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Follows from Here part 2
(*bach = 'little one' or 'dear one' in Welsh)
“Mmmm,” Jack murmured as he woke a second time. He felt much better this time round – partly because the pain in his head had eased, although his skull still felt stuffed full of wet cotton, and every bone in his body still ached. He wasn’t hot anymore, though, and his breathing was much easier.
Of course, having a pair of strong, firm arms layered with hard muscle wrapped round him probably helped. Or maybe it was the equally hard and extremely promising length pressed against his bottom that was making him feel so much better. He sighed and squirmed, pressing backwards, only to be met by a tightening of the arms around him, and a deep chuckle.
“If you keep wriggling like that, bach, you might get more than you’re expecting.”
“Mmmm,” Jack wriggled again, only to have that promising length pull away from him. “Maybe I’ll get exactly what I’m expecting.”
“Na, bach, not while you’re still ill.”
The body behind him moved away, delicious arms releasing him as their owner disentangled himself from the slightly sweat damp sheets. Jack rolled over to eye up his bed mate, now stood at the side of his bed, prominent erection tenting his stripy flannel pyjama bottoms. The man – Huw, Jack realised, the farmer he’d talked to before he . . . before he what? He frowned in puzzlement. Just how had he ended up in bed with this man? Last thing he remembered was being sent inside to cook a meal by the gruff, stoic man. But the images sliding fleeting through his head were at odds with that previous unpersonable presentation.
Jack propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. Average sized, well-worn but well-kept country style furniture, right down to the patchwork quilt on the bed. He grunted as he realised he was wearing similar attire to his companion – flannel pyjama bottoms and faded, use-thinned t-shirt, although he was swimming in his, the other being so much bigger. His gaze finally landed back on his bed mate and twisted his mouth in a wry grin.
“So . . . I’m assuming I’m not in your bed because we spent the night making with the hot monkey sex.”
He got a cocked eyebrow in response. “Na – as I said, not while you’re sick, bach.”
“So when I’m better . . .?” He left the question hanging, a little surprised at his own wantonness. Still, it wasn’t every day you ended up in an agricultural back woods, waking up wrapped in the arms of some kind of rustic, rural god.
“When you’re better, we’ll see. For now, I’ve got animals to feed – and something urgent to take care of,” the cocked eyebrow dove downwards as the man’s gaze indicated his not so little problem. “You stay in bed. I’ll bring you toast and tea when I’m done.”
Oh . . . toast and tea. Of course. Jack frowned as the man walked out of the room. Toast and tea was much better than . . . whatever.
Sighing in resignation, Jack snuggled back down into the sheets, shamelessly wriggling over to take advantage of the warmth – and musky male scent – his bed mate had left behind. He supposed he could use a little more sleep, and at least the tea and toast would be served with a helping of good looking man.
Follows from Here part 2
(*bach = 'little one' or 'dear one' in Welsh)
“Mmmm,” Jack murmured as he woke a second time. He felt much better this time round – partly because the pain in his head had eased, although his skull still felt stuffed full of wet cotton, and every bone in his body still ached. He wasn’t hot anymore, though, and his breathing was much easier.
Of course, having a pair of strong, firm arms layered with hard muscle wrapped round him probably helped. Or maybe it was the equally hard and extremely promising length pressed against his bottom that was making him feel so much better. He sighed and squirmed, pressing backwards, only to be met by a tightening of the arms around him, and a deep chuckle.
“If you keep wriggling like that, bach, you might get more than you’re expecting.”
“Mmmm,” Jack wriggled again, only to have that promising length pull away from him. “Maybe I’ll get exactly what I’m expecting.”
“Na, bach, not while you’re still ill.”
The body behind him moved away, delicious arms releasing him as their owner disentangled himself from the slightly sweat damp sheets. Jack rolled over to eye up his bed mate, now stood at the side of his bed, prominent erection tenting his stripy flannel pyjama bottoms. The man – Huw, Jack realised, the farmer he’d talked to before he . . . before he what? He frowned in puzzlement. Just how had he ended up in bed with this man? Last thing he remembered was being sent inside to cook a meal by the gruff, stoic man. But the images sliding fleeting through his head were at odds with that previous unpersonable presentation.
Jack propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. Average sized, well-worn but well-kept country style furniture, right down to the patchwork quilt on the bed. He grunted as he realised he was wearing similar attire to his companion – flannel pyjama bottoms and faded, use-thinned t-shirt, although he was swimming in his, the other being so much bigger. His gaze finally landed back on his bed mate and twisted his mouth in a wry grin.
“So . . . I’m assuming I’m not in your bed because we spent the night making with the hot monkey sex.”
He got a cocked eyebrow in response. “Na – as I said, not while you’re sick, bach.”
“So when I’m better . . .?” He left the question hanging, a little surprised at his own wantonness. Still, it wasn’t every day you ended up in an agricultural back woods, waking up wrapped in the arms of some kind of rustic, rural god.
“When you’re better, we’ll see. For now, I’ve got animals to feed – and something urgent to take care of,” the cocked eyebrow dove downwards as the man’s gaze indicated his not so little problem. “You stay in bed. I’ll bring you toast and tea when I’m done.”
Oh . . . toast and tea. Of course. Jack frowned as the man walked out of the room. Toast and tea was much better than . . . whatever.
Sighing in resignation, Jack snuggled back down into the sheets, shamelessly wriggling over to take advantage of the warmth – and musky male scent – his bed mate had left behind. He supposed he could use a little more sleep, and at least the tea and toast would be served with a helping of good looking man.
