Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

Michaels’ cheeks turned just a hint of rose when he responded. “It’s a raspberry vinaigrette.”

“I love it. Sure is better than that thick white shit that I always pour on with a shovel.” Judge winked.

“Well, it’s Day’s recipe.” Michaels shrugged. “Just one of the many I’ve stolen from him.”

Judge pffted at the mention of Day’s name. One day he’d tell Michaels how his boss had stood up for him… but not tonight. He also knew the clock was ticking on him. He needed to bring Michaels back to Atlanta the day after tomorrow. For now though… he was all his.

“I think it’s pretty awesome that you can cook like this. It’s wicked sexy.”

“It is?”

“Hell, yes. I can’t wait to come home and find you in the kitchen in nothing but a leather apron, cooking me dinner.” Judge was laughing, but when he looked up and saw Michaels bright blue eyes zeroed in on him, he backtracked to see if he’d said something wrong. “What? What’s the matter? Okay not leather, cloth is fine.”

“You said when you come home you want to find me in the kitchen.” Michaels tilted his head in question.

Judge tried to cover by putting a huge forkful of tender white trout in his mouth. He chewed it slowly and Michaels continued to stare at him in amusement.

“Should we go tomorrow to pick out the China to eat those dinners on, babe?”

Very cute. “I was just saying.” Judge shrugged embarrassingly.

“I know. I’m just hawking on you.” Michaels drank a sip of his wine. “Where do you live anyway? Are we gonna do a long distance thing?”

“I can’t do long distance.”

Michaels looked taken aback.

“I live in Atlanta.”

“Atlanta!” Michaels shock was evident. “No shit.”

“No shit. Right off of DeMooney Lake. I bought a fixer-upper a few years ago, but I’m not home often enough to get a lot done. It’s livable though. The roof and floors are done. But there’s still plenty left to do.”

Michaels wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his empty plate to the side. “Could you use some help?”

Judge couldn’t stop the grin. “You any good with wood?”

Michaels paused for a moment before he tossed his head back and a deep genuine laugh escaped his perfect mouth. Judge laughed with him. Felt like it could be the same forever. Prayed it would.

“I think I’m real good with wood,” Michaels said, seductively.

“Prove it,” Judge said, easing up from his chair.

Michaels stood and collided with Judge’s large frame. Enough small talk, it was time to make up for their lost time. Michaels let Judge control his mouth, control his hips. Let him push his tongue in as far as he wanted and fuck his mouth with that thick appendage until he was satisfied. Judge’s hands skimmed down his back to his ass and squeezed both cheeks roughly, pulling him forcefully into his erection. When Judge put on the brakes, Michaels whispered against the base of his throat. “Come here. I wanna show you something.”

Judge let Michaels take his hand and lead him through the kitchen, past the back patio doors and through the spacious living room. Back into Michaels’ bedroom, which looked like a small apartment, Michaels dropped his hand and flicked on a switch next to a set of double doors. When his man opened them, Judge was floored. He was a typical man, interior design didn’t exactly make him swoon, but Michaels’ private deck was a thing of sensual beauty. It was a raised bed, draped in a sheer white canopy, completely made up with silky white sheets and about ten various sized pillows. Lavender and lilies were in large pots on each step of the deck that led down to the spacious backyard. Dim lights lit up the corners, but the half-crescent moon cast just the right amount of illumination on them. The sounds of the lake and the crackle of the forest could be heard from where they stood. The smell of nature overwhelmed him. Michaels stood back and waited while Judge took it all in.

“It’s you, honey.”

“What’s me?”

“This.” Judge pointed around him. “It’s fucking gorgeous… it’s you.”

Michaels took off his t-shirt and tossed it on the polished wood deck. His thin lounging pants soon followed. Judge watched him like a hawk. Tracked every move. Michaels tossed a few pillows to the side, parted the canopy, and climbed on the raised bed. Judge couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He was inside of one of Michaels’ romance novels. This scene couldn’t be described any other way. The stars and darkness conspiring to make one sexual evening. A handsome man lying naked in the glow of the moonlight, his perfect body shadowed by the sheer white fabric of the canopy. When Michaels started to teasingly stroke his hardening length, Judge began to do exactly what Michaels had. He tossed his shirt and pants and stalked around the bed. Michaels’ aroused leer never left his own. He parted the curtains and climbed inside, stalking up Michaels’ muscular thighs, stopping every couple inches to kiss or lick. Re-familiarizing himself with his unique flavor.