Season's Greetings (3 page)

Still, it would serve to fill the day, and I’d be so busy I wouldn’t have time to think about Cris. “Sure. I’ll be there at seven.”

With the rich scent of baking brownies in the air, we sat around the living room and watched as the citizens of Whoville taught the miserly Grinch just what Christmas was all about.

Fast forwarding through the recorded commercials put the film over at exactly the right time to indulge in brownies and eggnog before decorating the tree.

An hour later, the shabby tree glowed with tiny white lights and sparkled with silvery tinsel. The crocheted snowflakes alternated with the glittering glass birds. It was done. Almost. I retreated unnoticed to the foyer to pick up Cris’s box. I withdrew the glass apple, and aware of all the eyes following my movements, hung it carefully on the tree. A flash of light in the corner of my eye told me someone had thought to capture the moment.

I bade my family goodbye at the door, anxious to get back to the living area to snap a few more pics of the now ritzy Charlie Brown tree to add to the collection I’d be sending Cris.

Chapter Three

After emailing the pictures to Cris, I crawled between the blankets on the king-size bed that barely fit into the small master bedroom of my little house. On my own it was too big, sometimes I felt lost in the expanse of smooth flannel sheets and mounds of blankets and pillows. When Cris was around it felt tiny; he was a big man who took up a lot of space, and the king-size was necessary to accommodate his height.

I piled the pillows in the center of the bed and pulled the quilt up over my naked chest. My cell phone was on the table, waiting for the call I knew would come before either of us slipped into slumber.

Netflix provided the entertainment, and I was into the third episode of the fourth season of my favorite show when the phone emitted Cris’s distinctive ringtone.

“Did I wake you?” His deep voice was a husky caress I felt from my sensitive ear all throughout my body. Hairs prickled and my skin felt slightly more sensitive.

I sighed with pleasure. “You know you didn’t.” I traced a hand down my neck to my inner elbow, where the sensitive skin responded as though Cris had pressed his lips there in a gentle kiss.

“I hoped I wouldn’t.” His voice was deeper.

“I got your gift. It’s incredibly beautiful.”

“I saw it on the tree in the pictures you sent. Some very, very fine pictures, I might add.” There was a moment of silence. “I got you another gift.”

“Another one? Let’s wait and exchange them when you get here.”

“Not this one. I want you to open it now.”

“Now?” I asked, looking around the room warily.

“Now,” he agreed. “Are you wearing those flannel pajama pants your mom got us last year?”

Of course, I was. Who could resist Grinch pajamas when they were alone at the holiday season? I laughed. “You know me pretty well, don’t you?”

“I think so. Take them off.” I obeyed before I even thought about it. He sounded so confident and in control.

“Um…what are you wearing?” I asked to hide a sudden strange shyness that overcame me.

“Me? I’m wearing your favorite outfit. Open the nightstand on my side of the bed. There’re two wrapped boxes in there. Open the red one first. I’ll wait. Hey, maybe put me on speaker.”

Bemused, I obeyed. We exchanged gifts at the holidays, sure. But usually just one or two gifts on Christmas day. This was different, it was fun, and it kind of made up a bit for the loneliness of Cris’s absence. I opened the drawer in the tiny table that served as a nightstand and discovered the two boxes he’d spoken of. One was gaily wrapped in red paper, the other in silver.

“The red one first,” Cris admonished, as though he could hear in my breathing how drawn I was to the longer, sparkly package.

“Okay, okay.” I chuckled and began to meticulously slide my finger under the first strip of clear tape.

“Oh, just rip it!” Cris was getting impatient.

I did and laughed aloud. “Nice. Yes lubricant? Like we don’t have enough of a variety here already?”

“Well, I picked it for the name. I wanted you to have
yes
on the brain when you open the second package and hopefully agree to try what I’m about to suggest.”

Curious, I picked up the second package. Shook it a bit. “What is it?”

“Open it.” I heard him catch his breath, then release it slowly.

“Are you…” I trailed off. My own cock was half hard in anticipation of where this call would end, but it sounded almost as if Cris was way ahead of me.

“Open it.”

I made short work of the silver paper and the plain brown box. I blinked in astonishment at the contents. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. It’s a vibrator.”

“I can see that.” Boy, could I see that. It was a slick black plastic vibrator, and it was intimidating. “You want me to say yes to this?”

“God, yes. I want to think of you—using it.”

“I’ve never used one of these before.” I was hesitant to try it. I didn’t want to disappoint Cris, but toys like this weren’t something I had a lot of familiarity with.

“Not tonight, then.” I hated hearing the disappointment in his voice, but I just couldn’t do it right then.

“Tell me,” I whispered, wanting to distract him, reaching for my cock. “Tell me what you feel when you think of me using it.” I resolved to try the darn thing before Cris got home.

A familiar low moan wrapped itself around my senses and provoked a predictable response. I swallowed hard. “Are you…jerking off while you talk to me?”

“I’d have waited for you…but the images in my head were too hot.” Cris’s breath came a little faster now, his voice dropping to a husky level.

I closed my eyes to visualize Cris, stretched across some anonymous hotel bed. I wanted him here, with me, so I could be the one running my hand up that firmly muscled chest, threading my fingers through his hair. I wanted to lick the drops of pre-cum off the tip of his cock as he stroked himself, to feel the urgent beat of his heart under my palm. “Tell me, baby. I want to be there with you…make me feel it with you…” I reached for my own fully erect cock, stroking it absently.

“I’m in the hotel on the bed. It has the ugliest fucking comforter I’ve ever seen. You’d hate it. I just got out of the shower and called you, ‘cause I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m lying back against the pillows, with one knee to the side. Thinking about you made me so hard, I couldn’t resist. I’m stroking myself, but I wish you were here with me, coming with me.”

“Ohh, baby, I wish I were there too. What would you do? If I were, I mean.” I swiped my thumb across my own dripping tip, brought it to my mouth to lick off as I listened intently to Cris’s breathing come faster and deeper.

A smile glimmered in Cris’s voice now. “Hmmm, if you were here, I’d still be stroking myself, but you could stand by me, so I could suck you while I do it.”

Fuuuck.
Orgasm loomed, I could feel it hovering in the pit of my stomach, the tightening of my balls. “Hmm,” I grunted, nearly beyond forming genuine words.

“I’m close, are you ready? Come with me,” he pleaded. “Don’t want to come alone.”

Cris’s moan, sweet and hot, reached my ear as hot sticky semen spurted in long streams to splatter on my stomach. “I love you,” I whispered through panted breaths.

“Ben,” his hoarse, sex roughened voice sounded strange to my ears. “I miss you.”

Chapter Four

I missed Cris, too. No matter how much I tried not to say it, it hung over my head like a cartoon cloud over Elmer Fudd. I woke ridiculously early, and the first thing my eyes fell on was that silicone dildo nestled in its box. I still couldn’t believe that Cris had left me the thing. He knew I’d never played with toys before, although I knew he found them interesting.

To me, it seemed like he was offering a substitute. He was gone so often, was this his way of saying he didn’t like the “open” aspect of our relationship any more than I did? Of course he didn’t know that I hadn’t taken advantage of that
get out of jail free for cheating
card in years. Back when we first hooked up, sure. He’d leave town for a month, and by the second weekend, I’d be out at the bars, looking with my friends. But long ago, I’d come to the conclusion that a guy who only wanted to get off wasn’t what I was looking for. I enjoyed the sex, but I also wanted touch…and to be touched casually, lovingly. I wanted the relationship.

Did this gift mean that Cris had seen that in me? The idea was both appealing and horribly humiliating. The toy fascinated and repelled me. I sat up against the head of the bed and stretched out a hand to touch it. I ran a finger over the smooth surface, shivered a little at the onslaught of ideas it spurred. Cris wanted to think of me, using this. He wanted to watch me play with it.

I extracted it from the box and studied it from all angles. The idea of being on display for Cris, and not knowing what the hell I was doing with it scared me a little. I don’t know why, it was just one of those things. I didn’t like not knowing… I did like Cris watching though, and he’d never asked me to do anything that hadn’t turned out to be phenomenal.

I twisted the base of the device, and a quiet purr filled the silence. My heart stilled a bit. Was I really going to do this? I slid down the blankets, brought the toy to my lips. The vibrating purr instantly sensitized them. I felt the tingling sensation bring prickles of awareness throughout my body. It was definitely worth investigating further. It was different, not the same reaction I got from a kiss, from the heat and pressure of Cris’s mouth on mine, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

I licked the tip, shivering again. I grasped my stirring cock in my other hand, stroked it slowly. My eyes drifted shut and I pictured Cris watching in approval. His eyes would light up, he’d smile and murmur encouragement.

My breathing increased, and I dragged the toy from my mouth down the column of my neck, swallowing as it pressed against my Adam’s apple. Curious, I trailed it around my body, to the spot below my ear where Cris’s teeth made me shudder, to the crook of my elbow, where a lick at the right time could make me convulse, to the little spot on my hip that drove me absolutely crazy.

When my thighs tensed and my belly tightened, when I came, it felt like Cris was there with me. I rested just a moment on the bed, before tossing the toy aside and jumping up. It wasn’t exactly what Cris had meant me to do with his gift, I knew that. But still, getting comfortable with it would go a long way to actually using it. I wasn’t sure I’d manage using it until Cris got home anyway. I kind of liked the idea of staring into his eyes.

But for now, I had cookies to bake, package, and deliver with my mom, and that would keep me busy.

A quick shower then a few minutes in the car, and I stood in my mom’s kitchen, surrounded by chattering relatives. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon mingled with chocolate and maple as we measured, mixed, and baked.

“You miss him, don’t you?” my mom asked.

“Of course,” I answered simply. “But this is an opportunity that cannot be missed. If he gets this job, we can spend a lot more time together.”

She smiled and patted me on the arm. “I’m sure he’ll get the job, honey. You know, we weren’t in favor of this when you first brought him home back then.”

I knew it. Mom and Dad hadn’t exactly made any secret of the fact that they found Cris a disappointment. Not because he was a man, I knew that they didn’t care whether, in the end, I chose a man or a woman. “I know. You were afraid he’d convince me to travel with him.”

Mom nodded without looking at me. She dumped a cup of raisins into a batch of oatmeal cookie dough. “That, and we were scared he’d break your heart. I don’t understand this open relationship thing. I never have, but he’s been good to you, and we’ve seen it ourselves. We might not understand it, but it works.”

I nodded. Once, her acceptance of my relationship would have pleased me. Now, I wasn’t happy with my “open relationship” and her approval felt a little…like reproof. Did she know I was uncomfortable with things as they were between Cris and me?

Maybe. Mom was perceptive. I got the message though. She liked Cris. He’d become family despite the irregular relationship we had. I shouldn’t rock the boat by asking for more than Cris was ready to give.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mom. My life is here. And Cris isn’t going to break my heart.”

“I know, dear.” She handed me a tray of cookies to put in the oven. “Set the timer on those for eleven minutes.” Her eyes were misty, and she wiped at them with her apron, leaving a trail of flour across her cheek.

I wiped it away with the oven mitt, laughing. Her tremulous smile puzzled me, but I didn’t have the chance to ask what was bothering her.

“Ben.” My dad hovered in the doorway, dressed in winter gear and waving his car keys.

I turned and raised a brow, waiting. I knew what was coming. It was another tradition. One I’d gotten roped into at the age of twelve, when I’d casually asked my dad what he’d gotten my mom for Christmas.

“I need your help with some stuff.” He gestured dramatically toward the garage door. I laughed. He needed me to jump in the car with him and drive out to the mall. It was Christmas Eve, the shops closed in six hours, and Dad had done none of his shopping. He was going to drag me through every shop in the mall in search of the perfect gifts for all of us.

“Can you excuse me, Mom?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I told him to get that done last week while I did mine. He said he didn’t want to disappoint you and that you look forward to shopping with him every year.”