Cold Feet (9 page)

“Oh, well done, boys. There’s brandy in the dresser,” Mari pointed. “And matches on the mantelpiece.”

“What do we need to do?” Sam asked. “Have you ever set fire to a Christmas pudding before, Ry?”

“No, my dad always used to do it, and my mum hates Christmas pudding, so she always makes lemon meringue pie instead.”

“Give it here,” Mari said.

She took the brandy Ryan offered her and poured a liberal quantity over the steaming pudding. “Now the matches.” Sam handed those to her. “Here we go!” She struck one and touched it to the pudding.

“Bloody hell!” Ryan exclaimed.

A spectacular triangle of blue and orange flame flickered around the pudding, lapping at the brandy that had pooled on the edge of the plate.

“Maybe I overdid the brandy a little.” Mari grinned, not seeming too worried about it.

Sam laughed. “You nearly lost your eyebrows there, Mari.”

She blew on the flames, but it didn’t have much effect, so Sam and Ryan helped. Finally with all three of them blowing, they managed to extinguish the pudding, with much chuckling.

“Thought we were going to need the fire blanket for a minute there.” Mari sat back in her chair, sounding puffed. “Cut me a slice would you, Sam?
Only a small one, mind.
I’m too full already, but it’s not Christmas without a bit of pudding.”

Sam did the honours, dishing up a tiny piece for Mari and slightly more generous ones for himself and Ryan.

By the time they’d finished, Ryan was stuffed. If he were at home now, he’d be heading up to put tracksuit bottoms on and give his belly a bit of space. He shifted, uncomfortable in his jeans.

Sam seemed to be having the same trouble. He hadn’t quite managed to eat everything in his bowl, and he pushed the last few mouthfuls away, defeated. He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “That was amazing. Thank you so much, Mari.”

Once again, they refused to let Mari help with clearing the table.

“No, you relax now,”
Ryan
insisted. “We’ve got this.” He met Sam’s gaze, and Sam nodded.

“Well, if you’re sure. The
Coronation Street
special starts in ten minutes, and I wouldn’t mind watching that.”

“We’re sure,” Sam said. “Sit.”

They left Mari’s after clearing up. She was glued to her TV show, and they didn’t want to disturb her. She stopped watching long enough to see them to the door and hug them both.

“That was a lovely—if unexpected—way to spend Christmas. Thank you for your company.” She smiled up at them.

“Thank you for feeding us. That definitely beat chicken nuggets and chips,” Sam said.

“You’re welcome. Enjoy the rest of Christmas evening. And make sure you come and say goodbye to me before you travel home. It’s been lovely to meet you both.”

Outside they were greeted by cool rain falling on their faces. The chill in the air was gone, and the snow was melting fast. Sam noticed there was already a lot less underfoot than when he’d been out there on the phone earlier.

“Looks like we could probably get home tomorrow… if you want?” he said to Ryan. “Are you in a hurry to get back?”

“Nah.
Mum’s
not home till the twenty-ninth. I do want to try and see Dad before I go back to Brighton, but I’ll probably just go for dinner and not stay. So I’m only going to be chilling out at home, maybe catching up with a few mates if they’re around.”

Ryan was trying, but failing, to sound casual about it. Sam could tell he was less than enthusiastic about his plans for the rest of the holiday.

“We could stay another day if you want,” Sam suggested.

“Yeah?” Ryan’s tone was immediately brighter. “But don’t you wanna get back to see your folks?”

“They can manage without me for another day.” Sam moved closer and reached for Ryan’s hand. Neither of them had bothered with gloves today and their palms were warm where they pressed together. Sam squeezed, swinging their hands as they walked. “And it’s not so bad being here with you.”

“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was gruff, but when Sam glanced sideways at him, Ryan was trying to hide a smile.

“Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll call my mum in the morning, but I don’t see why I can’t stay tomorrow night as well.”

When they got in, they snuggled side-by-side on the sofa under a blanket. It wasn’t quite as cold tonight, so it didn’t take too long for the room to warm up with the curtains drawn tight and a few logs blazing in the hearth.

They played twenty questions, too lazy and full of food to do anything more active, and then they dozed for a while as their dinners settled in their bellies.

When Sam woke after a nap, Ryan’s hand was in his hair, stroking it idly where Sam’s head nestled into the crook of his shoulder. He’d slumped sideways onto Ryan as he slept. Sam stayed still, enjoying the sensation.

He wondered what was going through Ryan’s head. It felt so strange being with him like this—as if they were boyfriends rather than friends. Cold fingers of doubt probed Sam’s guts. What were they doing here, in their safe haven, their little Christmas bubble at
Hafan Dawel
? And what was going to happen when they got back to the harsh reality of their everyday life? Part of Sam wanted to broach the subject with Ryan, to know what to expect. But part of him wanted to ignore it and enjoy this for exactly what it was. He was afraid that by asking the questions circling like vultures in his head, he’d shatter the fragile intimacy between them.

He wasn’t ready to give it up yet.

Sam showed Ryan he was awake by moving his hand where it lay on Ryan’s chest. Ryan was so gorgeously solid. His broad muscular chest felt great under Sam’s palm. Sam slipped his arm around Ryan’s torso and hugged him, humming his approval as Ryan continued to pet his hair—almost as if he were a cat. Sam would have purred if he could. Lazy arousal stirred in his belly.

He tilted his head up to see Ryan’s face. “Wanna go to bed?”

Ryan shrugged and his lips curved in a small, dirty smile. “Maybe. I’m not sleepy, though, not after napping.” His eyes were dark and intense and full of promise.

“Who said anything about sleep?” Sam grinned back.

He moved to straddle Ryan, fitting his knees around Ryan’s hips on the sofa. Ryan pulled him down for a kiss and things escalated fast until they were both hard and breathless.

Sam worked his way down Ryan’s body, kissing along the column of his neck as far as he could reach until Ryan’s T-shirt got in the way. In the meantime he worked his hands up beneath Ryan’s clothes, finding warm skin and hard muscle, skimming over Ryan’s ribs and making him squirm, then gasp when Sam reached a nipple. He rubbed it, feeling it pebble under his fingertips.

Sam wriggled down so he was kneeling on the floor between Ryan’s legs. He pushed Ryan’s T-shirt and hoodie up so he could use his tongue instead of his fingers. He licked over Ryan’s hard nipple,
then
sucked on it, breathing in the sweet warmth of Ryan’s skin.

“God, Sam.” Ryan slipped his fingers into Sam’s hair, stroking again. Encouraged, Sam moved lower. He licked over Ryan’s ribs and abs and ran his nose down the dark trail of hair that led to Ryan’s low-slung jeans and the waistband of his boxers that showed just above it.

“This okay?” Sam asked as he started to undo Ryan’s fly.

“Uh, yeah.”

Ryan sounded as though he thought it was a totally stupid question. Which Sam supposed it was. Ryan was clearly into this—his erection was like an iron bar under Sam’s fingers—and who didn’t like getting his dick sucked?

He pulled Ryan free of his underwear. God, he had a nice cock. Not huge, but thick and with really sexy veins that Sam wanted to trace with his tongue. So he did, starting at the base and following them up with his tongue to the edge of Ryan’s foreskin, but stopping before he reached the sensitive head.

“I should have known you’d be a tease.”

Ryan’s voice was amused, but breathless too. It was obvious he was majorly turned on, and Sam felt pretty good about that.

Ignoring Ryan’s cock now, Sam moved lower, burying his nose in the dark thatch of Ryan’s pubes and breathing in the scent of him. It ramped Sam’s own arousal a little bit higher. He nuzzled Ryan’s balls, licking them with the flat of his tongue. Ryan groaned.

“God, that’s good.”

He sounded surprised.

“Haven’t had your balls licked before?” Sam asked
,
his mouth muffled against the wrinkled skin.

“Girls usually go straight for the dick,” Ryan replied.

“Amateurs.”

Ryan snorted,
then
gasped as Sam finally took Ryan’s cock into his mouth and sucked.

Sam could say he wasn’t trying to impress, to compete against all the many girls who’d probably sucked Ryan off over the past year or so, but he’d be lying. Because he bloody was. He wanted to prove to Ryan he was better than any of them, that he could make Ryan come harder than they ever had.

So Sam pulled out every trick he knew, everything he knew felt good to him. But most of all, he took his time, edging Ryan but not quite getting him there, knowing when he finally let Ryan come, it would be all the better for the longer journey to that peak. Although his own cock was hard and aching, he was happy to take his time. Sucking Ryan’s gorgeous dick wasn’t exactly a hardship. It was something Sam had fantasised about for longer than he cared to admit. Finally his fantasy had become a reality, and he was taking Ryan apart with every suck, every slide of his lips and swipe of his tongue.

It was fucking awesome.

Sam kept one hand free to stroke and tug on Ryan’s balls, but with his other hand he unzipped his fly so he could squeeze himself, trying to hold back at first but then giving in and stroking as he worked Ryan over.

Ryan was a glorious mess now, panting and lifting his hips to meet Sam’s mouth. He was breathing hard and muttering the occasional “Yeah,” or “Fuck, Sam.”

When Sam’s jaw started to ache, he finally upped his game and stopped teasing. And when Ryan came with a groan, his fingers tightening painfully in Sam’s hair, Sam came too, moaning around Ryan’s cock. He swallowed around Ryan, then pulled off, wiping his mouth and grinning up at Ryan’s flushed face.

Ryan looked utterly wrecked. Sam’s work here was done.

“Happy Christmas,” he said.

“Thanks, man,” Ryan replied weakly. “Best gift ever.” He cupped Sam’s cheek and stroked lightly with the pad of his thumb. “You want me to… um….”

Ryan licked his lips, and his gaze darted down to where Sam’s hand was still in his pants.

“No, I’m good.” Sam pulled out his hand and wiggled his sticky fingers at Ryan. Ryan’s mouth dropped open in an O of surprise. “You really like doing that, then?”

“Yep.” Sam smiled and licked his lips. “I love it.”

He got up from his knees and looked around for something to wipe his hand on, but there was nothing useful, so he went to the kitchen to rinse it under the tap. He fastened his trousers as he came back through to find Ryan doing the same.

Sam yawned, sleepy now after coming. “I’m tired. I need my bed. Are you going to come and keep me warm?”

“I’d better. You’d freeze your skinny arse off without me,” Ryan teased.

“You love my skinny arse,” Sam countered. Then flushed as he realised what he’d said.

But Ryan didn’t seem to notice Sam’s sudden discomfort. He held his hand out. “Pull me up, then.”

Sam took Ryan’s hand and pulled. “Jesus, who ate all the pies?”

“Fuck off.” Ryan punched him lightly in the arm.

They slept in T-shirts and boxers again, wrapped around each other for warmth as always. Sam woke on Boxing Day morning with his head on Ryan’s chest and the gentle
thump
of Ryan’s heart in his ear.

He lay and let his thoughts wander in uncomfortable circles.

The knowledge they only had one more night here together was an uneasy splinter lodged at the back of his mind. Ryan had made no move to talk about what was going on between them, and Sam knew he should bring it up if Ryan didn’t. But he was afraid of where the conversation might lead. There was no good way to admit to your mate that you’d been in love with him for the best part of a year. And there was no way an admission like that would end well, unless by some miracle Ryan was into him too—in a boyfriend kind of way.

Much as he’d like to imagine that was the case, Sam was a realist. Ryan obviously fancied him, but he hadn’t given Sam any indication that there was anything more to this than buddy fucking. Sam suspected Ryan would run a mile if Sam admitted his feelings ran deeper. He wasn’t out yet, so there was no way he was going to want to rush headlong into anything serious—even if they carried on fooling around after these strange, intense few days were over.

Sam sighed, imagining them back at uni, sneaking around behind their housemates’ backs. If that was all he could get, he knew he’d take it. He had no pride where Ryan was concerned. Sam fancied the arse off him, and he was only human, but he wanted so much more. He wanted to be Ryan’s boyfriend, not his dirty secret.

When Ryan finally stirred, stretching and mumbling a sleepy good morning, Sam turned onto his belly so he could see Ryan’s face. Ryan squinted at him and smiled, and Sam dipped his head and kissed him before he had time to second-guess himself. Ryan kissed him back, bringing his hands up to tangle them in Sam’s hair as Sam aligned their bodies so he could rub his morning wood on Ryan’s hip. Their mouths tasted a little sleep stale, but it felt too good for Sam to care, and Ryan didn’t seem bothered either if the way he was humping against Sam’s thigh was anything to go by.

Sam pulled away reluctantly—only because he was wearing his last pair of boxers and couldn’t afford to come in these ones too. Ryan didn’t stop him, but he looked a little wistful.

“I’m hungry,” Sam said.

That part was true. It was already midmorning and his stomach had started to growl while he was waiting for Ryan to wake. “And I need to get up and phone my mum again, let her know I’m staying another day.”