“I bought this. It’s supposed to make it easier.” He flashed the blue bottle.
“Lube? You planned for this?”
Must’ve been an online purchase because I couldn’timagine Dare mustering the courage to buy lube in public. The image made me smile.
“I’d hoped,” he grinned, unscrewing the cap.
“Easier for me or easier for you?”
He blushed, a rare look for Dare. “Uh, you? I mean, if that’s what you want,” he stammered.
“Yeah, I do, just wanted to make you sweat a bit,” I laughed.
Dare squirted a large amount into his palm, too much, and it dribbled onto my stomach.
“Fuck, sorry.”
We both laughed, trying to wipe off the excess from my skin. It was slippery and cold, and Dare slid his slick fingers around my dick and stroked unhurriedly, making the fire in my belly spread.
“You’re lucky I didn’t put this in your Christmas stocking,” he teased.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenged. He shot me a look that said,Do you even know me?
His hand worked me into a fever, stroking until I leaked. Our lips ground together, erasing every inch of space. He whispered my name against my mouth when I fell apart—Truen—like a prayer, and I swore I saw stars behind my eyelids.
When I came back to Earth, he was still on top of me, breathing hard, forehead pressed to mine. I reached down and palmed him, feeling how wrecked he was, how close.
“Your turn,” I whispered, and Dare shuddered, barely holding it together.
“I won’t last,” he warned.
“Good.”
He bucked into my hand with a choked sound, face buried against my shoulder, breathless and beautiful. I pumped him fast, rough, the way he liked it, and within seconds he was shaking, spilling hot over my fingers, moaning my name like it was the only one he’d ever known.
We lie there tangled, bare and flushed, the scent of sex thick in the room. His heart pounded against mine, our hands locked together, sticky but steady.
“Merry Christmas,” I murmured.
Dare leaned in, pressed one last kiss to my temple, and whispered, “Best one I’ve ever had.”
I must’ve drifted off, because the next thing I knew, I felt Dare’s warm breath against the back of my neck, his arm heavy around my waist, palm spread over my stomach like he meant to keep me there forever.
“You still with me?” he murmured, sleep-rough.
“Barely,” I mumbled. “You’re heavy.”
He didn’t move. Instead, his hand found mine beneath the blanket and laced our fingers together.
“I wasn’t gonna come home,” he said quietly. “I told my dad I needed the space. But then I saw your bag by the door and thought… fuck it.”
My chest tightened. I turned toward him, our legs tangling. “Why?”
He blinked the sleep from his eyes, honesty cracking through the usual walls. “Because I missed you. Even when Ihated you. Even when I thought I was supposed to. And I didn’t want to waste another year pretending I didn’t.”
My throat worked, but nothing came out. He brushed his thumb along my cheek like he needed to memorize it.
“When you kissed me in middle school,” he said, voice barely audible, “I wanted to kiss you back. Again and Again. I was just scared. And stupid.”
