Brian yawned and scrubbed a hand over his hair as he walked down the hall to the kitchen, wondering why the fuck he was waking up alone again. This was becoming an annoying habit of Justin’s – sneaking out of bed at all hours of the morning and night to do whatever the fuck it was on his mind at the time. And based on the scent of sugar on the air, it was likely more baking.

Like they needed any more fucking carbs in the house.

Trotting down the stairs, Brian headed towards the kitchen in search of some coffee and, hopefully, a sign from his wayward husband, so that he could drag his ass back up to their bed where he belonged. He’d woken up hard as a rock and ready to fuck, but when he stretched out his hand, instead of finding a nice, warm bundle of sleeping Justin; he found nothing but cold sheets.

And he was not happy.

How was he supposed to get a good jump start to the day if his reason for waking up in the morning was missing from his bed?

Slinking into the kitchen, where he assumed Justin would be, Brian made a beeline for the coffee maker. Frowning as he poured his first cup, he looked around at the empty kitchen, wondering where Justin had wandered off to now. Although, by the smell of it, and the trays of cookies on the table, there were more baking in the oven, so he couldn’t have gone too far.

Sipping his coffee, Brian walked over to the table and looked at the trays of iced cookies that Justin must have just finished. Shaking his head, Brian had to wonder if his husband’s creativity would get him into trouble some day.

Did he say some day? Try all the fucking time.

Every Christmas season, Justin was brimming with new ideas of how to make it special for their family; especially for the kids. Although, he supposed Molly wasn’t much of a kid anymore. Not that Justin saw that; to him, she’d always be his annoying baby sister, forever taunting him by copying everything he did.

God, how time flew.

This year, Justin decided that, in lieu of regular Christmas tags, (not that Justin ever did regular, store bought tags; oh, no, Mr. Artiste had to make and personalize those himself), he decided to bake a bunch of cookies and use them as name tags. And given the number of presents he and Justin had bought for Gus and Jenny, and the likely resulting sugar high of a dozen of more cookies, the munchers were going to kill Justin for his ‘thoughtfulness.’

Or, really, they’d kill him; because for some convoluted reason, they actually thought he had some damned say in his house, and that Justin didn’t rule the roost with an iron fist.

Downing the rest of his coffee, Brian refilled his cup and set of to find Justin. Although, if he knew his husband at all, he was likely bundled up by the fireplace with his morning hot chocolate, either reading or sketching. Walking the short distance to the living room, Brian paused by the door and watched as his husband stared into the fire, his eyes miles away.

Quietly walking into the room, Brian snuck up behind his husband and pressed a soft kiss to his ear and whispered. “And just where has your mind wandered off to, little boy? I do hope that I feature in those daydreams of yours, considering I woke up all alone in a cold bed this morning.”

Justin turned towards Brian with one of his infamous, sunshine smiles and pressed a tender kiss against his lips.

“You are always in my dreams, Stud,” he teased, his eyes alight with mischief. “Just as you promised me all those years ago.”

“I can’t help it if I’m irresistible,” Brian said, a smug smile on his face.

“Oh, you’re something alright,” Justin snorted, and then chuckled at Brian’s mock affronted expression. He patted the lounge in invitation. “Come sit with me. Or have you had the chance to have your requisite two cups of coffee yet? I’d hate to come between you and your caffeine.”

“This is the second cup, twat,” Brian said, rolling his eyes as he finished the cup and joined Justin on the chaise, automatically curling around his husband’s body.

“We’re safe then,” Justin teased, his eyes filled with laughter at Brian’s expense.

Brian just glared at his snickering brat and didn’t bother to dignify that comment with a response. Mostly because the brat was right; not that he’d ever admit it out loud. Brian was notoriously cranky before he’d had his second cup of coffee and all of his friends, family and co-workers had learned not to speak to him until after that much needed second cup. 

“So, just why was it that I was left, cold and alone, in our bed this morning,” Brian asked, one brow arched. Yeah, he was laying it on a bit thick, but he really did hate waking up without Justin. “I had many, many glorious plans involving my dick and your very delectable ass.”

Justin snorted, tossing him an exasperated look. “Well, considering how someone likes to interfere when I’m baking, I thought I’d do it while that said someone was still sleeping. Funnily enough, I get a lot more done without that someone’s help; if you could call it that.”

“It’s not my fault that the frosting tastes better with the addition of a little salt, Sunshine,” Brian snickered, knowing full well that he’d done just that several times this holiday; but, if he was going to put up with all this nonsense, he was going to get something out of it. “Your skin just happens to have the right salt content to combat the sweetness of said frosting.”

Justin rolled his eyes and took a sip of his cocoa before he set it aside and snuggled deeper into Brian’s arms, his head tucked into the crook of his neck. Brian smirked and took this opportunity to slide his hands up and under Justin’s sweatshirt, enjoying the feel of his husband’s skin under his hands. Well, if he couldn’t get wake up sex, fireside sex was the next best thing.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Justin said, squirming in Brian’s lap as he was pulled back against Brian’s chest. “None of that. I have cookies to take out of the oven in about seven minutes.”

“Oh, but there is so much we can do in those seven minutes, Sunshine,” Brian smirked, flipping them around until Justin was pressed, flat on his back, into the chaise lounge with Brian straddling him.

“Brian!” Justin exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, and then gasped as Brian quickly divested him of his sweatshirt. A low moan spilled from his lips as Brian attacked the newly bared skin with his lips and teeth and tongue, kissing and licking and nipping until Justin was writhing beneath him.

Pulling out a bottle of lube from the side table, Brian quickly removed Justin’s and his remaining clothes and fell between his husband’s thighs. Slicking his fingers, he slipped two of them in and quickly opened him up. He was working on a time constraint after all. And then when he felt Justin was prepped enough, he slid inside him with one long, hard thrust.

Justin squeaked and then groaned as his muscles contracted around Brian, but then he took a deep breath and they relaxed almost as quickly as they’d tensed. Brian captured his husband’s lips in a passionate kiss and set a brutal pace, angling it so that he hit Justin’s prostate with every stroke.

Justin keened and moaned, his legs wrapping around Brian’s waist as he impatiently moved with him. Sweat ran down Brian’s face, and his heart thundered in his ears as the heat built in his gut at a rapid pace, and he quickened his pace until they were nothing but rapid breath, low grunts and slapping skin as he pounded Justin into the lounge beneath them.

Justin keened one last time, his muscles tightening around Brian as he spilled between them, drawing Brian’s own orgasm out of him as he continued to thrust into that sweet ass he’d missed this morning. Crying out Justin’s name, Brian tensed, his back arching, as his orgasm crashed over him and then fell limp against an equally satiated Justin.

Justin wrapped his arms around Brian, and he toyed with the hairs at the nape of Brian’s neck as they both tried to get their breathing under control.

“You’re a menace,” Justin fondly complained, running his hands over Brian’s shoulders and down his back.

“But you adore me anyways,” Brian said a touch smugly, basking in the knowledge that he’d gotten his way once more. And then he frowned when the timer Justin had set on the table went off. He was not ready to move.

“I do,” Justin said softly, pressing a kiss to his temple; but it was a quickly lost peace as Justin shoved at Brian’s shoulders trying without much success to remove him. “But if you don’t get off of me, my cookies will burn.”

“But, Sunshine…” Brian whined, and then wrinkled his nose in disgust at how much he sounded like Mikey just then. Something he definitely didn’t want to think about when he was still hard and buried in the best ass in Pittsburgh.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Justin chided, shoving much more firmly at his shoulders. "I know you like my sweet ass, but if you don't let me get those cookies out of the oven there will be no treats of either variety for you later. I have things to do."

Brian groaned, but quickly uncoupled them as there was no way in hell he was going to test his husband’s resolve on that threat. He had plans.

“Fine,” Brian grumbled, rolling to the side so Justin could get up. “Spoilsport.”

But his complaint fell on deaf ears as Justin pulled on his sweats and hurried to the kitchen to pull out his precious cookies; and if he knew his husband well, he’d stay in there until they cooled so that he could decorate them without interference.

Flopping on his back, Brian hissed at the coolness of the leather and grabbed a throw blanket to cover him and continued to brood. Not that Justin could see.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait until all this holiday shit was over.