Winter Wonderland (9 page)

Kyle shouldered his pack and followed the direction Paul gestured.

The duplex was plain from the outside—one-story, yellow siding, a cluster of evergreens blocking the wind on the north side—and the inside was much the same. It was a rental, Kyle knew, and it looked it. It felt like a place a man in his thirties put his things and slept and ate. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either.

Kyle’s heart sank a little as he saw the bed made up on the sofa, then chided himself for thinking Paul would simply tumble him into the sheets. Still, he looked longingly at the comfy queen in Paul’s bedroom as he changed into his pajama pants and a sweatshirt, sitting on the fluffy comforter as he tugged on a pair of wool socks. His phone buzzed, which surprised him. Maybe a weather alert? He pulled it out of his jeans, rolling his eyes when he saw the notification. Another text from Corrina.

I’m serious. No hanky-panky. Not yet.

Kyle punched a text back.
Why are you up at three in the morning?

I set an alarm.

For crying out loud.
Go to bed, Corrina.
Anticipating her next text, he added,
I’m headed there too. Have to work again tomorrow night.

Give my love to Paul.

Kyle deleted the texts, shaking his head with a reluctant smile. Like he could walk out there and tell Paul Corrina said hi. Because then he’d have to admit he got middle-of-the-night texts from Corrina Anderson warning him away from sex with his crush.

When he padded out into the living room, Paul handed him a mug of steaming chocolate milk, but his gaze stayed focused on Kyle’s socks. “Those are cool. Where did you get them?”

Kyle wiggled his toes proudly. “I made them.”

Paul’s eyes went wide. “You did? That’s amazing.”

“Not really. It’s a variegated yarn, so the pattern makes itself. Socks are easy. I can make them in a weekend.” He saw the longing in Paul’s gaze and melted. “I’ll make you a pair as soon as I have a day off, as a thanks for letting me crash here.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Paul said in tones making it clear he wanted someone to make socks for him.

Kyle settled into the sofa and patted the other side to urge Paul to follow suit. “What colors do you like?”

Paul sat, curling his hands around his own mug, hunching his shoulders a little as he sipped it. “Oh, I’m not particular. Whatever you have is fine.”

Kyle wasn’t going to admit how insane his yarn stash was. “What’s your favorite color?”

Paul shrugged. “Orange. Like the scarf you have.” He blushed. “But you don’t have to make them. I was only admiring.”

Oh, Kyle was
making
Paul some socks. “I have just the skein. I only wish I’d brought it with me. A blizzard is the perfect time to knit.”

“Where do you buy it? There’s no shop in town anymore, is there?”

“Heavens, no. It closed before I was out of high school. There used to be a passable store in Eveleth, but it closed. There’s another in Hibbing, but I don’t often get over that way. Mostly I order online, unless I can get to Yarn Harbor in Duluth.”

Paul nodded, clutching his mug. The conversation ran dry, and they sipped in silence. Kyle tried to rally his charm and work up a flirt, but he was so tired he felt drunk. He stifled a sigh. “I wish I had tomorrow off. I’m going to be a horrible guest. Sleeping, showering, taking off again.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Paul held his mug tighter. “Sleep as late as you want. I’m giving you my bedroom.”

Kyle stared at the couch, trying to imagine Paul’s big body fitting on it. “No way. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve fallen asleep on the couch a million times.”

Kyle shook his head and set his cocoa aside. “No. I seriously will not let you.”

“
You
can’t sleep on the couch. You’re way too tall.”

This was true. But Kyle couldn’t handle the thought of Paul making himself uncomfortable on his account. He put his hand on Paul’s thigh. “Come sleep in your bed with me. I promise not to molest you. If I stay awake long enough to hit the pillow, it will be a miracle.”

He got ready for a round of arguments, to barrel dizzily through them, but to his surprise, Paul blushed and nodded. “All right.”

Kyle wondered if he’d caved too quickly about promising no sex as he brushed his teeth, his dick perking up at the sounds of Paul undressing in the other room. Corrina’s warning floated back to him, which was annoying, but honestly he was afraid he’d embarrass himself if he tried to start anything. Wouldn’t that be something, to finally seduce Paul into some action only to find out his libido had gone to sleep.

It woke, though, as Kyle climbed beneath the sheet where Paul’s body radiated heat. The sheets were crisp and clean, smelling of laundry soap, but the scent of their owner overwhelmed the detergent and engaged all Kyle’s senses. Paul faced away from him, which let Kyle stare at his back, imagining himself curling around it, running a hand over that muscled thigh.

Yep. His libido, his cock, everything was pretty wide awake.

Kyle arranged himself carefully on his side as he tried to decide how to initiate contact. A foot on his leg? No, too obvious. Snuggling close? Too weird.

The bed was so soft, so warm. The wind howled outside, but Kyle was snug, wrapped in heavy blankets, surrounded by a furnace of a man. Inhaling his soft, spicy scent. He wanted to sink into Paul too. Pull him close after fucking him hard, drift off to sleep sated by sex.

He shut his eyes, telling himself he’d think of the perfect way to seduce his host as soon as he rested his eyes a second.

The second expanded, and the next thing he knew the bed shifted, the room lit by the thin light of morning as Paul climbed beneath the comforter, the only sound in the house the wind howling outside and the toilet filling in the bathroom. Kyle turned to Paul, blinking in the confusion of being half-awake.

Paul smiled at him, sleepy-eyed and shy. “Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep. It’s only seven.”

He’s so pretty
. Unthinking, Kyle stroked Paul’s whiskered jaw.

Paul didn’t flinch away. If anything, he relaxed into the touch, his eyes closing briefly in a long, slow blink.

Heat expanded in Kyle, sloughing off slumber, taking him to where he’d left off before falling asleep.

Forget Corrina’s warning. Paul wanted this. He’d invited Kyle to stay over. Gave in with one urge to share the bed. Lay there now all soft and vulnerable, so sexy, waiting.

Kyle
wanted this. More than ever, more than the dreamy, distant longing for the man he’d harbored for years. Right now in Paul’s bed, surrounded by blizzard—this wasn’t fantasy. This was real. No flirtations, no setups. Just the two of them together in this bed, safe against the snow.

Putting a hand on Paul’s shoulder, Kyle pushed him on his back and brought their lips together as he climbed aboard his man.

Chapter Seven

Paul tried to say no. He really did. He put his hands on Kyle’s arms to push him gently but firmly away. Yet somehow he pulled instead of pushed, drawing Kyle closer. Before Paul could realize what he’d done, Kyle pinned him to the mattress and braced his hands into the pillow on either side of Paul’s head. For a moment they held still, Paul staring up at Kyle looming down, his face shadowed and mysterious in the early morning dark, eyes dancing with promise.

Then those eyes closed as Kyle leaned closer and took Paul’s mouth with his own.

It was a slow, sensual assault. The sound of their lips smacking together—sealing, releasing, reclosing—echoed in the bedroom, muffled by the snow outside. Kyle’s fingers were long and clever, sliding into Paul’s hair, trailing down his cheek, tucking behind his shoulder. Kyle’s body was hard and intent with purpose as he ground it meaningfully, lingeringly against Paul’s own. His mouth nipped, sucked, teased at Paul’s, sometimes stealing a tongue inside, but mostly kissing, as if he had nothing else to do in the world.

We shouldn’t.
The words were there in Paul’s mouth, but they couldn’t escape through the kiss, and soon they drowned entirely.

He hadn’t forgotten Kyle’s aggression and innuendo against the shop door—he had, in fact, dreamed about it often, sometimes while still awake. That same forcefulness was back now, and it made him shiver. Gone was Kyle’s playful, swishy demeanor—he was all business now, and his work was coaxing Paul into pleasure. When Kyle pushed Paul’s T-shirt high enough to expose his nipples, he shivered and arched into Kyle’s touch. He held still as Kyle shoved his sweatpants down, palming the naked globes of Paul’s ass.

When Kyle’s naked cock brushed against his own, Paul shut his eyes and groaned.

“That’s right.” Kyle took them both in hand as he kissed his way up Paul’s neck. “Relax and let me make you feel good.”

It all felt a little too good. Paul hissed and clutched at Kyle’s waist, trying to slow him down.

Laughing wickedly, Kyle kissed his way along Paul’s neck. Pushing Paul’s legs until they bent at the knees, he mouthed a hot, wet trail down the center of Paul’s chest, pausing to swirl his tongue in a whorl of hair, making Paul gasp for air as Kyle nipped with just a hint of teeth at his belly. He kissed his way around Paul’s groin, teasing the rigid length of his cock before diving in to suck gently on his balls. The more Paul writhed, the slower Kyle went, until Paul shook with want as Kyle lazily laved his way along Paul’s thigh to brush a kiss at his knee.

Shuddering, whimpering, Paul held still, unsure of how to behave, so he waited to be told. He wasn’t disappointed. Kyle lifted his head and smiled sweetly at Paul before bending to kiss him with the same patient languor he’d given Paul’s balls.

“Tell me what you want.” Kyle kissed Paul’s cheek, his chin, the side of his mouth, as his hand idly stroked Paul’s length. “Do you want me to suck you? Fuck you? Do you want to suck
me
?” He nipped at Paul’s trembling Adam’s apple. “Do
you
want to fuck
me
?”

Fuck him? “I—I thought…”

Words left him as Kyle purred against his pulse point. “You thought I was so toppy I wouldn’t bottom?” He laughed and bit the place he’d been kissing. “Honey, I can drive from
anywhere
.”

Paul’s dick throbbed, aching to spill, but his brain felt broken. He didn’t know what Kyle meant, only that the way he said it made Paul want to get on his knees and pant. “I—I don’t understand.”

“Let me show you.”

The bed shifted, and for a terrible moment, Paul was alone. Only a moment—as quickly as he realized his condition, Kyle was back, holding a tube of Astroglide and a condom in his hand. He placed them on the bed beside Paul, leaned over and kissed his quivering abdomen. “Where do you keep your toys?”

Paul blushed hotly. He would have lied and said he didn’t have any, but something about the way Kyle looked at him broke everything inside him. “In…in the bottom drawer of my dresser.”

He blushed more as Kyle vanished, turning even more scarlet when Kyle reappeared with the big black dildo he knew more intimately than he wanted to admit.

Kyle pushed the silicone against Paul’s lips and slipped the dildo inside.

Paul’s body jolted—in shock, in shame, but most of all in liquid-silver pleasure. He held still as Kyle pushed the fake cock deeper, until it filled his mouth.

Looking him coolly in the eye, Kyle said, “Open your throat.”

God help him, Paul did.

Shirt tucked under his armpits, pants tangled on one ankle, cock weeping and hole clenching, Paul let Kyle fuck his favorite dildo in and out of his mouth. Into his throat far enough to trigger a gag reflex—a reflex Kyle patiently waited out, until Paul relaxed enough to let Kyle fuck him with the toy however he wanted.

“That’s right. Suck it good, honey.” Kyle had shed his own pants and his shirt. While he fucked Paul’s mouth with one hand, he lubed Paul’s fingers with the other. “Keep sucking while you prep me.” He guided a lube-slick finger to his own ass. “Push in. Don’t be shy. I like it—” He stopped, shut his eyes and sucked in a breath, then smiled as Paul did as he was told. Then he opened his eyes and regarded Paul with so much self-possession he almost glowed. “Rough. I like it a little rough. Fuck me with your fingers, honey, while I fuck your throat.”

Paul did. One, then two fingers into the hot, slick warmth of Kyle’s pert little ass while Kyle stroked his cheek and fucked his mouth unforgivingly with the dildo. When Paul whimpered, Kyle kissed his nose and told him to go deeper, fuck harder. He told Paul to add a third finger, then left the dildo hanging from Paul’s lips while he reached around and slipped a condom on Paul.

“Keep sucking, honey.” He gently pulled Paul’s fingers from his own ass, smiling fondly at Paul as he aimed his hole over Paul’s ready cock. “Suck on the cock for me, and hold still. I’m going to take you for a ride. Don’t come until I tell you, please.”

Then he slammed his ass onto Paul’s dick, driving the dildo deep into Paul, and fucked himself up and down.

Drooling around the dildo, Paul watched helpless, drugged on shock and pleasure as Kyle rode him. He held still as Kyle worked himself, enjoying the delicious heat of Kyle’s tight hole, but mostly sinking into the unexpected control he was more than happy to let Kyle hold over him. Especially…this way. His brain kept breaking, feeling like Kyle had oh-so-casually solved one of the greatest logic puzzles of his life.

Kyle kissed his nose and licked the lips straining around the dildo as he kept riding. “Nice fat cock.
Mmm.
My favorite.” He pushed the dildo in and out, gently. “Do you like fat cocks too, baby? How about I put this in your ass so I can kiss your mouth while I fuck myself on you?”

Groaning, Paul drooled more. He didn’t move his hands because he hadn’t been told to, not until Kyle greased it and put it into his hands.

“Put it inside yourself.” Kyle tugged on Paul’s bottom lip with his teeth. “Reach around and push it in deep.”

It was a difficult order to comply with—Kyle kept kissing him, occasionally moving up and down on his cock while Paul tried to cram the dildo blind into his back door. He groaned as the tip breached him, shivered as Kyle’s pinch helped distract him. He shuddered as the length filled him, panted when it was buried to the hilt.

“Perfect. We’re both nice and full.” Kyle kissed him languidly. “Can you keep yourself from coming until I tell you?”

Paul nodded, huffing against sensation. Years as Arthur Anderson’s bed partner hadn’t come without any tricks learned.

“Good.” Kyle pushed himself up, just a little, and braced himself on Paul’s shoulders. “Now fuck me. Hard.”

Paul did. Staring up at Kyle like a lost boy finding his way home, he thrust with his hips, crying out at the way the dildo moved inside him as he fucked into Kyle. It slipped, it shifted, eventually sliding out of him with an audible
swuck
as he kept his focus on giving Kyle what he wanted. He watched Kyle’s face morph into ecstasy, tense up as he got close.

“That’s it.” Kyle clutched at Paul, holding himself more and more rigid as Paul hit all the right places. “Perfect. Fuck me good, baby.
Oh.
Yeah.
Harder. Faster. Go, baby. Go.”

Paul went. He wanted to come so badly he thought it might shoot out his ears, but he held back and pressed on, until Kyle said,
“Come, now,
” and then he exploded inside Kyle’s ass, feeling like he emptied his soul into the condom. He held still after he was spent, as Kyle sent ropes of spunk over his chest before collapsing onto him.

“There.” Breathless, Kyle kissed Paul’s neck. “That’s how I can drive from anywhere.”

Paul tried to catch his breath. He hissed a little as Kyle pulled off, rolled over and took care of the condom. He tracked Kyle as he disappeared into the hall, ran water in the bathroom, reappeared with a warm, wet cloth and applied it to Paul’s splooge-coated chest.

Kyle covered a yawn as he wadded up the cloth and placed it on the nightstand. “I think I might get a bit more sleep, if that’s okay.” He slipped under the covers and nuzzled beside Paul. “Can you join me, or do you have to go in to work?”

“The shop is closed, but I’m on call to anyone in town with an emergency. Arthur might bring Gabriel in later on the Ski-Doo, if the weather’s okay. But no. I don’t have to go in.”

“Good.” Kyle curled around Paul, drawing him under the covers.

Paul went with him, but he didn’t join Kyle in sleeping. He lay there for an hour, staring at the ceiling, a quiet panic building inside him. When the phone on his dresser buzzed, he took the call in the living room, assuring the caller no, he didn’t mind at all coming over to help sort out a busted pipe. In fact, he was happy to do it.

He left a note for Kyle on the table, saying he should help himself to whatever he wanted to eat or drink and promised to be home in time to take him to work. Then he bundled up and headed out to his truck, where he huddled in the cab and swam in the confusion of what had just happened between him and Kyle and whether or not he should let it ever happen again.

Kyle woke feeling pretty damn smug.

He was in Paul’s house, in Paul’s bed. He’d fucked Paul, and pretty well at that. He’d worried he’d gone a little too far a little too fast, but he’d seen how Paul responded. He’d liked it. A lot. He’d come like a fountain. They both had. It had been perfect.

Corrina was so wrong. That had been
exactly
what they needed.

He wasn’t surprised to find Paul gone, and his heart melted at the bag of sugared candy and box of green tea on the counter. He sipped some of the latter while he showered and dressed, and ate a piece of candy before foraging through Paul’s fridge for sandwich material.

He nosed through Paul’s video library after he ate, noting the absence of any porn or the rumored favorite holiday romances. A deeper search revealed both the porn and the cheesy movies, sadly more of the latter than the former. A
lot
more. Paul had at least twenty Christmas love stories, and several of them were multi-movie collections. He had a stack from the library too, hidden in the bottom of the entertainment center.

Kyle stopped snooping, knowing Paul could and would be home any second. He texted his mom to let her know he’d probably stay in town again. He couldn’t wait until his shift was over—during his shower he’d imagined all the ways he’d take Paul after his shift, and he was pretty sure he’d spend most of work thinking about fucking Paul as well.

He’d hoped to get some action
before
going to the care center, but at two, Paul still hadn’t come home. Kyle was about to text him and make sure everything was okay when someone knocked on the back door. Peering through the window didn’t do him much good, only revealed a shrouded figure huddled on the steps. Frowning, he opened the door.

It was Edna Michealson, who Kyle remembered too late was Paul’s neighbor on the other side of the duplex. She huddled beneath a purple parka that looked ready to swallow her whole as she glared at Kyle warily. “Kyle Parks? What on earth are you doing in Paul’s house?”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Michealson. Paul let me stay in town so I could make it to my shift at the care center tonight. Can I help you?”

She flattened her lips. “I have a huge drift on my front steps with an ice patch under it. I’m going to fall and break a hip.”

“I can take care of that for you, no problem. Give me a minute to get my boots on.”

She nodded toward the front of the house. “He scooped earlier, but it’s blowing something terrible. And the back walk isn’t done nearly well enough. I almost slipped twice. He never answers when I phone him, so I don’t bother calling. I heard someone through the wall, so I thought he was home.”

Kyle took note that Paul’s neighbor heard noises coming through the walls. “Do you want me to walk you to your door?”

She huffed and waved her hand as if she couldn’t possibly, as all the while her face made it clear she wanted that very much. “I’m not the sort of woman who troubles people.”

Kyle dealt with the Mrs. Michealsons of the world on a daily basis. He gave his best old-lady-charming smile. “It’s not any trouble at all to help you. I’m only sorry I didn’t already have my boots and coat on. I hate to make you wait. Will you come inside? I’ll be ready before you know it.”

She fussed and clucked, but she came inside, and Kyle hurried to get his winter gear on. While he did so, Edna surveyed Paul’s apartment with the eagle eye of a small-town busybody. “Keeps it cleaner in here than I’d have thought. Not terribly homey though. The boy needs a wife.” She paused, pursing her lips in a way that told Kyle she’d remembered wives weren’t something one discussed in the same sentence with Paul. When Kyle appeared in front of her with his hat in hand, she eyed it speculatively. “That’s some fine work. Did your mother make it?”

“I did. Do you knit, Mrs. Michealson?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know boys were knitting nowadays.” Her gaze fell on the hat, her expression wistful. “I was a master hand knitter. Level three.” She touched her weathered, age-spotted hands. “Haven’t been able to manage so much as a stockinette stitch for years. Too much arthritis.”