Waking the Dead Read Online Free Page B

to do so in the wintertime, when the long, cold nights stretched out before them and the idea of being curled up around each other beneath a pile of covers was appealing in more ways than one. Tonight, with Josh safely arrived, Nick seemed more relaxed than he had for the past week or more; he pressed against John and settled a hand at the back of his neck as they kissed repeatedly, taking their time about it.
    John had been wondering if having his -- much -- younger brother around would make a difference to Nick and had been more or less resigned to a couple of weeks when his day would end with no more than a few quiet kisses. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t make up for it once Josh had left, and it wasn’t as if they didn’t go a few days without making love quite often anyway. Summer was busy, and there were nights when John stumbled to bed late and exhausted, in much the same state as Josh.
    He wasn’t tired now, though, and neither was Nick, judging by the way the kisses were increasing in duration, the heat between them building. Slow, sweet kisses, their lips parting briefly only when they caught their breath, until John broke away, almost reluctantly, but needing more. He dragged his mouth down the side of Nick’s neck, pausing to kiss or nip at it gently, wanting to feel Nick shudder with arousal against him.
    “John.” It was barely whispered, as if Nick were determined to be quiet, but the eager warmth of his erection against John’s thigh was all the answer required to the question John no longer needed to ask. Nick slid his hand down along John’s spine, then cupped his arse. “You’re not too tired?” he asked softly. “I know it was a long day, and you had to do all that driving…”
    Nick had never completely recovered from his fears of being behind the wheel of a car -- he drove willingly enough most of the time, but if he was feeling worried or under stress, it was the first thing to go. Luckily, they lived on such a small island it hardly mattered.
    John made a small scoffing noise and punctuated it with another kiss, this time on Nick’s shoulder, the exposed skin cool at first, then warming under the press of his mouth. “Do I feel tired to you?” he asked. He captured Nick’s hand, drew it between their bodies, and guided it to his own erection, then sighed when Nick’s fingers curled around it and squeezed gently. “Never too tired for this.”
    It wasn’t strictly true, but it was true enough in spirit; there was never a time when he didn’t want this with Nick, even if sometimes sleep seduced him first.
    Nick touched him slowly, fingertips tracing his length and around the sensitive head. “I want to suck you,” he murmured, then slid down, breath warm against John’s thigh before his lips closed around him.
    “Christ,” John said quietly; the hot, wet suction felt so good. Sometimes Nick would forge ahead without patience, driving John to the edge and over in a minute’s time or even less, leaving him wrung out and gasping, but it didn’t seem this was to be one of those nights. Instead, Nick was slow about it, lips moving down to the base and back to the crown. John’s toes curled and he let his head tip back, eyes closed, focused on nothing but the incredible sensation.
    His hand found its way to Nick’s hair, and he stroked it. The strands slipped across his fingers like heavy silk, echoing the way Nick’s tongue was sliding across his hard, heated skin in languid, thoughtful laps as if Nick had forgotten what John’s cock tasted like and wanted to remind himself.
    John kept his hips still with an effort, knowing that this time Nick didn’t want him to do anything but accept what Nick wanted to give him. It had been a difficult lesson to learn; that he could take pleasure and not necessarily give it back, and have that be a gift in a way. Nothing in John’s past, before he met Nick, had involved anything like this. He’d experienced encounters designed to be