Page 25 of Cross Checks

"Just let go. Let me take you there."

I did my best to relax, feeling my cock pulse against my hand as I moaned Hank's name. Next, I stroked feverishly until sparks flew through my body, the intensity of my pleasure bordering on pain. As I gasped for air, Hank's voice broke through the fog of my orgasm.

"Good man," he said, his voice thick and sexy. "I can't wait to watch you do that for real."

I shivered, already wanting it. Hank gave me one last heated look before finally disconnecting the call, his smirk making my heart flutter. As I stared at the black screen, I couldn't help but smile.

This is two guys falling in love, I thought to myself, feeling a satiated contentment settle over me.

Chapter8

Hank

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I stood by the oven in my kitchen, surrounded by the smells of Thanksgiving food cooking. I’d decided to throw caution to the wind and host a dinner with all the trimmings for Chase and me.

Neither of us planned to travel to dine with relatives, so it made sense to do it together. Chase said that hockey games often clustered around Thanksgiving, and he had a scheduled game the day after. That made it difficult to consider going anywhere away from home.

I’d helped a few times with the cooking in family Thanksgiving celebrations in the past, but I’d never come close to putting together an entire spread on my own. Following advice I found online, I prepped most of my dishes the night before, and now they were in the oven, cooking, while I awaited Chase’s arrival.

It was a huge leap in cooking ambition for me, and I prayed that it would all work out.

Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. When I pulled it open, my guest of honor stood there, and he wrapped me up in a hug.

He carried a bowl of cranberry relish. “I couldn’t decide what to bring, but my family always had some of this on the table. Do you need any help there in the kitchen. This is kind of a big project for you, right?”

I chuckled softly. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but it seems to be going pretty well.” I kissed him quickly and then returned to the kitchen to check the turkey.

“Is there anything Icando?” Chase asked, eager to assist if possible.

“Would you be willing to set the table? I’ve got some plates and silverware out here on the counter.” I pointed to a neat stack of china and cutlery. “If you could do that, I can closely watch the turkey. It’s nearly done.”

“I’m on it,” he insisted. I watched him for a moment, moving with athletic grace before I turned back to the oven to baste the turkey one last time.

My chest puffed out with pride as I viewed the golden-brown skin of the bird. It would be perfect, and it was the most critical part of the entire meal.

“Hey, Hank,” Chase called from the parlor, which doubled as a dining room. “Do you have any more cloth napkins? I can’t seem to find them.”

“Check the bottom drawer by the fridge. Didn’t I put enough out for the two of us?”

“Umm, I might have dropped one behind the radiator. We can get it out later. Oh, found the others!” I turned to see him triumphantly holding up an orange cloth napkin.

I pulled the turkey out of the oven and set it on a grate on the kitchen counter to rest. After pulling together two pumpkin-spiced lattes, I said, “The turkey has to rest for half an hour. Would you like to watch the parade?”

Asking wasn’t necessary. Chase was already in the living room with the remote control pointed at the TV. “Yeah, that would be great,” he called, “as soon as I can find it.”

I carried our coffee mugs into the living room and settled onto the couch when Chase finally found the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. He sat and leaned against me. We soon laughed as we critiqued the floats and mini-shows on the street.

“Look at that one,” he chuckled, pointing at a particularly garish float. “It’s like they couldn’t figure out what color scheme to use, so they threw everything on it.”

I laughed along with him, happy to share such a relaxing domestic scene with my boyfriend. I rested my head on his shoulder and couldn’t believe we started with me rescuing him from a fire.

After twenty more minutes of wild floats and adorable massive balloons, Chase asked, “Do you need any help with the side dishes?”

“Sure, you can be a big help. Let’s head back to the kitchen.”

I poured each of us a glass of wine we could sip as I finished the last touches for our meal. The green beans and squash looked perfect. However, the sweet potatoes were a problem. I’d somehow managed to burn the marshmallows on top.

When I pulled the dish from the oven, I growled, “Damn,” when I saw the fluffy white topping turned to a blackened, crispy mess.

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