Date: Fri, 30 Dec 2016 14:06:06 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: 12 Tales of Christmas: No Room at the Inn

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/135831210809/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

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*****

"We do have a twin room available, Mr Randall," the desk clerk said with a
perky little smile.

"Just the one?" I asked, trying not to tap my credit card impatiently on
the counter. It had been a long goddamn day already. "The app said you had
two."

"I'm sorry sir," she said, "but as you can see, conditions have gotten
considerably worse. This is probably the last room available for the next
hundred miles. They're saying they might close the Turnpike down until the
weather clears."

The three of us looked out the lobby doors, where the snow was coming in
horizontally, in fat white flakes. Already, the Chevy I'd managed to
wrangle from the Hertz clerk at the airport was half-covered in the
stuff. This was turning out to be some real "Planes, Trains and
Automobiles"-level bullshit. When they'd announced at the airport that our
connection and most of the other flights would be cancelled, Josh had been
the one to suggest we just get a car and drive the rest of the way, like a
road trip. An adventure, just like old times. No more than three, three and
a half hours, max, he'd said, confidently. And here we were, three hours
later, not even halfway home. Stuck, pretty much. Snowed in, from the looks
of it.

So much for Christmas. Jesus, what a clusterfuck.

"And you're absolutely sure there's nothing else?" I asked. "I'm Starwood
Platinum, if that helps."

"I'm Starwood Platinum," Josh mimicked, rolling his eyes. "Jesus Christ,
bro - unless your Platinum ass wants to sleep in the car, just take the
fucking room, already. At least there's two beds, it could have been
worse."

"For Christ's sake," I muttered under my breath as I gave her my Amex.

"Starwood Platinum," Josh chuckled to himself as the clerk rattled away on
her keyboard. "That oughta be your stripper name, bro."

He elbowed me in the side as the clerk tried to stifle her smile and I shot
him a dirty look. I'd come straight from a four-week work trip out West to
get up to our parents' for Christmas, and I did not need this shit. Three
hours crammed into that little Chevy - I know my rental cars, and a Cruze
is not a midsize, no matter what Hertz says - with my chatty brother as I
battled through the Hoth-like conditions on the Turnpike was the cherry on
this shit sundae. We might not even get out of here tomorrow, if this snow
kept up. Christ, I needed a cocktail, and a long hot shower, and preferably
a good long stroke session to take the edge off. Guess I'd have to settle
for two out of three.

"Hey man, it could be worse," Josh said as we rode the elevator up to the
room. "We could've kept pushing it, and then we might be stuck in that
little fucking car on the Pike. Like all those stupid assholes down in
Atlanta when they had that ice storm, you remember that?"

I did remember that, because I was connecting in Atlanta on my way to
Raleigh when that hit, and I'd been stuck too. But that had been at the
Westin, in a king room upgrade, with the bonus of a hot little
straight-out-of-college Salesforce rep I'd met in the bar there who'd let
me fuck two loads into his tight, muscular little ass that night, and
another for good measure in the shower the next morning before they
reopened the airport and we'd gone our separate ways.

Thinking of that just made me horny and even more annoyed, and Josh's
perpetual cheeriness just cranked that up another notch. I really wasn't an
asshole, I swear, it's just that him and me had grown up into different
people. We'd been pretty cool growing up and through college, but then I'd
moved to Chicago and he'd gone to Tennessee. I spent my workweek in a suit,
putting out fires and keeping big projects moving; he spent his in sweats
and a team T-shirt, helping college football players like he used to be
build up for the rigors of the field. We had the same kind of looks and
similar kinds of builds, but you'd look at us right now - me in my Brooks
Brothers khakis and button-down, him in faded old Levi's that fit his big,
brawny ass like a well-loved baseball glove and a down jacket; me with my
cabin-approved rolling bag, him with his old college team duffel with the
busted wheel - and think we were complete strangers, thrown together by
circumstance. But we were here, and I guess I had to make the best of it,
and be optimistic that we'd be back on the road soon, so we could get where
we were supposed to be.

"Dude, this is pretty nice, you know?" he said, looking around the room. It
was OK, just a Four Points, nothing amazing, but it could have been worse,
I guess.

"Welp, no minibar, but no problem," he grinned, digging in his backpack,
coming out with a little ziplock baggie with a bunch of mini-bottles of
liquor in them. I rolled my eyes, but OK, I felt the start of a grin coming
on too, because that was the kind of guy Josh always was - prepared at the
weirdest times, in the weirdest ways.

"Think fast," he said, tossing a little bottle of Jim Beam at me. "Let's
have a couple drinks to take the edge off, then go over to that Outback and
eat, if it's still open."

The liquor really did help take the edge off, and with all the stranded
travelers stuck in the cluster of hotels here like us, the Outback would
have been stupid if they had closed, so a couple of steaks and a couple
more drinks dulled the edge even further. Suddenly being stuck in BFE in a
snowstorm, sharing a room with my brother, didn't seem like such a pain in
the ass after all.

"Yo Stevie, think fast," he said again as we struggled across the parking
lot to the hotel through the driving snow. I had the hood of my coat up, so
I barely heard him, but I turned around just in time to cop a fat, wet
snowball right in the face.

"Oh you little fucker," I growled, even though he was 6'2 and an easy 220,
and it was on. A couple other hotel guests hurried past us through the
snowfall, looking at us like we were total idiots for launching into a
snowball fight in the midst of a near-blizzard, but we didn't
care. Finally, for what felt like the first time in days, I was laughing,
and enjoying myself, and everything was OK.

We were a wet mess, shaking the snow out of our hair and stomping it off
our shoes before heading back into the lobby, still laughing as we rode the
elevator back up to the room. Despite the full house, the bar was pretty
dead, and Josh worked his considerable charm on the bartender to get her to
slip us a bottle. The extra $20 from my wallet helped, but what the hell -
it was Christmas, right?

We hung our coats up and peeled off our sweaters and socks, Josh pouring us
a couple of drinks while I cranked the heat up. He looked good, big and
fit, a little thicker than he used to be in his playing days, but hell, I
knew all about trying to stay in shape as your twenties slowly
disappeared. Well, mine were gone now, but his were right behind mine. His
T-shirt stretched across his big shoulders and chest, and hell, that extra
little beefy swell to his body looked downright great on him. He'd always
been a big guy, thicker than me, though we both had Dad's big broad
shoulders and strong frames.

"Well, here's to being snowed in," he grinned, clinking his water glass of
bourbon to mine, and we drank to that. Fell into a companionable quiet for
a minute, watching the snow fall thicker and faster outside. The cars in
the lot were just white humps underneath it now, the Turnpike beyond
deserted. I'd been in Texas for three years now, and we didn't get a lot of
snow, and I always thought I was glad for that. Times like this, though, I
realized I missed it. Missed a lot of things about the old days, really.

I caught Josh's reflection in the window, sipping his drink and looking
sideways at me. Felt a little flush come over me from who knows where. A
little prickle in the small of my back, all of a sudden.

"Dude," he said, his voice quiet and mellow. "You remember that trip we
took with the folks to Nashville that year? When they let us have our own
room?"

Shit. Yeah, I remembered that, alright. I was a senior in high school, Josh
a big, overgrown sophomore. We were headed down to Mom's family reunion,
and with Dad making good money, they'd splashed out and let us have our own
room together. Nothing fancy, not hot tubs or minibars or any of that stuff
I'd gotten used to now as a grown-up. But it had been a thrill to have our
own space on the road like that, to go investigate around the motel
property, to look at the adult movie listings that we didn't dare try to
charge to the room. But that part, that had gotten to us both, just reading
through the brief descriptions on the TV menu, as cheesy as they were. Like
a tantalizing glimpse of something we couldn't quite grab hold of. One
thing had led to another, and we'd wound up jerking off in our side-by-side
beds. Then Josh had gotten a real focused, curious kind of look on his
face, like he was psyching himself up to make a decision about
something... and got up, his big, stiff teenaged cock sticking out of his
briefs like a pump handle as he stepped across the couple feet between our
beds, and joined me on mine. I was stunned, but then the heat of it had
gotten to me, and spread to him, and there we were, rubbing one out
together. When Josh slipped his already muscle-thick arm round my shoulders
and tugged me closer to him, I didn't resist, and we blasted two epic loads
together.

We did it again in the morning. Made us late, Dad honking the Cherokee's
horn out in the parking lot as we raced to clean the cum off our stomachs
with wet washcloths, blushing, giggling like kids, looking at each other
like we couldn't believe what we'd done. And then, after Nashville, on the
way back, in another shared room, we did it again. When Josh leaned in all
hesitant, blushing, as if he wanted to kiss me, I closed the gap between us
and met his lips with mine, and we both moaned with relief and release as
we made out and stroked our cocks to furious orgasm together.

It never happened again, and we never said anything about it. I went to
college, had a string of girlfriends, and he did pretty much the same
thing. And then I stopped having girlfriends, and got real busy, and now
what I had was 35 weeks a year on the road and random hookups. I didn't
know what Josh had in his life now, because we didn't talk about that kind
of thing a lot, the personal stuff. I figured with the way he turned on the
charm for the desk clerk and the bartender downstairs, and our waitress at
the Outback, he was still playing the field with the ladies. Well, good for
him. And lucky them, I thought, from out of nowhere, and frowned a little
to myself.

"Yeah, I remember, man," I said now, looking at him, seeing him giving me
that half-smile of his that I remembered from that shared interstate motel
room a dozen years ago.

"Fuck, Stevie," he said, quietly, looking back out at the snow. "How'd we
get here, bro?"

"Well, uh, I guess the El Nino thing, and..."

"Nah, don't do that, man," he said with a frown, a little shake of his
head. "Don't be obtuse."

Looking at Josh, the big jock bruiser, it was easy to forget that he'd
graduated college almost 4.0. That he was a lot smarter than he might be
taken for. Still waters running deep, and all that. It made me feel like an
asshole now, making those old wrong assumptions about the guy I'd once
known better than anybody in the whole world.

"I don't know, Joshie," I said. "I don't know."

We contemplated the snow a few minutes longer, but the moment was gone.

"Think I'm gonna get that shower, before the chill sets in," I eventually
said, and he just nodded absently as he watched the snow turn the world
white and strange outside. I clicked the bathroom door closed behind me,
and for a moment there, as I looked at myself in the mirror while the water
warmed up, I was the saddest I'd ever been in my whole life.

He was draining his glass when I stepped out, a towel around my waist, and
the way his eyes appraised my bare torso, my chest hair still damp and
clinging to my pecs, made me blush. But then I guess that was part of his
job, assessing physiques and development. I was pleased at his approving
nod, at least.

"Doing good, bro," he said, setting his glass down as he tugged his T-shirt
up and off and unbuckled his belt. "I figured you road-warrior types all
wound up getting soft in the middle, but you still got it, man."

He smiled at me and patted my stomach as he squeezed by me, and headed into
the bathroom. Unlike me, he was mostly smooth, and it just served to
highlight the impressively beefy swell of his pecs and his big shoulders
even better. He looked even better than in his college playing days, and
he'd looked damn fine then. I tried not to stare, focused on finding a
T-shirt and some comfy pants to wear until lights-out. The shower started
up again, the bathroom door closed, and as the curtain rattled across the
rail in there, I got a sudden, unbidden mental image of how he must look,
head back, eyes closed, a contented smile as the water cascaded down his
thick, powerful body. Down the swell of his muscular, yet lightly padded
stomach. Down into the dark tangle of hair that fanned out below his
bellybutton. Running in streams down the long, thick hang of his big cock -

Jesus Christ, pull yourself together, Steve, my brain spat. The fuck is
wrong with you? That shit was over a decade ago.

Yeah, maybe so, I mused as I poured myself another drink. But the deepest,
most significant memories had permanence, after all. And what was a trip
back to the family home for Christmas with your little brother, but an
invitation to explore those depths of the mind?

I was back to watching the snow fall outside, sipping my drink, mind
halfway gone, when Steve came out of the bathroom, humming, toweling his
hair dry. Big, skin flushed and gleaming, and all but naked. Except for a
jock.

Jesus, I thought to myself, watching his reflection in the mirror as he
slung his towel over the back of the desk chair, picked up his glass for a
refill, and then ambled over to the window to join me. The guy was born to
wear a strap, all thick-thighed, high-assed and big-dicked. Perfectly at
ease doing it, since he'd been doing it most of his life by now. I'd given
them up years ago, except for the odd special occasion, but Josh looked
like he might just confidently keep rocking one until his twilight
years. Knowing him, he probably would.

"Funny, ain't it," he said, forcing me to tear my eyes away from the
reflection of his big, hot body. "This whole part of the state's like the
armpit of Pennsylvania, but dump a foot of snow on it, and it's the most
beautiful place in the world."

"Yeah," I said loosely, looking down at the parking lot and the still,
silent Turnpike. Not a soul out there, and the moody, dying light of the
day just made it even more atmospheric. Damn, I was getting a buzz
on. "It's like it's all for us. Our own winter wonderland."

"I'll take it," he smiled, looking at me, though I studiously avoided his
eyes. Just watched his reflection in the mirror. Somehow missed the shift
of his arm across the space between us, until I felt the light graze of his
thick fingertips in the small of my back. I jerked a little, swallowed
hard, but didn't say anything. His fingers paused for a second, then
slowly, gradually resumed their light, circular motion on my T-shirt,
warming the skin and hair underneath.

"Josh, I, uh..." I said, after a long moment of that slow, increasingly
sensual touch. It had been a couple days since I'd last unloaded, and my
cock was already beginning its steady expansion inside my boxer briefs.

"Shhh, bro," he said quietly, shifting his big body closer. "Like you said,
this is all for us. You and me, back in a hotel room together again. Our
own little world."

I swallowed harder, and stifled a soft little sound as he stepped right up
next to me, just behind my shoulder, and leaned his handsome head down to
press his lips softly, to my shoulder. That lingering, warm kiss sent an
electric current all through me, and when I opened my eyes again, they
locked onto my little brother's in our reflection in the window.

"You and me, Stevie," he said quietly, his hand moving in slowly larger
circles on my lower back, snagging the hem of my T-shirt as it did. "I've
missed that, bro. For years, man. Us."

"Shit, Joshie, me too," I found myself saying, and then I was setting my
glass down on the windowsill, turning to look him in his smiling, handsome
face, before framing it with my hands as I pulled it in to kiss him. Not
even thinking about it, just going with it. Like the muscle memory of that
second night in the moel room together back when we were teenagers, curious
about the world and ourselves and each other, and how it all fit
together. What it all meant.

Even Josh's damn lips felt muscular, but they parted to reveal warm, moist
softness inside, offering himself up to my tongue to slide in, and I took
the invitation. He grunted and wrapped his big, thick forearms around my
waist as we fell deeper into it, just going with the taste and touch and
sound of it. My cock was throbbing in my loose drawstring pants, and when I
shifted in a little closer, Josh's arms tightening around my waist as he
grunted approvingly, my bulge came into contact with his. He was just as
big and hard as me, the mesh pouch of his jock expanded to accommodate him
as he ground it lightly up against mine, big hands busy caressing my ass
and slipping inside the waistband of my pants, pushing them down slowly
over my own muscular glutes. They fell to the floor, and I moaned into my
little brother's mouth as he took hold of my ass in his big, ex-ballplayer
hands, and squeezed, growling approvingly.

It was really something to back him up against the window, pin him to the
glass and just go for it. We tongue-wrestled, hard and aggressive, manly as
fuck, then switched back to the deeper, slower stuff. Trading spit for the
first time in a dozen years, the taste of his mouth and the feel of his
tongue both familiar and new at once. Seeing the snow falling in the
rapidly falling evening sky behind him as he moaned and grunted and
hip-thrust against me, the big plate glass window flexing a little under
the weight of his body, it just added something strange and beautiful and
ethereal to the whole situation.

"You think about this much since we, y'know, did it?" he panted, grinning
as I licked and kissed at the thickness of his neck, down over the
smooth-but-steely beefiness of his big, mounded pecs.

"More than I'd like to admit, bro," I grunted.

"Same, Stevie, same," he moaned, going up a note on the scale when my lips
found the big, stiff bullets of his nip, and latched onto it. His hand
cupped the back of my head, puling me in tighter, so I went for it. I've
been told I'm a pretty oral dude, and Josh had exactly the kind of body you
want to worship with your mouth, for sure.

"Fuck man, you got no idea what I wished we'd done that night, bro," he
moaned as I lick-kissed my way down over the steely beefiness of his
stomach. "And then when I finally did it.. I wished it had been you doing
it to me."

"I got some idea, I bet, Joshie," I grinned up at him winking, as I dipped
my tongue tip into the deep well of his navel, making him hiss with a mix
of ticklishness and pleasure, his big hard dick dragging up over my Adam's
apple, glazing the stubbly skin of my neck with streaks of precum.

"Like what, bro?" he murmured, both big mitts on my head now, stroking it
as we locked gazes.

"Let me show you, dude," I said, then wrapped my fist round the thickness
of his throbbing cock, and showed him everything I'd learned to do with my
mouth since that night.

I'm one of those guys who doesn't care all that much about getting his cock
sucked - though who would say no to some hot young fucker swinging on his
dick? But I do love to work a dude over, tasting and savoring and exciting
him, the heat and the throb and the tang of a man's cock, and Josh was no
different. Only in that one aspect, of course, because in every other one,
he stood out. He moaned and writhed back against the big window, his sweaty
skin squeaking as it shifted against the glass, moaning my name and guiding
my head as it bobbed up and down, pouring everything I knew about how to
please another man into my little brother.

The skin-on-glass squeaking was starting to distract me, especially when I
considered trying to explain what had happened if the damn window did give
out under Josh's spectacular weight. So I reluctantly pulled my mouth up
and off him, running my hand up his abs as I stood to kiss him, finding his
grinning mouth relaxed and eager to meet mine. Eager to taste himself, all
salty and tangy and faintly mineral from his precum, on my tongue.

"I wanted to do that to you that night, bro," I murmured against his lips
as I felt him quiver all over.

"Jesus fuck, Stevie," he moaned. "You shoulda. I would have been real eager
to experience that, too."

"Well, here we are now, little brother."

"So we are," he grinned down at me, still stroking my face and hair. "Show
me what you wanted to do to me, Stevie," he said.

Josh's big, powerful ass, up in the air and jock-framed, was an incredible
display, and I wasted no time at all in getting at it as he kneeled on the
bed, then bent forward onto his elbows. Those big, mostly smooth
muscle-packed cheeks of his dimpled, flexed and spread, revealing a fine
trail of dark fur lining the insides of his cheeks. He was stellar, the ass
I'd long admired in football pants and sweats really becoming something on
a higher plane as I squeezed and admired it with my hands.

"Oh shiiiiiiiit," he grunted at the sensation of my tongue swabbing his
deep crack, all clean and vaguely spicy too. Even more so when I got in
deeper, closer to his core, then inside of it. He bucked that big, sexy ass
of his back up at my face, which just encouraged me even more, making me
get sloppier, hungrier, deeper inside of him. When I came up for air, one
hand rubbing the small of my little bro's back, the other that freshly
spit-shined crevice and hole, he looked over his big shoulder at me with
hazy eyes, and a whole different light to them.

"You top or bottom, Stevie?" he asked, and I half-snorted at the idea that
he'd ever ask me that question.

"Depends," I shrugged, stroking the powerful curves of his rump. "Sometimes
it's the right guy, the right look, the right body. How I'm feeling, and
how he is. But I always work it out in the end, one way or another."

"What about... for me?" he asked in a much smaller voice. I growled, took
one last lick of his shiny hole, and moved up to kiss the man, hard and wet
and hungry. Let that be his answer.

"You can fuck me, bro," he whispered after a solid few minutes of intense,
sloppy tongue-dipping. "I want you to, Stevie."

"Yeah?" I said, stunned, because no matter that we'd had several extremely
intense jack sessions back in our teen years, I'd never have figured my
strapping stud of a little bro would be asking me to do that for him. To
him. With him.

He just nodded, and smiled, a boyish echo of the happy, strapping kid he'd
been back in the day. I scrambled up off the bed and into the bathroom for
my travel kit, and found the bottle of lube I kept in there for
emergencies. Or opportunities, I guess.

Josh's eyes were locked on the big, hard curve of my cock as I walked back
to the bed, and before I went to slick it with the lube, he reached out,
took hold of it, and gave it a stroke. Slow, experimental, a little
awestruck at first, and that was real satisfying in its own right. My
little brother really handling my cock for the first time, like I'd
imagined a million times, it seemed. I pushed my hips forward and let him
get the feel of me, the girth and throb and length of my dick. Then I
uncapped the lube and poured a stream of it down onto my dick, and let him
work it in and all over it. By the end, he had that excited,
ready-for-anything smile I remembered so well on his handsome face.

"Nice fuckin' cock, bro," he grinned up at me.

"Nice fuckin' ass, bro," I smiled back, stepping around him and climbing up
on the bed. He tensed up momentarily as I grazed my lubed-up fingers over
his hole, but just like when I tongued him, soon he was moaning and bucking
that big, fine ass back at me as I got him slicked and ready.

"Do it, man," he growled, already bunching the covers up in his fists, as I
grazed the fat, shiny head of my cock at his tight, furry ring. "Get in
there, bro."

"You sure, little brother?" I half-panted.

"Ever since that last hotel room," he grunted, pushing his ass back, like
his ring was kissing the tip of my cock. "Now quit teasing me, and fuck me,
bro."

So I did. I gave the big guy what he wanted, and what I'd wanted even more,
and filled his depths with the bigness of my cock. His muscles bunched all
over as he grunted and growled, first with effort, then with pure pleasure,
slowly beginning to fuck himself back on me as we slipped into that most
ancient of rhythms. Two men, rutting. Two brothers, closing the space and
years and distance between them.

The rhythmic slap of hips on thick ass flesh filled the room, along with
our grunts, curses, heated murmurs, lusty fucktalk. I ran my hands all over
the big, powerful muscles that made up his beefy ex-jock form, and that
just made him fuck back on me more, getting off on being admired by his
elder brother while he got fucked by him. I gave Josh my very best, showing
him all I'd learned and how I'd grown in the years since I was 18.

"Let's turn around, man," he grunted, sweat beginning to bead like dew on
his big, rippling back. "I wanna see the snow, Stevie."

Right then, that was the rightest thing I'd ever heard. I pulled out, we
shuffled quickly around to face the big window and the snow falling thick
and rapid in the dying light outside. When he leaned back against my chest,
I sank the length of my cock back inside of him, and he moaned my name in
one long, husky, needful sound. I pressed my lips to his thick, sweaty neck
and played with every muscle I could reach on his torso, and whispered his
name back into his ear.

"Joshie."

"Aw yeah, bro," he moaned softly, as my hand slid over his stomach, deep
into the thick, dark fur below it. His big arms doubled with muscle as they
bent and flexed, hands reaching behind my head, his pits releasing an
intoxicating cloud of clean, musky maleness, making me growl and fuck up
ito his big, fine ass even deeper. Then my hand finally slid down the
length of his big, hard dick, all precum-slicked and throbbing as I
enclosed it in my fist and began to slide it.

"Cum for me, Joshie," I whispered, flicking the tip of my tongue inside the
shell of his ear, my other hand finding his stiff left nip and beginning to
strum it. He shook, whimpered, then grunted huskily as his body quaked and
tensed and strained.

"Stevie!" he said in a strangled moan, and then he shot across the space
between the bed and the window, hitting the glass with soft, thudding
splats. Whirling eddies of snow batted one side of the window, spurting
ribbons of hot cum the other.

The rapid-fire clench of his ring around my cock, the taste of his sweat,
the scent of his manliness, the fact that I was finally fucking my little
brother like I should have done at 18 - all of it overtook me. I squeezed
my arms round him tight, his cock still pumping in my right hand, and I
came too.

I watched him stand on shaky legs afterwards, that big ass of his flexing
beautifully as he stepped away from the bed and over to the window, that
big, boyish grin on his face as he admired the load I'd fucked and stroked
out of him.

"I don't mean to toot my own horn here, Platinum," he chuckled, "but that's
just fuckin' impressive, in anybody's book."

I laughed, leaning back on the pillows as I milked out the last stray drops
from my sticky, spent cock, laying heavily on my thigh. My eyes barely left
his big, studly form, that natural jock strut he still had about him, as he
went to the bathroom to run a hand towel under the hot water. The caring,
attentive way he cleaned the cum off of me, and then himself, made my heart
thump a little harder for him. So I pulled him down into my arms, laying
along the length of me on his side, his big thigh slipping over the top of
mine as he hugged himself into my side, my arm round his thick neck,
rubbing his back and lats and am slowly, soothingly. His and played with
the hair on my chest and stomach, just stroking through it, enjoying the
sensation.

"Looks like we won't be getting out of here anytime soon, bro," he said,
his voice heavy and slow and sated now.

"Yeah, looks like we might be stuck. Might miss Christmas altogether."

"Sucks," he said simply, turning his head to press a slow, warm kiss to my
pec, right above my heart.

"Could be worse," I said, and leaned in to press a kiss of my own to his
sweaty temple.

"True," he chuckled slowly. "You could tell me you won't let me fuck you."

I chuckled, and that turned into a laugh, and soon, we were both rolling,
deep bellows of laughter filling the room. Looking at each other with big,
genuine smiles as we came down off the poscoital high together.

"Might turn out to be a pretty decent Christmas though, bro," Josh said.
"Just us guys. A decent room, a steak place across the way, a friendly
bartender. Hell, if we wind up staying a few days, maybe they'll find a way
to upgrade you after all, Starwood Platinum."

"Oh fuck you," I jeered, cuffing the side of his head as he chuckled at my
expense.

"Nah, bro," he said, running his hand down my abs and deep into my bush. "I
think it's your turn for that, actually."

He was right. It did wind up being another night, and by that point, we
were missing Christmas anyway, so we pushed it out another day and just
went with it. Enjoying the moment together. Making some new memories, going
back to the brothers we'd been once. Getting back to where we were supposed
to be.