...Dusty had taken the artificial tree from the box and set it up. He’d set the four-and-a-half-foot tree on a small square table in front of the window. He was now preparing to string lights over it. As he bent this way and that working on the tree, his jeans tightened across his ass. Oh, God, Malcolm needed to get a serious grip.

“Need some help?” Malcolm forced himself to ask.

“Yeah, why not start opening the ornament packages?” Dustin didn’t turn around.

Malcolm bit his lip. He hated the awkwardness between them. And damn it, he wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hard when they hugged. “Dustin, can I talk to you?”

Dusty stiffened. “Um, okay, but can it wait until after the tree is decorated?”

“No. I—look, I’m sorry I freaked you out earlier.”

“I didn’t freak out.”

“Dusty, will you stop that for a minute and look at me?”

Dusty finally let go of the string of lights and turned to face him. His cheeks were stained red and his baby blue eyes were suspiciously watery. Malcolm’s stomach dropped.

“Dusty, what is it?” He took the several steps to his friend and couldn’t stop himself from resting his hand on Dustin’s chest. The man shook.

“Malcolm, please.” Dusty sounded pained, tortured.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I just want you, okay, I want you and—”

Malcolm stopped Dusty’s words with his lips, standing on tiptoe to crush his mouth to the other man’s.

Dusty tore away his lips and stared down at him, his jaw slack. “Malcolm?”

“I want you, too. Kiss me.” He fisted Dusty’s shirt, urging his friend to dip his head down to kissing distance.

Dusty moaned low and cupped Malcolm’s ass, lifting him up so their lips crashed together. Malcolm’s feet came up off the floor.

“The bed,” he gasped, even as Dusty devoured his mouth.

In the few seconds it took Malcolm to get them into his bedroom, Dusty didn’t tear his lips away. He slammed Malcolm and himself onto the double bed, their teeth clacking together.

Barely able to catch his breath, Malcolm pushed his hands under Dusty’s shirt, touching hot silken skin. He dug in his fingertips, wanting to brand Dusty in some small way as his.

Dusty flipped them over so Malcolm was now on top and he ripped out the band Malcolm used to bind his hair. His hair fanned out over Dusty’s fingers.

“Clothes off,” Dusty whispered.

Malcolm needed no further urging and he shoved Dustin’s shirt up to his armpits. His soon-to-be lover slipped it off the rest of the way. His own shirt was practically torn from his body and discarded.

He took a moment to admire his friend’s beautiful ivory skin and rosy nipples. He grazed Dusty’s muscular arms with the tips of his fingers, smiling at the goose bumps developing in their wake.

“Malcolm?”

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the perfect chest and met Dusty’s stare. His breath caught in his throat at the bare love and lust he detected in the man’s eyes.

“Take me, Dusty. Make me yours.”