“Hard work pays off, buddy,” he repeats again.
“Stop it,” I snarl, but the scene won’t fade, the feel of Neno’s lips wrapping around my bulbous crown has me losing my mind. My eyes roll to the back of my head when his heat envelops me as the scene shifts to the car accident. Christmas life changed for me the moment the magic ceased to exist.
“Stop,” I whisper, unsure if I want the images to stop or his mouth from taking me deeper. His tongue is twirling around my shaft as if he’s lapping the tastiest treat. My fingers dig into his scalp, and his response is teeth scraping against my soft flesh. We both groan in unison.
“Say it, Devon,” he says around my length, letting the saliva pool at my base before slurping it up. The sound draws my balls tight, “say it.”
I look up, trying to focus on anything but this, even though it’s impossible. I feel him everywhere, and when I focus back on him, for the first time, he’s no longer smiling—he looks sad.
“Please,” I whisper.
“Please, what?”
“Please make it stop.”
He nods once, and the smallest mercy comes with his mouth descending onto my cock. The image vanishes, dissolving into blinding lights, his tongue swirls and laps. My hips thrust to fuck his greedy mouth before he stops. A low chuckle rumbles through his lips.
“Please,” I beg, because I’m desperate to feel anything but this despair that has taken hold inside me. “I can change, please.”
“Okay, Devon, I can help,” he finally says after a moment of silence. “But you’ll have to pay for it.”
I aggressively shake my head, “Anything. Just name the price.” His hand wraps around my cock, one long stroke up, and then he pushes back, with it the foreskin. The sound of my arousal fills the space, the sound blending perfectly with my ragged breathing. “What’s the price?” I finally choke out, or maybe whimper.
He leans closer, our noses brushing, his breath ghosting my skin. “What you took.”
Bright lights flicker before flooding into everything, and when they dim, I’m standing in the town square of Jollytown, but the people are gone. Only snow remains piled against shuttered windows. The billboard still looms overhead, the big bold words:
WELCOME TO JOLLYTOWN—HOME OF PORTER TOYS
Except the smiling family is gone, in their place, only one figure stands beneath the Christmas tree. Me.
Neno’s voice follows from somewhere behind the snow. “You wanted forever, Devon. Here it is.”
The wind carries the echo of the factory slogan, warped and weathered, now dripping with finality:
The world folds in on itself. The snow, the billboard, the tree—all sucked backward like film in reverse until there’s nothing left but the ringing of bells.
DING !
DONG !
DING !
DONG !
DING !
When the sound fades, I’m back where it began—back in the dorm where it all began, my hand smoothing out the curls on Neno’s head as he lies on my lap. His eyes were sheepish and full of adoration as he intertwined his fingers with mine.
“I love you, Devon,” he whispers, kissing each one of my digits. Warmth spreads through me like a wildfire, and I relax into the memory, wishing I could remain in this moment and cherish it forever.
My lips begin to open, to say those eight letters I know he longs to hear, but then he dissolves into sand, the room shifting and turning, leaving me gasping for air—for a fucking break for god’s sake.
And when it stops, I’m back at the cabin. The world has gone quiet, leaving nothing but a blanket of white. The grandfather clock strikes once… twice…
“Welcome back, Toy King, it’s Christmas morning,” Neno says with a smile, “Feliz Navidad, Mi amorcito.”
10
