XOXO: A Bundle of Cozy Novellas

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Chance glanced at his watch. It was after midnight. “Bollocks.”

“What?” John asked as he returned from locking the doors behind his ex-boyfriend. Chance had no idea what John could have seen in that shallow, weak man. He didn’t say anything, though, as memories of several people he’d mistakenly dated rose to the surface.

“I was supposed to check in at the hotel by ten.”

John sighed. “You can stay the night at my place.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“No, but this is Skagit. It’s after midnight on the Saturday before Christmas. The inns are all closed.” John snorted.

“That was a terrible joke.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s late, and I’ve had a really long day. I just want to be at home now.”

Together they put the kitten in one of the moving boxes. It wasn’t impressed.

“Hush,” John said to the cat. “You’ll be fine. It won’t be for long.”

“You’re going to have to name it, you know.”

“How do you know I’m going to keep it?” John gave him a suspicious look that made Chance want to kiss him again. Everything John did made Chance want to kiss him.

Chance eyed him, and John let out another, longer, sigh. “Fine, yes, I’m a pushover. This beast knew it had hit the gold mine when he saw me peeking under the Dumpster.” The kitten mewed pathetically while they collected the rest of its things: litter and box, the cans of food Reed had brought.

John let them out an exit door that Chance hadn’t seen. It opened right where both of their cars were parked. The streets were clear, but the cars had a layer of icy snow on them. The night was very quiet, the surrounding businesses long closed for the night or even the weekend.

“The fancy SUV is yours?” John held the box with the kitten close as they walked toward the cars.

“A rental, but yes.”

“I don’t want to scrape ice off two cars. Let’s take yours. Who knows if mine will start anyway.”

Once the snow and ice were taken care of, John directed Chance to his house. “It’s not too far, about a fifteen-minute drive.”

They were both quiet during the drive, and even the kitten stopped complaining. No doubt it had worn itself out and was fast asleep again.

Chance was trying not to focus on the fact that he’d be sleeping in the same house with John, when John broke the silence, saying, “Turn left here, then left again. I’m the third house on the right.”

Even in the dark, Chance knew John’s home was beautiful. It loomed out of the night, a large house for a single man. The style was what Americans called Tudor; it had probably been built in the 1920s. “It’s lovely.”

John glanced out the car window where Chance was looking. “I love it. I bought it for a song. The place sat empty for years; the old lady who owned it was placed in a home after a fall, and there was some property fight between her and her family. None of them wanted to live in it or in Skagit, but they all wanted the money it would bring. She stood her ground, refusing to sell. I ended up paying far below market because of the neglect, and I had to promise her I was going to live here and take care of it. When her family found out about the sale, they were furious, but it was a done deal by then, and Alice Lee was all there—her body was falling apart, but she was still sharp.”

“Did you fix it up like you have the NorthStar?”

John nodded. “I love old things.” Then he laughed softly, quickly looking over at Chance and away again. Chance had the feeling that John was blushing, but he couldn’t tell in the dark. “Anyway,” John drew out the word, “let’s go inside.”

“I’ll give you the tour tomorrow. Let’s get the kitten set up.”

John opened a door off the entryway. It housed a handwashing sink and a toilet. He bent down and placed the litter box next to the sink, leaving the door cracked. Chance shamelessly admired his backside. John had a very nice arse.

“I have litter boxes; I’ll grab them and put one upstairs and one in the pantry. There’s one in the basement too, but he doesn’t need to go down there yet. We’d never find him.”

When they opened the moving box, the kitten looked daggers at them before hooking its claws into the side of the box and trying to scramble out. It got about halfway, then slid back to the bottom, mewing pathetically. Chance picked it up and showed it where the box was. The little guy had no qualms using it. When he was done he hopped out, only a little wobbly, and headed toward the kitchen, where John was sweeping.

“I broke the cat dish this morning. We’ll have to use a cereal bowl; they’re in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”

Chance grabbed a white bowl from the stack and opened a can of food, then spooned about half into it along with some crunchies. “Here you go, little one.”

The kitten wasted no time, diving in and eating what looked to be close to its body weight. Chance wondered how old it was; it didn’t seem to be more than six or seven weeks. Not that he had a ton of experience with tiny kittens.

John watched it eat. “I’d let it sleep in my room but ... fine, it can sleep in my room. But if I do come down with the plague, it’s your fault. Go get your bags, and I’ll show you the guest room.”

Chance did as commanded, carefully wiping his boots on the mat before returning inside where John was waiting. He followed him up the stairs. Ogling John’s rear was becoming a habit, one he didn’t care to break.

At the top of the stairs, John led him across the landing, then opened another door and flipped on the light. The room was beautifully appointed. A double bed was situated against the far wall; to its left was a set of windows that must look out over the street. The walls were eggshell blue and the comforter covering the bed snowy white. It could have been cold, but instead it was warm and inviting. There were several framed photographs on the walls, all stunning.

“Did you take these? They’re amazing, beautiful.”

“Um, yeah. It’s something I’ve always done. That one there,” he gestured to a larger image, “I took in Iceland a few years ago.”

“You are a man of many talents, John.”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s a bathroom through that other door. I think there are towels; if not, let me know. My room is the door across the hallway. I’m taking the kitten. Sleep well.” He started to leave, then stopped. “Oh, if you wake up before me, there’s coffee in the pantry off the kitchen. Help yourself to stuff in the fridge. Good night.”

“Good night, John, and thank you. Not everyone would offer a nearly complete stranger a place to stay.”

John gave him a long look before turning and leaving, pulling the door closed behind him. Chance heard the door across the hall open and shut, then all was quiet again.

He set his suitcase on the bed and opened it, digging around to find his sleep pants, which he tossed on the bed. With a quiet groan he stripped naked. He needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Hands on his hips, Chance looked down at his semi-erect dick. He needed something else too, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

The bathroom was as tasteful as the bedroom, although admittedly all Chance really saw was the tub and shower. He climbed in and stood for a moment under the hot spray before reaching down to stroke himself. His cock needed very little encouragement. He felt himself harden under his hand; a self-pleasure loop kept building as he stroked and pumped. He slicked himself up with the shower gel, running his fingers along his own length, then underneath to the soft sac and back. The sensation was glorious, electric. A vision of what John might look like naked popped into his head, and he felt himself get harder. John would be a giving lover, Chance was certain. A whimper escaped him. He wanted to make this last, but he needed release. He might not be the young man he once was, but he had no trouble with sex.

Slowly he continued pumping himself. It was almost too much, but he also wanted more, and suddenly he didn’t know if he could come like this. He wanted more than just a hand on his knob. Lifting one foot, he balanced it on the edge of the tub, then leaned a shoulder against the wall to keep somewhat steady. He chuckled. It wouldn’t do for John to have to call an ambulance because Chance hurt himself wanking in the shower.

He continued to let his fingers run up and down his hard, nearly pulsing cock. Did he want to pinch his nipple, or—he shut his eyes, images flooding his senses. John was behind him whispering nothings into his ear, massaging his entrance, using long, lean fingers to get him ready. Then the hard tip of John’s erection would push against him and finally slide inside. Chance’s hand pumped faster, and he tightened his grip as his orgasm peaked. Come gushed onto his hand before disappearing down the drain.

The shower spray continued to pound against his shoulders while he recovered enough to think clearly. It had been a while since he’d been that turned on, come that hard. When he and John really got together, not just in Chance’s fevered imagination, it was going to be extraordinary.

Back in the bedroom after toweling himself off and dragging on the joggers he normally slept in, Chance called Edmund.

“What bloody time is it there?”

“Two a.m. I wanted to let you know I made it.”

“Hopefully you made it before now; the flights were what, fourteen hours? And you left days ago.”

“Smart arse.”

“Did you find him?”

Chance took a breath before he spoke, and Edmund beat him to it.

“You did. And you’re not coming home.”

“I did. And yes, you’re going to have to pack my flat.”

“Wanker.” But the word was uttered without any heat. After all, Edmund had said it first.

“I know. You were right. Listen, I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to convince John.”

“Ah, so the man who stole my best mate has a name—and it’s John? Really, Chance, I was expecting Tristan or Aristotle. John is ...”

“Incredible, and quit bashing his name.”

Edmund sucked in a breath. Chance heard a glass or cup clink against a hard surface. “I’ll admit I’m jealous.”

“Really, Edmund?”

“Not of him being with you. You’re grotty; thinking of you that way makes my skin creep. I merely meant finding someone.”

Chance nodded, even though Edmund couldn’t see him. Someone , when you’d aged out of the club scene, seemed impossible. Men like themselves, i.e., older, were seen as lechers, losers. It was downright depressing. Singles ads ... he rolled his eyes at the mere thought. He was lucky to have his mother’s spirit at his back. “Right, then, you’re next.”

Chance and Edmund had known each other since primary school. They’d both realized they were gay around the same time. They’d tried kissing, once, and had wound up on the floor laughing their arses off. That had been that; best friends since, with no desire to bump uglies.

“I knew you were leaving, but I’m going to miss you.” Edmund sounded sad, something Chance should’ve expected.

Impulsively, Chance said, “Come for a visit. This whole thing will be sorted by the time you get here.” Edmund was notoriously late for everything. Even if he jumped on the internet tonight, he wouldn’t decide anything for weeks, perhaps months.

“Right then, we’ll chat later. Ta.”

“Ta.” Something they’d said to each other a thousand times sounded horribly empty right then.

Chance tossed his phone onto his open suitcase before lying down. The bed was incredibly comfortable. The only thing wrong was he was the only one in it. Regretfully, he pulled the thick comforter up to his chin and shut his eyes. That was the last thing he remembered.