VAUGHN HAD more “rules” for us that night.
“Tonight’s rules are you get to pick which half we remove the clothes from. Are you going to remove your pants or your shirt, and do you want me to remove my pants or my shirt? Only one half off each of us.”
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
We were once again in his lounge, with only the Christmas lights to illuminate us. We’d watched the Christmas concert on TV and even sung along to some of the tunes. Vaughn had made popcorn and declared he’d never tasted eggnog. I admitted I’d never had the real stuff, only eggnog-flavored drinks, so we googled how to make eggnog, read the ingredients, and gave up. The northern hemisphere would have to keep their eggnog. We had lemonade instead.
Now, with all the popcorn and lemonade consumed, he declared his rules, picked up the bowls and cups, and left the room to allow me to make up my mind.
The concert still played when I came to the conclusion I needed to grab life with both hands.
“Well?” he asked as he came back into the room.
“Your top,” I said with a voice gone husky. He immediately placed his hands on the hem and whisked the T-shirt over his head. He dropped it to the ground carelessly and took a couple of steps forward.
“You remember that it’s your turn to go first tonight?” he growled in a sexy, deep voice.
Oh yes. That had been on my mind for the last six hours. I looked at that perfect chest I had perved on for so long and decided tonight was the night Geoffrey was going to relax.
I pushed my shorts and underwear to the floor. My cock was already waving his hello to Vaughn.
“Excellent choice,” Vaughn said approvingly and stepped closer. Then he moved in to kiss me. I reached for that delicious chest that was uncovered because I’d asked for it to be. His scent and taste were familiar but exciting at the same time. I wanted to explore further tonight. And the fact we were mismatched—his top half was bare, and my bottom half—meant we still had boundaries, and I liked that.
At Vaughn’s urging, I sank onto the couch and stretched out. He joined me, stretching out beside me, but this time it was me who was pushed between his beautiful—gorgeous, lovely, wonderful—body and the couch back. I sort of expected Vaughn to immediately arrow into touching my cock, because after all, I had given him permission. But he was a lot more intelligent than that. We went slow. I liked slow. I loved slow. Slow was anticipation and desire and enjoying the sensation. It was enjoying the other person instead of self-gratification with something other than your own hand.
We kissed and petted—that gentle exploration of tongues and hands that was about stoking the fires, not about setting off the ending fireworks. Time ceased to have meaning, but eventually Vaughn reached down and ran his fingers lightly over my erection. It was heaven and hell. Then he took me firmly in his grip. He broke our kiss and pulled back so he was staring into my face. His look was tender, but passions burned behind his eyes. I knew he wanted more from me, but was happy to go slower at the pace I was more comfortable with. And I had to admit, lying on his couch, Christmas lights blinking their festive message, and him tenderly holding my cock, I loved him for going slow with me.
“Can I suck you?” he asked on a breathless whisper.
Someone who asked permission without assuming every gay man wanted that? My heart gave two thumps in my chest and rolled over to show Vaughn its belly. I fell for him in that instant.
“Yes.”
This relationship may have only hours left in it, but I loved him.
“Oh, good,” he said and went back to kissing me, this time leisurely stroking my cock at the same time. Then he slowly slithered off the couch onto the floor so he was kneeling at my side. He made sure the hem of my shirt was smoothed down, then lightly kissed my hip bone before moving to more sensitive areas. He kissed the head of my cock, sucked lightly on the underside, then, only when I gave a groan of encouragement, he placed his mouth over the length and took me inside.
There was a problem with the long, slow buildup. And that was sometimes time was against you. All too soon I had to give him warning.
“Vaughn? I think those eight maids a-milking are about to visit. Oh God.”
He encouraged me on and made sure not a drop of cream was spilled. I went through the swans a-swimming stage and halted at the geese a-laying.
Vaughn leaned over me to kiss me tenderly. “Okay?”
I nodded slowly. “Yep. And I’m gonna be like a goose and continue a-laying here.”
“Huh?”
“Six geese a-laying? I’m going to just do that for a bit. Unless you have any other ideas?”
I really hoped those ideas weren’t too active.
“I was thinking about a night swim. It’s nine, but it’s still really warm. So how about it?”
“Naked again?” I asked before my brain could think to engage with my mouth. I winced, knowing he’d caught that second word.
He arched an eyebrow. “Again? And tell me, my sexy neighbor, how would you know that?”
I thought hard. “Um. The night I came over the fence and you fainted. You were naked under the towel.”
He gave me a look that said he wasn’t completely sold. “Hmm. Well, if you had peeked over our fence any time in the past year and caught me naked after dark, I’m okay with that.”
“So you do it regularly?”
He smiled. “And you have an open invitation to join me as long as you leave your trunks at home.”
Then he helped me to my feet, stripped off his shorts, and, ignoring his erection, grabbed two towels and unconcernedly led me outside.