Or is it just Felton himself? Once I let myself truly see this man, there was simply no turning back from knowing that he’s the person I want to be with. Every single day, every little interaction has only confirmed it a little more.
But I’m reminded of the girl I suffered through a Catholic Christmas with all those years ago. I amnotwilling to convert to a system of beliefs that I just don’t believe in to be with someone.
Yet, I’ve adjusted to this Western culture quite a bit. There’s a fusion in my life of things I’ve compromised on out of necessity or lack of options, and sometimes because I like the alternative. Then there are things that I’ve steadfastly kept as best I could.
However, I only have myself to take into account during those kinds of decisions. Being with someone raised so vastly different from myself can lead to a lot of issues later.
Yet, I’m not entirely sure that there’s going to be that kind of head butting. Felton hasn’t once expressed feeling any particular way about anything. He’d disconnected from almost everything in his life. The only thing he’s had of his own is hockey.
And sex.
Which leads to another thing that’s been a concern. Sex is not the most important thing in a relationship. The deep connection is of far greater importance. But when you both like sex, it’s definitely important that you’re on the same page and enjoy it the same way.
Since grouping it with my friends, I’ve not enjoyed one-on-one sex nearly as much as I used to. I’m not sure if it’s their energy that makes it different or something else entirely.
The question that keeps plaguing me is—what if I don’t like it as much when it’s just Felton and I as I do when it’s my friends and I sharing someone? I know, there’s going to be a lot of people that say that when you love someone, you need to make sacrifices. But is it wrong to want our sex life to be great?
Then there’s the other side too. What if I don’t do it like Felton likes?
It’s true that sex isn’t everything, but that doesn’t mean it can’t make or break a relationship.
My arms tighten around him, and I hate the idea of anything being a roadblock. It’s definitely important that we work through it. Weneedto. That also means we need to have a conversation.
There’s also the idea that maybe I’m not going to like all the things involved with being in a sexual relationship with a man. Fucking in the ass is one thing. I’ve done that and clearly haven’t had a problem. We’ve jerked off together in the shower, and I definitely enjoyed that.
But a cursory glance of ‘butt stuff’ online tells me that there’s a lot that we can do together. What if I’m not into some of it? How will that make him feel? What if he wants to top and I don’t think I can do it?
Seriously, the size of his cock alone is… intimidating. Everything about Felton is big. His dick isn’t an exception to that.
He sighs in his sleep, and I press my lips to the top of his head. He sleeps pretty hard, so I think I can disentangle myself from him easily enough and decorate my room without waking him.
I’m not against the idea of Christmas. Not at all. I like the fun and the lights. I like the idea of making sure the people important to you know how much they mean.
What I’m not a fan of is the look that Felton gets when he thinks about past Christmases. It’s not just sadness. It’s deeper than that.
I want to give him a happy Christmas memory. Even if we don’t last longer than this month or maybe this year, I want him to have something to remember what the holiday should be for him. Taking everything else out of it—religion, family, expectations—I want him to wake up and smile, knowing that it’s going to be a really good day.
It takes me several minutes to disentangle from him. Partly because he holds on so tightly and partly because I don’t really want to let him go. But eventually I’m free and can slip out of bed.
With phone in hand, I slip into my closet and silently shut the door before turning on the phone’s flashlight. I’ve already unpacked anything that can make noise—no plastic in here, thank you!—so all I have to do is tack everything up.
I’ve been putting little things in place to make this easier over the last few days while he’s been in the shower, or occupied with something when I get out of the shower. I have a few sets of string lights of the colored variety. In the inspiration pictures I studied, it seemed colored lights were the most traditional and single colors were elegant. This year, I want traditional.
Opening the closet door, I reach around and plug in the end of the first set of lights right outside and then watch Felton. He doesn’t move. There are little clear hooks already stuck to the wall and I carefully snap the string of lights into place, framing the doors and the windows. While I wanted to hang snowflakes from the ceiling, I wasn’t sure how I’d pull that off while he was asleep and not make too much noise.
I pull out a little tree, three feet tall, and set it up in the corner with a skirt and a dozen pearl ornaments. There’s a star too, and for my first tree, I don’t think it’s half bad. After the tree skirt, I add a few presents that I wrapped.
I place a few little decorations around the room—reindeer, a Santa, cute penguins in earmuffs and scarves on skates. Then for the messy part.
Almost instantly regretting this decision, I take the bucket from my closet and start sprinkling the floor with fake snow. I put iteverywherebecause I want Felton to wake up in a winter wonderland. I literally cover the floor until I’m backed against the bed.
Setting the bucket upside down, I drape a red cloth over it and put some cookies on top from a plate that I’d hidden in my drawer. The last thing I do after I crawl back into bed is turn on the television with a crackling fire recording.
Laying back down, I smile. It’s romantic, right? If nothing else, I hope it puts a smile on Felton’s face because I’ve made a complete mess of my room.
For him.
Taking him back in my arms, he reflexively wraps around me again. Tucking his face into my neck, Felton sighs and I find that I’m smiling. This is perfect. I could definitely get used to falling asleep and waking up to this man every day.
