Dusty had taken the artificial tree from the box and set it up. He'd set the four-and-a-half-foot tree on a small square table in front of the window. He was now preparing to string lights over it. As he bent this way and that working on the tree, his jeans tightened across his ass. Oh, God, Malcolm needed to get a serious grip.
"Need some help?" Malcolm forced himself to ask.
"Yeah, why not start opening the ornament packages?" Dustin didn't turn around.
Malcolm bit his lip. He hated the awkwardness between them. And damn it, he wasn't the only one who'd gotten hard when they hugged. "Dustin, can I talk to you?"
Dusty stiffened. "Um, okay, but can it wait until after the tree is decorated?"
"No. I--look, I'm sorry I freaked you out earlier."
"I didn't freak out."
"Dusty, will you stop that for a minute and look at me?"
Dusty finally let go of the string of lights and turned to face him. His cheeks were stained red and his baby blue eyes were suspiciously watery. Malcolm's stomach dropped.
"Dusty, what is it?" He took the several steps to his friend and couldn't stop himself from resting his hand on Dustin's chest. The man shook.
"Malcolm, please." Dusty sounded pained, tortured.
"I-I just want you, okay, I want you and--"
Malcolm stopped Dusty's words with his lips, standing on tiptoe to crush his mouth to the other man's.