Page 366
Story: Men of Fort Dale
“We’ve had Christmases together before.”
“Right. As friends.”
When Dean had been secretly nursing a crush on Sloane, and then after he’d inevitably fallen in love with him. He didn’t want to focus too hard on what it had been like to endure the holiday season while secretly in love with his straight best friend. Christmas had always been the toughest holiday to endure. Something about the air of joy, family, and togetherness made his longing ten times harder.
He didn’t have to say that, though. He could see from the softening in Sloane’s eyes. The man pulled Dean closer until they were pressed front to front, and Dean had to look up into his face. Sloane took hold of his chin, smiling down at him.
“This Christmas is going to be great. We won’t miss our flight. My family already loves you to pieces. And us being together for Christmas is more than enough to make me happy. I’ll have my mother and my sisters, and I’ll have you. I don’t need things to be perfect because they already will be.”
Dean wasn’t sure if it was his words or the fact that Sloane, without hesitation or a glance at the crowd behind them, kissed him. He was also sure it didn’t matter as he allowed himself to melt against him. For all the years of painful longing, the past six months of their newfound relationship were everything he could have asked for and so much more. He had spent years dreaming of what a relationship with Sloane would be like and was delighted to find the reality was at least ten times better.
And then the moment was ruined by the ugliest clearing of throats Dean had ever heard. He stiffened and felt Sloane’s body go taut. Dean refused to look over his shoulder, knowing damn well he was going to find someone giving them a filthy look, and it might provoke them into saying something stupid. Dean didn’t want to lose his temper on some jackass in the middle of an airport terminal.
“Got a fucking problem?” Sloane growled, straightening to his full height and glaring over Dean’s head with hard, glinting eyes.
Dean finally turned around, if only to witness the show. What he found was a balding man in glasses and what was probably originally a ruddy complexion. Instead, the man’s face had paled to curdled milk, shrinking away, only scowling when he turned to melt back into the crowd.
“Merry Christmas,” Dean called after him with a laugh.
“Glad you think it’s so funny,” Sloane growled.
“The guy looked like he was going to piss himself,” Dean chuckled. “Of course, it’s funny.”
“Asshole,” Sloane grumbled.
If there was one benefit to dating a man like Sloane, it was that people rarely wanted to contend with him. While Dean knew Sloane was a well-trained soldier who was more than capable of causing harm in a fight, he couldn’t recall the last time Sloane had come to blows with someone. His sheer size and aura of menace were more than enough to dissuade anyone from tangling with him.
Dean turned back to Sloane, grinning. “I could have never got away with that, you know. People like that take one look at me and think they can run their mouths. You though? Ah, that was brilliant.”
Sloane frowned down at him. “Who the hell’s been giving you trouble?”
Dean shook his head. “No one, Sloane.”
No one Sloane could help him with anyway. They were long gone from his life or had just been in passing. Dean barely managed the low end of average height for a man, and his build was, at best, stocky. There was not one thing intimidating about him, except perhaps his temper, though that was according to other people, Dean wasn’t so sure.
Dean hummed thoughtfully, running a hand down Sloane’s chest. “And have I mentioned how much Ilovehearing you get growly.”
“You might have, a few times,” Sloane said, anger slowly draining from his face.
“I mean,reallylike it,” Dean said, keeping his voice low for emphasis.
“Then you must get horny just hearing me talk since, apparently, all I do is growl,” Sloane said, raising a brow.
“Well, maybe not every time you talk, but…” Dean trailed off with a meaningful look.
Sloane laughed, kissing him again. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
He might want to call Dean ridiculous, but Dean was still pressed against the man. He could clearly feel that Sloane thought Dean was anythingbutridiculous. Well, if the sudden presence of something exceptionally long and intimidatingly thick pressing against his stomach was any indication, that was.
Sloane saw the look in Dean’s eyes and frowned a warning. “Don’t even think about it, Dean.”
Dean widened his eyes and tried for innocence. “What did I do?”
Sloane gave him a knowing look. “It’s not what you did. It’s what you’re thinking of doing.”
“Me?” Dean asked. “I wasn’t thinking of anything.”
“You arenotmolesting me in an airport terminal with hundreds of people,” Sloane told him quietly.
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