Page 16 of A Kiss For The Holidays

That’s what makes our friendship so solid - we each have something different to bring to the relationship. We’re two opposite ends of a magnet, pulling towards each other despite a thousand things about our friendship that shouldn’t make sense. He’s outgoing and I’m reserved. He’s the chaos and I’m the calm. He’s the sunshine and I am the little tree that thrives in his presence.

“What was the last book you read?” I ask and he furrows his eyebrows as he stares at me. Moments pass before he finally speaks up. “That one Professor Lang assigned to my class last term.”

I shake my head at his answer. “No, I mean, what is the last book you read, for pleasure?”

“Um… yeah, I don’t.” He shrugs then folds the piece of paper in his hand before cutting a shape into the fold. “Oh! Read some fanfic someone sent me last week. That shit was hot, all naked bodies and filthy words, if that counts?” Dalton returns to making more snowflakes while my cheeks catch fire at the sudden image that pops into my mind - a memory from the early hours of the morning. Dalton’s hard, hot cock rutting against mine. The velvety feel of his skin. His strong hands that had me writhing and whimpering beneath his heavy body. The way I was lost to the pleasure he brought me as his tongue licked at my skin, lust burning in his eyes when he hovered above me and painted my belly with his cum.

Dalton clears his throat loudly and I shake my head, bringing myself out of the memory and back into the room. His lip is tipped up on one side and his eyes are sparkling with mischief.

“You’re looking a little flushed there, Ash. Are you feeling okay?” He smirks and I huff a response, throwing some sheets of paper at him as he laughs.

“I’m fine. Just feeling hot from - “

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he says, his voice deep and a little raspy. And holy shit, is Daltonflirtingwith me? My ears join my cheeks in burning up and I can only imagine how red I must look as he watches me with a fierce intensity that I feel all the way to my toes.

“Hot from being so close to the fire. Don’t flatter yourself.” We both know I am bullshitting but thankfully - because I am not sure I can blush even harder - he drops it with a smile and a mumbled ‘uh huh’, then returns to the task at hand.

After about fifteen minutes of folding and cutting we are surrounded by a sea of mismatched snowflakes. “Voila!” Dalton beams as he cuts his final decoration and I chuckle at not only his enthusiasm but what we must look like - two twenty something guys making the same arts and crafts we did when we were ten - and enjoying every moment of it. “Glitter would make these so much better.”

“Fuck, no! Definitely not. I hate that stuff,” I say and he ruffles my hair playfully.

“I know, but you’ve tolerated it all these years, just for me.” And isn’t that the truth? So much of my life has been about doing things with Dalton in mind. He pulled me from my shell that day we met in the park, giving me confidence to be me and he’sbeen doing it every day since.

We’ve both changed so much since that day and through each stage of our lives, our friendship has evolved with us. We’ve both taken turns being the one to take and the one to give, the one to need support and the one to be carrying the weight.

As I watch him now, gathering up the scraps of paper we don’t need, I fight the overwhelming rush of hope inside me. A hope that says, what if everything that happened between us this morning means that our friendship is evolving into something more? It’s a dangerous and foolish notion. Just because we fooled around once doesn’t mean we will walk out of this cabin as boyfriends.

A wiser Asher would be cautious. A wiser Asher would not get attached to the idea of an us that is more than friends but, right now, I am not that wiser version. I am a hungry puppy, willing to take any extra scrap of Dalton’s attention, anything he’ll give me, even if it breaks my heart in the end.

“I found string and fishing line,” Dalton says as he walks into the kitchen, having gone to search the bedroom drawers and the cupboard near the front door for something to use to hang our snowflakes. He also braved the snowstorm an hour earlier to drag in a rather sorry looking branch which we have leaned up against one wall and are calling a Christmas tree, along with a bag full of pinecones. I unwound a roll of toilet paper and used the cardboard inner to create a sort of chain which, using the two marker pens I found, I’ve covered in hand drawn stars. Our decorations, quite frankly, look ridiculous but neither of us have stopped smiling all day, so I can’t be anything but proud of what we’ve accomplished.

It’s been years since we’ve spent hours doing arts and crafts and I’m amazed at how much time has passed when I look out the window and see that the sky has darkened. The fading light is giving way to another night in our little cabin. Christmas Eve is upon us and it’s the most unusual one of my twenty-one years, but I don’t hate it at all. Spending this one-on-one time with Dalton has been amazing. Usually, Christmas is spent with the chaos of both our families - which I love - but this has been nice too.

“Excellent, we can string them up from the rafters and put a few in the tree too.” Dalton leans against the doorframe watching me and I turn my back to him, my focus directed back to the kitchen counter where I am arranging popcorn into rows, tryingto remember how my mum used to use popcorn and pinecones to make decorations. “If we find a few branches with berries, we could attempt those garland things mum always makes. Spruce up the tree.” I watch wordlessly as Dalton walks over to me, coming to stand behind me, the warmth of his chest pressing to my back.

“I love that you’re calling our little branch a tree. Thank you,” he pauses and in the silence that follows, he wraps his arms around my waist, his hands coming to land on my stomach. My heart flutters and my breath hitches as he kisses my neck, his stubble scratching at my skin. “Thank you for doing this for me, for doing everything you can to make Christmas special.” I don’t move as his lips trail featherlight kisses from the side of my neck, pushing aside my cardigan so he can kiss the tender skin on my shoulder. He loosens his hold on me, then places one hand on my hip while the other moves slowly over my stomach, lifting my clothing and tickling along the skin above my waistband.

Shifting backwards, I feel his hardness and bite back a moan as my dick grows and I feel my underwear dampen as streams of precum leak from the tip. He moves his hips while his fingers toy with the button on my jeans.

“Can I touch you?” Dalton whispers in my ear then sucks gently on the lobe. Inwardly, I’m shoutingyesbut my mouth goes dry and a thousand butterflies swirl inside me, stealing my words. So I nod, looking down at where his hand toys with the button, undoing it with a pop then tentatively snaking his hand inside and over my soaking underwear.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Ash, but I’ve been wanting to touch you again all day. I want to taste you, I’ve never wanted to taste someone so badly in my life.” His hand moves over my cock, up and down as he continues to talk. “I loved the taste of salt on your skin. Loved licking those adorable freckles on your stomach. I keep wondering what it would be like if I licked a little lower.” I am not proud of the mewl-like sound that leaves me as he wraps his hand around my cotton-covered erection.

“You’re so wet, love.” He kisses my neck again while his hand squeezes then releases my cock. I always imagined I’d be self-conscious of the fact that I produce excessive amounts of precum, but I am far from embarrassed when Dalton says, “All this, just for me. I bet you’d taste like honey,” before he dips his hand beneath the cotton and runs his finger along the tip, groaning at the beads of liquid he finds there.

For someone who has never been with a guy before, Dalton knows exactly what he’s doing. It doesn’t surprise me though because he has always tackled life with great confidence, and the way he strokes me and whispers sweet, dirty words in my ear tellsme that he’s approaching this intimacy between us in much the same way. I try not to think of the girls before me as he sinks his teeth into the soft spot above my collarbone, a flurry of possessiveness crashing into me.

For this moment, in this wonderful snapshot in time, Dalton is mine. This man, my best friend, the sun that my world orbits, wants me.

Dalton licks at the bite mark he’s left, his hand working up and down my cock and I tell myself that if this is all just a way for Dalton to pass the time, if it’s just him exploring, that I’m okay with that. I tell myself, no matter how unconvincingly, that this will all be enough to satisfy my pining heart.

The hand on my rock hard cock tightens and I thrust my hips and reach my own hand up to rest at the back of his neck, the short hairs there soft against my fingers.

“Can I taste you, Ash?” A shiver racing down my spine at both his request and the tenderness in his voice. I moan as I nod, just the idea of his lips on my body bringing me right to the edge of an oblivion I’d be happy to fall into.

Dalton gives me a moment of reprieve when he lets go and takes my hand, leading us out of the kitchen and over to the mattress. The air in the room is heady - filled with lust, and need and a promise of what’s to come and I watch, my heart in my throat, as he removes all his clothing.

As each piece falls to the floor, I’m frozen. A statue. Dalton’s full, naked form stands in front of me. He’s tanned, with defined abs and a trail of dark hair running from his navel to a patch of darker hair above his full cock. He’s not huge but he’s thick and his dick stands to attention, flushed and red at the uncut tip. Dalton licks his lips as he takes a step closer to me, my head tipping up to meet his heated gaze. His are sparkling - like diamonds bedded in a navy blue sky - and they’re focused entirely on me. These are the eyes of not only my best friend, but the man I love with every molecule of my soul.

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