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Ginger was having a very pleasant dream. He was naked in bed, with Algy a warm presence at his back. Algy had reached over and down and was masturbating him gently.
He woke when he got to a certain point – to discover he was naked in bed, with Algy a warm presence at his back, and that he’d reached over and down and was masturbating him gently.
“Alright?” came the question.
“Very alright.”
A breathy chuckle in his ear sent shudders down the length of him.
“Lie back then. Let me handle everything. Let it build. Let it come.” Each phrase punctuated by another stroke. It was almost hypnotic. Ginger closed his eyes again and gave himself up to it.
“It’s early. Very early. We’ve got lots of time.” Algy sped up. Just a little. Not too much. Not enough.
Ginger squirmed and thrust and Algy’s hand stilled. The next chuckle was darker, and Ginger knew he was in for it. They’d done this before. The man had an almost unnatural instinct for knowing when he was just – just – and then backing off.
Ginger lost count of the times he was close to the edge and left hanging. Not that he’d been counting much to start with.
By the time Algy finally – finally – relented and brought him over, he was a sweaty shuddering happy mess.
It was still dark. Early, as Algy had said.
He stretched luxuriantly. He was naked in Algy’s bed, and Algy – wasn’t?
They’d earlier, they had definitely both been extremely naked earlier. “Wait. Did you get back up and put your pyjamas back on?”
“Of course,” said Algy insouciantly. “It’s only practical. You never know when there might be a sudden emergency, a fire for instance. Burglars. It wouldn’t do to run about the building armed and naked.”
Ginger tried to put the sudden image of a naked Algy with a gun in his hand out of his head. He didn’t try very hard. Instead wriggled back against the silk.
“But it’s okay for me?”
“Certainly is,” said Algy with a grin.
He didn’t know what it said about him or his life that he could hear Algy grinning.
He knew perfectly well why Algy had put his PJs back on.
Nothing to do with modesty – he was fairly sure by this point in life that Algy didn’t have a modest bone in his body – and everything to do with the fact that Ginger loved having silk – Algy in silk – rubbing against him.
There were in fact a rather expensive new pair of silk pyjamas sitting neatly wrapped under the Christmas tree. They were neatly wrapped because Ginger had asked the nice lady in the shop to do it for him. He thought there might have been tissue paper involved. They were black. He couldn’t wait.
Algy had a fair idea of what was under the tree for him. The wrapping was identical to the small package of large silk handkerchiefs currently hidden in the back of his wardrobe. He thought Ginger would enjoy them wrapped round his cock. Wrapped and rubbed and stroked round his cock.
He’d had thoughts about using them for other purposes that might be enjoyable, but that could be discussed at another time.
That particular gift would stay where it was until later. There were other presents under the tree, and he had no intention of letting Biggles or Bertie ask (innocently or somewhat less innocently, faux innocently) why Ginger wasn’t using his nice new hankies.
Ginger gave another wriggle and turned to face him.
“What – what can I do for you?”
“Mmmn, I don’t know,” Algy teased. “You’re a bit sticky. Don’t want to mess up my clothes.”
“I’ll sticky you.”
Algy couldn’t help a snort of laughter. “That has to be the worst threat ever.”
“I could take them off before I suck you?”
“Better.” He stretched back on the bed, pillowed his head in his hands. “Or – you could just unwrap me a little.”