morning, freshly fucked? Linden wanted answers to all those questions, and more.
Brett kissed him back, parting Linden’s lips with an insistent press of tongue. Linden moaned and Brett’s hold on his waist tightened. Nothing was real anymore. Linden was floating away because this had to be a dream.
He pulled away and panted against Brett’s mouth. He kissed him again, a quick exploration to make sure it hadn’t been a one-off.
“I always knew your hair would be soft,” Linden whispered. His body tingled, and he forced himself to stay still. If this was a spell, he didn’t want to break it.
Brett let out a quiet and breathless laugh. Linden kissed him again, because he was there, and he could. He could kiss Brett all night, and he wanted to. Coming over tonight had been worth the cold walk in the rain and the cost for the good bacon.
“I can’t believe you thought I was dating Ricky.” Linden smiled at the way neither of them moved to separate. He couldn’t be sure in the glow of the twinkle lights, but he thought Brett blushed.
“It was a stupid assumption. I kept seeing you two together.”
“You should have asked me. I have no secrets from you. I never will.”
Brett curled into Linden, resting his head on Linden’s shoulder. “You should open your present now.”
“I thought this was my present?” Linden didn’t want to part from Brett. Not for a moment. He’d spent so much of their time together reining himself in; trying hard not to be too clingy. Touching Brett was a gift that Linden had barely started to unwrap.
“I spent a lot of time picking it out.” Brett moved back and gave Linden a nudge. “Open it.”
“Only if you promise we can kiss more after.”
“Promise.”
Linden looked at the little red box. His fingers tugged at the ribbon when something in the front room crashed.
Brett stilled. “What was that?”
Linden set the box aside and followed Brett as he crept to his bedroom door. Brett opened the door and peeked out.
“It’s Ansel.” Brett rushed out and Linden followed, leaving the unopened box on the dresser.
Ansel was a mess. His nose was red, from the cold or the booze he’d drank, and judging from the stench wafting off him, he’d drank plenty.
Brett knelt next to Ansel, who sat on the floor with his back against the wall. His legs were splayed out in front of him. Ansel sniffed.
“He dumped me.”
“Oh, buddy.”
“And I’m cold,” Ansel whined.
“He’s soaked.” Linden crouched down and pulled Ansel’s boots off while Brett wrestled him out of his coat.
“Let’s get him up and into dry clothes.”
This was not how Linden imagined the night would go, but he couldn’t turn his back on Ansel. And he felt bad for the guy. Getting dumped sucked.
“You smell like a brewery.” Brett stood and between him and Linden they tugged Ansel to his feet. “How much did you drink?”
“Stupid. I’m so stupid.” Ansel stumbled as they walked down the hallway. Brett steered them into Ansel’s room.
“Would you mind getting some water and aspirin ready for him? And maybe some bread or something else easy on the stomach. I’ll help him get changed.”
“Yeah. No problem.”
Linden let himself out of Ansel’s room and went to the kitchen. There were still biscuits left, so Linden piled some on a plate and poured a tall glass of water. After retrieving a couple aspirin from the bathroom, Linden waited a few more minutes to be sure Brett had time to wrestle his roommate into dry clothes before he knocked softly.
“Are you decent?”
“You can come in,” Brett said from the other side of the door.
Linden walked in and Brett had already helped Ansel change and had tucked him into bed. He sat behind him and had his arms wrapped around Ansel.
“Hey,” Linden kept his voice soft. “I brought you some water and some biscuits.”
“Thanks.” Ansel sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “I feel stupid. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, none of that.” Brett chided. He waved Linden over and held out his hand. Linden dropped the two aspirin into his palm. “Take these, sip some water, nibble on a biscuit. It will make you feel better.”
“Nothing will make me feel better.” Ansel groused and grabbed the pills from Brett and took them.
“Well, future you will thank you for taking care of yourself tonight.” Brett stroked his fingers through Ansel’s hair. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Linden felt a little awkward, but he sat on the bed and held the plate out to Ansel. “They’re homemade and