A Guy for Christmas - K.C. Wells Page 0,66

mixing, his stomach clenching. After a moment, Robin raised his head. “Yeah. I’m not telling them anytime soon.”

There was an implication in his words. Robin isn’t treating what we have as casual.

But then, neither was Dean.

Dean had to admit, his cookies had never been prettier. The stars were done in red, with tiny blobs of white for snowflakes. Robin had taken the round cookies and covered most of them in red icing, leaving a central bit shaped like an eye, which he’d then covered in a flesh tint. Dean had no idea where he was going, until he realized Robin had taken black icing and drawn a belt above the flesh color. A splash of white at the top, a white trim…

“Oh my God. That’s Santa’s belly.”

Robin chuckled. “You like it?”

“No—I love it! Poor Santa needs to lose some weight. Mrs. Claus is overfeeding him.”

Baking paper covered the countertop, and the cookies were laid out in rows. A good morning’s work. Then Robin peered into the bowl with a grin.

“Hey, would you look at that. There’s some cookie dough left.” He glanced over at Dean, his eyes glittering. “I love eating dough.”

Dean had a very good idea what he’d be eating it off. “I’ve got the munchies too.” And he knew exactly where he was going to smear that dough. He glanced at the windows. “You know what I’m thankful for right this second?”

“No, what?”

Dean grinned. “Blinds.”

Robin gazed through the front window. “It’s stopped snowing.” Outside, the world lay hidden beneath a fresh white blanket, so bright it hurt to look at it.

“It’s too late to go skiing,” Dean called out from the kitchen where he was placing the plates from lunch into the dishwasher.

“I wasn’t thinking of skiing.” Robin smiled to himself.

Dean walked into the living room and came to a halt behind him. “I don’t have to be Einstein to know what’s on your mind, dirty boy.” He nuzzled Robin’s neck, and Robin’s dick instantly took an interest.

His dick could wait. It had already had its fun with the cookie dough.

Now he’d gone and done it. Robin had only to close his eyes and he was back in Dean’s kitchen, sitting on that stool while Dean licked dough from his hard-as-fuck cock. Bending over that same stool while Dean rubbed a fingerful of dough over his hole, then proceeded to remove every last bit of it with his tongue.

Who knew baking could be so fucking hot?

“You’re trembling.” Another nuzzle to Robin’s neck.

“S-stop that,” he protested weakly. When Dean snuck a hand around him to cup his crotch, however, Robin covered it with his own, pushing his erection into it.

Dean’s chuckle tickled his ear. “Your lips may say ‘no no no’, but your body is saying ‘take me to bed and fuck me.’”

With a huge effort, Robin broke free of Dean’s embrace. “Well, guess what? Maybe you don’t speak Robin as well as you think you do, because I wasn’t thinking about sex at all.” He grinned. “What I had in mind was a snowball fight.”

Dean stilled. “Seriously?”

Robin turned around to face him. “When was the last time you did that? Hmm?”

“You don’t think it might look a little odd? Us playing in the street?”

Robin pointed through the window to where four people were already chucking snowballs around, dodging and laughing. Not one of them was under twenty. “Yeah. You’re right. Looks totally odd.” He chuckled. “Oh, I get it. You’re a lousy shot. Well, if you’re scared of losing…”

Dean’s sexy, husky laugh sent shivers through him as he leaned in close to whisper, “Challenge accepted. Bring. It. On.”

Minutes later they were out in the street, where Robin began scraping together enough snow for his ammunition. When Dean came too close, Robin whirled around to glare at him. “Back off. I’m not ready yet.”

Dean grinned. “Aw, too bad. I am.” And before Robin could react, he stuffed a handful of snow down the back of Robin’s jacket, before sprinting away laughing, out of Robin’s reach.

“You bastard!” Robin shivered, squirming as ice trickled down his back. He scooped up as much snow as he could and gave chase. “Get back here.”

“Uh-uh,” Dean hollered. “And watch your mouth. You’ll have my neighbors complaining.” He scooted along the side of the house, and Robin followed. “I don’t want snow down my back.”

“That isn’t where I was gonna shove it,” Robin called out. He turned the corner into the little back yard, and was immediately pelted by snowballs.

“Ambush!” Dean yelled gleefully, before ducking