Page 58 of Animal Instincts
“I thought…” Joss held up the flannel and towel. “Are you okay?” Doubt grabbed at Joss when Oliver didn’t answer.
Maybe Oliver regretted… Maybe he’d not liked… Maybe they’d gone too far…
“Come here, and get back into bed.”
Relief flooded Joss. Maybe there was no maybe; he slid in beside Oliver, and snuggled into his waiting embrace.
Joss let his eyes fall to a close as he gave himself up to Oliver’s light touch through his hair, and the tiny kisses he placed on his head.
“Thank you.”
Joss opened his eyes, and looked up into Oliver’s face.
“You don’t need to—”
“I do. Don’t argue and just accept it.” Oliver cupped his palm to Joss’ cheek, and Joss pushed into the warmth of the touch. “Tell me about the tattoo, on your hip. It’s beautiful.”
“Hmm, but it hurt like a bitch when I got it done. I was going to get the whole zodiac, but after passing out just about every time I went, I had to admit defeat. It was my present to me, when I turned eighteen. Gran went nuts when she found out. Tattoos, she said, were forCommon People.” He laughed. “It’s how she said it, too, with a sniff of disdain. I like it, though, but it’s going to be the only one. Maybe you could get a matching…”
Joss looked up. Oliver’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady, regular rhythm. His man was asleep. Joss smiled, before he placed a kiss on his fingertips, and pressed it to Oliver’s lips.
Closing his eyes, he snuggled in closer, and let the slow beat of Oliver’s heart ease him into deep, contented darkness.
THIRTY-TWO
Oliver stretched and sighed. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes, because everything about him was liquid, not a hint of tension in any muscle. He shifted, and winced. Maybe noteverymuscle. His arse was sore and achey, but it was an ache he was very happy to suffer.
Ah, Joss… He’d taken him apart last night in all the best ways, before stitching him back together.
“Morning.” Oliver put his arm out, ready to pull Joss in close — and found an empty space next to him.
Oliver’s eyes snapped open, and all the soft sleepiness of seconds before was gone in a flash. His heart plummeted, crashing from his chest into his stomach. He’d expected, wanted, to wake up with Joss, warm and snuggled up in the bed; he’d woken up alone in a barren empty bed for far too long, and he didn’t like it. Oliver felt the crumpled place beside him; the sheet held a hint of warmth, so Joss hadn’t abandoned him to go home in the middle of the night. His heart lightened, and crawled its way back to his chest.
The faint aroma of bacon drifted up from downstairs, his nose twitching as his stomach rumbled. He was hungry and had every right to be, as images from the night before filled his head… Oliver’s mouth dried, his throat thickened — and so did his dick.
“Oh.”
Oliver stared down at his solid shaft, bobbing up from the thatch of dark hair between his legs, dark hair that was matted with dried and flaking cum. He wrinkled his nose, threw back the bedding and seconds later dashed into the shower, where he closed his eyes as he lifted his face to meet the torrent of hot water.
* * *
“Is a cooked breakfast something I can continue to look forward—”
The words ground to a stop in Oliver’s throat. Joss was at the stove, poking at the sizzling goodness in the frying pan. But it wasn’t the farmhouse bacon that had Oliver’s mouth watering and his stomach clenching, it was Joss.
Inhisclothes.
A large, even for Oliver, checked shirt swamped Joss, coming half way down his thighs. Thighs that were naked. Buried in the loose jogging bottoms he wore, Oliver’s dick twitched and jerked.
Joss swung around, a hard flush colouring skin that showed the first signs of golden scruff.
“I’m sorry, about…” He pointed at the shirt, hanging loose on his slender frame. “But I had to find something else to wear because Bingo, the stupid mutt, decided it would be good fun to throw up over me. I had to find something to change into, but I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful.”
Joss dipped his head, but Oliver didn’t miss the deepening colour wash over his face. Peaceful? It didn’t even begin to describe how Joss had made him feel, or how he still felt.
Oliver glanced over at Bingo, curled up on a huge squashy cushion that had been his bed for the night, in the corner of the kitchen. The dog looked up at Oliver through big mournful brown eyes.
“Is he okay? I can take a look?”
