Renovated Pantry
Danny and Wembley, as well as Armand joined them at the dinner table. As far as Bill could tell, Janet need not have worried. Their new guests, Albert Kreed and Lucky Denver, were about the nicest people he’d ever met.
Albert—call me Kreed—didn’t talk much. As huge and epically bearded as he was, he clearly used his much smaller partner as his social shield. Lucky didn’t seem to mind, being as gregarious as Kreed was reserved.
They talked a lot about Janet’s cooking, which Bill understood. She was an all-around talent, whether it was in the kitchen or with her paint brushes, and the kitchen was Kreed’s domain, so it was a conversation he actually contributed to. Bill was sure Lucky had anticipated the topic would draw out the big man’s sweet personality enough to get him to speak and calculated that into his conversation.
Kreed’s compliments went a long way to easing Janet’s uncharacteristic nerves, which seemed to please Lucky to no end. Watching him work the table was watching a masterclass in setting people at ease with small talk.
As talk wound down over coffee and pie, and Lucky broke off into a conversation with Danny about his shelter and charity foundation, Bill quietly gathered up a few dirty plates and empty glasses to carry to the kitchen.
He loved this family, but sitting close enough to Huxley he could smell his shower soap and damp hair for the past hour and a half had been actual, physical torture. He needed a breath of fresh air.
He was bent over the dishwasher, loading the bottom rack, when someone tapped his ass.
“Fuck!” He startled upright, to find Huxley right there, crowding him against the kitchen sink.
“Hux. Come on. Guests. This is a place of business.”
“Oh, I mean business. Don’t worry about that.”
“Hux.” It was a protest. Definitely. But one whispered into the crook of Huxley’s neck as Huxley yanked him close.
“Come here.” Huxley pulled him across the room to the pantry door, opened it, and shoved Bill inside.
“The hell?”
The pantry had been renovated, apparently. Or it was a lot larger than Bill remembered, because Huxley followed him in, flipped the lights on, and closed the door firmly behind them.
“This is new?” He ran a hand over the edge of a wide shelf laden with what looked like jars of home-made pickles, jams and chutneys.
“Bill.”
“I don’t remember this room being so?—”
“Focus,” Huxley pulled his attention around via a hand gripping his chin and physically turning Bill’s head to face him.
“Hard not to. What are we doing?”
“I’ve been sitting at that table smelling you and your after-shave?—”
“I have a beard.”
“—or whatever. For over an hour, and it’s enough.”
“Enough?” He knew he was poking a bear. He couldn’t quite help himself.
Huxley bent and pressed a kiss to his mouth, clearly done being poked. Or maybe ready to get started with the poking…
Thank God the cupboard wasn’t very big, because Bill’s knees turned liquid and he needed the shelf behind him for support when Huxley tongued his lips apart and demanded entrance.
Bill let him. Bill was ready to let him do all the things, was, in fact, rutting against Huxley’s hard thigh, aching for the friction on his dick, when the door flew open.
“Jesus! Huxley!” Janet’s irate voice cut through the kiss.
Bill yanked free of Huxley’s grip and turned to one side, aware his cheeks and ears had to be beet red.
Huxley, for his part, didn’t budge, but kept his bulk between Bill and the kitchen, one hand braced on the shelf beside his head, the other clamped at his waist, holding him still.
“Janet,” he rumbled.
“For real?” she whispered. “Both of you! Did you revert to seventeen suddenly?”
Mortified, Bill tried to push past Huxley, but he held fast.
“Hush,” Huxley breathed into his ear. Then “Stay.” He used both hands to plant Bill’s ass on the edge of a shelf, then backed out of the pantry and half closed the door behind him.
“Jan, I’m sorry. You’re right. Very unprofessional.”
She snorted, and through the cracked door, Bill could see her standing against the counter, arms crossed, face pinched.
“In my defence, I’ve been waiting a decade.”
“You can’t wait one more hour. This morning, you balked at inviting him to Fathers Day. Now you’re banging in my pantry.”
“Father’s Day is sort of a thing with us, I?—”
Bill pushed the pantry door open just as Janet’s eyes got really wide. “Hux. We should bring coffee out. Jan, you go ahead and sit. We’ll get more coffee.”
“Thank you Bill.” She lifted her chin and marched back out to the table.
“Dude, seriously?” Huxley turned to him. “I’m the only bad guy here?”
Bill grinned. “You are the one who pushed me in there.”
“That is a total double standard.” But he did shuffle along the counter to retrieve the fresh pot of coffee. “Grab more creamer from the fridge. Jan put that little jug out for them, but I think Lucky used all of it in his first cup.”
Bill did as he was told without comment watching Huxley’s firm ass as he followed him back out to the guests.