Abandoned by his partner in the wilds of Alaska, single gay dad Peter Boone is at the end of his rope. He has screaming twin babies to care for and far too much time without adult companionship. To make matters worse, Alaska’s harsh and gloomy winter is about to close in on him, his twins, and their small, rundown cabin.
Park Ranger Chad Bristow likes living alone in Alaska, but after visiting Peter to warn him about an encroaching forest fire, he starts to wonder what life would be like with someone like Peter. Winter’s severity worries Chad, and he believes Peter and his twins won’t make it, so he offers to take them into his home. Soon Chad realizes that the attraction he experienced for Peter on their first meeting has the potential to heat up beyond his being a good Samaritan. Now all he has to do is convince Peter that they can do more than just keep each other warm.
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Peter leaned in, nuzzling Chad’s collarbone, fingers splaying out over his skin.
His chuckle turned into a moan. “Man, you’ve got a sweet touch.”
“Your skin feels good.” The words were whispered over his shoulder, the soft brush of Peter’s tongue maddening.
“So does your tongue, Peter.”
God, it was likely to short him out. He forced himself to return the touches, to get Peter’s shirt off. Peter purred a little, fingers sliding over Chad’s belly, stroking his skin. Chad tilted Peter’s head, bringing their mouths back together again.
Chad sat on the bed, and Peter crawled into his lap, straddled his thighs, their bellies sliding together. Moaning, Chad pressed his tongue in deeper. He could get used to this. Peter was hard, hips grinding a little faster, hands in Chad’s hair. It felt good to know he was inciting that heat, that need.
His own prick was pushing against his pants, trying to push out of his zipper.
“Mmm… too many clothes….”
Peter nibbled on his bottom lip, then sucked it. “You got that right.”
Unfortunately, getting rid of their pants was going to take more concentration than Chad had to spare. He was too busy with having his mind blown by Peter’s hands and mouth. Peter rubbed his nipples, tweaked them gently, then explored his ribs, petted him, stroked his belly button. Chad’s hips were moving, pushing up against Peter, each new touch making him moan, cock throbbing.
Peter opened Chad’s fly and began stroking his prick, just brushing it as it was freed to rub against Peter’s clothes.
“Shit!” He humped up into that touch, hips bucking at the touch of fingers not his own.
“Oh, fuck.” Peter’s fingers wrapped around his cock, rubbing, pumping.
“You don’t slow down I’m gonna. Oh shit, gonna come, Peter.” It was like lightning in his pants.
“You want me to take the edge off or slow down?” Peter’s thumb slid over the slit of Chad’s cock.
He bucked again. “Edge.” Please don’t stop, not right now.
“Yeah.” Those lips fastened on his throat, licking and sucking, Peter’s thumb driving him mad.
“Peter!” He cried out, spunk splashing up over Peter’s hand as the pleasure shot through him.
Peter purred, kept petting him through the aftershocks, kept stroking. Kept him hard and needing and right there open Peter’s jeans, finding the hot cock that spilled from the open zipper.
“Oh….” Peter whimpered, shivered for him, mouth open on his skin.
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