THEY fell through the doorway together in a tangle of lips and limbs, barely avoiding a collision with the floor.
One moaned, the other gasped as they navigated the dark apartment. The faint sounds of passers-by outside reached their ears as others made their way home from their own New Year’s celebrations, but they were ignored. Trent thanked his lucky stars once more that he accepted his boss’s invitation to a Hogmanay ceilidh, which led to him meeting the fun and sexy man in his arms.
Andrew Cameron, his boss’s nephew, seemed to be doing his best at the moment to suck his tongue from his mouth and pull his hair out. Trent slid a hand down Andy’s waist and along one muscular thigh to the bottom of the kilt he was wearing, finally, finally reaching underneath and dragging his palm back up again. He let out a surprised, pleased groan as he encountered no resistance until he reached the waist of the kilt once more from the other side, feeling nothing but smooth, slightly chilled skin the whole way.
“Well, that answers that question,” he gasped. Andy laughed, kissing him again and grinding their bodies together.
“Come on you,” he pulled Trent through another door. “You know there’s a saying that the first thing you do on the first day of New Year’s is what you’ll be doing the rest of the year?” Trent could just make out the grin on the other man’s face thanks to the dim light seeping through the curtains from the streetlamps outside.
“Really?” he asked, his own lips stretching into a leer. “I don’t believe I’ve heard of that belief before.”
Andy nodded emphatically. “Oh yes. A venerable and respected superstition—that I may or may not have made up, but I’m sure I heard it somewhere. And if not, well, venerable, respected superstitions have to start somewhere.”
Trent laughed. “And what would you suggest we do?”
Andy snorted. “I shouldn’t have to draw you a picture; let’s just say I didn’t bring you here to play Scrabble.”
Trent laughed and pressed his lips against Andy’s again in a hard kiss and withdrawing his hand from the kilt to try and unfasten it. He cursed as he fumbled with the straps and buckles, becoming clumsy in his eagerness. Andy snickered, finally taking pity on him and shoving him away to fall on the bed while undressing himself in less than a minute, leaving the kilt and his shirt in an undignified heap on the floor topped with his socks, his shoes next to it like a side dish.
Trent’s breath was taken away by the sight of the naked man before him. The ache he felt in his groin for most of the night intensified to an almost painful degree. Andy’s smile turned to a cocky grin as he noticed the effect he was having and stalked over confidently. He let Trent settle further up on the bed and leaned over him.
“Now, your turn.”
