Chapter 11 #2
“You’re not dressed properly to be out here.” He hoisted himself up in a graceful motion that had me wondering how flexible he might be when he wasn’t covered in layers. I sat up, remaining on the ground, in no hurry for the magic moment to end.
I lifted my arm to hand him his sunglasses from my seated position.
“We’d best finish up out here, then, so I can get these wet jeans off,” I said, adjusting my snowy hat on my head and glancing down at my soaking-wet pants, my dick pushing the denim to its limit under the cover of my puffy coat.
“Go inside, Austin, and warm up. I’ll brush off the grill.”
I hopped up then. “Together,” I said, leaving Randall and the shovel behind and using my arms to swipe the mound of snow off the top of the grill.
I could hear him sighing and shoveling behind me. “It’s just going to get covered up again when the snow starts up.”
I took one last swipe at the grill, then scooped up a bit of snow from the counter, balling it up in my hands as I responded, “Yeah, but our future selves will thank us for the head start.” I waited for Randall to look up from the ground before performing an underhanded toss that had the snowball gently hitting the sleeve of his jacket and exploding.
Without looking away from me, he shoveled up a bit of snow and flicked the contents in my direction, snow hitting my chest and splattering onto my face. “I suppose you’re right,” he said with a smile, and I genuinely don’t think I had ever been happier to see someone smile.
I was sure Randall would stress out about our little romp at some point, so I vowed to keep him smiling, whether we were goofing around in the snow, inside watching the weather report, or killing time by striping each other down until we were so hot and sweaty that I couldn’t imagine the cold that was maybe starting to numb my toes.
“Hurry up and finish that path, Randall. You’re keeping me out in this cold too long,” I joked before I brushed off a section of the counter near the grill. I turned and waited for him to meet me, a path now leading from the middle of the patio to where I stood.
“My turn,” I insisted, reaching out my hand. He acquiesced, handing over the shovel. I dragged it along the path he’d created and continued until it met the slider. I quickly carved out a similar path to the wood pile. “Just in case we need more later.”
Randall placed both cases of wood on the tile just inside the door and waited for me to join him. The fact that he remained standing out in the cold and not inside felt very gentlemanly.
I propped the shovel just outside the door. I could see the look on Randall’s face, like it belonged in the garage, but we’d likely need it later, and he left it where it was as we made our way inside, both of us pulling our hats off as we entered.
Randall opened his mouth to speak, and I cut him off. “No thinking, Randall. What just happened …”
“I was just going to say, if we do have to go out there again, you are wearing snow pants and boots. You’re soaked through.”
He pointed down to my snow-caked shoes. They weren’t the only thing dripping snow onto the tiles, but my ankles and feet were the worst.
“Yeah.” I looked at him. “I’d better get this stuff off before I get frostbite.” It was hard to sound seductive and say the word “frostbite” at the same time.
I began to kick off my shoes.
“Wait!” Randall had his boots off, and he was running toward the laundry room, trailing melting snow as he went. He yelled back to me, “I mean, don’t wait. Get those wet things off. I’ll bring towels.”
He returned momentarily with not only a stack of towels, but a folded-up laundry rack, which he flicked open and set out.
“A place for everything,” I muttered with a little chuckle, unzipping my jacket before hanging my hat off one of the corners. I looked up at Randall, only to catch a decidedly unhappy expression on his face as he peeled off his own jacket.
Someone, and I had a fairly good guess as to whom, had really made him feel like shit for being so organized and liking to have everything in its place.
And, like a light switch turning on within me, it became all-fire important to me that he knew that there was nothing wrong with that.
He forced his jacket between two slats on the rack, and when he stood and turned, I was right there in his personal space.
Cold, wet, and uncomfortable but needing to apologize before I continued.
I had crowded him in and reached behind him to toss my jacket on the rack, leaning in as I did so.
I’d straighten it up properly in a moment, but I had something to do first. I grasped his arms and planted a kiss on him.
His face was cold, but his arms had stayed warm and dry under his expensive-looking, lightweight coat.
“This is perfect. We’ll let everything dry out a little, and we can wear them again to grill dinner.” I loved seeing the understanding flash over his handsome features. I hadn’t been criticizing or teasing. But the look of consternation returned almost immediately.
“Austin …”
“You’re thinking again.”
“I should never have kissed you.”
“And we should definitely discuss that.” I started stepping away from him and bending down to peel off my soaking-wet socks.
“As soon as I’m not freezing to death.” I unzipped my hoodie next, and part of me really wanted to go slowly and tease out the moment, but I really did need to get my wet clothes off and begin to warm up.
I fought to pull the hoodie off my arms, thinking about how much more challenging it was going to be to get rid of my snow-caked jeans.
He was freeing himself from his snow pants, which, adorably, were actually snow overalls that he peeled off his shoulders and squirmed out of.
His fleece pullover came off next, pulling his shirt up with it and providing me with a glance at his firm waist, a hint of a six-pack showing before he pulled his thermal shirt back down.
I was so focused on his movements that I hadn’t noticed the yoga pants he had layered underneath his winter gear, the smooth, clingy material hugging him in all the right places.
I was also too busy watching Randall perform his not-at-all-a striptease to keep going with my own denuding. Randall turned to drape the snow pants on the rack and caught me looking.
“Austin.”
I had his attention as I started to pull my jeans down. The caked snow was rapidly melting from around my ankles, and my bare feet were cherry red. He watched as I struggled to slide the heavy, wet material down, but as soon as he clocked my feet, his focus shifted.
“You’re going to get frostbite,” he said as he took one of the towels off the rack and flicked it to the floor near my feet. He pointed to it, and holding my jeans up midthigh, I hopped onto it.
He kneeled before me and wrapped my feet in the towel before standing and facing me.
We were inches apart, holding each other’s gazes.
He gently placed his feet over the top of mine, over the towel as his hands met mine at my hips.
Together, we tugged at the denim, but he took over, pulling and kneeling as he went.
All I could do was stand there and watch as he lifted one foot, my hand finding the wall behind me for balance.
He tugged until my leg was free before switching to the other side.
The stack of towels was just behind him, and he leaned back to grab another one, handing it up to me, never looking away, fire in his eyes. He covered my feet again and stood, finally breaking eye contact to add the jeans to the drying rack.
I held the other towel dumbly in my hands, watching him. I knew my cock was tenting my underwear, which were wet and cold, too, but I couldn't find it in me to care about the image I was presenting or the freezing temperatures.
Randall looked my way before quickly turning his back to me, his focus on straightening our dripping clothes on the rack.
My dick twitched at the site of his ass in those leggings, and part of me wished he’d turned around in time to see it.
Instead, he remained with his back to me, and I remained paralyzed in my spot.
“Take the rest of your clothes off,” Randall demanded, refusing to look at me, and the words surged through me like I’d fast-forwarded to the good part in a porn clip. He glanced at me, pointedly raising his chin and looking only at my face. “I’ll get the fire going.”
Oh, he’d gotten the fire going all right.
He didn’t turn away as I wrapped the towel around my waist. I yanked my T-shirt over my head before lifting one side of the towel up the side of my leg to pull my boxers off.
My situation meant that I really needed to tug to get them down, and I just knew that Randall was picturing my rock-hard cock breaking free underneath the towel.
I held the underpants off one finger as I stood, wrapped in nothing but a towel in front of him.
We stared for a beat, and I quirked a smile that I hoped was a little bit flirty and a little bit sultry. His reaction made me think it was neither of those things as he shook his head, laughed, and turned toward the fire before making his next demand. “Get under the blanket and get warmed up.”
“Yes, sir,” I said before I could think better of it. It could have put distance between us, I realized, if he interpreted it as a sign of respect shown to my father’s friend. I hoped my tone made it clear that the last thing I was thinking about was dear old Dad when I said it.
He shook his head as he walked away from me.
I followed and wrapped myself up in the soft blanket, tucking my legs up underneath me to cover them as well.
I could feel the towel separating under the folds of the blanket, and I wondered if Randall had caught a glimpse before I was nestled on his cozy couch underneath his comfortable blanket.