by J. M. Snyder
“Are you kidding?” Remy looked at him, incredulous. “You know I bought two.”
He led Lane to each bedroom in turn, opening the door and flicking on the lamp to peer inside. The first one, closest to the bathroom, was small, with a pair of twin-sized bunk beds in it. The next was a bit larger, with a full-sized bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. “This is Braden’s, I think,” Remy said. “Unless he wants the bunks, but I’m thinking he’ll like this instead. That bed’s twice the size of his at home.”
“Where are we sleeping?” Lane asked.
Remy opened the third door and turned on the light. “Here. This is us.”
It was the largest, with a king-sized bed on a small dais on one side of the room. It was rustic and homey, and Lane loved it immediately. Walking up to the bed, he fell back on it spread-eagle and sighed. Muscles in his back and shoulders and neck that had tensed up while he drove now relaxed, and he seemed to sink even further into the feather-top mattress. “I’m in heaven,” he said.
“Heaven is me joining you,” Remy teased. “But first we have a Jeep to unpack, and a little boy to tuck into bed.”
“And beds to make,” Lane reminded him. None of the beds had sheets on them, though a chair in the corner of the room was stacked high with folded comforters and blankets. No pillows, though. Their own were in the back of the Jeep, under Braden’s Christmas gifts.
With reluctance, Lane pushed himself up to a sitting position. Stretching out an arm in invitation, he gave Remy his best come hither look and purred, “Come over here, stud.”
Remy crossed the room and took Lane’s hand, letting his lover lead him up to the bed. He placed a knee on the mattress between Lane’s legs and leaned down. Lane tilted his head back and puckered his lips. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
“As if I could say no,” Remy murmured. His mouth covered Lane’s in a velvet crush, and he pushed Lane back beneath the weight of his desire.
Lane let go of Remy’s hand to hold himself up, propping his hand behind him to keep from falling back to the bed as their kiss deepened. If he wasn’t careful, he would easily give into the man he loved, and they would christen the bed without even bothering to cover it with sheets first, or bring Braden in from the cold car.
When Remy pushed against him, demanding more, Lane laid a hand on Remy’s chest. “Not yet,” he said softly, trailing his hand down the zipper on Remy’s coat. “After the car is emptied. And your son’s in bed. Then we’ll take care of this.”
Lane gripped Remy’s dick through his jeans, and he moaned against Lane’s cheek. “Oh God, yes please,” he sighed.
“It’s a date,” Lane promised.
* * * *
Lane didn’t realize the cabin’s heat was on until he followed Remy outside again and felt the cold night pierce through his coat. He shivered and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s make this fast,” he said. The comfort of the bed they had left behind was looking better every second.
He unlocked the Jeep with the key fob, then skirted around behind the SUV to open the trunk. Remy helped. Taking in the box of ornaments and Christmas decorations, Lane deposited them by the tree skirt to the left of the front door. Hopefully there would be an axe with the firewood out back, and they could find the perfect Christmas tree in the morning. Something a little on the small side, he was thinking. While there was enough room for a towering Douglas fir—at nine feet high, it wouldn’t even scrape the rafters—Lane knew nothing about chopping down trees, so he wanted to start small. Something along the lines of the sickly little tree in that Charlie Brown Christmas special would suit him just fine.
Remy carried in two bags of presents, and Lane grabbed the others. They dropped the presents and wrapping paper off in the bedroom with the bunk beds, and Remy locked it with one of the keys the guy at the office had given him. That left their bags and pillows, and Braden, himself.
Lane took the easier task. With duffle bags in each hand and more tucked up under each arm, he carried them into the cabin while Remy tried to extract Braden from the middle seat without waking the boy. When Lane came back out for the pillows, he heard Braden’s sleepy retort, “But I don’t wanna.” He had a sneaky feeling he’d be hearing that a lot over the next few days.
He retrieved their pillows and closed the hatch, then came up behind Remy, who held Braden awkwardly in both arms. “I’ll get his things,” Lane said.
Remy gave him a look of pure gratitude. “Thanks. Meet you inside.”
He hoisted his son into his arms; Braden was almost too big to be carried, but Remy managed. As he headed for the cabin, Lane ducked into the middle seat to get Braden’s bags and pillow.
Back inside, Lane shut the door on the cold darkness and thought about lighting a fire, but it was getting late. He settled for tweaking the thermostat, and a glorious rush of dry heat whooshed from the registers. Thank God for central heating and air.
“Can you make up his bed?” Remy asked, hefting Braden in his arms. His son snored softly, already fast asleep again. “I packed some sheets in the blue duffle.”
Lane reached for the duffle bag closed to him, but Remy snapped, “No! Not that one!”
“Jeez, sorry,” Lane muttered, grabbing the other bag instead.
“Your gift’s in that one,” Remy explained. “I was hoping to save it for Christmas, but if you want it now…”
“Christmas is fine,” Lane said with a grin. “There’s something else I want from you tonight.”
He found the bedding and quickly made Braden’s bed. While Remy tucked in his son, Lane took another set of sheets into their bedroom and made their bed, as well. Then he undressed, shedding his coat and shirt, his jeans, his shoes, his socks, even his underwear. He slipped under the cool covers and sank into the soft mattress as the bed warmed to his body. The evening fell away, leaving him sleepy and content.
By the time Remy joined him, he, too, was already fast asleep.
Chapter 7
In the morning, Remy woke to silence.
At first he wasn’t sure he was awake. He lay in the oversized bed beside his lover, and could feel Lane’s arm draped over his waist. He felt Lane’s breath flutter the hair on the nape of his neck. He heard his lover’s soft, even breath, and that was all he heard. Keeping his eyes closed, he slowly drifted out of sleep and into a peaceful, quiet world he had never thought existed before.
There were no sounds of traffic outside—no car horns, no running engines, no beeping of the trash truck backing up outside his apartment. No shouts or calls between people, no laughing children, no muffled talking on the other side of his thin wall.
There was nothing. Nothing at all.
It was bliss.
The more Remy grew conscious of his surroundings, the more he strained to hear…something. But besides Lane’s breathing and his own, nothing else interrupted the morning. Maybe, faintly, he heard a bird chirp, but that might have been his imagination. It was the end of the year, after all, and most birds had flown even further south months earlier.
Then there was a faint click, and a whoosh as the heat came on. It was a safe sound, a homey sound, and it made Remy feel even warmer inside the cocoon of blankets wrapped around him. Carefully, he turned over without disturbing Lane. His lover drew in a deep breath but didn’t wake. Remy eased his arms around Lane’s shoulders and kissed his forehead. “Hey there, sleepy head,” he murmured.
Lane made a small noise in the back of his throat and shifted into a more comfortable position, tucking his head under Remy’s chin.
Strumming his hand over Lane’s back, Remy savored the heat of his lover’s body alongside his. What did they have to do today beyond waking up? Nothing—absolutely not a damn thing. They could stay ensconced here, naked in the comfort of their bed, until nightfall, if they wanted. Pull back the drape covering the window and watch nature in all its glory, two lovers twined together, needing nothing but each other…
From the other side of the wall at the head of th
e bed, Remy heard a distant thump that reminded him they weren’t alone. Braden.
There went whatever peace he had hoped to hold onto for a while.
He held his breath, listening, waiting. But he didn’t hear anything else, and when Braden didn’t come banging on their bedroom door, Remy relaxed. Maybe his son had just gotten up to look for something to do, or maybe to use the bathroom. The cabin wasn’t too big, and even though he’d been asleep when Remy carried him in late the night before, Braden would be able to figure out where the bathroom was on his own. Nuzzling closer to Lane, Remy kissed the tip of his lover’s nose and whispered, “You awake?”
Lane moaned softly in reply. It was a cozy sound without meaning, and he didn’t open his eyes.
Remy knew he was tired—Lane had driven the night before, and navigating highway traffic in the dark could take a lot out of a man. He really needed his sleep. But when would they get another chance to steal a few moments alone? Remy had hoped for a little loving before they called it a night, but by the time he returned to their bedroom after putting Braden down, Lane had been zonked out. The whole reason for this holiday was to spend some time together. Now that he had a chance to have Lane all to himself, sleep was the last thing on his mind.
Laying back a little, Remy stroked Lane’s chest—softly, almost petting him. Gentle. He smoothed down Lane’s chest hair, which fluffed up again the moment he removed his hand. With his palm, he covered Lane’s nipple and rubbed it in a slight, circular motion. “Hey, baby,” he whispered.
Lane moved a little and sighed, but his eyes stayed firmly shut.
Still, he wasn’t completely asleep any longer. Remy could feel his lover’s cock stiffening against his thigh, and knew the erection would tease Lane awake sooner or later. He ran his hand along Lane’s side, tracing the faint outline of his lover’s abdominal muscles. At Lane’s hip, his finger trailed down the V-shaped muscle leading to the treasure curled in Lane’s lap. The iliopsoas muscle was the only thing Remy remembered from a college biology class, years previous, and it only stayed with him because it was his favorite part of the male physique. On a lean body like Lane’s, the muscles were well-defined and sharp, guiding Remy’s hand and gaze to Lane’s thick cock and heavy balls like a rainbow leading to a pot of gold.
With his thumb, he rubbed the length of Lane’s dick, pinching the flared head at its tip. Lane moaned again, guttural this time, and shifted onto his back a little to expose more of himself to his lover.
Encouraged, Remy encircled Lane’s cock and tenderly ran his hand up the length, back to the base. He didn’t apply any pressure, didn’t squeeze or knead or massage. It was dry skin on skin, a glancing touch, nothing more, but it earned him another moan, and Lane’s lips parted in a gasp when Remy pressed the side of his hand flat against Lane’s groin. Releasing his grip, Remy rubbed lower and grasped Lane’s nut sack, the flesh silky and fuzzy and impossibly soft. Remy found the sweet spot right between Lane’s balls and rubbed gently.
Into his lover’s ear, he murmured, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
“I’m up,” Lane muttered sleepily. When Remy started to pull away, Lane caught his hand through the sheets and held it in place. “Don’t stop.”
“You like that?” Remy knew he did, but it felt satisfying to hear him moan in delight.
Lane rolled onto his back and threaded an arm under Remy’s neck. “Come here,” he sighed, pulling Remy to him.
Carefully Remy climbed onto Lane. Their erections pressed together between their bodies in a luscious crush. Remy splayed his legs, one on either side of Lane’s hips, and wriggled a little to settle them closer together.
Lane gasped again, wrapping both arms around Remy’s shoulders to keep him near. “God, that feels good,” he murmured.
Sitting up a little, Remy caught both of their dicks in his hand and squeezed gently. “I can make it feel better,” he promised.
As he kissed Lane’s neck, his lover thrust against him, and a glorious ache blossomed in Remy. He wanted to savor this precious moment between them but, at the same time, his blood raced and his cock throbbed, and he wanted to lick and suck and fuck until he came in a heated rush. He wanted it over with already, the anticipation precluding sex, but he also wanted to draw it out like taffy, tantalizing. They had all day to explore and pleasure each other. Remy wanted one long orgasm from dawn to dusk, with no interruptions, nothing to separate his body from Lane’s.
But just when he started to stroke their erections, a knock on the bedroom door interrupted him.
“Fuck,” Lane muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.
Remy ducked down, resting his forehead on Lane’s chest. Raising his voice, he called out, “What is it?”
From the other side of the door came the muffled reply. “Daddy, there’s no TP.”
Lane snorted. “No what?”
“Toilet paper,” Remy explained. He tried to remember what the bathroom had looked like the night before, when he gave Lane a tour of the cabin. Had there been any toilet paper out? He couldn’t recall, but he knew they hadn’t bothered to pick up any at Wal-Mart. “Damn it.”
Braden knocked again. “Dad? I need to pee.”
Remy groaned as he rolled off his lover. “God,” he muttered, then raised his voice. “I’m coming! Hold on a minute, will you?”
As Remy climbed out of bed, Lane rolled on his side and hugged the blankets to his chest. Remy’s naked skin prickled from a chill in the air, despite the fact the heater was running. He hurried to the pile of bags they had dropped in front of the closet door the night before and bent over to rummage through them for some clothes.
Lane let out a randy wolf whistle. “Look at that backside,” he teased. “Stay like that for a moment, will you? Let me jerk off staring at your fine ass.”
Remy was annoyed at the interruption. He should be in the bed with his lover, not getting dressed. Not this early. “If I can’t get off, neither can you.”
“Says who?” Lane asked. “I’m almost there.”
Finding a pair of sweatpants, Remy stepped into them. Before he pulled them all the way up, he smacked his butt and looked at Lane over his shoulder. “Kiss it.”
“Come over here and I will,” Lane promised.
With a grin, Remy held his pants down under his ass cheeks and returned to his side of the bed. Lane moved into the spot Remy had vacated, lips puckered. Turning his back to his lover, Remy bent over slightly, hands fisted at his crotch. Through the sweatpants, he gripped his cock, hard. When he felt Lane’s lips press against his buttock, he came a little.
Then, before Remy could move away, Lane licked the length of the crack in Remy’s ass. It tickled over Remy’s tight hole, leaving a wet swath of spit behind. Remy came a little bit more, and he tucked a hand into the front of his sweats to rub his dick. “Oh Jesus,” he sighed as Lane’s tongue rimmed him. “Oh yeah.”
Warm hands parted his cheeks, opening him up to his lover. The tip of Lane’s nose was a little cool between Remy’s heated buttocks, and his breath fluttered over Remy’s skin. Lane tongued between Remy’s legs, darting over the sensitive area of his perineum to tickle the back of his balls. Grasping his cock, Remy thrust into his hand and moaned, “Oh God, oh yeah, right there, yes, yes.”
Across the room, the knob on their bedroom door turned. First one way, then the other. Then it rattled when Braden realized it was locked. “Dad!” he yelled, louder this time.
His son’s voice was like a splash of cold water, killing the mood. With one last kiss on Remy’s butt, Lane laid back down, then pinched Remy’s ass. “You’re being paged.”
Remy sighed as he pulled his sweatpants up all the way and snapped the band around his waist. “Damn it the hell,” he muttered. Would they ever get a moment alone? Annoyed, he hollered out, “I said hold on.”
“Better go.” Lane caught Remy’s hand and kissed the knuckles. “I’ll still be here when you get back. You’re sexy in sweats.”
“I’m sexier out of them,” Remy joked.
Returning to his duffle bag, he found a thermal shirt and pulled it on. It fell loosely to the waist, and that, combined with the bulkiness of his sweatpants, helped hide what remained of his erection. He knew it’d be completely gone by the time he found the toilet paper and returned, but he knew he’d get it up again with Lane’s help in no time.
Unlocking the bedroom door, he opened it and tried not to glare at his son. “No TP, I heard,” he said. “Good morning to you, too. Did you look in the cabinet?”
“What cabinet?” Braden asked innocently. “I looked under the sink. Nothing there.”
Remy’s anger dispersed. “Fine. Let me look.”
Glancing into the room past his father, Braden saw Lane snuggled in the bed sheets and glowered. “What’s he doing sleeping in your bed?”
“Where else is he going to go?” Remy countered. “Do you want him to sleep in yours?”
Braden made a face and turned. Remy followed, swatting his son’s backside playfully. “Lane’s my friend, got that?” he asked his son. “You be nice to him, you hear?”
With a shrug, Braden replied, “Whatever. I need to pee.”
* * * *
Fortunately, there was toilet paper in the cabinet, but Remy had to really look for it—one solitary roll was tucked away on a shelf above the stacking washer/dryer unit. Even if Braden had been able to see it from his height, there was no way he would have ever reached it. Remy retrieved the roll and handed it to his son, making a mental note to be sure to pick up more when they went shopping.
The morning was so blissful, he cringed at the thought of fighting Wal-Mart holiday traffic. But they needed something more than eggs and coffee to live on the next two weeks, and one roll of toilet paper wasn’t going to last long between the three of them.
Braden took the roll and, very fastidiously, hung it in its proper place. As he did so, he noticed the bathtub for the first time and laughed. “That tub has feet!”