Winter Hearts by Fyn Alexander

cheek.
    “Stop that nonsense,” Luke said at once.
    An edge of hurt gilded Sam’s words. “What have you got against kissing? Every time I try to kiss you, you get mad at me.”
    “I never even saw my parents kiss, let alone two men. It’s for sissies.”
    “I saved your life.”
    “No, you didn’t,” Luke interrupted.
    Sam put his forefinger on Luke’s lips. “I saved your life. I made you supper in bed. I rubbed liniment on your chest. Damn you, Luke, you owe me a kiss.” Leaning up on one elbow, Sam began little nibbling kisses over Luke’s cheek to his ear and then down to his neck. Luke moaned, unable to stop himself. Even Holland had never done this to him. Once or twice they had kissed on the mouth, but only briefly, as a precursor to intercourse. He’d had no idea how arousing it could be.
    Too tired and sore to move, Luke allowed Sam to close his mouth over his. Sam thrust his tongue inside Luke’s mouth. It felt strange and warm. Luke’s cock had begun to stir almost as soon as Sam kissed his neck. With the first thrust of Sam’s tongue into his mouth, his cock became hard until it was painfully stiff. “Touch me,” he said on a breath into Sam’s mouth. Needing no more prompting than his word, Sam pulled his mouth away and drew back the quilt. “No.” Luke grabbed him by the jaw, pulling Sam’s mouth back to his. “With your hand. I want your mouth here.”
    Sam pressed his open mouth over Luke’s again, ramming his tongue inside while he gripped Luke’s cock. The fast, hot friction on his cock sent shards of pleasure rushing through his body. Within minutes he gasped out his gratification, his juice gushing over Sam’s hand. When the sensation became too intense, Luke gripped Sam’s hand to still it. Sam stopped rubbing but continued to hold Luke’s cock—a most astonishingly comforting and intimate act.
    “Still think kissing is for sissies?” Sam whispered.
    “No,” Luke said quietly. “You got anything else you want to teach me?”

Chapter Eight
    Spring 1882
    Wearing only his trousers, Sam sat on the bed, leaning over Luke, who was still fast asleep—or so he thought. Luke was such a handsome man, though he didn’t seem to think of himself as handsome; he never looked in the broken shard of mirror resting on the shelf over the sink except to shave. Sam kissed him softly on the tip of his nose, on his closed eyelids, on his strong chin, and finally on his mouth.
    One eye opened, looked at him with suspicion, and then closed again. “What are you up to, boy?”
    “I’ve got water boiling on the stove for your bath, my sweet man.”
    “I’ve never had so many damn baths in my damn life as I’ve had since I met you,” Luke said. “And stop calling me stupid names.”
    Rolling his eyes, Sam replied, “All right. I won’t.”
    The weather had been warm enough for them to sleep naked for the past week. Sam pulled back the quilt, smiling when he saw Luke’s erection. With his tongue, he traced a line from just below Luke’s Adam’s apple all the way over the dark, wiry hair on his chest to his cock. Then, taking charge, as he liked to do now and then, he took Luke’s cock firmly in his fist, squeezing while he licked the clear juice already oozing from the tip. When Luke started moaning, Sam released Luke’s cock and enclosed it in his mouth, sucking hard. Luke’s semen flooded Sam’s mouth, tasting warm and pleasant. He swallowed it and sat back, looking at this muscular, masculine man, the antithesis of every thin, studious boy he had ever played with at Harvard. That was fine then when big, mature men had terrified him. But he’d always been attracted to men like Luke, intelligent but rough around the edges.
    “I’ve already had my bath, and breakfast is keeping warm. It’s well past dawn.”
    “Winter has made me lazy.” Luke put his hands behind his head. Sam loved it when he did that, stretched out naked on the bed. It wasn’t just the winter that had