Either way, Miki struggled to shake off the rest of his sleep, weighted down by exhaustion and a bit of worry. He’d admit to the worry, especially since he’d left the wood lit up like a showgirl in the front room and closed the doors on its sparkle.
“Oh, damn, the fucking tree.” He buried his face in the pillows, wishing he could sink into the mattress as well. “I forgot to turn the damned thing off.”
“I happen to love that fucking tree. I read the tag. It’s mine, so don’t you be talking shit about my tree.” Kane’s voice startled him, and he jerked up, surprised. Kane was shedding his clothes, his belt buckle clanging softly as he let his pants drop and stepped out of them. “Lie back down, Mick. I’ve got you.”
His cop spread his hands over Miki’s shoulders and rubbed, easing him back down. The bed gave a bit when Kane got on it, and Miki felt it dip on either side of his hips. Kane’s bare thighs warmed his chilled skin, and the soft circular motions down Miki’s spine did more than heat things up in his cock. The sheets rubbed a bit, and his ass clenched uncontrollably when goose bumps danced over his naked, cold body.
“I’ve got to be telling you.” Kane kissed his nape, a feather touch of lips between shanks of Miki’s long hair. “I can’t believe you got me koa for Valentine’s Day.”
“It’s shitty, I know….”
“It’s fantastic.” Kane slid his hands under Miki’s hips and gently turned him over. His gaze roamed over Miki’s naked body, and his wicked hands—delightful and hot—kneaded Miki’s thighs. “You’re pretty damned fantastic too. Thank you, Mick. It’s beautiful. Beautiful and incredible. And big enough that your dog can’t drag it off to the garage.”
Kane bent over, pushing the bed’s pillow top down farther. Gripping Miki’s hips, he slid his tongue into Miki’s mouth, forcing his way in. Miki sighed and opened up for his lover, giving everything he had to the tangle of lips and tongue Kane started. Their noses touched, and Kane drew back—just for a second—to tickle the end of Miki’s with the tip of his tongue.
His laugh was swallowed behind Kane’s returning mouth, and Miki wound his arms around his lover’s neck, drawing Kane down on top of him. The man fell, a heavy, sensual weight on Miki’s length, and he tried to move, but Miki refused to let him go.
“Stay here,” Miki muttered. “I like you on me.”
“I’d rather be in you,” Kane grumbled playfully. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t get to roll you around on the rose petals.”
“I didn’t want to crush them.” He sniffed. “They’re in a box. Well, the ones from the bed. I didn’t pick up the ones on the floor. You can roll me around on those.”
“Deal.” His lover laughed softly. “Did you eat?”
“Did you have to bring your mother to bed with you too?” He cocked his head, losing himself in the man’s deep-blue eyes. “Bad enough I had to ask your dad to help me decorate that damned thing. You go and trot Brigid through?”
“My dad helped you?”
“Yeah, should have kept him around. He is the hottest Morgan. You’re like second gen. Doesn’t cloned DNA degrade as it goes farther away from the source?”
“Oh, you’re going to be playing that game, then?” Kane’s fingers moved from sensual to torturous, and he dove down into the ridges of Miki’s rib cage.
“Fuck. Stop.” He wiggled to get away. The feeling of his skin being rubbed the wrong way sent chills up Miki’s spine, and his bladder decided to remind him of the large Gatorade bottle he’d drained before going to bed. “Seriously, I’ve got to pee.”
“Before you go off to see a man about a horse, I’ve got something for you.” Kane scooted over to the edge of the bed and reached for one of Miki’s guitar cases, resting up against the wall. He dragged it over, then put it between them. A flick of a switch, and Kane turned on one of the lamps. Miki blinked, his eyes spangling from at the sudden brightness. “Here, open this.”
“Hey, this isn’t one of mine.”
“It is now.” Kane nodded. “Open it up, love.”
Miki studied the black hard case as he flipped open its catches. Sucking on a gasp at the curve-bodied guitar nested in its bed of red velvet, Miki coughed to clear his throat. Its gleaming cherry-stained wood face was fitted with an elaborate filigree steel bowl, the swirls chased in black and gold. Touching the strings, Miki listened to the instrument’s soft, melodic hum. “Fuck me, it’s a resonator. Dude, you got me a guitar.”
“Yeah, I’d like to say I made it, but I’d be lying. There’s a lot I can do, but guitars aren’t one of them, love. Not like this one.”
Miki cupped Kane’s face and kissed him soundly. “Dude, this is like… fucking awesome. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Yeah, I had help. Damie pointed me to the right places.” Kane shrugged, and Miki caught a fringe of blush creeping over the man’s stubbled cheeks. “So if the sound sucks, I can blame him.”