Chapter 26
Before long at all, the two men became lost in their project—so much so that Oscar and the others had left their minds completely.
When was the last time Graham had built a snowman? Certainly not since moving to LA.
Now was no time to get sentimental, though. He shook the thought away before it got out of hand.
With considerable effort, they’d managed to stack the snowman’s body parts upright. He was quite the creation, if Graham did say so himself. He must have topped out at over seven feet tall.
Not that Graham was a size queen, of course.
“Not bad,” Brent assessed. Any hint of his former hostility had vanished from his voice.
“Well, we’re not done yet, you know.” Graham held up a handful of coal as well as the scarf and mittens.
A wry grin cracked on Brent’s face. “How could I forget?” He accepted the coal from Graham.
“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” Graham assessed as he sized up the happy smile Brent had given their new friend.
“That isn’t exactly saying much, you know.”
The jab earned him a good-natured punch to the arm. “Hey, now. I don’t have snow back in LA to practice with.”
The mention of LA seemed to dim Brent’s glow.
Graham, however, chose not to pay it any mind. Grabbing a pair of sticks off the ground, he inserted them into the snowman’s sides. Capping each with a mitten, he gave their frosty companion its finishing touch: a bright red scarf wrapped warmly around its neck.
Thus complete, the two men stepped back to admire their work.
“Handsome fellow,” Brent surmised.
He’s not the only one, added a voice in Graham’s head.
He cleared his throat, nervous. “Brent, there’s something I should tell you.”
“Again?” Something in his voice, though, said he was willing to listen this time.
“That call I got last night, after we’d, well, you know…”
A heavy sigh passed from Brent’s lips. “Listen, Graham. You’re a great guy. And whatever your situation is with Orlando, I don’t need an explanation. ’Cause whatever it is, it’s not what I’m looking for. As much as I have feelings for you, Graham, I’d never come between you and your boyfriend.”
“But that’s just the thing,” Graham replied urgently. “Orlando’s not my boyfriend.”
Brent looked as if he was attempting to decipher a foreign language. “But then, why…”
“He’s my assistant, Brent. Like at work.”
At this, Brent’s eyes brightened like two freshly polished sleigh bells. “Are you serious?” He furrowed his brow, contemplating. “But if he’s your assistant, then what was he doing calling you in the middle of the night?”
Graham’s response came deadpan. “Let’s just say professional boundaries aren’t exactly Orlando’s strong suit.”
At this, Brent gave an accepting nod. “But why didn’t you set me straight?” He let loose a chuckle. “In a manner of speaking.”
“Because it seemed for the best. We both know I’m only here for the holidays, so it just felt easier to say our goodbyes and not drag things out.”
Exasperation and fondness mingled on Brent’s face. “Graham Bartlett, I have heard many a dumb thing come out of that cute mouth of yours, but that has got to be the dumbest of them all.”
Graham couldn’t help but notice the playful sparkle that lit up Brent’s eyes then. A wave of heat flashed in his cheeks as he felt his heart rate suddenly tick up.
“Come on, what do you say we get out of here?” Brent suggested, mischief in his voice. “I don’t know about you, but I could stand to warm up a little, huh?”
“But what about Oscar?” As much as he detested the four-legged gremlin, Graham knew they couldn’t abandon their post.
“Check your texts,” Brent replied with a wink.
Pulling out his phone, Graham opened his latest message.
All clear, read a group text from his mother. Delivery day at the butcher’s. Let’s just say Oscar has a taste for top sirloin.
Rolling his eyes, he re-pocketed his phone. “I guess that means we’re off the hook.” He bit his lower lip, devilish. “So, what were you saying about warming up?”
* * *
The pair didn’t waste a moment getting down to business. No sooner had the door to Brent’s loft apartment shut than clothes began flying off with abandon.
It started with Brent peeling his shirt. Heedless, he yanked the flannel over his head, far too impatient to bother with a nuisance like buttons.
Bare-chested, he stood before Graham, allowing him a moment to take in the view of his muscled body.
“Fuck, what a beautiful man,” Graham practically growled as his gaze slid over every inch of Brent’s toned, hairy torso.
“Like what you see?” Brent asked with a smirk.
“You know I do.” Blood pumping, Graham ran his hands over his companion’s naked flesh. He couldn’t help but shake his head in wonder. Every last inch of Brent’s body was hard as a rock.
Including, based on the bulge between his legs, the inches Graham wanted to feel most of all.
“Easy there, tiger.” Brent pulled Graham’s hand from his crotch. “Someone is still overdressed, if you ask me.” He glanced hintingly at the wool sweater hugging Graham’s pecs.
Graham responded with a smirk. “It appears you have a point.” Stepping back, he whipped his sweater over his head, revealing his own naked chest.
Brent smiled approvingly as he soaked up the sight of Graham before him. “Much better.”
Although he wasn’t hairy, Graham certainly had Brent matched when it came to physique. He had, after all, spent the last decade keeping up with LA’s muscle gays.
And now the payoff was all Brent’s to enjoy.
“Damn, you’ve come a long way since that skinny nerd in high school,” Brent praised as he worked his hands into Graham’s smooth chest. A brief pause ensued as he appeared to turn inward.
“Just to be clear, Graham, you were always adorable. But these”—he cupped his companion’s pecs and jiggled their weight, entranced—“sure are a nice bonus.”
Shirtless, the two men pressed their chests together, arms tangled around one another as they locked their lips tight in a deep, carnal kiss.
Graham registered his blood beginning to pump overtime—coursing through his body with insatiable lust for the man before him.
A musty haze began forming around them—the result of their pheromones releasing through their glistening, sweaty forms. Before long at all, the scent had them transformed into animals—hungry, primal, and driven solely by instinct.
“Fuck, I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Brent’s voice had become ragged, husky.
“What exactly do you have in mind?” The possibilities were enough to drive Graham wild.
“How about”—Brent cupped Graham’s cock through his pants—“I show you?”
Now it was Graham’s turn to pump the brakes. “Or,” he countered, “how about I show you?” A fiendish gleam lit up his eyes.
Brent’s mischievous grin in response said all Graham needed to know.
“I thought you’d like that idea.” Bending to his knees, Graham brought his face in close to Brent’s waist. He let his eyes follow the tantalizing trail of hair that led down his partner’s abdomen—a lustful hint at the reward waiting for him just beneath Brent’s denim.
He unbuttoned Brent’s fly, reverential. Like he was about to unseal the greatest treasure known to man.
“Fuck, stud,” Brent said as he struggled to control his breath. “Take it out, will you? Show me what you know how to do.”
He certainly didn’t need to ask that twice. Without further ado, Graham unzipped Brent’s pants open wide.
Releasing the cock he’d dreamt of since he’d first laid eyes on it.