Bubbles tracked the decent of Michael’s strawberry through his champagne. Nothing better than New Years with good drink and good company. What was the old saying? Whatever you’re doing on the last stroke of midnight is how you’ll spend the next year? Sounded mighty fine to him. It’d taken Michael forever to convince Mark to spend the New Year’s night with him.
Michael leaned down, brushing Mark’s unruly dark hair from his eyes. Then he fished the strawberry from the bottom of his glass. Licking the drops of champagne from the piece of fruit, he smiled to himself. Mark’s blue eyes when wide and he arched his back when Michael ran the now chilled strawberry across his bare skin.
“Shh,” Michael leaned down and breathed the word into Mark’s ear. “Don’t thrash so much, baby.” He tugged on the ropes tying Mark’s wrists to his ankles. “You don’t want to spend all next year with rope burns.”