Page 73 of Men in Shorts

The jeweler commented that Fergus and John were the youngest gay fiancés she’d seen, implying they weretooyoung, too daft to know what they were doing. But her observation didn’t dim John’s certainty. Their trip to the bathhouse had convinced him he and Fergus were ready for anything.

Arriving home just after ten, they found the place empty, their flatmate already away to work.

Fergus took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack inside the door. “Fancy a glass of wine?”

“You’re kidding, right? We’ve been putting this off for five hours, and you want to have a drink?”

“I just thought it might—” Fergus wiped his hands on his shirt. “If we’re nervous at all…”

“I am nervous.” John headed for the bedroom, glad he didn’t need to hide his worry that without a condom he’d come in seconds flat. “That’s why we need to start pronto.”

Fergus followed him, then ducked into the bathroom. “I’ll just be a second.”

As John undressed, he took a moment to admire the wee office space Fergus had arranged for him in the corner of the bedroom. A new bookshelf formed one “wall,” and its near-ceiling height meant that once it was stripped and repainted, John would finally have space for all his books.

Another office wall consisted of a bamboo dressing screen. Fergus planned to equip one of the folding panels with a frame and hinge so it would open and close easily, like a real door.

Inside was a comfy blue chair John had chosen himself at the Barras. No desk, just a brown-suede cubical ottoman—hollow with a lid, to hold his papers. He was more of a laptop-in-the-lap sort of fellow, who worked better when lounging relaxed, rather than sitting straight at some allegedly ergonomically correct angle.

The whole thing was perfect. There was no better sign, in his eyes, that Fergus loved him. He wasn’t threatened or insulted by the fact John needed his own space. He’d certainly proven his faith tonight at the sauna.

Thinking of Club 212 gave John an idea. He went to the window and pulled down the blackout blinds behind the sheer curtains, then switched off the bedside lamp. Though it was many hours past sunset, the city’s glow usually kept their room from being completely dark. But the blackout blinds, so effective against summer’s early sunrises, blocked all outside light. The only illumination now was a faint green gleam from John’s office area, where his laptop was charging—a light that used to keep Fergus awake when it was right in his face, but no more.

Quickly John found the bottle of lube, then fumbled in the pockets of his discarded trousers for one more essential object. Finally he hid behind the bed so the hallway light wouldn’t reveal him.

The knob turned, and the door opened without a creak. “Oh,” John heard Fergus whisper before the door clicked shut again. Peering past the edge of the bed, he could see the faint outline of Fergus’s body, enough to know he was naked as well. Fergus dropped his pile of clothes on the floor before taking one cautious step, then another.

John lifted the keys he’d taken from his pocket and began to shake them rhythmically. It had the desired effect.

Fergus bent double with laughter. “Happy Christmas, one and all!”

“Does this make you horny?” John shook the keys harder. “It does, doesn’t it? Admit it. It’s just like being there in the darkroom.”

“No,” Fergus said, his voice turning serious and sweet as he approached. “It’s a million times better.”

“Ooh, a million?” John asked. His boyfriend—fiancé—wasn’t usually one for hyperbole. “To the bed with you, then. Lie on your back.”

When Fergus obeyed, John carefully positioned himself between his legs, spreading them wide, then letting go. “Stay like that.” Now they were no longer touching. “Just wait.”

Fergus waited, his rapid, shallow breathing the only sound in the room. After spreading a bit of lube on his fingers, John bent over slowly, mouth open, hoping he would hit his mark.

His lips met the warm, smooth head of Fergus’s cock.Bullseye.

“Oh!” Fergus’s gasp morphed into a throaty laugh as John gently devoured him, sliding his lubed-up fingers between his cheeks, letting touch and memory guide his way.

When a single finger slipped inside, Fergus pulled in a sharp breath, then let it out in an aching “Yesss…” Hearing him draw out theSmade John imagine Fergus’s tongue pushing against the roof of his warm, wet mouth. He flattened his own tongue in response, drawing it over Fergus’s cock again and again as he slid another finger inside.

“God.” Fergus squirmed against John’s hand, pushing him deeper. “I need you now. I need you to fuck me.” As the fingers curled within him, Fergus’s cries pitched up. Every sound made John’s cock throb harder, until he could wait no more.

He sat back, feeling ready to burst before they’d even begun. Despite this danger, he took more lube and coated his own cock, biting back a groan at the sensation. Then John shifted forward in the dark, and with a bit of guidance, found the place he needed. It took but a moment for Fergus to open up and draw him in.

All sound seemed to stop then. As Fergus’s hot, slick corridor enveloped him, John let out his own helpless cry. He sank forward, into the embrace of this man who would be his forever.

With each slow, careful, wordless thrust, John went deeper, Fergus’s strong arms and legs holding him steady. The feeling was out of this world. He’d been prepared (sort of) for the physical intensity of this new experience, but the emotional tsunami threatened to drown him.

Once he could speak again, he lifted his head and kissed Fergus softly. “I’m glad I’ve never done this before.” He curled his fingers through the coarse waves of Fergus’s hair. “But you know what’s even better?”

“What’s that?” Fergus said with a dreamy sigh.

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