With that trying task accomplished, we drive to his place, which is precisely how I imagined it based on his description. The small bakery is closed. A sign on the bright blue door reads ‘Happy Christmas to all our customers!’
We go through a less flashy door, up a narrow flight of stairs, and into Rowan’s tiny apartment. He’s decorated it beautifully for Christmas. He’s gone with a red-and-gold colour combination, and while there are many decorations, none are over-the-top or garish. They work together, turning the apartment into a twinkling, festive wonderland.
He points at a fresh sprig of mistletoe hanging from a lampshade. I pull him to me, kissing him eagerly, all thoughts of finding decorations for my apartment forgotten as I lose myself in the taste of his lips and the press of his body against mine.
“We should collect some decorations,” Rowan whispers breathlessly.
“Or we could spend Christmas here.”
He chuckles. “We could, but you said you wanted to decorate your apartment.”
Wantis a strong word, but he’s right; that was the plan. I need to embrace the season Rowan finds so much joy in, not hide from it by losing myself in him, as tempting as that may be.
I glance around. “Is there even anywhere to store decorations?”
He laughs. “This way, Daddy.” He leads me into his bedroom and points at a loft hatch.
He pulls a pair of stepladders out of the built-in wardrobe and stands them beneath the hatch. He puts his foot on the bottom rung.
I stop him by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let me.”
Grinning, he steps back and loosely folds his arms. “Watch your head, Daddy.”
I go up the stepladder, lift the hatch out of the way, and use my phone's torch to see into the loft. The loft space is as big as the apartment beneath it, but the eaves are very low. I’ll barely be able to crouch up there. It’s been properly boarded, and everything is arranged neatly and clearly labelled. It doesn’t take me long to locate boxes marked as Christmas decorations, with colour scheme notes. I choose a box labelled "blue and silver decorations," crawl over to it, and push it toward the opening. I pass it to Rowan, and then climb down and replace the loft hatch.
“Blue and silver. Nice.”
“I figured that colour scheme would fit my apartment the best.”
“I’m looking forward to finding out. Are you?”
I grimace before I can stop myself and see some of the joy fade in his eyes.
“We don’t have to decorate, Daddy. We don’t have to celebrate Christmas at all.”
I put my hands on his hips and pull him against me. “I want to. It will make you happy.”
He smiles. “I don’t need you to do anything special. Just be you.”
I kiss his forehead. “I want to. I’m hoping you can help me find the joy in Christmas.”
He snuggles against me. “I’ll do my best, Daddy, if it’s really what you want.”
“It is.”
He takes the dirty clothing out of his overnight bag, puts it in a laundry basket in his bathroom, then packs clean clothes, including a garish Christmas jumper. While he does that, I sit on the bed, taking in the room, wondering if he has a collection ofsex toys somewhere, or if the Pride dildo is the only one. I doubt it is.
He places the bag on the floor beside the bedroom door, comes to stand between my splayed thighs, rests his hands on my shoulders, and leans down to kiss me.
“I’m ready, Daddy.”
“Do you have any unopened gifts, boy?”
“My parents left me a card and a present.”
“You should bring them so that you can open them tomorrow.”
He smiles and fetches them from the living area, adding them to his overnight bag. I beckon him to me. Obediently, he returns, standing in the same place and position as before. I wrap my arms around him, pull him close and lose myself in kissing him. Far too long, given we have cold food in the car boot. Then again, it’s barely above freezing outside, so the boot is probably as cold as a fridge.
