...Wendell froze. He forgot to breathe. Warm lips touched the hollow just beneath his right ear and a tongue slowly tasted, savoring him. He closed his eyes as the tonguing changed to a wet mouth trailing kisses with agonizing slowness down his neck to where his sleep top began. Fingers slid beneath the neck and slid across his bare skin, following its line.

“I wore your gift tonight,” Jon said in a voice as rough as gravel.

Mesmerized by the touch of Jon’s mouth and hands, all Wendell could get out was, “I noticed.” When a lack of oxygen threatened to cause a blackout, he drew in a long breath through his nose. Not my soap, he thought. Not my shampoo. Only Jon’s scent. His soap, his shampoo, his arms strong and familiar around me.

His lips and tongue that I have missed so very much.

He crossed his arms over Jon’s and became aware of the rock-hard cock pressing against his buttocks and his dick growing long and big in response. That, too, was familiar. He didn’t want to move, to stop the mouth at his neck or destroy the pleasures rumbling inside him. He just wanted to stand there and feel Jon in the stillness, with the blazing fire shooting flickering shadows around them, and convince himself Jon was real and this wasn’t a dream.

Jon released his waist and turned Wendell to face him as his lips brushed over the corners of his closed eyes and his tongue lapped at the tip of his nose before zeroing in to devour Wendell’s mouth. As the kiss deepened and their tongues intertwined in an imitation of penetrating sex, Wendell wrapped his arms around Jon and ran his hands up and down the broad back. Jon thrust his pelvis against Wendell’s until they were so tight together he couldn’t tell Jon’s dick from his. It didn’t matter. Melding into him, becoming one with him was all that mattered as erotic sparks shot through him and lust caused his body to quiver.

Someone groaned, and Wendell realized it came from his throat.

Jon must’ve taken that as a signal to slip his hand beneath the band of Wendell’s sleep pants because he was there, and his hard knuckles stroked the tender flesh above Wendell’s bush.

“Lower. Go lower,” Wendell begged, hungry for and helpless against the sensual onslaught. He rocked his hips from side to side to increase the friction as the knuckles continued to rub.

Jon was trembling now. He slid Wendell’s sleep pants down and took his cock in hand.

“Not here,” Wendell warned, his voice thick and hoarse with what testosterone was doing to his vocal chords. “I’m on the verge.”

“Yes, here,” Jon insisted as he pulled down his own pants and wrapped Wendell’s hand around his tight erection. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long I’m not going to let you go. Besides, we have all night.”

Pleasure splintered Wendell, and he exhaled with a groan as he enjoyed those all too brief seconds when everything centered in his groin and drowned his entire body in feeling.

“Oh, God, Wendell. Wendell.” Jon moaned as he came, too.

Later, they wandered to bed, stripped, crawled under the covers and died to the world.

In the deepest part of the night, Wendell roused to the weight of someone, something on his butt, something hard and velvety gliding, sliding in and out of his crack. Something nipped at his shoulder. “Is that you, Jon?”

“Who else, lover?”