Of Being Yours[another way 2] by Anna Martin

“I hate you.”
    I laughed, delighted. “I think it is. Do you want me to pull it out? But you should know three more will come to its funeral.”
    “There are not enough words in the English language to describe how much I hate you.”
    “Gosh, twenty-nine and already getting gray hairs.”
    “I’m not twenty-nine for another month!”
    “Ah, close enough.”
    I shifted down the bed and pressed my face to his chest, right on top of his gray hair and his heart. I loved them both. It was nice, this staying in together every morning without either of us having to get up for work. Sure, we slept in most weekends, but there was usually something or other going on to occupy our time.
    Will ran his fingers through my hair again, having better access to it now I’d moved back down.
    “It’s getting long again,” he said.
    “Mm. Not at the back though.”
    He tugged my hair until I looked back up at him. His eyes softened and he smiled contentedly to himself.
    “Aw, don’t go all mushy on me,” I said, teasing him.
    Will laughed. “But I love you.”
    “Shut up.”
    He was still laughing as he rolled me over onto my back and pinned my hands above my head. “I do. I think you’re wonderful.”
    “I’m not.”
    “I want to spend my life with you.”
    “How heterosexually dull.”
    “I want to make babies with you.”
    “We might have a problem there.”
    He still had the same mushy look on his face as he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me softly.
    “Are you even going to fuck me?” I asked as we broke apart, and I rolled my hips up to meet his.
    “Nope,” he said and bit my nose lightly. “Come on. Let’s hit the slopes.”
    I groaned loudly. “But my everything hurts.”
    “Your everything?” he repeated, amused, as we headed for the bathroom. The shock of cool air outside of the warm sheets of our bed made my cock wilt.
    “Yes,” I told him. “My spleen hurts. My eyeballs hurt. The spaces between my toes hurt. My—”
    “I think I get it, Jesse,” he said as we waited for the shower to warm up. “I’ll see if I can get a massage booked in for you tonight.”
    “Yeah?” I asked, perking up at the thought. “I’ve never had a massage before.”
    “Never?”
    “Nope. Apart from when you rub my feet for me. Or my shoulders,” I added hopefully, turning away from him and wiggling my ass.
    “See, this is why I hate sharing a shower with you,” he grouched.
    I turned, pouting at him patronizingly, and pinched his cheeks. “Aww. Baby.”
    He leaned in and kissed my pout, then slapped my ass to get me moving. I liked it more than I was supposed to.
     
     
    W E TRIED to ease into the boarding gently again but ended up being dragged into a game of tricks and showing off with a group of kids who clearly did this a lot. I wasn’t sure if they knew Will and I were a couple—I didn’t recognize any of them from our lodge—but if they did, they clearly didn’t care.
    I was challenged to a race, which I lost, then made my own challenge, which I won. Sensing a victory streak, I threw my shoulders out, spread my arms, and brazenly called out to Will.
    “What are the stakes?” he called back, sliding over and strapping his feet more securely to his board.
    I shrugged. “You choose.”
    Will leaned close to my neck and whispered, “Loser bottoms.”
    I swallowed and nodded, knowing that these were stakes worth playing for.
    The wind was starting to pick up a bit, and the sky was slowly turning gray. From the weather report that morning, I knew that another storm was expected later in the afternoon and that, reasonably, this should be our last run of the day to make sure we had time to get back safely.
    The ski lift dropped us off at the top of the run, and we paused for a moment, long enough for a kiss, certainly, if that was what we’d wanted. Instead I shot him a smirk, hunkered down on my board, and shot off down the side of the mountain.
    It was a race I wouldn’t have minded losing,