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Champagne and Jockey Shorts

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"Are you coming upstairs any time soon?"

Madison pauses and goes to the foot of the stairs. "I gotta finish in the kitchen and do the cat box." Even as he speaks, he's making a private bet with himself--will Buster correct him or not? Not, he thinks. Not when it involves yelling down the stairs.

"Fuck the dishes," Buster yells. "And anyways, I did the box last night."

"Just gimme a minute." Madison stuffs the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and grabs the bottle of Mumm he asked Murph to set aside for him.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are for their families. They can't share them, not because their folks don't approve, but because there's just too much scrutiny. It's one thing if they go hunting or on a fishing trip together, but Thanksgiving in Hickory and Christmas in Leesburg would raise a few too many eyebrows. So they texted and they Skyped and promised each other they'd be together on New Year's Eve.

It doesn't matter than they're not doing anything big; it's that they're together, here in their own house. Madison never really thought of himself as particularly sentimental, but that was before he fell in love. As it turns out, he is, as Buster is so fond of pointing out, a big fucking softy. Not like it's a problem, seeing as Buster's just as bad.

With a grin, Madison digs around in a cupboard until he finds a couple of champagne flutes. It'll be weird to drink this stuff out of glasses. Okay, it'll be weird to actually drink it instead of wearing most of it.

He's just about to head upstairs when Buster yells again.

"Hey, kick the heat up, would you?"

The heating system is one of several things around the house that needs fixing. If you want to be comfortable downstairs, you'll roast upstairs, so half the time they just leave it off altogether. At night they just tend to settle down under the blankets, but tonight, it seems, they'll be doing more than that.

Madison's not entirely sure what he was expecting when he walked into the bedroom, but he damn near drops the bottle and glasses when he sees Buster. "What the fuck?" he blurts out, trapped somewhere between laughter and lust.

Buster's sprawled on the bed on his stomach, one knee pulled up a little. It shows of his ass and his thighs and normally, Madison would just stand there and admire the view before joining Buster on the bed. But now....

"Are you serious?" he asks, staring at Buster's ass.

The black MadBum shorts fit Buster perfectly; they cling to his ass without so much as a wrinkle.

"You hate my briefs," Buster says, looking over his shoulder. "So I did something about it."

"Yeah but...." It's true; Madison thinks Buster's tighty whiteys don't do justice to Buster's ass, but this isn't the kind of change he had in mind. "I bought you some shorts," he says. The boxers and boxer briefs weren't the only thing he got Buster for Christmas and he'd meant them to be a joke more than anything else.

"These are more comfortable," Buster says. "And I like the way they look." He looks at Madison for another few seconds before finally losing it. "The look on your fucking face," Buster says through his laughter. "Fucking perfect."

"Yeah well," Madison says as he puts the bottle and glasses on the dresser. "It's a good thing I've got about a dozen pairs of those stashed away."


"Because it's like the hickeys." Sitting on the bed, Madison pulls his boots off and then unsnaps his shirt. "Means you're mine."

"So you want me to wear them around the clubhouse?" Buster's grinning as he says it and Madison has the distinct impression he's being dared.

"Well, maybe not there." Turning a little, Madison reaches out and runs a hand over Buster's ass. It's still weird to see his nickname there in big white letters, but damn, Buster's ass....

"How about you just wear the ones I bought you?"

Buster rolls over a little before reaching up and running his fingers down Madison's chest. "You stop wearing t-shirts under your shirts and we've got a deal."

"Now you're just objectifying me."

"Yup," Buster says. He rolls back onto his stomach and wiggles his ass a little. "Because you never do that to me."

"Didn't say that."

Madison thinks about leaving his jeans on, because objectification or not, him shirtless in jeans always gets to Buster. But Buster's not wearing anything but the shorts and Madison doesn't want to rub denim against Buster's thighs. At least the room's getting warm so neither of them will freeze.

"Hey," Madison says, once he's naked. He stretches out on top of Buster and bends down to kiss the back of Buster's neck. "Ya wanna?"

"Nah...this was my idea of a joke." Buster arches his back a little, pressing his ass up against Madison's dick. "Of course I want to."

They're usually naked when they do this and it's a little weird to feel fabric between Madison's dick and Buster's ass. It's soft though and he likes the way it feels. If the way Buster's squirming under him, he likes it too.

"Roll a little," Madison says a few moments later. "Wanna get my hand...."


It's also weird not to be able to wrap his hand around Buster's dick. Madison cups it instead, letting the force of his thrusts push Buster's cock into Madison's palm.

"Fuck," Buster groans. "Yeah Maddy...."

Occasionally Madison feels guilty about not wanting to fuck Buster, but right now, with Buster panting and moaning under him, all he can think is, oh fuck yeah. "So fucking good," he moans. "Jesus,'re so fucking...feel so good...."

Buster moves a little faster, pressing up against Madison's dick and then down into his hand. "C'mon...c'mon, c'mon, Maddy...harder...."

"Yeah...oh yeah...." Bending his head down, Madison nuzzles and then kisses the back of Buster's neck. He wants to bite down, but no, not where anyone can see. Instead, he covers Buster's neck with kisses as he thrusts hard against Buster's ass. "Fuck...fuck fuck fuck...Buster...."

" that...just like that, just like...." With a loud groan, Buster gives it up and comes all over his shorts and Madison's hand.

Madison shoves up against Buster's ass a couple more times and then comes hard. "Fuck," he mumbles. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Yeah," Buster says with a laugh. "Also," he adds a few moments later. "You just came all over your own name."

"Huh, guess so."

"I can't decide if that's funny or just sad."

"How about messy? Because it is."

"Yeah, but it was also hot." Buster squirms a little. "Wanna shower?"

Once they've showered, Buster pulls on a pair of plain black boxer briefs. "Hey," Madison says. "I thought I got you gray ones."

"You did. I bought these myself. I mean, I figured you'd like them."

"I do," Madison says with a laugh. "More than I like seeing my name on your butt."

"You love it," Buster says. "Next thing you know, we'll have a framed SI cover on the mantle downstairs."

"Ha ha." As Buster settles into bed, Madison pops the champagne and pours them each a glass. "It's early but I'm thirsty."

"It's okay. There are two more bottles downstairs."

"Where? I didn't see any in the fridge."

"Vegetable drawer," Buster says. "You're so predictable."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." Madison reaches over and clinks his glass against Buster's.

"I do," Buster says. "Even if you're a total egomaniac."

"I wanted to say something. When I was doing that interview with Verducci and we were talking about you; I wanted to say something about living with you. About how we're together."

"Oh," Buster says softly. "Really?" When Madison nods, Buster gives him a serious look. "I want to come out someday. Maybe even before we're done."

Madison turns it over in his head. "Wouldn't be easy," he says. "But yeah. Yeah, I think we should."

"Someday," Buster says and clinks his glass against Madison's. "In the meantime, let's see if 2015's a good year for champagne."

"I'll drink to that."