Page 52 of Just for the Holidays

There are so many ways Teddy would love to answer that question, but he simply replies, “Nope, I’m good.”

“Okay.” Nichol lingers, as though he has something more to say, but doesn’t. “Holler if you need me.” His eyes drop to the floor, he turns and hops up the stairs.

Teddy shuts himself into the retro bathroom, outfitted with avocado tub, toilet and sink, adorned by gold fixtures. Creamy citrus still lingers with the woodsy cedar blend of angular slat panel walls. He drops the duffle bag from his shoulder and kicks it to the side of the room, then peels away the t-shirt and jeans that he’s stewed in all day.

The shower warms quickly, and fills the bathroom like a sauna, as he scrubs himself clean. The marks across his chest and belly are a gnarly purple, fading yellow at the edges, before returning to his regular pale complexion.

He closes his eyes to let the hot flow rinse away the last few days and scrubs all over a second time, just because. The vascular map in his dick wants to swell so badly, begging for attention he’s not given it for far too long now, but he wills it to behave. Touching himself inappropriately in Nichol’s shower feels like it might be an invasion of personal space he hasn’t had permission to enter. Teddy lingers in the rush, engulfed by steam, relaxing every inch of his being, before he twists the faucet off and reaches for the towel he’d hung on a hook outside the curtain.

He stares at his muddled reflection in the foggy mirror, as condensation drips, clearing tiny trails that offer narrow streaks of his full body, peppered in auburn hair. He blots himself dry but the heat the shower has produced is making his skin slick with sweat, as fast as he wipes it away.

He opens the bathroom door, to let the humidity spill out and sees the coast is clear. He wraps his waist with the towel, hurls the duffle up onto his shoulder, and scurries through the sitting room, into the cool air of Nichol’s bedroom, tapping the door shut with his heel.

Teddy lets the towel drop to a puddle at his feet and stands buck naked over Nichol’s bed, shuffling through his bag, to collect the party outfit he’d carefully laid out inside, so as not to wrinkle.

Footsteps pummel down the steps on the other side of the wall and the door sweeps open before Teddy can fold over to grab the towel and cover himself.

Nichol halts in the doorway. His mouth gapes and his eyes scan down, lingering, before returning to Teddy’s. In one swift move, Nichol closes the door, twists the lock, and floats across the floor. His hands bracket Teddy’s bearded jaw, and their lips crash together.

Teddy’s body responds instantly. Solid and poking Nichol’s thigh.

Nichol’s tongue tastes like sweet Pinot and his hot breath fills Teddy’s mouth with the essence of wine.

Teddy wrenches Nichol’s tall frame against his sore rib, but pays no attention to the sharp jab of pain, welcoming the dreamy prince to devour his face.

Nichol’s fingers tangle in Teddy’s damp coarse waves. He pushes forward, walking Teddy back against the wall.

A low whimper escapes Teddy’s throat, from the sharp ache plaguing his chest, but he’s not ready to let this moment get away from him again. Nichol Anderson’s lips and body are everything he’d ever dreamed them to be, but the taste of booze on his breath makes him second-guess the motive behind Nichol’s rush into him.

“You’re drunk,” Teddy whispers between their mouths.

“What?” Nichol pulls his face away.

Teddy stares into his brown eyes, searching for the truth behind the fiery lust in blown-out pupils. “You’re drunk,” he repeats.

Teddy’s naked dick is hard and pressed up against Nichol’s, pushing against denim, teasing Teddy from behind a zippered doorway to his wildest fantasy.

“Shut up. I had half a glass.” Nichol’s eyes fall to Teddy’s mouth. “Kiss me.” His face moves back in.

Teddy doesn’t resist. He pushes away the doubt and melts into the moment.

Nichol’s mouth moves to his cheek, kissing the edge of his beard, then down to his neck. Nichol’s wet tongue paints Teddy’s skin, tracing the line of his carotid artery, and then soft kisses cross his collar bone.

Nichol Anderson’s face moves down his chest… Then his belly… And then his mouth is on Teddy’s dick.

Air hitches in Teddy’s chest and his throat swells as his head falls back against the wall. His jaw drops open and a guttural moan climbs out of him.

He fears looking down, worried he’ll finish in an instant and spoil the moment that he’s fantasized about since that day on the school bus, when this beautiful older boy made him feel seen and safe, daydreaming about this very situation, as if he’d vividly predicted it so many years ago.

Nichol’s lips and tongue swirl, gliding back and forth. The tip touches the back of his throat as Nichol’s hand climbs his belly and his thumb teases the rigid nub that his nipple has become.

The sound of a zipper coming undone, lures Teddy to finally open his eyes and peer down to see Nichol reaching inside his own jeans and stroking himself.

Teddy swells on Nichol’s tongue and he can’t look away from his square shoulder; rolling, as his arm paces, and his hand is pleasuring the prize Teddy is desperate to see.

Nichol’s crouched knees drop to the floor and spread apart. Opening his thighs as his long flushed cock flops out. Hisglistening fingers wrap around its girth, pulling at its length, faster as he thrusts into his own fist.

Teddy’s breath lifts his chest, heavier with each gasp, and his belly tightens with the anticipation writhing up from his taut balls.

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