Magic & Mistletoe (10 page)

He slowly stepped back, running a hand down Harry’s chest and not stopping until his fingers skimmed over the hard ridge of Harry’s erection. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over the taut denim, and Harry groaned.

“I’m not that hungry,” he whispered and put a hand over Andrew’s, pressing them both onto his dick. But then his traitorous stomach rumbled loudly and Andrew laughed again.

“Liar.” Andrew palmed Harry’s cock a couple more times, then placed a kiss on the exposed part of his collarbone. This time when he stepped back, he moved until he was out of reach of Harry’s hands. “Come on.” He walked backwards towards the kitchen. “Food first, sex later.” He grinned and winked, crooking a finger for Harry to follow him, before disappearing from view.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered and tried to rearrange himself so that his hard-on wasn’t so obvious. That proved to be impossible, so he shrugged and gave up. He had started to head after Andrew when he remembered the text message, and he quickly retrieved his phone.

When it flashed up on the screen, he didn’t know whether to laugh, cringe, or find it incredibly creepy.

No I don’t have eyes everywhere, there’s some things a girl should never have to see. But I see the important things. And yes the mistletoe is mine, as was the mail mix-up on Friday—I thought you two needed a little push to get things moving, and I see it worked. Really, though, I thought you’d have had him naked by now. I don’t know what’s wrong with today’s youth.

It was far and away the longest message she’d sent him, and he stared at it for a good few seconds more before tucking his phone back in his pocket.
Today’s youth?
She’d looked no older than Harry when they’d seen her in the forest—younger, if anything. The thought of her being some centuries-old witch made his head hurt, so he swept it to the back of his mind, kicked his shoes off next to Andrew’s, and finally headed towards the kitchen. At least he wasn’t tenting his jeans any longer.

Andrew stood in front of the hob, stirring a large pan of something delicious-smelling when Harry joined him. “I thought you’d got lost.”

“Sorry.” Harry shuffled up behind him and peeked over his shoulder to see what was cooking—some sort of stir-fry, by the looks of it. “I was just checking a couple of texts.” He breathed in deep and sighed. “That smells good.”

Andrew turned, smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It might have been a quick press of lips, not nearly as intense as the kisses in the hall, but that one small act of affection filled Harry with more warmth than any of their interactions so far. The easy way Andrew acted around him left him feeling settled and comfortable in a way he couldn’t remember being with anyone before. And this was only after a few days.

He couldn’t help but imagine what they’d be like together after a few weeks or months. God, he needed to stop getting ahead of himself. If any of that slipped out of his mouth, Andrew would think he was crazy. He needed to quit watching all the romcoms they showed at Christmas. According to Jason, they always made him “overly sentimental and mushy.” Harry liked to think they made him more thoughtful and caring. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be in a relationship.

“Would you like a beer?” Andrew’s question snapped him out of his musings, and he stepped back a bit to give him some space.

“Yeah, please.”

Andrew started to put down his spatula, but Harry stopped him with a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I’ll get them.”

“Thanks. This is ready, so I’ll dish up and meet you at the table.”

They moved around the kitchen like two people used to being in each other’s space. Harry found it weird and yet unsurprising at the same time. Once they got past the initial problem of Andrew thinking he was a knob, they had just clicked. Harry kept waiting for something to go wrong, because this all seemed way too easy all of a sudden. Or maybe it was finally his turn to have something go right for a change. Could it be that simple?

He glanced at the oven clock to check the time and did a double take, almost dropping the beer. Instead of the display reading the four-digit time, the word YES stared back at him in bright green letters. He blinked a couple of times, and when he looked again, it read 20:35.

Okay, then
.

After downing half his beer in one go to calm his nerves, Harry relaxed enough to enjoy the meal Andrew had cooked. They ate in comfortable silence, until Andrew set his fork down and patted his belly.

“I’m stuffed.” He glanced over at Harry’s empty plate. “Did you want more?”

“No, I’m done. Thanks.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Sure? There’s plenty left if you’re still hungry.”

Harry shook his head. “No, really, I’m good.” He watched the way Andrew’s T-shirt clung to his shoulders as he stretched and let his gaze wander down to where the material rode up slightly, but Andrew sat up before Harry got the chance to see any skin.
Damn it.

Andrew cleared his throat pointedly, and when Harry met his gaze, he knew he’d been caught. He didn’t care if it was written all over his face, though. He hoped it was obvious what he wanted to do. It would save time trying to be subtle about it.

“We should probably let dinner go down first.”

Andrew licked his lips, and all Harry could think about was climbing over the table and kissing him again. “Probably.”

Andrew didn’t look away from him, his eyes dark and heavy lidded. “Do you want another beer or a coffee or something?”

Harry swallowed. “Or something.”

They both grinned at the cheesiness of that line, and it broke the tension. Andrew stood, collected the dirty plates, and put them in the sink.

Harry picked up the empty bottles and placed them on the counter. “Want a hand clearing up?”

Andrew rolled his eyes and grabbed Harry’s hand. “God, no. That can wait.” He twined their fingers, stroking his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand.

The touch sent a lick of heat straight to Harry’s groin and he sucked in a breath. “Thank fuck for that.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Andrew led Harry out of the kitchen and straight into his bedroom. “This okay?” He paused in the doorway, waiting for Harry’s answer.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He didn’t bother turning on the light. With the door wide open, it was easy enough to see what they were doing. This wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for tonight. After they had eaten, he thought they would maybe watch a film or play on Andrew’s PS4 for a bit, work up to this point.

Whoever had stuck that mistletoe above the door had ruined all those plans. As soon as Andrew saw it hanging innocently above their heads, all he could think about was the kiss they’d shared at Harry’s front door. And he wanted more of that.

After what happened in the hallway, he was amazed they made it through dinner. Every time Harry put his fork in his mouth, Andrew had come up with increasingly dirty thoughts as he watched Harry’s lips close around the tines. It took all his willpower not to suggest they give up on eating and then drag him into his bedroom.

And now here they were, hands clasped tightly together as Andrew walked them over to his bed, and he wondered why he hadn’t let the food burn and done this as soon as Harry arrived. They could have ordered takeaway later. What had he been thinking?

Harry had a couple of inches of height on him, and when Andrew stopped walking and turned to face him, he had to look up slightly. “This needs to come off.” He fingered the hem of Harry’s T-shirt, waiting for Harry to nod before going any further.

It fit Harry like a glove, hugging the muscles of his stomach and chest as Andrew grabbed the bottom of it in both hands and slowly peeled it off him.

 Harry’s skin was pale in the dim light and a smattering of dark hair covered his chest, tapering into a thick line that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. Andrew followed the trail with his thumb, smiling when Harry’s stomach muscles tensed and then released.

“It tickles,” Harry murmured.

Andrew glanced up, meeting his heated gaze. “Sorry,” he whispered, not feeling the least bit apologetic. He stroked over that spot again, lighter this time, rewarded with a soft huff of laughter as Harry grabbed his hand.

 Harry pushed Andrew down onto the bed and clambered on after him, straddling his thighs and pinning his hands above his head. “Are you sorry now?”

A flood of arousal swept through Andrew’s body, lighting up his nerve-endings. Heat seeped into his skin everywhere they touched, and he’d never wanted to be naked so badly. He looked up at Harry and deliberately shook his head, wanting to see what he would do next.

The last thing he expected was for Harry to grin down at him and then, as quick as a flash, dig his fingers into Andrew’s ribs, tickling him mercilessly until he was crying with laughter and begging him to stop.

“Oh my God, I hate you!” he gasped, covering his face with his hands and trying to get his breathing under control. “I thought we were having a moment, but no, you have to go and ruin it by attacking me.”

He felt Harry climb off him and then heard a soft
thud
that had him moving his hands away from his eyes. Of course then he had to lean up on his elbows to get a better look because Harry stood in the middle of his bedroom, taking off the rest of his clothes. The noise must have been Harry’s belt hitting the floor—his jeans were now around his ankles. He stepped out of them and straightened, hands poised at the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Andrew was spoilt for choice. Did he look at Harry’s chest and stomach, where he could see the beginnings of a six-pack and that gloriously thick happy trail; his firm-looking thighs with a dusting of dark hair; or did he focus on the tight pull of material over Harry’s hardening cock, which left nothing to the imagination? Tough choice.

Then Harry eased his underwear down, letting them fall in a heap around his feet, and Andrew’s decision was made for him. His gaze automatically fell to Harry’s erection where it bobbed about as Harry kicked his boxers aside and climbed back onto the bed.

“Do you still hate me?” Harry sat back on his knees, just out of Andrew’s reach, and wrapped a hand around himself, stroking leisurely up and down his length as though he weren’t melting Andrew’s brain.

“Yes,” Andrew choked out.

The casual way Harry touched himself, easy in and unashamed of his nakedness, was one of the hottest things Andrew had ever seen. It was such a contrast to how shy and awkward Harry was when they first met, and it left Andrew hard and leaking precome wanting to get out of his stupid skinny jeans as quickly as possible. He licked his lips, his mouth watering as he imagined sucking Harry off and feeling his cock hit the back of his throat, but when he reached out to touch him, Harry grabbed his hand and held it tight.

“Not until you’re naked.” He grinned at the frustrated groan Andrew let out.

“You’re such a tease,” Andrew hissed, but he already had his jeans undone. He hooked his thumbs under the waistbands of both his jeans and his underwear, and he lifted his hips to help get them off.

It was so much harder lying down, and the clothes got stuck around his calves. Harry laughed at his colourful cursing, so Andrew slapped him on the thigh. “If you want any kind of action tonight, help me get these bloody things off.”

Twenty seconds later he was free of all his clothing. His jeans were somewhere on the floor and his T-shirt lay on the pillow by his head. Harry crawled back up the bed from where he’d moved to help Andrew, and Andrew opened his legs wide in invitation.

 Harry lay down on top of him, supporting himself on his forearms on either side of Andrew’s head. “This is better.”

“Yeah,” Andrew whispered. Their sudden close proximity felt too intimate to speak any louder. Harry was warm where they touched, all that naked skin covering Andrew’s, and he rested his hands on the small of Harry’s back to stop him from moving.

Harry must have read his mind because he smiled and said, “I’m not going anywhere.” And then he closed the last bit of distance between them, kissing Andrew slow but demanding, and it was as though a switch had flipped.

A jolt of heat burnt through Andrew’s body and he grabbed Harry’s arse, pulling him down as Andrew rolled his hips and thrust up. Harry moaned, the sound urging Andrew on, and he dug his fingers into firm muscle, grinding their hips together.

The friction on Andrew’s cock sent sparks of pleasure up and down his spine. Each thrust and roll took him closer to the edge, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to get his hands on Harry, wanted to feel him come and watch his face as he lost control.

With a little help from Harry, Andrew managed to roll them onto their sides.

Harry slid a hand into Andrew’s hair and put the other on his hip, tugging him closer. “What do you want?”

Harry leaned in and kissed him, and Andrew would have said something about not having chance to answer, but he worked a hand between them to grab Harry’s cock, figuring that was answer enough.

He worked his hand up and down slowly at first, taking time to enjoy the feel of him. Harry made an impatient noise and pushed into his fist, then wrapped his hand around Andrew’s, urging him to go faster.

“Come on,” Harry muttered between kisses. Andrew shuffled closer to get a better angle, and his dick brushed the back of Harry’s hand.

That one touch had him aching for more and he rubbed up against Harry’s fingers. “Can you…?”

Harry glanced down between them. “Yeah, hang on.” After some awkward manoeuvring, he managed to get a hand around Andrew, but their arms kept bumping each other. “Fuck. Just let me—”

 Harry moved Andrew’s hand out of the way and scooted closer still until they were almost pressed together, then wrapped his long fingers around both of them at the same time. He squeezed a little and thrust carefully against Andrew’s cock, smearing their combined precome around with his thumb to ease the way. “How’s that?”

“’S good.” Andrew watched Harry’s hand, fascinated that Harry could hold them both. “What big hands you’ve got.”