Page 47 of Holiday Pines

“So what?”

“Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

Jake pulled him down into another kiss, deeper now. Their cocks pressed together, hot and hard, and they both groaned into each other’s mouths.

“I want you,” Jake said. “I want to taste you.”

Jake pushed at Wes’s shoulder, rolling them so Wes was on his back. He kissed down that broad chest, through the hair, tongue circling one nipple then the other. Wes’s hands fisted in the quilt, breathing ragged.

Jake kept going lower—kissing ribs, belly, the crease of Wes’s hip. When he finally wrapped his hand around Wes’s cock, Wes bucked up with a gasp.

“Jesus, Jake?—”

“Shh. Let me.”

Jake lowered his head and took Wes into his mouth.

The sound Wes made was broken, desperate. His hand flew to Jake’s hair, not pushing, just holding on as Jake worked him—tongue swirling, taking him deeper, learning what made Wes shake.

“Oh God, you’re gonna—I can’t?—”

Jake pulled off, stroked him slowly. “Can’t what?”

“Last. You keep doing that, and I’m gonna come.”

“So come.” Jake licked a stripe up the underside of Wes’s cock. “We’ve got time for more.”

“Christ.” Wes’s head fell back against the pillow. “You’re killing me.”

“Just trying to make you feel good.”

“Mission accomplished.”

Jake took him in again, deeper this time, hollowing his cheeks. Wes pulled back, trying not to thrust, and Jake encouraged him with both hands gripping Wes’s hips—it’s okay, give me what you’ve got.

Wes lasted a few seconds more before he was gasping out a warning, hand tightening in Jake’s hair. Jake didn’t pull off, took everything Wes gave him, swallowed and kept going until Wes was shaking, oversensitive, pushing weakly at his shoulder.

“Stop, stop, too much?—”

Jake released him with a final kiss to the tip, then crawled back up Wes’s body. Wes pulled him into a kiss, lazy and deep, tasting himself on Jake’s tongue.

“Your turn,” Wes said when they broke apart.

“We can wait if you?—”

“No.” Wes rolled them again, settled between Jake’s legs. “I've been thinking about this all week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wes kissed down Jake’s chest, quick and efficient. When he got to Jake’s cock, he didn’t hesitate—just took him in, wet and hot and eager.

Jake’s back arched off the bed. “Oh, fuck?—”

Wes wasn’t as practiced as Jake, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. The sight alone was almost enough—Wes’s head between his legs, beard rough against Jake’s thighs, those big hands holding his hips.

“Wes, I’m—I’m close?—”

Wes doubled down, one hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t reach, and Jake came hard, vision whiting out, Wes’s name on his lips.