Fuzzy by Josephine Myles Page B

you. Steve came out to them years ago, but as I'm the first guy he's ever been serious about, they'd never had any of his boyfriends around for tea before. They did their best to be polite and friendly, though, I'll give them that. Maybe it would have been easier for them if I wasn't such a big, tall guy with a fierce expression. They probably reckon I'm taking advantage of their darling son, and that he could do better. Mind you, more often than not, he's the one in charge. Got me wrapped round his little finger, Steve has. I'd probably mind, if I wasn't so fucking smitten.
    I looked up to find him smirking at me.
    "I've finished my beer," he said.
    I took the empty bottle and placed it on the floor. "I suppose you want another."
    "Not really." He tossed his knitting to one side. "Come on, up here." He patted his lap.
    "I'll squash you." But I climbed up anyway, straddling him. I had to lean right down to reach his lips, but it was worth it. God, all that sitting around by himself must have got him seriously frustrated; he was kissing like he wanted to eat me alive, lips first. My mouth flooded with the coppery tang of blood as he bit down on my lower lip. Shit, that always drives me wild.
    I would have stripped his clothes off there and then, but it was tricky what with him underneath me, so I pulled my own T-shirt off instead while Steve had my cock out in next to no time. Yeah, he's got deft fingers, all right. I can see that they might be good for handicrafts, but right then I had better places for him to put them to use.
    I reckon he must be able read my mind.
    As his spit slickened fingers made their way down my crack, and his others skilfully wanked me off, I had to concentrate hard so I didn't whimper. I hate making all those noises. They sound fucking sexy when Steve makes them, mind, and he always manages to wring them out of me in the end, so he says. Probably once I'm too far gone to care anymore. He circled his fingers a couple of times before sinking them into my hole, and I realised it wasn't going to take me long to get there. And bloody hell, if I didn't make a girly little noise when he pulled them all out again.
    "Need you to take your jeans off, now." Steve's eyes were all black now, shining with that wicked gleam he gets when he's in charge. I just can't resist it, and I scrambled off him to comply.
    As I was hopping out of the second leg, I saw him pull a condom and lube sachet from his pocket.
    "I see you've been planning this, then." Why didn't that surprise me? Even incapacitated, Steve manages to get things going the way he wants them to. I just get pulled along for the ride. The ride... oh yeah, I could see where this was going. He'd already stripped off his T-shirt, and was now pulling down his jogging bottoms, wincing as he lifted his weight. "Shit, Steve! Let me help."
    "I'm fine. I can do it." He used his most authoritative tone, so I backed down and watched him roll the rubber on.
    "I suppose you think I'm going to just hop on there, then." I folded my arms, trying to look like I was going to be a hard case to crack. I could tell I wasn't fooling him by the way the grin split his face.
    "Yeah, you are. Come on, then. You'll have to help out, since I can't chase you and bend you over the kitchen table." He raised his eyebrows and leered.
    Oh yeah, I already mentioned the kitchen table, didn't I? You probably didn't imagine things were that way round, but Steve does tend to make a habit of topping. Yeah, let's face it, the bossy little bastard even tops from the bottom.
    "You think I'm going to let a man who knits top me?"
    I nearly got the bloody knitting thrown at my head for that one, but I did climb back onto him, because by now I was fucking aching to feel him inside me. He was panting hard, making the most ridiculously sexy moans as I impaled myself on his rock-hard prick.
    I paused at the bottom. There's something about that moment that I just love—feeling Steve filling me up and knowing