Page 69 of Men in Shorts

“Not as crass as me answering ‘I hope to come here very soon.’”

John laughed, then examined Fergus from head to toe, imagining he truly was glimpsing him for the first time.

Fergus’s endless legs extended from beneath his towel, his thighs and calves flexing as he pressed his feet to the floor. The towel was slung low on his hips, and John could see the thin line of red hair descending from his navel. When Fergus rested his arms on the bar, John let his gaze wander over the freckles on his shoulders, finding new constellations he’d never noticed before.

“So…” Fergus raked his gaze over John’s biceps, which he was not-so-subconsciously flexing. “Have you ventured downstairs?”

“No, is it nice?”

“Not a bit.”

Calvin returned with Fergus’s tea and cheesy toast, half of which he shared with John, on account of all the carbs. As they ate, Fergus told John about his odyssey through the lower level, including the nine-way steam room orgy (“I literally did not know where to put my eyes”), the jangly darkroom threesome (“I’ll never hear sleigh bells the same way again”), and finally his running the gauntlet down the corridor of private cabins.

John was laughing hard when Fergus added, “And then I saw my ex-boyfriend.”

John stopped laughing, nearly choking on his bite of toast. “You saw—wait, what?” His heart began to pound.

“It wasn’t him. It only looked like him.” Fergus took another sip of tea, then set the cup on its saucer with a clatter. “But it made me realize why I came here today.”

John reached out to brush his fingertips against Fergus’s arm. “Why is that?”

Fergus stared at the menu on the wall as he crunched his toast. Finally he swallowed and said, “I wanted to prove I wasn’t afraid.”

“Did it work?”

“No.” He turned his head and met John’s eyes. “I’ll always be afraid. But I won’t let it come between me and the love of my life.” Fergus blinked and glanced away. “If I find him here, that is.”

John collected himself before answering, as Fergus’s words had made him a bit melty. “This isn’t the sort of place one usually finds love.”

“All the more reason to grab it if I do, aye?”

“Aye,” John breathed. He slid his left foot around Fergus’s right calf. “And never let go.”

Fergus looked down, then up at John’s face. “Are you getting ideas about me, erm…John, was it?”

“I’ve an idea you might fancy getting me alone.” He stroked Fergus’s leg with his toes, opening his own legs wider. “Seeing what I’ve got under this towel.”

Fergus reached down and seized John’s foot, which he pulled up into his lap. Then he slid a hand up John’s calf, behind his knee.

When Fergus’s fingers reached the edge of his towel, John felt his own balls lift and tighten. A moment later, his hard-on was at its peak, a peak he’d been climbing ever since Fergus had sat beside him.

“I don’t want to see it,” Fergus whispered, his hand sliding over John’s inner thigh. “I want to hold it.”

John let out a little moan of affirmation.

“May I?” The back of Fergus’s fingertips brushed John’s balls. “May I hold it?”

“Yes. You may.” His voice shook with desire.

Fergus leaned in close, bringing his mouth to John’s ear. “May I suck it?”

“Yes,” John said, not caring when or where it happened, as long as he could get his cock inside this man’s ravenous mouth.

Fergus kissed John’s earlobe, exhaling a breath that made John shiver. “May I take it deep in my arse and fuck it until we come?”

John couldn’t manage ayes, but his whole body screamed it on his behalf. He pulled Fergus into a deep, hard kiss, his blood singing with need.

After a moment, Fergus stood suddenly, backing out of John’s embrace. He turned his head toward the café door, the one leading to the Jacuzzi room. Then he licked his lips, blinking rapidly, as though on the verge of a big decision.

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