On the morning of the day after Christmas, Matt diLorenzo woke slowly, ensconced in the warm and snug embrace of his burly lover, Vic Braunson. He became aware of the world around him in stage—first there was a slow burn enveloping him, a heat rising from between their bodies, like flames banking overnight ready to blaze again at the slightest provocation. Then there was the safe and steady thud-thub, thud-thub, thud-thubof Vic’s heart, keeping time a step behind Matt’s own. Finally he felt the tactile pleasure of his lover’s flesh pressed against his, on his fingers and hands and arms, but also along his belly and chest, on his legs and thighs, even on his dick and feet.
Every inch of him felt as if it were touching somewhere on Vic’s body, and truth be told, Matt wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Carefully he moved within Vic’s arms, savoring the dry rub of skin on skin, and relishing the mumbled groan he managed to elicit from his still slumbering mate. What time was it, anyway?
Too early to be up when I don’t have to be,he thought. The gym where he worked, as instructor and supervisor for the swimming pool, was closed for the week between Christmas and New Year’s for some much needed renovations, leaving Matt with what amounted to a paid vacation at the end of the year. So technically, he could stay in bed for the rest of the week if he wanted to…which sounded like the perfect way to spend downtime with Vic, in Matt’s opinion.
Except now that he was awake, he needed to pee.
Of course.
Matt tried to ignore nature’s call, but the tighter he squeezed his eyes shut, the more insistent the pressure in his bladder grew. It was his own fault, really. How much wine had he had with Christmas dinner? At least half a bottle, and he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. One glass was enough to get him tipsy. But drinking always got Matt horny—like he needed an excuse with a guy like Vic around—and seeing his lover in an apron, those rippling biceps flexing as Vic hefted the Christmas ham out of the oven…damn, the memory was getting Matt turned on all over again. There was just something so sexy about watching a man eat, and Vic could really put it away. To watch him cook Christmas dinner, as well, a smoked ham with all the trimmings, and then sit across from him as he chowed down…it was all Matt could do notto jump on him right there at the table.
So he’d downed glass after glass of wine instead, and somehow managed to wait until after dinner, but not toolong—they barely made it to the living room sofa before Matt decided he was ready for dessert. The way Vic writhed beneath him as he went down on his lover only topped off the evening for Matt. It never failed to amaze him that such a strong, muscular, sexy man like Vic was head over heels in love with little ol’ him.
Course, the things he could do with his tongue werepretty amazing…
Between them, his dick had begun to stiffen at the memories of the night before, but Matt’s bladder still raged. If Vic were awake, Matt’s decision would be made for him—it wouldn’t take more than a stroke here, a kiss there, to get his lover interested in making last night’s memory come true. But Vic wasn’t a morning person, hated being woken up, and it could take Matt a good long while to get him primed and ready to rumble.
And as much as Matt loved the foreplay, he really, reallyneeded to take a piss.
I’ll go to the bathroom now and then start waking him up,he decided. He wouldn’t be long; hell, the bed would probably still be warm when he came back. Vic would be, at any rate, and Matt could cuddle up against him in the hopes of starting something that would end with the two of them naked and sweaty between the sheets.
Well, we’re already naked. How about sweaty and screwing between the sheets?Matt amended.
But first, the bathroom.
Gently he extracted himself from his lover’s embrace. Vic muttered something sleepily, then rolled onto his back, freeing Matt with little effort. Planting a kiss on Vic’s slack cheek, Matt whispered, “Be right back.”
He slipped from under the covers and instantly regretted it. The bedroom was freezingcompared to the pocket of body heat under the covers. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself in a vain attempt to retain a little of the warmth. It didn’t help he wore nothing to bed; his flesh pimpled into unflattering goose bumps, his balls shriveled up as far as they could against his crotch, and all amorous thoughts he’d had a moment ago about his lover dissipated like smoke. Whose bright idea was it to sleep with the heat turned down so damn low?
That question he didn’t ask out loud, because he already knew the answer—it was him. More than once he’d told Vic he liked to feel the brisk air on his body in the morning because it helped wake him up. It got the blood pumping, or so he claimed. Vic didn’t care—by the time he got out of bed, Matt was usually already on his way to work and had turned the heat up before he left.
