A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,66

crazy-wild for this man. For his dearest friend. And he realized he wanted this with him. Wanted it all. If Emerson would have him.

“Fuck.” Emerson bent his head back and moaned as Rhys hollowed his cheeks and took him to the back of his throat, making sure to work his tongue along the length and let him feel just the barest scrape of his teeth for added sensation.

“So good.” He canted his hips forward and threaded his fingers through Rhys’s hair, tugging just hard enough to make his scalp smart. And he fucking loved it. It was a glimpse of what Emerson might be like if he only let go more often.

“Oh God.” When he arched his back, Rhys knew he was a goner. He doubled down as Emerson cried out, bursts of salty-sweet come hitting the roof of his mouth as he spurted down his throat. He pulled off and lapped at the final bursts from his slit as Emerson’s legs went limp and he sank to the sheets.

“So damned hot.” Rhys stood on shaky legs and began jerking his own cock, knowing it wouldn’t take long.

“Wait,” Emerson said, rising on his elbows. “Come here. I wanna watch you.”

Rhys’s eyes practically crossed as he straddled Emerson’s waist, his wrist twisting his cock at just the right angle. He knew he was going to shoot good just from having Emerson as a captive and eager audience.

“You’re so sexy.” When Emerson angled forward, Rhys met him halfway, thrusting his groin in his direction. To his utter surprise, Emerson was brave enough to swipe his tongue across his slit for a taste. Holy hot damn.

“You want more of me?” Rhys asked through a clenched jaw, and when Emerson nodded, he held still so Emerson could clumsily work the head into the furnace of his mouth. Rhys bit off a strangled moan, trying not to thrust and make him gag, but at this point it wouldn’t take much.

He expected Emerson to pull off, either freaked out or too intense for him, but he didn’t. Just held the tip of Rhys’s cock in his mouth, used his tongue to work him, and fuck if it wasn’t every damned thing.

His legs trembled, and he had this frantic, spinny feeling inside him as he pulled out of his mouth and spurted ropey, thick come on his neck and chin and chest.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said, as his eyes screwed shut and he tried to get some semblance of control. “You might need another shower.”

“Don’t be. That was…wow.” He pulled Rhys down with him and kissed him breathless for a couple long minutes.

They spent the afternoon doing totally normal things that felt new and special after what they’d just shared. They went shopping, first for groceries, then to a home store to purchase new towels for his waterlogged bathroom.

Before taking the bags inside, they walked across the street to take stock of the progress on the roof, which they hadn’t done in a couple of days. They’d had to replace portions of the roof’s foundation before laying new shingles down. And so far, it was coming along nicely. Rhys was excited for the work to finally be done yet simultaneously okay with it taking longer if he got to spend more time with Emerson.

While they made dinner together, Emerson turned on some music, and over wine and a simple stir-fry, they talked about work, the kids, and their childhood, laughing at some of Rhys’s daredevil antics—which had taken place mostly while Emerson stood by and watched, ever the levelheaded of the two.

Rhys confessed how out of sorts things were at the adventure shop, how he felt like maybe he didn’t fit in anymore, and Emerson encouraged him to hang in there while he was still getting his bearings. And he was right. His accident wasn’t that long ago. So why did it feel like everything had changed?

Yet also like he was right where he was meant to be?

After they cleared the dishes, they poured more wine, and Rhys dragged Emerson to the living room, feeling playful. “Dance with me?”

Emerson arched an eyebrow as the song changed to another soulful ballad. “We didn’t slow-dance that night, if you’re trying to recreate something.”

“Nope, just making new memories,” he replied, feeling like Emerson could see right through him. “Besides, it’s the only kind of dancing I can do for a while.”

When their eyes met, Emerson nodded, then stepped close enough to take Rhys in his arms and begin swaying to the