Page 31 of One More Yule Log
They stomped their feet clear and headed into the mudroom, hung up coats, and pulled off their snowy boots.
“Come in. Would you like a fire?” Ben asked, ruffling his hair back into place.
“If it’s not too much trouble. That would be a hoot.” They could make out.
“Gas fireplace. No problem at all.” Ben winked at him and grabbed a remote. The fire blazed to life. The warmth was immediate, even if the smell was a little odd for a few seconds.
“I think I remember where the silverware is.” Gray moved around to the kitchen.
“Grab two glasses while you’re in there, please, honey?”
“Yessir.” He found a pair of wineglasses made for red wine, and he only spared a moment to wonder if Ben had bought these before or after his husband passed.
“Thank you.” Ben brought over a bottle and a corkscrew. “This is my favorite wine. It reminds me of being warm and happy.”
“Mmm.” He took both when Ben offered, showing off his never–to-be-forgotten wine-opening skills from when he’d waited tables. “Ta-da.”
“Oh, you’re good. Is it okay to eat out of our containers or should we have plates?”
“I think we should sit on the couch and eat both together out of the box…”
“You get me.” Ben grabbed him and kissed him hard, holding them together.
Gray wrapped his arms around Ben’s neck, hoping he’d set the wine on the counter. No bashing anyone with a bottle.
Ben leaned back against the counter, bringing Gray along in between his thighs.
All he had to do was let gravity work, pressing them together. The kiss went white-hot, really making his head spin. One of Ben’s hands dropped to his ass, holding them together, rocking them hard.
They were cooking with oil in no time, panting and touching and moaning. No way were they waiting for their supper. No way. Ben was hard as diamonds, rubbing roughly against him.
Gray reached down to feel the length of it, the breadth. He wanted to touch it with no cloth under his hand.
“Honey…Please.” Ben opened his own jeans first, then Gray’s before diving into their kisses again.
“Mmmph.” He yanked his jeans down a tiny bit so he could get his hand around both of them. Barely. That was amazing.
Ben’s fingers joined his even as Ben cried out in his mouth.
They rocked and grunted, but it didn’t take long before Gray felt that telltale tingle running up his spine to his brain.
He barked out his warning to Ben, but his lover didn’t need it. Ben was right there with him, humping against him like a desperate man.
Seconds later, Gray cried out, his body jerking back and forth as he came. Ben’s orgasm was a heartbeat behind, his heat joining Gray’s. They clung together, whooping for air, then started laughing, the sound joyous and bouncing off the walls.
“S-so, there’s that.” Ben’s laughter just made him happy.
“Yep. Pre-dinner slap and tickle.” Gray snorted. “Does anyone actually call it that besides my granny?”
“It was a fabulous appetizer, honey, even without tickling.”
“It so was.” Gray kissed Ben’s neck, and Ben’s chin lifted immediately. Hello. Hot spot.
So he licked a little, tasting salt and a little aftershave.
“You shaved for me,” he whispered, and Ben answered with a groan.
“I did. You deserved it.”
