Chapter 36
A wicked grin settled on Graham’s face as, eyeing Brent’s hard cock before him, a truly despicable idea filled his head. It sure would be a hell of a way to get back at Brent for getting him into this pickle.
Scandalized, he shook the notion away. Come on, Graham. You couldn’t really…
Could you?
The sound of Pickering’s blabbering above the counter faded into the background as the sight of Brent’s pulsing, throbbing cock just inches away from Graham’s mouth consumed his full attention.
Oh, yeah. He definitely could.
“Hoooly…”
Utter dumbfoundedness seized the Mayor’s face then as he laid eyes upon the suddenly sputtering hot cocoa proprietor who appeared to have just entered higher consciousness.
“Son, are you all right?”
Brent swallowed a panicked gulp before responding. “Oh, yes. I’m…just…fiiiiine…”
A crease formed on the Mayor’s forehead as he furrowed his brow, befuddled. “If you say so, son.”
Back behind the bar, Graham snickered as he slobbered on Brent’s twitching cock. So, Bent thought he was in charge, eh?
Not anymore, he wasn’t.
Twirling his tongue around Brent’s cockhead, Graham gripped Brent’s shaft at the base. That airhead Mayor didn’t have the slightest idea what depravity was ensuing quite literally under his nose.
And it made Graham fucking feral.
Increasing his suction, Graham bobbed his head up and down Brent’s fat, girthy shaft. With each oral stroke, he could feel a trembling Brent fighting for his life to avoid falling to pieces before the Mayor.
Call me a little bitch, will you? scoffed a voice inside Graham’s head. Who’s the whore now, huh? Getting your cock blown in secret at your workplace, and in the middle of serving a customer?
Granted, not in the way Brent was being served at the moment. Graham gave his balls a gentle tug as he continued to slobber on his rock-hard pole.
Where on earth had this side of him come from, Graham had to wonder.
Not that he’d ever been a prude, of course.
But sucking off his high school crush in public, all while said crush was forced to carry on as if nothing was remotely awry?
Using Brent for his pleasure, knowing inside he was driving the hot stud crazy?
Talk about kinky.
And as a matter of fact, Graham decided, he was pretty sure he liked this new part of him
Who would have thought? he mused to himself. Graham Bartlett, squeaky clean, corporate goody two-shoes, illicitly slobbering on a hard, hairy cock in broad daylight while just feet away, the town’s most important luminary was making idle small talk with the helpless recipient of his talents.
Geez, Brent really brought out the deviant in him, Graham realized. He silenced the voice in his head before it could point out just why Brent had such a powerful effect on him.
“How’s the Peppermint Perfection?” Mayor Pickering asked as he squinted up at the menu.
Brent swallowed down hard in response. “Ohhh, that’s good.”
An awkward beat of silence followed as Pickering fiddled with his glasses on his nose. “Really? That good, eh?”
Beneath the counter, Graham stifled an evil snicker at the exchange occurring above him while Pickering proceeded to the next item on the chalkboard.
“And the Cinnamon Surprise…how’s that?”
“Yeahhh that’s perrrrrfect.” Brent gripped the edge of the bar for stability.
Below deck, Graham imagined the thoughts that must have been running through his companion’s head. Jesus, would he just make up his mind already? Surely, he’s not planning to ask about the entire menu?
A wicked smile curled at the corners of Graham’s cock-stuffed mouth. Hope you’re not feeling spent yet, Brentie-Pie. Something tells me this might take a while.
Back up topside, Brent’s enthusiasm seemed to be catching. The Mayor, apparently quite taken with the shopkeeper’s passion for his craft, spoke with increasing zeal. “Sounds like quite the endorsement.”
Down at Brent’s waist, Graham worked his tongue sensually along every inch of his partner’s shaft. With every ounce of focus he could muster, he applied himself body and soul to pleasuring—no, worshipping—the member before him. For a moment, he’d almost forgotten about the Mayor up above.
“What about the Gingerbread Jamboree?” Pickering went on, pulling Graham back to the present.
Wincing, Brent pounded a fist on the countertop. “Juuuuust the way I like it.”
The display seemed to give the oblivious Mayor a thrill. “You don’t say, huh?”
Underneath, Graham noticed a tenseness begin to seize in Graham’s legs. A tell-tale throb started pulsing in his mouth.
He began sucking faster.
“Ohhh, yeahhhhh.”
At this, the Mayor seemed positively tickled. “Well, I do like the sound of that.”
The throbs of Brent’s cock jutted forcefully against the roof of Graham’s mouth. Delirious, he sucked as if he hoped to drain Brent’s very life force.
“You know what,” Pickering remarked, “I think I’ll take all three!”
With force that could rival a fire hydrant, a thick, hot jet stream coated the back of Graham’s throat.
“Fuuuuuck!”
Sheer and utter bewilderment blanketed the Mayor’s face then. “I beg your pardon?”
Graham just knew Brent had gone ghost white then.
“My sincerest apologies, Mayor.” His voice was practically shaking. “I don’t know what came over me!”
Graham fought to keep himself from bursting into laughter as the milky load from Brent trickled deliciously down his throat.
“I guess I just have trouble controlling myself sometimes,” Brent attempted to recover. “When it comes to hot cocoa, I mean.”
Again, Graham suppressed a dastardly chuckle.
The explanation seemed to work, though. With a grin, the Mayor nodded his approval. “No need to apologize, son. If only everyone could apply themselves to something that brings them such pleasure as you seem to have found.”
It was all Brent could manage to return a nervous chuckle. “You got that right.” He flicked a you-are-so-going-to-get-it-for-this look down at Graham, who actually had the nerve to reply with a bratty smirk.
A cleansing breath later, Brent refocused his attention on Pickering. “Coming right up, Mayor. Why don’t you have a seat?”
At this, Pickering cocked his head. “You don’t want me to wait here at the counter?”
Before Brent could stop himself, the words were already out. “Don’t be silly, Mayor. Here at The Cozy Mug, we’re always full…service.”
Graham nearly split his sides as he bit back his laugh.
* * *
With a loud, emphatic, and forceful click, Brent locked the shop door tight.
“What in jingle bells got into you, Graham? Blowing me in front of the Mayor? Have you gone nutcrackers?”
Graham responded with an impish shrug. “Did you enjoy it?”
The question earned him an eye roll. “That’s beside the point, Graham.”
“I didn’t hear you say no.” Graham poked his companion in the chest, teasing.
Brent narrowed his eyes as if sizing up his counterpart. “You’re a cheeky one, Graham Bartlett.”
For a brief, magical second, the two men shared a smile. Clearly, all had been forgiven.
It was then that Graham realized Brent looked like he wanted to kiss him.
He felt his heart give a squeeze.
“Well, at least we proved my theory right, huh?” Brent dealt Graham a chummy punch to the shoulder.
And just like that, the spell evaporated.
Graham pulled himself back to the present. “Say what?”
“That we can just have casual sex.”
Hastily, Graham forced a nod. “Oh, that. Yeah, of course. No sweat.”
The beat of uncomfortable silence that followed, however, said otherwise.
Before either of them could contemplate it, though, Brent stole a glance at his wristwatch. “Oh, hey, we’ve got to get going.”
Graham cocked his head, confused. “We do?”
“Your mother’s Christmas Eve party, you cream puff.” Brent eyed Graham appraisingly. “Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“Of course not,” Graham replied, lying through his teeth. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
Another bald-faced lie.
Brent offered an approving nod. “She throws a real rager, you know.”
“Does she now?” Just what he needed with Coco around.
Brent mussed up Graham’s hair, jocular. “Don’t worry, I’m only teasing. She hosts one every year before the town tree-lighting ceremony. It’ll be fun, trust me.”
Fun, of course, was a matter of opinion, Graham mused in silence.
“Just let me grab my sweater upstairs, and we can head out.” He spun around on his heels. “Be back in a minute, pal.”
Graham felt an anvil land in the pit of his stomach. Pal? As in Hey, pal, wanna grab a beer together? or Sup, pal? You catch the game last night? or maybe even Yo, pal, who definitely wasn’t just slobbering on my dick five minutes ago…
Man, Brent hadn’t been kidding about keeping things casual.
Graham pried his eyes away from the sight of his companion’s posterior climbing the steps to his apartment upstairs. Get it together, Bartlett. This is just what you wanted. No feelings, no complications—just a simple, no-strings holiday fling.
He let loose a laugh. Simple. Riiiiight. Resetting, he inhaled deep. Had Brent been just about to kiss him? For a moment, it sure had seemed that way.
One perfect, magical, beautiful moment.
The epiphany hit Graham like a freight train. The fact that Brent hadn’t kissed him should have been a relief. Instead, however, all he felt was…disappointed.
So much for keeping their feelings out of this.
And now he had to spend the evening singing Christmas carols, playing holiday charades, and doing St. Nick knows what else his mother had planned for this party with Brent sitting right beside him.
All while pretending to still be his mother’s perfect, straight golden boy.
Talk about a nightmare before Christmas.