The Stocking Was Hung

by Tara Sivec

  “Yes.”

  Her voice is so soft that I barely hear the quiet whisper and I shake my head, wondering if she didn’t say anything and maybe it was just her mother’s snotty nose making noise again.

  “What?” I ask in shock.

  “Yes. I said yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

  Everyone starts talking all at once around the table. There’s shouting, crying, cursing, and Reggie complaining about how now that I’ve bought the milk, he can’t threaten my life anymore and how all that eggnog he threw away was just plain wasteful.

  I ignore the commotion, grab Noel’s hand from her lap and slide the ring on the finger of her left hand, knowing as I look down at it sparkling on her finger, that it’s exactly where it was meant to be. Not hidden away in my wallet for all of my life, only brought out every few months when I was feeling sad, but right here, on Noel’s hand.

  “Where in the hell did you get this?” Noel whispers, examining the ring while the commotion continues around the table.

  “It was my mother’s,” I tell her with a shrug. “Well, according to Children’s Services, at least. When my parents died when I was a few weeks old, that’s was the only item they kept for me. I got it when I turned sixteen and I’ve carried it with me ever since.”

  It’s Noel’s turn to sniffle and she swipes away at the tears on her cheeks.

  “I can’t believe you did this for me. I can’t believe you went through all this trouble just to get my mother to shut up. I can never thank you enough for coming here and pretending to do all of this,”

  My heart cracks a little inside at her words, but it’s my own fault. I haven’t told her I’m not pretending. I haven’t told her I mean it. All of it. The love, the marriage, the forever. I mean it and I want it with her.

  “Noel-”

  “Alright, everyone in the living room for your Christmas Eve presents!” Bev announces, cutting off my words to Noel, pushing back her chair and tossing her napkin on the table.

  Noel gets up from her own chair and grabs my hand, pulling me up from the floor.

  “I promise I’ll give this back before you leave,” she whispers as she pulls me into the living room behind everyone else.

  Everyone is talking, passing out presents, the Christmas music is turned up and the noisy ripping of wrapping paper is so loud that it’s impossible for me to say anything to Noel. I get caught up in the excitement, watching everyone open the present Bev set out for them under the tree and the moment passes for me to pull Noel aside and lay it all on the line for her. Maybe I should try harder, maybe I should demand she come with me somewhere private so we can talk, but I don’t. I’m a dick because I just want this moment to last for as long as possible. I want to look over at her, so happy and full of laughter and see that ring on her finger and imagine it’s real. Imagine that she knows it’s real and she’s happy and wants the same things I do. It’s easier to pretend than to spit out the truth and find out that maybe she doesn’t feel the same way. I’m not ready for her to tell me all of this is only one-sided.

  A present is plopped down on top of my lap as I sit next to Noel on the couch and I look up in confusion at Bev.

  “What’s this?”

  She looks at me like I’m an idiot.

  “It’s your Christmas Eve present, silly,” she tells me with a laugh before walking away.

  “Every year, we get to open one present on Christmas Eve,” Noel explains as she opens the wrapped box sitting on her own lap. “My mom always buys everyone in the family new Christmas pajamas. We always know what the present is, but she still likes to wrap them and make a big deal out of it.”

  “But, I’m not family,” I contend, hating the sound of the words.

  “Yes, you are. Open it,” she replies with a soft smile.

  With shaking hands, I slowly unwrap the box, lift the lid off of it and pull out a pair of red Christmas pajama pants with Santa faces all over them, along with a matching long-sleeved shirt. Looking around the room, I see that Noel is correct and we all have the same pajamas.

  “Go try them on!” Bev instructs everyone excitedly. “I need to get another picture in front of the tree before we go to bed.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, I’m standing at the top of the stairs, refusing to come down.

  “Come on, Logan! Just come down and show us your pajamas. What’s the big deal?” Bev shouts up to me.

  “I’m not coming down!” I yell back, stopping myself at the last minute from stomping my feet.

  “GET DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE!” she screams.

  With a defeated sigh, I slowly make my way down the stairs until I’m at the bottom, dragging my feet down the hall and into the living room. I stand in the archway with my arms crossed and a pissy look on my face while everyone stares at me in silence.

  And then they burst into laughter. Laughing so hard they can’t even stay upright as the bend over, clutch their sides and cry from laughing so hard.

  “Go ahead, get it out of your systems,” I tell them with a roll of my eyes.

  “Leon, I thought you said he wears a small? That’s why I got him a small because I distinctly remember you telling me on the phone a month ago that he wore a man’s small,” Bev says through her tears of laughter.

  “Oh, honey, there is nothing small about that man. He’s definitely an extra-large,” Aunt Bobbie replies with a wink at me.

  I immediately drop my hands down to cover my junk. My junk that is so tightly wrapped in these ridiculously small pants that every outline of my cock and balls can be seen through the thin, cotton material. It doesn’t help that one big Santa face is strategically placed right over my nuts, smiling up at me with a creepy grin.

  “Where’s the flood, boy?” Reggie asks with a laugh, looking down at where the pants end high above my ankles.

  “Ha ha, yuck it up. Can I take these off now?” I beg.

  “Tell the boy he can take them off, Bev,” Reggie tells her with another laugh.

  And just like that, I feel like fucking Ralphie in his pink bunny costume. I am living a real life version of A Christmas Story and it is not pretty. Not pretty at all.

  “Yes, please, take them off! Wooohooo!” Aunt Bobbie shouts, raising her martini glass in the air and swirling it around until some of the liquid rains down on her red wig.

  I give Noel a pleading look to save me and she wipes the smile off of her face, jumping up from the couch and rushing over to my side in her own pair of Christmas pajamas. Except hers fit her perfectly and she looks cute and not like a grown man trying to fit into a pair of little boy pants.

  “Alright, enough of the humiliation, we’re going to bed now,” she tells the room as they continue to stare at me in these horrific pajamas and don’t even bother hiding the smiles on their faces.

  I refuse to remove my hands from covering my dick as Noel grabs my arm and tugs me out of the room.

  “If you use the red nightie, make sure to hand wash it when you’re done! It can’t go in the washer, it’s delicate!” Bev shouts after us. “And Merry Christmas, you two!”

  I grunt in response and Noel laughs, continuing to drag me up the stairs.

  Chapter 13

  Noel

  “Are you sure this okay?” Sam asks quietly in the dark bedroom, the glow from the Christmas tree lights in the corner highlighting the concerned look on his face.

  Those horribly small Christmas pajamas were shed from his body as soon as my bedroom door closed behind us and I forgot how to speak as I stood in the middle of my room and looked at him in all of his naked, muscled, hot glory wearing just a pair of black boxer briefs.

  I clapped my hands to turn off the lights and he didn’t protest or try to turn them back on when I silently removed my own pajamas and tugged him down onto the bed with me.

  As he holds his naked body above mine and looks down into my eyes, I feel the weight of the ring he slipped onto my finger earlier and I bite down on my bottom lip to h
old back the tears. I didn’t even think about my reply when he asked me to marry him, it just came out as I stared into his face and wished more than anything that it was a real proposal and not just one to shut my mother up.

  He’s hard and heavy between my thighs as he rubs his cock against me and I sigh with pleasure. I thought by doing everything but having sex with him would stop me from tipping over the edge and falling in love with him, but tonight, when he got down on one knee and I couldn’t think of anything else but marrying him and spending the rest of my life with him, I knew it was pointless. I wanted him. In my life, in my bed and inside of me, forever. Prolonging this pleasure for both of us wasn’t going to stop my heart from bursting every time he looked at me or touched me. If he has to leave tomorrow, go back to his life while I go back to mine, I want this moment to remember. I want to know what it feels like to love someone so much that you would do anything for them, even at the risk of your own broken heart.

  “I’m okay, I’m fine,” I finally answer Sam, running my hands through his hair as he holds himself above me. “I just need you.”

  Without another word, he slowly enters me. I refuse to close my eyes, wanting to memorize everything about him and this moment. The feel of him finally inside of me is like nothing I could have ever imagined. Unlike the other times we fooled around where it was hot and fast and hard and frantic, this is slow and steady and perfect. No less hot, just easy and…perfect.

  I wrap my legs around his hips, using the heels of my feet against his ass to pull him in deeper. He starts moving, pulling himself almost all the way out of me before ever-so-slowly sliding back in until our hips bump together. We move in perfect harmony, rocking together, clutching to each other, and moaning words of pleasure until I’m tumbling over the edge, far sooner than I’m ready, but unable to stop my release from rushing through me because of how well he knows my body in such a short amount of time. I come with him inside of me while blinking back the tears, burying my face in the side of his neck in case any of them escape. When he feels me coming, he follows quickly behind, his hips pumping faster until his release consumes him and he holds himself still inside me, whispering my name in my ear and telling me how good I feel, how perfect I feel, and how much he loves feeling me come.

  * * *

  “This is dumb,” I complain quietly in the dark room.

  We’re both still naked and our limbs are tangled together under the covers, on our sides facing each other.

  “It’s not dumb, just answer the question,” he replies, pulling me tighter against him.

  After the best sex of my life when all I wanted to do was profess my undying love to the man and make a fool of myself, thankfully he asked me why I told him the day we met that I don’t really like Christmas, aside from having such a stupid name. At least this keeps my mind off of the fact that he’s leaving tomorrow.

  “I explained my stupid reason for never saying Merry Christmas, you can give me a little more insight on why you don’t like the holidays,” he adds. “From what I have seen so far, aside from all the crazy, your family is great and makes a big, fun deal out of it. They even got me sort of liking Christmas.”

  I sigh, pulling my head back to look at the shadows of his face.

  “It’s dumb and you’re going to think I’m dumb,” I tell him stupidly.

  “Spill it,” he growls.

  “Fine!” I huff. “I guess as an adult, the fun is sort of gone. I mean, yes, my family goes all out, decorates this place like Santa himself threw up all over the place and it’s nice and all, but it’s just not the same as when I was little. There’s no excitement of waiting up to catch a glimpse of Santa or anything like that. The magic is just…gone. There’s nothing to look forward to but all the bills you’ll have to pay when Christmas is over and the mess you’ll have to clean up after everyone leaves. Tree comes down, stockings get packed away, and you go back to your regular, boring life with no sparkle or magic.”

  I pause, realizing how ridiculous I sound.

  “I know, I sound like an ungrateful bitch, but I can’t help it,” I sigh. “I do have a great family and they do make everything more fun, but I just miss the magic of being little I guess.”

  Sam rests his chin on top of my head and traces soft circles with the tips of his fingers against my spine.

  “Favorite childhood memory, go,” he suddenly says.

  I smile, knowing immediately which one I’ll tell him about.

  “Going to my grandmother’s on Christmas Eve when Nicholas and I were little,” I admit quietly. “We’d pack up the car with her presents and a bunch of food and drive twenty minutes to her house on back country roads. My favorite part of the entire night was staring out of the fogged-up backseat window, up into the starry sky to try and see a flash of light from Santa’s sleigh. There was always this one house a few miles from my grandmother’s that was my absolute favorite house. They didn’t go crazy with their lights, they just had a white wooden sleigh and eight matching reindeer on their front lawn with a spotlight on everything and the reindeer in front had a red, blinking nose. My dad would shout when it came into view saying, ‘Look! We caught Santa in someone’s yard!’ Nicholas and I would bounce up and down in the back seat, freaking out.”

  I finish the story with a smile on my face, realizing it’s the first time I’ve thought of that memory without it making me sad and I know it’s because of the man who is holding me in his arms.

  What the hell am I going to do tomorrow when he leaves?

  There’s a sudden knock at the door and I sigh against Sam’s chest, wondering why in the hell all of my good moments are always interrupted.

  “Hey, guys,” Aunt Bobbie whispers loudly through the door. “Is there a squirrel wearing a sweater in your room?”

  I turn my head away from Sam and whisper-yell toward the door so I don’t wake up anyone else in the house. “Aunt Bobbie, stop it with the Ecstasy and go to bed!”

  “Okay. Got it. Ten-four. Over and out,” she says softly through the wood. “But if you do see a squirrel wearing a sweater, tell him he owes me fifty bucks.”

  I turn my head back toward Sam and rest it on his chest as he rolls to his back, staring out of the window across from us at the gently falling snow outside. The ring on my finger sparkles when it catches the light from the Christmas tree and I close my eyes with one last look at it, hoping Santa brings me some damn courage tomorrow to maybe tell Sam I don’t want him to go.

  Chapter 14

  Sam

  Socks.

  Blue socks, red socks, yellow socks, socks with cats on them, socks with footballs on them, and even socks that light up every time you take a step.

  Socks, socks, and more socks.

  I never expected to even get one present from Noel’s family, let alone twenty. Each brightly colored and wrapped box and package filled with every pair of socks they sell at every store within a twenty mile radius.

  Jesus, are those penises?

  “Those are penis socks! They’re from me,” Aunt Bobbie says as she blows me a kiss.

  “Have I apologized yet for telling them you had a thing for socks?” Noel whispers, leaning so close I can smell her cinnamon and vanilla scent, which I just found out is from some specialty lotion store after she opened three bottles of the stuff in her stocking.

  “I love the socks. It’s fine,” I reassure her, rubbing my hand against her back as her brother tosses another present in my direction and it lands on my lap.

  She looks at me like she doesn’t believe me, which is why I told her I loved her last night. After she fell asleep in my arms and couldn’t hear me whisper it in the darkness of her bedroom.

  She’d never believe I was telling the truth.

  Honestly, I don’t care if her family gives me a hundred pairs of socks, which going by the growing pile next to me on the floor of their living room, just might happen.

  I quietly open the small box in my lap whose tag says it’s from Nicho
las, while he also opens the ones from me that Noel handed to him from the pile between us.

  The laughter comes fast and loud when I see there’s an athletic cup nestled inside the box and I hold it up for the room to see when Nicholas holds up his A Christmas Story stocking cap and matching socks.

  “I figured you could use that the next time I go crazy with a Red Ryder,” Nicholas laughs, pulling the hat down over his head as I nod and tell him thank you for the cup.

  This morning has been nothing short of amazing and my words have been few and far between as I sit here with this family that isn’t mine, watching them enjoy the holiday together. Everyone’s wearing matching pajamas—with the exception of me, I was granted a reprieve due to the cock and balls situation last night and allowed to put on my plaid pajama pants and a t-shirt—the coffee table was pushed out of the room to allow for presents and bodies as we all sit around the tree drinking coffee, munching on cookies and opening presents to the soft sounds of Christmas music floating around us.

  This family is perfect. This woman next to me is perfect. Christmas is…dare I say it, perfect?

  I’m going to stop being a pussy once and for all and tell Noel how I feel the first minute we get to ourselves. I don’t want to let this feeling go. This feeling of warmth and happiness and contentment and belonging for the first time in my life. I want to hold onto it like the present in my hand and never let it go.

  The next hour is spent finishing opening up the massive amount of presents, followed by a quick clean-up of wrapping paper that was strewn from one end of the room to the other. While everyone busies themselves helping Bev in the kitchen get Christmas dinner ready, Noel grabs my hand and pulls me out into the hall and down by the front door.

  Shit, is she kicking me out? Is she telling me it’s been nice but it’s time for me to go? I’m not ready, dammit. I’M NOT READY!