I’m not an emotional person but I feel emotion swelling in my throat. Choking it down is no easy feat but I manage as we move on with the rest of our day.
Smoked ham serves as our main course for dinner, accompanied by a variety of delicious, festive side dishes. And red wine, of course.
After the dishes have been washed and Christmas is coming to a close, Dylan puts on an instrumental Christmas record while I readA Christmas Carolaloud, lounging against the arm of the couch with my knees bent in the air, covered by a thick blanket. All of this is far too wholesome and pure to feel real. We actually feel like a family. I don’t think I’ve ever relaxed in my parents’ presence. If I’m around them, there’s a purpose for it, meals, schedule coordinations, social events. We never watched a movie together or listened to music. I don’t think my parents ever read me a bedtime story. I didn’t realize that bothered me until now. I feel cheated out of a loving relationship with them. But the sting is softened by the warmth of this moment.
This is the first time I don’t want to leave when the snow melts. For a split second, I entertain the thought of what it would be like if I stayed here.
But that’s impossible. I’m not related to them. And even though we are friends—for lack of a better word—that doesn’t mean we can all live together and resume normal life with that major change come march.
So I smush that flicker of hope beneath reality and close the book after reading the final line. I peek over the top of the closed book to see Jason watching me. He stares so unabashedly, which is normal for him, but with how I’m already feeling, his stare feels heavier.
I replace the book to the shelf where I found it and wave with a two fingersalute before carrying my sullen body upstairs to bed.
This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had. And that thought makes me feel a combination of guilt and remorse.
After I’ve showered and changed into one of Jason’s t-shirts, I lay in bed restless with energy and a mind that won’t shut off.
Jason.
Stay.
Go.
The gift.
The want.
The need.
God,I’m so agitated. I tried masturbating after the night of my birthday but every orgasm felt like something my body was supposed to do but didn’t really want to do. A basic action like eating or walking. They didn’t have the same ecstasy that Jason gave me. His tongue, his fingers, they were unlike any fuck I’ve ever had, sending me down a spiral of pleasure I didn’t realize I was capable of. I’ve given myself some intense orgasms before with vibrators, and I’ve had some entertaining fucks but the two men I’ve slept with never made me come that hard. I always had to focus, concentrate, and work hard to achieve orgasms that seemed extreme at the time but could never hold a candle to that night.
If it’s that intense with just his tongue and fingers, what would his cock feel like?
Fuck this.We’re grown adults who can have casual sex. It doesn’t have to be more than that. And I know he’s just as desperate as me. So I decide I’ll be the bigger person and initiate what we both want.
I throw the covers off me, throw the door open before shutting it softly behind me, and stride over to Jason’s door on gentle feet. I can hear soft music from inside his room before I open the door and sneak in as quickly as possible, irrationally afraid Dylan will catch me.
As soon as I close the door and lock it, I turn around and back myself against the hard door, mildly taken aback by what I see.
Chapter Fourteen
Mara-Present
Your Needs, My Needs-Noah Kahan
Jason. Naked. Lying flat on his back with his hard cock clutched in his strong hand while the other arm is bent behind his head accentuating the contours of his biceps and abs. He’s a Greek god. A statue sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. Perfect in every physical feature on display. And though it’s only been a couple weeks, I forgot how impressive his dick is. A thick vein running up the underside like an arrow to the proud head that’s glistening with a bit of precome. Utter perfection.
I only get to ogle him and the collage of tattoos decorating his pec and shoulder for a second before his eyes snap open to lock on mine. There’s no shock or shame. There’s only desire there.
He doesn’t miss a beat, hesitation is thrown out the window when he leaps off the bed to close the distance between us in half a second. Aggressive hands grip the hem ofhisshirt ripping it up and over my head, my body following along silently to make undressing me easier.
I need this. Ineedit. And so does he. We crave each other way too much for two people who can’t stand one another half the time.
Without an ounce of tenderness, Jason backs me against a wall before he pins my hands above my head with an iron grip. I’m at his mercy when his mouth dips to my pebbled nipple, sucking it into his mouth until it’s painfully peaked. Desperate for friction between my legs, I rub my thighstogether to soothe the ache but it only makes the angst worse. Noticing my actions, Jason slides his hand at rapid speed down my body and darts between my pressed thighs to run skillful fingers through my soaked lips.
Ughhh. It feels incredible. But it’s not enough. The slight moan that escapes me eggs Jason on, so he plunges two fingers into me without even bothering to ease in slowly. There’s nothing gentle about any of this. It’s animalistic and primal andrough.Which is just what we need. We’re not pure and delicate. We’re volatile and explosive. We’re passionate in all the most damning ways.
And that’s just how it feels when Jason finger fucks me while holding me captive against the wall, circling my nipples with his pointed tongue, back and forth between the two.
