Page 26 of Make You Mine This Christmas
What I can’t control is the thoughts my brain conjures up while I’m asleep. They’re filled with images of Brody, dancing in a crowded club as Captain Kirk, beckoning me to come dance with him. The same expression he wore when I shut down his mistletoe appears when I say no.
Somehow, that image morphs into him straddling me, wearing only a Santa hat. It feels so good to touch his skin. My hands rub up his thighs, the hair there tickling my skin, over the swell of his stomach. I stop at his nipples, giving each one a tweak before tangling my fingers in the hair at the back of his head and pulling his mouth to mine. As he slowly descends, his hips grind down once, our dicks rubbing together in a way that has me groaning his name right before his lips consume mine.
My eyes shoot open, and I sit up, breathing hard. It felt like calling out his name is what woke me up, but in the space between dreaming and waking, I’m not positive I did or not. The floor creaks right outside my door, and I hold my breath, but Brody’s footsteps move away from our rooms and out to the kitchen. The noises of him making coffee travel back down the hall, and I look at the time on my phone. The 10:00 has me jumping out of bed, having to tuck my morning wood back under the elastic of my briefs from where the head is peeking out. I’m sure Brody’s been up for a while, and I missed him showering. Normally, I’d check, but this situation with my dick isn’t going away without some attention. With the short time we have before we need to be in Holly Ridge, it will have to be a quick jerk in the shower. Time to multitask.
Opening the door a crack, I stick my head out and smell the fresh coffee dripping into the carafe, accompanied by the sounds of Brody doing the dishes. I don’t even take the time to feel bad that he’s cleaning up after he cooked last night. I rush to the bathroom and rest against the door when it’s shut safely behind me. One deep breath, then two, before I move to turn on the shower faucet. While I wait for it to get warm, I take myself in my hand and give a quick, firm stroke. Sparks shoot down my dick toward my balls. No, this won’t take long at all. Which is what I need since I have no time.
Shower curtain closed, and my hand bracing on the back wall as hot water sluices down my back, I curl the palm of my hand around my cock once more. My arm moves with a tentative stroke. I pause to gather a pump of body wash and turn my attention to the matter at hand when I hear it. A quick knock on the door, followed by the creak of the hinges and the sound of Brody saying my name.
“Austin?”
Chapter 14
Brody
I can’t believe how late I slept. When I read 9:40 on my phone, I think it must be p.m. and all the memories of propositioning Austin last night were from a post-dinner nap. God, I can’t believe I did that. I run through the memories of our conversation, his objection to kissing me, and the strong pour of whisky I mixed to dull the hurt. And then my suggesting we could have casual sex.
It is true I’ve only had casual sex since I started law school. The idea of letting someone in again, letting them have a chance of derailing the plan, hurt too much. And in those moments, it felt nice to be held, even if it never felt as right as when Austin held me.
My dick hardens more thinking about touching Austin again. I throw the covers off and pull on a pair of sweatpants to go get some coffee. I’m sure Austin’s been up for hours, but hopefully some is still hot.
My eyes land on the closed door of Austin’s room. How is he going to act toward me today? Will he want to pretend it never happened? Want to talkagainabout how it isn’t a good idea?
A sound comes from behind the door, a moan I thought I’d only hear again in my dreams. My feet take me closer to the door of their own accord, straining, wondering if I’ll hear it again. And then.
“Brody!” followed by the squeak of a bed when someone sits up quickly.
He said my name. A dream about me is what caused that moan.
I try to back away softly and slowly, wincing when I hit the floorboard that seems to creak every time. I give up the quiet act and hurry into the kitchen, hoping he will think I stepped on it in the normal course of leaving my room. Not listening at the door.
My movements toward the coffee maker are trancelike. Does it mean anything if he’s having a sexual dream about me hours after I bring up the idea of us adding benefits to our rediscovered friendship? Can I even refer to what we’ve rebuilt as a friendship?
Water overflows out of the carafe and over my hand, setting me in motion again. While I pour the water into the coffeemaker and grounds into the filter, I try to set myself straight. I shouldn’t read too much into what I overheard. Austin can’t be held responsible for what his dream self conjures up. We did have some pretty fantastic sex back in the day. And I put the thought of us having sex again into his head. Doesn’t mean hewantedit there.
I move over to doing the dishes once the coffee starts brewing. Keeping my hands busy and my mind empty will help me from getting any big ideas about what his moan could have meant. I’ll finish up here, make myself a big cup of the coffee smelling like it has the potential to erase last night’s bad decisions, and follow Austin’s lead.
The sound of hurried footsteps in the hall is followed by the bathroom door closing. A second later, the water turns on and I hang my head over the sink. No amount of dish doing can stop the images of Austin, standing underneath the shower, water flowing over his broad shoulders, down over that bubble butt I want to take a bite out of. His back to the spray, drops of water sneaking over his chest, trickling down his abs to the patch of hair he always kept trim, around his thick, long cock. Would he stroke it once, twice, out of habit? Or did the dream he had—whether he wanted it or not—leave him needing relief?
My feet start moving toward the bathroom, all thoughts of following Austin’s lead forgotten. He hadn’t believed I would still want him, want this, in the morning. What better time to make sure he knows than right now?
I take a deep breath, knock quickly on the door and open it without waiting for a reply. If he tells me to go, I won’t hesitate to turn around. But I have to try.
“Austin?” I say, hoping sounds of the shower drown out the hint of a quiver my voice holds.
Nothing comes from the other side of the curtain other than the splash of water and the scent of his spicy body wash. I curse internally, reaching for the doorknob behind me when?—
“Brody.” It’s not a question or a curse. My name coming from his lips sounds almost like a prayer. An admission he shouldn’t want this, but he does. I tug down my briefs and sweatpants, letting them pool next to Austin’s briefs on the floor. My shirt comes next, and I cross the small bathroom in two steps. Curling my fingers around the edge of the curtain, I pause for a moment, making sure he can see my intent, giving him another chance to stop this.
He says nothing, so slower than I’ve ever pulled back a curtain in my life, I reveal an image destined for spank bank eternity: a dripping wet Austin, exactly how I imagined him. He’s bracing himself on the back wall of the shower, a hand curled loosely around that gorgeous cock. It’s longer and thicker than I remember, and my memories are plenty generous. His abs are clenched tight with the restraint of not stroking, not chasing the pleasure I interrupted.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight, filling my lungs with the deepest breath I’ve taken in ten fucking years.
His eyes trace me while I map his body, and they meet mine then. “You’re not doing so bad yourself over there.” His eyes flick back to where my own cock continues to fill, shorter but thicker along my thigh. In the next moment, he traces his gaze upward, over where my stomach rounds and hair grows thick on my chest. I blink in succession several times—so focused on setting my eyes on this beautiful man, I forgot how much I’ve changed since he last saw me like this.
Something must pass over my face giving away my thoughts, and he shakes his head fiercely, standing up straight. “No, don’t. This is you—I see you.”
I’m getting close to my emotional limit, which should be very low, considering this is just sex. Time to get us back on track. “Can I?” I gesture to the spot between his body and the wall, making my intentions clear.
