When he arrived, I had everything ready to go.
“This looks complicated.” He scanned the counters.
“Not complicated. Fun.” At least, that was my hope. “I laid out the ingredients so we don’t have to hunt them down. It’s going to be fabulous.”
I showed him the box of cookie cutters and asked him to pick out the ones he liked. He took his role very seriously, looking at each one, asking me what a few of them were. For some of them, I had no answer. A couple looked full-on phallic, and I was pretty sure my grandmother wasn’t into that kind of thing. Or if she had been, I didn’t want to think about it. I was going with there being a reasonable explanation for them, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
“I thought this was going to be more tedious than it is,” he said after we put the final batch of cut-outs in the oven.
“Yeah, it’s a lot of fun. There are fancy ways to decorate them, but I figured we would just do frosting and sprinkles.”
This was where the real fun began. The cookies were the work needed to get to the decorating. We whipped up a batch of homemade buttercream and divided it into smaller bowls, mixing colors until we had a fun variety of Christmas hues tochoose from. Vaughn took the lead, daddying the process by leading the color mixing.
“Perfect.” I grabbed a cookie. “I’m doing this one first.” It was a deer, and I held it up a minute later. “What do you think?”
“He needs a nose.” Vaughn grabbed a Red Hot and popped it in place. “Now, he’s perfect.”
“Too perfect to eat?” Because we’d made a lot of cookies and, so far, I’d managed to eat none.
“No, perfect for eating.”
At first, we were pretty fancy with our decorating. Daddy even made a candy cane with stripes. But, as we got to the end, the stars were just one color with glittery sugar as the only topping. Glitter makes everything pretty, especially cookies.
“Not half bad,” I said. “Here, hold these two up to your cheeks so I can take a picture.”
He held one up to his cheek and pretended to eat the other as I snapped away.
“Now, your turn.” He gave them to me, and I bit off the cookie reindeer’s antlers mid-shot.
“Wait.” He reached over and wiped some frosting from my upper lip. That one simple touch had me craving more. Instead of asking for what I wanted, I shoved the cookie at him and said, “Try it.”
He took a bite. “Too delicious.”
The timer buzzed, and I grabbed the last of the Jell-O cookies out of the oven, sad that our decorating was nearly over.
“I’ll get the dishes started.” I walked toward the sink.
“I can do those,” he said.
“Or we can do them together.” I liked the sound of that much better.
I’d never thought of doing dishes as a fun activity, but, standing at the sink, him washing and me drying, both of us talking about what we were going to do with the massive numberof cookies, was one of the funnest activities ever. It had nothing to do with the cookies or the sugar rush and everything to do with Vaughn. He made everything we did together merrier. Maybe he was Santa Claus.
Chapter Eleven
Vaughn
My late partner and I did not bake cookies—or at least nothing that required much decorating. It wasn’t his thing, which was partly why we were buying them for Santa. We sometimes made Tollhouse or those three-ingredient peanut butter cookies. Once or twice oatmeal craisin. And at the little Christmas parties, we avoided the cookie-decorating tables. It just wasn’t Bron’s thing, and since my job was to support his choices, I didn’t give it much thought beyond following him to one of the many other fun things to do.
But when I decorated cookies with Gunnar, it was a revelation. How much fun it could be and what artistry he had. Oh, not “bakery quality,” or anything silly like that. Just delicious and beautiful cookies that reflected his personality. And it was so much fun!
A couple of days later, he came over for dinner, but he barely made it in the door before we were kissing, and dinner was going to have to wait.
“This is even better than cookies,” Gunnar said, tilting his head down as I trailed kisses down his spine. Undressing him was like unwrapping a gift. I’d seen him in his little clothes that didn’t conceal much, but I didn’t look at him the same way in that situation. Impossible to explain to someone outside the lifestyle, but it made perfect sense to me and my daddy/little friends. Mommies, too. We were all a little different from one another, but we got it.
Gunnar was all big right now, not even on the line as he sometimes was when we were hanging out and just talking. He arched his back, inviting me to kiss him more, to caress and stroke and massage him. Turning him to face me, I continued,helping him out of his pants and tight boxer briefs. The light from the bathroom was enough to see the smooth, even texture of his skin, and everything else.
“When do you find time to work out?”
