Hi all... Long time no see! So... I have been writing on my new Alien Love Novel and it has been so much fun that I have not been working on my next Ice Era Chronicle or this little gem! But I went on vacation last week and before long I had a few chapters ready for this book. So here I am wanting to share. I love you guys!
Be well, my friends.
~M. From C.M. Moore
*Chapter 12*
(Brice)
As his morning music alarm started to play light classical, Brice rolled over and yawned. He'd slept all night. That didn't happen often. When his hand connected to Clay's warm naked thigh, Brice's eyes popped open. Snuggling closer, the man scooted his ass into Brice's crotch. Brice held in his groan.
"Morning, baby." Clay's husky voice, thick with sleep, washed over Brice.
"Hell no." Brice glared. "It's Instructor Brice."
He probably deserved the sappy endearment, but Brice had to draw the line somewhere. Actually, he had no idea where the line was any more or a pencil for making a line.
Last night Brice had cleaned and hung Clay's uniform. After he finished, Brice only planned to warm up the shepherd for a minute. Stupidly, Brice had convinced himself that Clay was cold after running in the snow-ice-rain. And after all, Wicks was only wearing Brice's shirt. Thinking of offering his body heat, Brice crawled under the covers. He had every intention of getting out of bed and sleeping on his couch. He really did...
Claymore and good intentions never did seem to work out for him.
"Good morning, Instructor Brice." Wicks rolled over and curled into his arms. He made the same move last night while sleeping. Clay's erection poked Brice's pajama pants. That happened last night too.
"I'm only here because I thought I'd keep you warm," Brice muttered as his eyes scanned what might be the best sight in the world. "That's all I was doing."
"i belive you." Clay's eyes, rested and bright, crinkled with a smile. No one Brice had ever dated looked at him the way Clay did. Brice could wake up and see this man's smile every day until he died.
That thought had Brice tugging out of Clay's hands and rolling out of bed.
"I should make you stretch," Brice muttered.
"I feel phenomenal. I slept like the dead." Clay climbed out of Brice's bed with one more hug to his pillows. "Your bed is spectacular."
"I guess." Brice shrugged. His bed seemed more spectacular with Clay in it. "After the hut, I couldn't sleep, so I started doing anything I could to rest. I got sleep music. I found the best sheets. I picked out the best mattress. I added the pillows. None of it helped." Brice headed to his kitchen and poured water into his teapot, and set it on his burner. Since he knew Clay wasn't wearing pants, Brice told himself not to turn around.
He turned around.
"I think those sheets must be made of clouds." Clay's muscles flexed beautifully as the man stripped out of his shirt and tossed the top over a pillow. "Mind if I shower again?"
A gloriously naked Claymore Wicks had Brice tongue taking a vacation. Each light scar on his skin seemed to call out of Brice. Touch me, lick me, they whispered. He nodded as all his blood zipped to his cock and then pooled there.
"Thanks." Clay spun around and headed to the bathroom. The view of his rounded backside showed Brice all the things he insisted he didn't want. This lying to himself was getting out of hand.
After Wicks was out of sight, Brice picked up his tongue from the floor and walked to his pillows. He scooped up the shirt Clay worn last night. Bringing the garment to his face, Brice inhaled. The smell was Clay's warm skin, Brice's soap, and the hint of arousal. The scent made him dizzy.
"Brice, I can't find—" Clay poked his head out of the bathroom and caught Brice sniffing his clothes like a dog. He was such a dope.
"What?" Brice tossed the shirt to his bed. "Can't find the soap?"
"That's not what I was going to say." Clay grinned at him. "What are you doing?" His aqua eyes sparkled in that way Brice loved and hated.
"Nothing." To make a point, Brice grabbed the shirt and tossed it into his laundry hamper. As soon as Wicks left, he would dig out the top. "What do you want?"
"I can't find my uniform. If you want to keep me here naked, you only have to ask. You don't need to hide my clothes."
"I dried them last night," Brice explained. "In the closet past the sink is the washer and dryer. They're in there, and your boots are on the heated drying rack by the toilet. Don't lollygag."
"Thank you, boyfriend." Clay's eyes studied him. "That's very domestic of you." He vanished back into the room before Brice could tell him to stop it.
Right as Brice got his tea into his mug and oatmeal cooked for Clay, Wicks stepped out of the bathroom. Dressed in proper attire for training, Brice had two emotions surge. One, Clay looked damn sexy in his uniform. Wicks looked so tasty Brice wanted to strip the other man out of the outfit and lick everything underneath. Two, he should not be with a recruit.
He whispered the words I should not be with a recruit as he set the bowl and spoon on the table.
"Thanks for doing my laundry and for cooking dinner last night and breakfast this morning." Clay took a seat as he slid the food in front of him. "Is oatmeal another one of your specialties, boyfriend?"
"Call me boyfriend again, and I'll make you do a hundred pushups."
"I can do a hundred pushups." Clay laughed and began to eat. Brice sipped on his tea as he watched Clay. Never in his life had Brice wanted to be a spoon until Clay licked the utensil.
Glancing at the clock, Clay stood. He guzzled water, wiped his face, and then leaned over and kissed Brice's scar along his cheek.
