Page 85 of The Villains of Winter

James placed a knee between Elliott’s sprawled legs, parting them wider. He had never been attentive to his partner before, but he knew how to imitate. It was his finest skill. James ran his hand down the downy hairs of Elliott’s abdomen, the knuckles of his hand lightly crossing over his crotch, the way Elliott had done for him. Elliott’s lips slowly parted.

James’s hand disappeared beneath his briefs, and Elliott’s cock twitched towards him, eager to be touched. Stroked.

James took hold of Elliott’s half-erection, assessing his expression, feeling the tender blush spread against his skin. Elliott wasn’t lengthy, but even his cock was beautiful.

He felt beautiful. James felt as though he was stroking silk, the petal-soft of Elliott’s member hardening from shaft to tip, standing at attention for more, yet still impossibly delicate. James removed his briefs to free the length of him.

Elliott gathered the sheets into knots as James pleasured him. Soon, James began to stroke him furiously, urgently, matching his need, and already, his breath was quickening.

“I haven’t had sex in six months.” Elliott’s ears reddened. “I might come fast…”

“Come for me.” James whispered, “I want to taste you.”

Elliott’s features contorted in need. An irrational, wild jealousy flashed within James that anyone else had seen him vulnerable in bliss. An expression James had never witnessed from him before. Ecstasy looked breathtaking on Elliott. James savored it.

He didn’t realize how short the moment would be.

When he realized how close Elliott was, Elliott buried his face in James’s shoulder, and James held him still as Elliott arched for him, the most intimate embrace he’d ever given someone. James settled his weight over him, trying to suppress the creaks of the mattress. Anyone could overhear Elliott’s breathless moans. Tiny gasps came out of Elliott. “Please.”

“Please?” James teased, pretending to not know what he meant. What he wanted. Minutes before, Elliott had lathered him with murmurs of care and comfort, and James attempted mimicry, but his playful nature bled into him. “Use your words Elliott.”

“Could–you please–I’m going to come–”

“I can’t understand you when you’re gasping for air and moaning.” James bit his ear in a gentle nip. James was dangerously aroused. His heated breath against his eardrum made Elliott convulse in shudders. “I can’t tell if you’re speaking to me directly. I don’t hear my name.”

All at once, all Elliott knew anymore was his name. Elliott breathed, “James….James….James…”

“At your service.” James smiled. Elliott had only managed to say more of his name, but James knew what he wanted. James ran his tongue over the length of Elliott’s shaft. He quirked his mouth wider.

James wanted to please him more before he drank his nectar. Except, as soon as he took Elliott’s tip in his mouth, he felt something hot, enchanting, hit the back of his throat.

It was then that he realized he made a mistake. The adrenalized need wore down.

He gazed in Elliott’s eyes and knew Elliott could return to their friendship. Elliott would be the same. He was good natured that way.

After James tasted his pure nectar, a neuron shot in his brain.

James didn’t want to go back to how they were before.

​​ CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

“TENTĪGŌ?” ELLIOTT SMILED AT JAMES, who had stopped by his dormitory laundry basement the next week. He’d missed his flight to Montana.

However, James wasn’t smiling, he was drenched with rain. “Did I hurt you?”

“We agreed it didn’t really mean anything.” Elliott was folding his clothes for once, he usually dumped his clothes everywhere. That morning, he had to take his finest clothing to the Winterthur Hall basement washing machines and dryers for the banquet next month. “Friendship is what we decide, not what the world decides for us. We’ve always said that.”

“Is that what we are then?”

“Aren’t we best friends still?” Elliott’s heart stopped for a moment.

“We’ll be whatever you want, Elliott.” James smiled at him, sincere.

Usually, they did their laundry together when one of them remembered that laundry needed to be done weekly. Except, James didn’t live in Winterthur Hall anymore. Elliott missed their old days carrying overloaded baskets full of clothes, never really bothering to sort out the darks, coloreds, and whites. He missed watching the baseball games on the portable Watchman while they waited for the machine to cleanse their dirt, sweat stains, and sauce blots, arguing about the greatest pitcher of all time.

He missed his best friend.

“In the fall, you should decide your major,” James told him. He’d meant to tell him on the plane from Montréal. The Canadian prime minister had invited the congressman to speak at a climate conference. “I’m going to ask the administration to transfer you to Montana with me. Kitty will have a better psychology degree, if she decides to matriculate to Mercian. You can select any degree you want a career in.”