Page 37 of Jingle Bell Flock
He bit his lip and shrugged. “I already prepped.”
I gaped at him. “You what?”
He wiggled his eyebrows, then turned around and presented his ass to me. I nearly choked on my own tongue when he reached back and spread himself open. There, nestled between his cheeks, was a shiny chrome plug gleaming in the firelight. He gripped the flared end between his fingers and slowly pulled. A small, desperate noise escaped him as the widest part stretched him, and my hands clenched involuntarily against the upholstery. When he looked over his shoulder at me, his pupils had nearly swallowed his irises.
“Fuck,” I breathed out.
“That’s the idea,” he said, climbing onto my lap again and guiding me to his entrance.
He sank down in one smooth, fluid motion, his mouth falling open in a silent moan.
I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then. He was so fucking tight and hot.
“God, Harry,” I groaned, clutching his hips as he started to ride me, slow at first, then faster, more desperate.
He braced his hands on my shoulders for leverage, head thrown back, sweat beading on his brow. He looked incredible—wild, flushed, alive.
And mine.
“Been thinking about this all day,” he panted, grinding down harder. “Thinking about you inside me. Fuck, Jeremy. You feel so good.”
I drove up into him, meeting each of his thrusts, my hands roaming over his back, his sides, every place I could touch. I never wanted to let him go.
He leaned forward, pressing our foreheads together for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at me. Tears shone in his eyes—happy ones, I thought.
“Don't stop,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
“Never,” I promised, and I meant it with every cell in my body.
I reached between us and took his cock in hand, stroking him in rhythm with our movement. He was leaking enough to make him slick, and when I twisted my wrist just so, he cried out and clenched down around me.
“Come with me,” he begged.
I stroked him faster, feeling him tense and tremble, his mouth pressed to my shoulder as he bit down to muffle his scream. He came hard, pulsing hot over my hand and our stomachs, and the sight of him like this pushed me over the edge.
I followed him with a groan, holding him tight as we shuddered through it together.
He collapsed against me, our bodies slick with sweat and cum, breathing in unison. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed the top of his head, feeling more whole than I ever had before.
“I love you,” I said again, because apparently now that I’d started saying it, I couldn’t seem to stop.
Harrison hummed contentedly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my chest. For a while, we just lay there, the only sounds our breathing and the snap of the dying fire. The room had cooled, but I didn’t care. I’d stay here all night if it meant keeping him in my arms.
“I managed to save the noodles,” I said eventually when my stomach growled. “But should we be worried about the sauce?”
Harrison laughed, the sound vibrating through my chest. “No, I hadn’t even started yet.”
We both looked down then at our sweat and cum-slick bodies. Harrison wrinkled his nose. “We should probably shower before I finish dinner.”
I trailed my fingers through the mess on his stomach, then brought them to my mouth, sucking them clean. “I’m good.”
“Jesus Christ.” Harrison’s laugh was half-scandalized, half-aroused. He shook his head. “Hot as that was, you need real food. You get cranky when you’re hungry.”
“I do not.”
“Jeremy. You once threw a hockey stick across the locker room because someone ate your protein bar.”
“It was the last one.”
