by John, Ashley
Ben let it press against his lips for a moment, looking up into Cal’s eyes, just as Cal had done to him minutes earlier. Cal made it clear why he had asked Ben to lean against the couch when Ben opened his mouth. Cal’s hands gripped around the back of Ben’s head, pushing the thick cock deep into his mouth.
Breathing through his nose, he took the cock like a pro, despite his lack of practise. Cal tossed his head back, the veins in his neck under his beard fit to burst.
Tiny tears formed in the corners of Ben’s eyes as he tried to catch his breath. His own cock throbbed and pulsed below. Cal guided his cock into Ben’s mouth, speeding up with each thrust of his hips.
When he pulled out, he grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him up to his feet. He guided Ben’s hand down to his cock, and Cal grabbed Ben’s. Their tongues found their way into each other’s mouths and their hands did the final work.
Ben was the first to go, his body tensing and buckling under the weight of the most intense orgasm he had ever felt, no doubt strained by the release earlier in the day. Ben didn’t stop kissing Cal and soon, he was the same. They released onto each other, neither stopping until it was truly over.
“Sorry about the mess,” Cal whispered through a heavy smile, his eyes still closed.
Using Cal’s white t-shirt, they wiped up and collapsed onto the hearthrug under the fire. Ben wanted to stay up all night, talking to Cal and doing more of what they had just done. He tried to fight the sleepy haze by concentrating on the dancing flames but they only sent him further into sleep.
Eventually, he gave in, his heavy lids sealing and for the second time that day, he fell asleep in Cal’s arms.
Ben’s eyes shot open, bright light burning his pupils and freezing air stinging his skin. He shivered instantly, his jaw breaking free of his control. He blinked heavily and sat up, sure he was sitting in the snow.
“Cal. Cal, wake up,” Ben shook Cal’s shoulder.
They were both still naked on the rug but the fire had long since burned itself out. The cabin was a freezer and it had turned both of them an unhealthy shade of blue.
“Fuck!” was Cal’s first word of the day, “Oh, shit!”
He struggled to catch his breath, sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes. His cock was flaccid, but it still looked as impressive as it had done the night before. Ben grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch, the same one that Cal had wrapped around him when he had fallen asleep, and wrapped it around Cal’s shoulders. He gratefully accepted with a smile. There was no regret about what had happened the night before in his eyes. Ben found that a relief. He had woken up next to enough random men that he had met at the Student Union Bar to have seen that look of confusion more than once.
“Coffee?” Ben offered when he pulled the cream sweater back over his icy skin, his nipples ready to carve ice sculptures.
Ben found his way around the strange kitchen, finding the ground coffee and filter papers after a small hunt. Cal busied himself making a new fire cross-legged on the hearthrug with the blanket loosely around his shoulders. They were soon sitting on the rug together, boiling coffees in hand and a roaring fire on the sides of their face. It took at least ten minutes of drinking up the flames and coffee for the chill to leave Ben’s body.
“It’s still snowing,” Ben looked out of the window.
It was falling thick and fast and he doubted it had stopped at all over night. He could vaguely see a couple of trees outside, which was more than he had seen last night, but he hoped it was still enough to keep him there.
Still wearing nothing but the blanket, Cal stood, his cock hanging loosely without shame. He walked over to the door and opened it. A flurry of snow swept inside, threatening to blow out the fresh fire in the grate. Ben craned his neck over the couch to see at least a foot of solid snow at the base of the door. Could all of that have fallen overnight?
“It’s going to bury us,” Ben joined Cal at the door, wrapping his arms around his own body.
“When it stops, we’ll have to dig a path out,” Cal mused, “shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he smiled, “this is normal for me. They have snowploughs in the resort but they won’t come out here.”
Cal closed the door, and leaned against it, a smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying being snowed in and Ben couldn’t blame him. He returned the smile, wondering how many days they were going to spend repeating last night. His flight wasn’t until the day after Boxing Day, giving them plenty of time.
“Merry Christmas Eve,” Cal leaned in and kissed Ben on the lips.
Pulling on a pair of long johns and a black and red flannel shirt, he corrected his nakedness much to Ben’s disappointment. He dropped to his knees and pulled a long and damp cardboard box from under the bed.
“These were here when I moved in,” it was labelled ‘Noël’, “we can decorate. I mean, only if you want to?”
Ben had a squirm of childlike excitement when he saw the small Christmas tree, tinsel and baubles in the box. He grinned at Cal, who seemed relieved that Ben didn’t find the idea totally weird. Being locked away in the cabin, it was easy to forget it was the day before Christmas but Christmas had always been Ben’s favourite holiday. Most of his mates had lost the spark during puberty, but not Ben. He had managed to cling onto that excitement, even if he tried to hide it.
“Stack those books up,” Cal nodded to the large pile of books on the coffee table, “in that corner.”
Ben got to work making a makeshift table out of the old hardbacks, treating them with the respect they deserved. He examined each one, admiring the spines with a shudder of satisfaction. Cal set to work pulling out the branches on the sparse plastic tree. It couldn’t have been any bigger than three feet, but it was a Christmas tree.
“This is pathetic,” Cal shook the tree, plastic needles shuddering off the branches, “it’s naked.”
“Naked isn’t so bad. It’s better than nothing!”
“We’re in the middle of a forest full of pine trees,” Cal tossed the plastic tree onto the bed.
It collapsed and wilted in seconds. Hardly any of the needles had survived over the decades. Cal pulled a pair of skiing pants over his long johns, three pairs of thick socks and his heaviest boots. He pulled on a thick sweater, a hoodie and a thick skiing jacket along with earmuffs, a hat and his orange goggles.
“You can’t be serious?” Ben shook his head as he walked over, “This tree will do.”
“I’ll be two minutes,” Cal patted Ben on the shoulder, “I’ve trapped you here over Christmas so I’m going to make it special.”
“Trapped? You make it sound like you brought me here on purpose knowing there was a whiteout coming.”
“Maybe I did,” he grinned, “but I’ll never tell.”
If he had, Ben was glad. There was another door in the bathroom at the back of the house. Ben had wondered where it opened out to but he hadn’t dared open it. Cal retrieved a key from the top of the frame and yanked open the door. The shelter of the roof had kept most of the snow from collecting at the door like the front but it was still higher than Ben dared to venture out into.
“Pass me that axe,” Cal nodded into the corner.
Most bathrooms didn’t contain axes and firewood, but Cal’s did. Ben thought it added rustic charm to the place. He picked up the axe, surprised at how deceptively heavy it was. With a huff, he passed it to Cal, who lifted it with ease.
“You’re crazy,” Ben protested.
“I’ll be okay, Ben,” Cal snapped the goggles over his eyes and turned to the door where the snow had started flowing in, “I’ve worked here for four winters. This isn’t my first time at the whiteout rodeo.”
“Let me come with you then,” Ben stuffed his hands into his pockets, not wanting to let Cal leave, even if he probably did know how to look after himself.
“Wait for me in front of the fire,” Cal swung the heavy axe over his shoulder, “I’m going
to need something to hug when I get back in.”
He stepped into the thick snow with a crunch, his boots and trousers swallowed up by the white. It easily reached his knees but he seemed to know how to handle it. He took a couple of steps before closing the door behind him.
Feeling a sudden urge of insanity, Ben ran back into the main part of the cabin and copied Cal. He dug through his chunky oak wardrobe and pulled out as many clothes as he could. He was almost glad to get out of the suffocating heat when he stepped into the snow.
It was like jumping into thick honey. It felt heavy and solid and he wasn’t sure how he was going to move forward. In seconds, he felt frozen to the bone, despite the many layers. Taking in short breaths of the icy air, he peeked into the thick snow. It wasn’t as heavy as it had been when they woke up but it was still heavier than anything he had experienced back home.
“Cal?” he called out, sure he had made the wrong decision.
“Over here,” the sound came from his left.
He turned and squinted through the goggles, seeing the reflection of Cal’s own goggles and fur-lined hood. Taking each heavy step with caution, he yanked the scarf over his mouth and made his way through the snow.
“What are you doing?” Cal laughed, “I told you to wait for me. You’re gonna get yourself killed, Ben.”
“Better to go out together in style,” Ben wiped the snow from his goggles, “I’ve seen enough horror movies to know the odds of you coming back with a Christmas tree are slim.”
Cal looped his arm around Ben’s and pulled him through the snow. They walked for what felt like miles but Ben knew it couldn’t have been more than a few feet away from the cabin because he could still see it when he looked over his shoulder.
“What are we looking for?” Ben shivered.
“One that will fit through the door.”
It was like shopping in a virtual Christmas tree catalogue. Looming pine trees covered in snow stood tall over them, all double the height of the cabin. When Ben spotted a baby one in the mix, he pointed it out proudly to Cal.
“Good find,” Cal let go of Ben and waded toward it, “this is perfect.”
By anybody’s standards, it was still big. It stood a couple of inches bigger than Cal but it was big enough to fit in the small cabin.
“Won’t you get in trouble?”
“Look around you, Ben. These trees spread out for miles in every direction.”
Cal marked the tree at the base with the axe before swinging back and taking a chunk out. Watching as he hacked away at the tree’s trunk, it strangely turned Ben on. The snow shuddered off the needles, only to be replaced with fresh flakes seconds later. The tree eventually heaved and tumbled silently into the snow away from Cal. The snow was falling so thickly, it nearly buried the fallen tree in an instant.
As though it weighed nothing, Cal tucked the end of the tree under his arm and started to drag it through the snow. Ben now understood how Cal got his body.
Cal dragged it back to the cabin and Ben walked slowly in the path Cal was creating. They were soon pulling the needles through the bathroom door, bringing in half of the snow with them. When the door was closed behind them, Ben dared to pull the scarf and goggles off his face. He didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that his nose would be glowing like Rudolf.
When all of the snow had melted off the tree in the bath and they were both back into their jeans and sweaters, they sunk the tree into a base made of heavy hardbacks. When it was erect in the corner, they both stood back proudly and admired the tree. Its tip bent against the wooden roof, causing Cal to drag over the couch so he could snip off the top with a knife.
“Time to decorate,” Cal patted Ben on the shoulders.
They spent the next hour meticulously digging through the tinsel, baubles and ornaments, selecting the best of what had been left behind. They worked well as a team and talked about past Christmases.
“Mom loved Christmas. She loved the holidays. The second Halloween was over, she was getting ready for Thanksgiving and Christmas. She was such a good cook. I’d give anything to taste her pumpkin pie one last time.”
“My mum’s a good cook too. She always puts on a feast. She doesn’t make pumpkin pie but her Christmas pudding is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I’ll have to try it sometime,” said Cal.
“You will.”
Just like that, Ben had invited Cal to Christmas. It was a casual invitation but it gave Ben a glimmer of hope that whatever they had wasn’t going to die the second he got on a plane. Standing on the couch with Cal’s hands wrapped around his waist, as he leaned forward to cram the angel on the top, he hated the thought that what they had was just a passing fling in the snow. Things had happened so fast but it felt like there had never been a life before the cabin. Of course, he knew Jonny and Oxford were waiting for him when he got back to England, but right now, his life was with Cal in the cabin and it was forever going to be Christmas. It was a warming fantasy he would happily live within forever.
Cal wrapped the lights, that he had spent the last couple of hours untangling, around the tree and plugged them into an extension cord he had trailed from the couple of sockets in the kitchen. They spluttered into life, elevating the faded tinsel and dented baubles. It was nothing like the trees in the displays at John Lewis, but it was so much better than that.
As darkness fell on the cabin once more, they cuddled on the sofa and watched the tree, swapping stories from their childhood. Ben could listen to Cal talk about his life for hours. His voice was so rich and deep, it filled each tale with heart and character. It was intoxicating and hypnotic.
Ben hated to think that in a couple of days, he wouldn’t even be in the same country as Cal. He wanted to take that voice home with him.
“Christmas cookies?” Ben looked puzzled.
“Christmas cookies!” Cal pulled a tray from one of the cluttered drawers in the kitchen, “It was always a tradition with my mom. Every year we’d make Christmas cookies on Christmas Eve for Santa. Even when I stopped believing, we’d still do it.”
“Do you have the ingredients?”
Cal opened the single cupboard on the wall and pulled out a bag of flour and a bag of brown sugar. He dug through the third drawer down and produced a small jar of cinnamon sticks and a rolling pin. Butter came from the fridge and before Ben knew it, they had all of the ingredients for Christmas cookies in front of him.
“Measuring scales?” Ben narrowed his eyes on Cal.
“Scales!” he pulled them out of one of the cupboards and placed them proudly next to the flour, “It’ll be fun. You said you wanted to learn to cook, didn’t you, Ben?”
“I suppose,” Ben scratched the side of his head, unsure that he had the skill to make anything outside of his usual microwave food.
Cal measured the flour and sugar and cut up the butter into small chunks. He handed Ben a glass bowl and stepped back, folding his arms.
“What?” Ben looked down into the bowl, “No!”
“I’ll talk you through it,” Cal stepped around to the other side of the counter and climbed onto his bed so he could lean over, “start with the sugar.”
Ben placed the glass bowl on the counter with shaky hands. He wiped an invisible sweat from his brow and looked down at the different ingredients in front of him. He picked up the brown sugar and dumped it into the bowl. It didn’t look like cookies yet.
“Okay,” Ben folded his arms, “what now?”
“Add the flour.”
Ben added the flour, disappointed that Christmas cookies didn’t suddenly sprout from the bowl.
“Now add the butter chunks and rub together.”
“Rub?”
“Like this,” Cal rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, “you want to make breadcrumbs.”
“I thought we were making cookies?” he locked his fingers behind his head, looking at the butter lumps in the flour and sugar.
Reluctantly, he dove his
fingers into the mixture and copied the motion that Cal had showed him. To his surprise, the three ingredients started to bind to form little blobs of butter, flour and sugar.
“How does this make cookies?”
Cal opened the fridge and cracked a single egg into the mixture, the slime coating Ben’s fingers. He carried on rubbing and it started to form dough. Cal sprinkled in some white powder, which he said was baking soda. Using a grater, he shaved down a single stick of cinnamon into the mix, which was now a full ball of dark brown dough.
“My mom’s favourite trick,” Cal sprinkled a generous amount of salt into the mixture, “gives it a little kick.”
When Cal said it was ready to be rolled out, he cleared the counter, dumping the bowls in the sink for washing later. He sprinkled a handful of flour on the wood surface and nodded to Ben to continue.
The dough fell onto the flour with a thud and Cal quickly handed him a rolling pin. The more Ben rolled, the more into it he got. His tongue stuck out at one point and it caused a laugh to leave Cal’s lips.
“I’ll do this bit,” Cal pulled a small knife from a drawer, “Christmas trees or snowmen?”
Ben looked over to the tree, knowing there was only one answer.
“Christmas trees.”
“Good choice,” Cal slapped him playfully on the backside, “grease that tray with some butter and turn on the oven.”
As Cal started to delicately carve Christmas trees without a cutter, Ben rubbed butter into the metal and figured out the oven without asking for help. Cal placed a dozen perfectly identical brown Christmas trees onto the buttered tray.
“You just made cookies,” Cal placed them in the oven and set the timer, “feel proud?”
“A little, actually,” Ben laughed, “it was easier than I thought it would be. I was waiting for the bit where I had to jump through hoops.”
“Hoops,” Cal wrapped his hands around Ben’s neck, pulling his face in, “adventurous. You’ve got a little flour on your nose. Here – let me.”