouth.” He folded his lips around Fergus’s head for a moment, tonguing just beneath the ridge. “It belongs inside me.” He tightened his grip and pumped faster. “I want to feel it everywhere.”

“Yes…” With quaking thighs, Fergus thrust upward into John’s grasp, every nerve catching fire in an unstoppable chain reaction.

“All of it.”

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