Page 39 of Fixing the Grumpy Pumpkin King
“Touch yourself,” Jack growled. “I want to watch you.”
Locke’s hand flew to his cock, stroking in time with Jack’s thrusts.
“Jack, I’m close...”
“Let go,” Jack breathed. “Come for me.”
Locke did.
His whole body went taut, back arching impossibly, and he came with a shout that echoed off the hay bales. Hot and wet across his stomach, his hand, between them. His body clenched rhythmically around Jack’s cock, and it was too much. Jack couldn’t hold back anymore.
He followed Locke over the edge.
His orgasm hit like a storm. Golden light exploded around them in a supernova. The Harvest Moon above flared so bright it was almost blinding. Leaves swirled in a tornado of color. The vines around Locke’s wrist bloomed with roses. The temperature spiked warm, then settled.
Jack buried himself deep and came hard, filling Locke, claiming him,mine.
It seemed to last forever.
When Jack finally came back to himself, he was collapsed on top of Locke, both of them breathing hard. The vines released him and Locke’s arms wrapped around him, holding him close. His heart was pounding against Jack’s chest.
“Holy shit,” Locke gasped.
“Indeed.”
“Did you make it rain leaves?”
Jack looked around. There were, indeed, significantly more leaves scattered everywhere. And several new flowers. And that vine had definitely grown an apple.
“…Possibly.”
Locke laughed, full and bright and absolutely perfect. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it,” Jack said, but his voice came out uncertain.
“I do.” Locke’s hand stroked through his hair, gentle. His voice went softer. “I love you, Jack.”
“Say it again,” he whispered.
“I love you,” Locke said, meeting his eyes. “I’m in love with you.”
“I love you too,” Jack managed, his voice breaking. “So much it terrifies me.”
Locke pulled him down into a kiss. Soft and sweet and perfect.
Chapter Eleven
Lightfilteredthroughthepocket dimension in shades of amber and gold, catching on the autumn leaves that cushioned them like the world’s most extravagant bed. Locke woke slowly, pleasantly aware of three things: he was tangled up with Jack, he was happily sore in places that reminded him exactly why, and he really, really didn’t want to move.
Ever.
Morning,“ he mumbled against Jack’s chest.
“Same to you.”
Locke stretched, feeling the pull of well-used muscles, and grinned. A leaf fell from his hair. “I can’t believe we fell asleep here.”
“We did.”
