Merry Cherry Christmas

“Don’t be sorry,” Max murmured. He pressed little kisses to Jeremy’s forehead and temples and cheeks, all the while stroking his prostate. It would feel smoother with lube, but Jeremy groaned in pleasure at the rawness of it, the catch and drag and blunt pressure.

“Max.” It was a whine, but Jeremy couldn’t help it.

“I know, baby. Feel good? You want more?”

Jeremy nodded, watching avidly as Max edged back, the duvet slipping off his broad shoulders, and spit onto his index finger by Jeremy’s hole, the middle digit still inside. Along with his own soft, panting breath, the only sound was the wet smacks of Max gathering spit.

It was the kind of thing some people might find gross, but Jeremy couldn’t look away, his cock aching. The intimacy of it was weirdly beautiful. A week ago, he couldn’t have imagined being this exposed with another person. Like he’d been peeled open. Raw and vulnerable. But as Max pushed in another finger, the stretch burning as he thrust and retreated, teased and tormented, Jeremy trusted him completely.

“You need to come, baby?”

“Yes!”

“Let me see you come.” Max propped up on his elbow, still finger-fucking him. The pressure on Jeremy’s prostate was almost too much. “Touch yourself. Get your hand on your cock.”

Fumbling to stroke his neglected dick, Jeremy trembled all over, staring into Max’s eyes in the moonlight as the orgasm exploded in a powerful rush. He tensed, back and neck arching, Max slapping his free hand over Jeremy’s open mouth. Jeremy painted his stomach and chest with cum, trying to keep his eyes open to see the way Max watched him with parted lips and blown pupils.

When Jeremy was spent and panting, Max took his own hard cock in hand, jerking himself quickly and coming on Jeremy with harsh gasps. The white jizz combined with Jeremy’s, and the sight made Jeremy’s balls twitch.

Max kissed him messily, sighing into his mouth as he shifted them to their sides, sliding his meaty thigh between Jeremy’s.

“I never knew fingering could be like that,” Jeremy said before he even had a chance to second guess himself and overanalyze his words.

Max laughed softly, nuzzling his cheek. “Just wait. That’s only the beginning.”

Sweat-damp and sticky in Max’s arms, Jeremy wanted desperately for that to be true.

Chapter Twelve

Max woke after seven with a raging hard-on despite the post-midnight sex. He was dying to sneak back into the guest room and plow Jeremy until neither of them could see—or walk—straight, but it still wasn’t the right time or place.

He hadn’t set his alarm, but he hurried out of bed like usual, the wooden floor nippy under his bare feet. He could smell the sizzle of meat—turkey bacon, probably—and could hear the murmur of Dad and Valerie talking downstairs. Meg’s door was surprisingly open and her room empty, although she usually wasn’t a morning person. Jeremy’s door was closed, and Max grinned to himself as he went by into the hall bathroom.

Fuck, that had been hot.

He’d broken the rules with zero regrets. Hiding under the covers with Jeremy beneath him, eager and trusting… Max had never had sex like it before. He’d never been so ready to blow his load from rimming and fingering someone.

In the shower, he jerked himself, imagining what it would be like to fuck Jeremy with his cock instead of fingers. Max didn’t want to hurt him, even though he knew a little pain was inevitable the first time.

The first time.

He knew it was dumb to get all caveman and possessive about fucking a virgin, but he couldn’t deny the tingle in his balls and rush of want when he thought about being Jeremy’s first in every way. He wanted to make it perfect. He wanted it to be the greatest first time in the history of first times. He wanted…

More than he’d ever wanted before.

Max stroked his shaft harder, spreading his legs and leaning one hand on the wet tile. Closing his eyes, he imagined pushing inside Jeremy, filling his body and kissing his sweet mouth. Showing him how good it could be, hearing him cry out in pleasure—

The water went freezing, and he yelped, dancing out of the spray and tripping onto the fuzzy bathmat. Cursing, he couldn’t help but laugh as he reached back in to turn off the water. Damn ancient plumbing.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, his erection subsiding. He should get downstairs for breakfast anyway—it seemed to make Valerie so happy to feed them. Reluctant to leave the steamy warmth of the bathroom, he opened the door, bracing for the colder air.

Jeremy was right there in his PJs with his hand raised to knock, and they both jumped, then laughed. Jeremy said, “I wasn’t sure if anyone was in there or if the door was just closed. My grandmother used to keep the bathroom door shut all the time because it was vulgar or…” His gaze traveled down Max’s wet body. “Something.”