Page 78 of Companion Required

Chapter Thirty-Two

Kieran

London, Christmas Day 2016

Kieran savoured being able to wake slowly and naturally without the sound of an alarm urging them to get up for work. Not long after he had moved in, they’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm of work and downtime, the latter held sacrosanct. Now, over a year later, and the all-too-familiar sound of scratching at the bedroom door replaced the now-redundant electronic clock.

Aligned warmly along Kieran’s spine, Kennedy was still sleeping, the slow rise of pressure from his chest against Kieran’s back, an arm draped protectively around his waist, his hot morning erection lined along the crack of Kieran’s backside. Despite efficient central heating, the air in the room held a crisp December coldness and Kennedy’s toasty nakedness felt too good an opportunity to waste. But as he began to turn, Kennedy’s arm tightened around him, the other squeezing down to line up his erection before reaching around Kieran’s body and grabbing lube and a condom from the nightstand.

“May I?” came Kennedy’s hot breath in his ear.

Without replying, Kieran waited until the sheath had been rolled on before pushing back onto Kennedy, still loosened up from the previous night but nevertheless experiencing the initial delicious burn as Kennedy entered him. Kennedy followed up with a low grunt, biting Kieran’s neck and shoulder while pushing himself all the way inside and beginning the slow, familiar rhythm, which only got better with time.

Since they’d been living together, Kieran had found out a number of things about Kennedy, and one was that he relished morning sex, loved when one of them roused the other from sleep using sex, waking them to the new day like a steam train leaving the station, gradually building speed in their bump and grind, bringing them both to wakefulness with fast breaths and mounting pleasure.

Without losing the momentum, Kieran turned his head so he could take Kennedy’s mouth, his orgasm almost upon him. Kennedy came first, ramming hard, filling Kieran with his warmth. Instead of stopping, he kept going, hitting Kieran expertly on his sweet spot until Kieran exploded into Kennedy’s hand, sparks and dark spots flashing across his vision.

“Merry Christmas,” Kennedy managed to breathe hotly into Kieran’s ear.

“You can say that again.”

As soon as Kennedy had disposed of the condom, they lay side by side, chests rising and falling as their breaths normalised. Until the soft scratching and whimpering at their bedroom door began again.

Kennedy chuckled, a deep, beautiful sound.

“I wonder who that could be?”

Ed, their good-natured Cockapoo, had been an instant hit with everyone. Kennedy drew the line at letting him sleep in the bedroom with them, maintaining their modicum of privacy. But Kieran knew eventually the charms of their sad-eyed, curly haired ginger rescue pup would wear him down.

“Can I let him in?” asked Kieran. “It is Christmas, after all.”

Kennedy gently shook his head and huffed, but a fond smile had settled on his face.

“Go on, then.”

Without hesitation, Kieran sprinted naked for the door and yanked on the handle. The fiery ball of dynamite scrambled into the room, running rings around Kieran’s ankles before leaping onto the bed and heading straight for Kennedy. When Kieran joined them back in bed, fearless Ed had already started licking Kennedy’s face, with Kennedy laughing, helpless to restrain the excited pup.

Kieran took a moment to enjoy the scene—a usually in-control Kennedy allowing himself to be smothered with affection was a sight worth paying for. Something fundamental had changed in his man—he had mellowed. Yes, the hard-ass businessman still appeared, usually in the mornings when they drove to work together, but when Kennedy arrived home, he seemed to throw off that professional mantle and relax into himself. With a supreme effort of will, he’d even made a point of limiting the number of times he checked his phone over the weekends.

Just as Ed calmed down and settled on the quilt, there came a knock at the door.

“Are you boys decent?” came Claire’s voice. She had already pushed the door open a crack but didn’t enter.

“As decent as we’ll ever be,” said Kennedy, laughing. “Merry Christmas, Mum. You can come in.”

Kennedy’s parents had kept their promise and flown over on the twenty-first of December, bringing Reagan, a very subdued Bernie and their three boys to spend Christmas and New Year with them. At first Kennedy had baulked at the idea of the full house, of accommodating seven extra souls. But they’d all been brilliant—Kennedy’s three extra bedrooms and spare bathroom helping matters—with the boys fighting over walking Ed to the park every day, and his mother and sister having dinner ready on the table one night when they arrived home after work, leaving Bernie and Jefferson in charge of drinks. Kennedy’s house had never seen such an abundance of life.

After a couple of days, Bernie had finally chilled, and one evening, over beers, he and Reagan had told them the story of how they’d decided to give things another go, how Bernie had quit his job in Melbourne in November to make a clean break and had taken a new one in Singapore, so he could spend more time with Reagan and the boys. From what Kennedy told Kieran, Reagan remained quietly optimistic.

“Merry Christmas, Claire,” added Kieran, as an impeccably dressed Claire opened their door and stood in the doorway.

“Merry Christmas to you both. Look, I know it’s early, but I’m starting breakfast right away. After that, we can open presents, get that out of the way, too. Right now, the boys are still sleeping, but I’ve no doubt they’ll be awake soon and demanding to open them. Then Kieran, Reagan and I have a whole heap of table arrangements, food preparation and cooking to manage for lunch, so I’m going to need you to take your father, Bernie and that little rascal who should not be on your bed down to the local pub. Get you out of the house. I’ll set Reagan on putting the boys in front of the television to keep them occupied. What time are our guests arriving?”

“Around one o’clock,” answered Kieran.

“Good. In which case, we’ll aim to eat at two. What are you laughing at, Kennedy?”

Kieran turned to see Kennedy chuckling beside him.

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