Read Carol of the Bellskis Online
Authors: Astrid Amara
There was a small tag on it that said
I'm Sorry
and was signed
Love, Lars
, as if Seth would
be confused about who was giving him presents. Despite himself, he tore into the wrapping.
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He was a sucker for presents.
He pulled out an elegant, ridiculously expensive Cartier wristwatch.
“I saw you looking at it yesterday when we were walking through the village,” Lars said
from behind him. Seth turned.
Lars leaned in the doorway, his pale skin flushed red at the cheeks from the outdoors, his
light hair wet from melted snow. He still had his red scarf wrapped around his neck and his
sweater on. He looked good enough to eat.
“It's too much,” Seth protested. He had seen the sticker price when he first spotted it.
“It's nothing. You deserve a lot more than this.”
Seth sighed. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Lars.”
Lars immediately entered the room and crouched at Seth's feet. He looked up. For once he
appeared uncertain.
“How can we resolve this?” Lars asked quietly. “There has to be a compromise we can
settle on.”
“This isn't a lawsuit,” Seth told him. “Sometimes there isn't middle ground. I don't want to
be hidden, and you don't want to be outed. Where's the compromise?”
Lars ran a hand over his face. “I don't know. But we have to try.”
“I don't want to be something you're ashamed of anymore.”
Lars hesitated. But he didn't pull away. He bowed his head and rested it on Seth's thigh.
They sat there like that a long time.
Lars wasn't agreeing to anything. On the other hand, he wasn't pulling away or saying no
like he had the night Seth had broken up with him. That was some improvement, at the very
least.
“We're having a surprise birthday party, by the way,” Seth said, running his hand through
Lars's hair.
Lars looked up, clearly grateful for the change of subject. “We are? Who?”
“Sharon Neidlich. It's her fortieth birthday. I guess Heidi arranged with Judi to have a cake
and party decorations to surprise her.”
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“Well, let's get on it, then,” Lars said, leaping to a standing position and clapping his
hands. “Kosher birthday cake. Good thing I've stopped using horse legs in my frosting.”
Seth snorted. “If you were an old Jewish lady, where would you stash your streamers?”
Lars laughed. “Hm. In the shoe closet?”
Seth walked into the hallway, toward Judi and Carl's bedroom and bathroom. Outside, in
the hall closet, above a three-row rack of Carl's identical black shoes, Seth found a box marked
as
Party equipment.
Trying not to gape, he held it up to Lars. “You really
are
turning into a Jewish mother.”
Lars beamed. “Last night I shut my bedroom window so you could have more fresh air.
See the sacrifices I'm making?”
Seth laughed.
Settled on a neutral task, they went to work, Seth decorating the main room while Lars
started a cake. Seth felt a sense of peace as he unraveled cheap crepe paper streamers and hung
glittery HAPPY BIRTHDAY letters from the dining-room rafters.
He realized that part of his happiness stemmed from the fact that Lars had now spent four
nights of Hanukkah with him, despite his own intentions. And he had caught Lars on his laptop
working only once that day. It was as if Lars was genuinely taking a vacation.
The Rosenbaums and Siegels returned to the B and B that afternoon, and Rita and Chana
chatted together about polyps, foot cancers, and other fatal illnesses in loud, complaining voices
as they pulled out some container of craft sticks and glue and made Star of David napkin holders
for the table setting.
Awed and a little frightened, Seth watched them. Who just inherently knew how to make
Jewish napkin holders? Maybe this was why his parents never let him go to the Jewish
Community Center as a boy. They knew he'd come back with matzo pins and macramé versions
of Joshua's shofar.
Shortly before sundown Lars reemerged from the kitchen, not with a birthday cake, but
something far more extravagant.
The Siegels, the Rosenbaums, and Seth all gaped.
“What the hell is that?” Seth asked.
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Lars grinned at his three-tiered contrivance.
“It's a birthday, not a wedding!” Seth said, shaking his head.
Lars pointed to the top cake, frosted white. “This is for the Siegels,” he noted. “Gluten-free
carrot cake. The next layer down is sour cream apple cake, and the next one is for the chocolate
lovers out there.” Lars winked at old Chana Siegel, who blushed and giggled like a sixteen-year-
old girl.
There was a Star of David, albeit slightly lopsided, on the middle layer, but the bottom
layer said
Happy Bday Hot Sharon.
“Hot Sharon?” Seth asked.
Lars shrugged. “Everyone wants to feel hot when they turn forty.”
The guests were clearly delighted, and it was hard to shut everyone up when they heard the
loud clunking of snow-covered boots on the porch outside.
“Everyone be quiet and get ready!” Seth directed, turning off the lights.
Ben Berkowitz escorted the sisters inside. All three of them walked into the living room,
out of sight. Seth struggled to remain silent when Doctor Mister dashed in and began licking
Seth's nostril as he crouched behind a dining-room chair.
“Where is everyone?” Sharon asked.
“I think someone's in the dining room,” Heidi directed.
Heidi turned on the dining-room lights, and all the guests, Seth, and Lars shouted, “
Happy
Birthday
!”
Sharon screamed. Not in a good way. In a panicked, I'm-going-to-be-slaughtered kind of
way. She ran from the room.
Heidi stood there with a stunned expression.
“Shit. I forgot. She
hates
surprises.”
* * * * *
and the wine was poured, everyone seemed to get into the swing of the party.
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Seth had fun for the first night at the B and B. The food was excellent, the mood cheerful,
and even the rabbi seemed to have more to drink than he should have and told weird, suggestive
jokes about the kabbalah that no one understood but that cracked him and his wife up to no end.
Seth drank a lot. They had broken into Judi's party supply, and he probably had two bottles
just on his own. Lars was one of those people who could sip his booze, even when stressed. The
place was trashed by the end of the night, but Seth couldn't be bothered to clean up, nor could
Lars, who had a strange glint in his eyes and looked disheveled and beautiful with a small
dusting of flour in his hair.
“Let's leave the mess until tomorrow morning,” Seth said. He tried to stand up, but the wall
was a magnet, and he slammed into it.
Lars watched him. “Can you walk?”
“I'm not an invalid,” Seth snapped. He tried moving away from the wall, but the floor spun
closer to help him. “All these surfaces are so accommodating, aren't they?”
Lars's eyebrow rose. “Come on.” He held Seth's arm and led him up the stairs. It took a
very long time, Seth thought, and when they were done with the first staircase, there was another
one.
“Whoa!” he said loudly, and Lars shushed him. “They're replicating,” he whispered at the
top of his voice.
Lars helped him up the second set of stairs and set Seth at the foot of the bed.
Seth smiled to himself as Lars shut the door and then knelt at Seth's feet. He unlaced Seth's
shoes for him and took off his socks. Seth, eyesight a little unsteady, watched him, his head
bobbing slightly.
“What'cha doin'?” he whispered.
“Getting you ready for bed,” Lars replied. He didn't make eye contact. He stood and gently
pushed backward until Seth lay flat on the bed. He reached down and unbuckled Seth's belt.
“Hey hey now,” Seth slurred. “That's getting personal.” But he smiled as Lars expertly
unbuttoned his jeans.
“Lift your hips,” Lars commanded. Seth obeyed, and Lars slid Seth's pants off.
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Seth had a hard-on, clearly on display, filling up his white underwear, the head of his cock
peeking around the elastic band for a better view.
“Look what I got,” Seth said and then laughed.
Lars's eyes had gone dark with arousal, and he swallowed. “You're drunk,” he said. “I can't
fuck you when you're drunk.”
“Why not?” Seth unbuttoned his shirt but had a hard time with it. “We've fucked drunk lots
of times.”
“Not when we're fighting.” Lars licked his lips. His gaze was glued to Seth's dick. “If you
were sober right now, you'd be kicking me in the head, not asking me to suck you off.”
“Oh,
that's
a good idea,” Seth said. He lowered his underwear. His dick sprang out. “I
really want to.” He smiled. “If I were sober, I'd want you to as well, you know. I just would have
too much pride to let you.”
“Exactly. I'm not going to fuck you when you have no pride.”
“Fuck pride. Lars, I love you.” Seth knew he shouldn't be saying anything right now—
what was the point of stupid words anyway?—but he couldn't stop himself now. “I love you, and
it kills me that I can't show you how much I love you during the day. It's like a prison. I can see
you, but I'm locked away. I can't touch you.”
Lars crouched over Seth and kissed him. Perhaps it was meant to be a chaste kiss good
night, but Seth's entire body hungered for it now, and he wantonly opened his mouth, inviting
Lars inside. Lars moaned, and his tongue surged into Seth's mouth.
Seth closed his eyes and devoured this incredible sensation—mouth full of Lars, delicious
weight on top of him, the hint of friction against his painfully hard dick. He could feel Lars's
erection prod anxiously against his thigh. Seth wanted it in his mouth. He wanted to be full of
Lars.
“This is a bad idea,” Lars said, breathless, pulling back.
“No, it isn't,” Seth begged. “Please.”
Lars clenched his jaw.
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“I want you,” Seth whispered. “I know I'm pissed at you, and I know I'll still be mad in the
morning. But just for now, for this night, let's pretend like everything's all right. I'll pretend that
you want to be openly out with me, and you can pretend that I forgive you.”
Tears came to Lars's eyes. “Seth…”
“Shh,” Seth whispered. “Please, I want you.”
Lars's voice was low, husky, and his breathing grew slightly ragged as he slid down
between Seth's legs. “God, I fucking love this view,” he whispered. He reached out and gently
lifted Seth's scrotum, rubbing the soft skin. His mouth came forward, and Seth spread his legs
wider and changed the angle of his hips, lifting himself toward Lars's mouth.
Lars swiped his tongue on the underside of Seth's sac, and then lower, and then up again,
sucking each ball and then trying to take the entire sac into his mouth at once. Seth groaned with
the sensation. Lars's mouth opened wide, and yet Seth filled him, claimed that hot space for his
own.
Seth couldn't help but reach down and run his fingers through Lars's golden hair. It was
always so clean, so soft.
“I love the taste of you.” Lars withdrew to reposition Seth's cock and push it down his
throat. Seth moaned, his eyes transfixed by the sight of his dick being swallowed by those pouty
lips. He felt each breath and spasm in Lars's throat. A gentle graze of teeth, the pulse and swirl of
Lars's tongue, and then he was released, only to be sucked back into that wet heat.
It was so good, too good. Lars was fucking amazing at this. It was almost too fantastic;
Seth hardly wanted anything else. He could die a happy man like this.
And this was simple; this was what they excelled at, after all. It had started off like this,
nothing but tongues and hands and cocks, bodies touching, filling, enveloping. It was their first
language, and it was what they spoke best.
Lars worked him for a long time, stretching out Seth's pleasure. Seth gave in to the
sensations, leaning back against the bed and holding his legs up and out of the way as Lars
moved his head up and down his shaft. The pleasure built in a rush toward the end, so much
sensation it could no longer be held back. He climaxed, holding Lars's head still as he pumped
again and again into that pretty mouth. Lars shivered in his hands. Seth's head collapsed back
against the sheet, and he exhaled slowly, recovering.
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“Baby,” Lars whispered. He slid up Seth's body and fell alongside him, pulling him close.
“You turn me on like no one else in this world.”
Seth reached down with his hands, felt Lars's open trousers, the sticky ejaculation on his
semihard cock. Lars was the only man Seth had ever been with who could come just by blowing
a guy. It was incredibly sexy and made him realize how lucky he was to have such a lover. He
loved fucking this man. He loved him.