Cabin Nights

by John, Ashley

  Cal brought his hand around to Ben’s face and flicked his finger against the end of it. Instead of taking off flour, he added more.

  “Shit,” he winked with a laugh, “my bad.”

  “Oh, that’s how you want to play?”

  Ben dunked his hand in the open bag of flour, took a small handful and fired it into Cal’s face. Instead of hitting him in the nose, it landed directly in his mouth, as he was about to say something. He spat it out, a cloud of white burst through his lips, mimicking the snow outside. It sprinkled down his beard and onto the floor.

  “I -,” Ben mumbled, unsure of what to do next.

  Cal reached around him and into the bag of flour. Ben was about to duck out of the way but he knew he needed to take his punishment like a man. A generous helping of flour sprinkled down onto his head, covering him more than he expected.

  “This simply won’t do,” Cal mimicked a Mary Poppins accent, “we must get clean at once.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “There’s only one thing for it,” he looped his flour-covered fingers into Ben’s and pulled him toward the bathroom, “we need to shower.”

  “I’m guessing we’re showering together, to y’know, save water.”

  “Exactly,” Cal threw a smile over his shoulder, “save water.”

  They stripped each other in a hurry, the cold bathroom air pricking their skin. Cal ripped back the white shower curtain and turned on the ancient shower. It shot out ice cold water for a couple of seconds. The pipes creaked, the water pressure slowed down and steam slowly filled the cold bathroom.

  “After you,” said Cal when they were both completely naked.

  Ben stepped into the shower carefully, not wanting to slip and embarrass himself. Before he could get under the water to wash away the flour, Cal was joining him in the bath. He was spun around, pressed against the glacial tiles and kissed so passionately, it created an instant hardening below.

  Before the kiss could go any further, Cal produced a large bar of yellow soap. He started to rub it over his own chest, the water and soap creating a lemon-scented foam. He rubbed it under his arms, over his face and thighs, not missing an inch. Instead of handing the soap to Ben, he did the same to him.

  With delicate fingers, he rubbed the soap over Ben’s smooth chest, taking his time to go down his stomach. He ran the bar across Ben’s hard cock, jerking it as he did. When he crouched down to wash Ben’s legs, he gently kissed Ben’s soapy tip. It was strangely sensual for Ben to be washed. He was shivering against the tiles, despite the hot water, but he didn’t care. He had never wanted to be this intimate with another human being before and he couldn’t think of one thing that he didn’t want to do with Cal.

  “Me and Mom used to make wishes every Christmas Eve,” Cal pulled Ben away from the tiles to run the soap over his shoulders, his mouth lingering by his ear, “I usually wish to talk to her, just for a couple of minutes, but I’ve wished for something else this year.”

  “What did you wish for?” Ben’s voice trembled, his cock pushing up against Cal’s soapy stomach.

  Cal’s hands travelled down to the small of Ben’s back. He ran the soapy hand over each cheek, making sure to give each equal attention. Cal teased him by slipping the soap between his cheeks for a split second. Ben’s cock ached for the one thing they were yet to do.

  “I wished this whiteout would last longer,” Cal kissed Ben’s neck, “longer than you’re supposed to be here. I don’t want you to go.”

  “I don’t want to go either,” Ben meant it, “I wish I could stay here forever.”

  “Even I don’t stay here forever,” Cal’s kisses deepened on his neck.

  “Where are you going next?”

  Cal kissed slowly, before turning Ben around so that his front was against the tiles. He shuddered when the tip of his cock hit the still cold tiles. Tilting Ben’s head, Cal kissed him gently on the lips. Ben felt something hard slide between his cheeks, aided by the soap.

  “Who knows,” Cal whispered, his arms wrapping around Ben’s middle, “maybe it’s time for that trip to England.”

  Ben was about to reach around to guide the cock into him, not caring that soap probably wasn’t going to work as lube. Before he could, the pipes creaked, the water pressure increased and ice-cold water drowned them both. Ben stopped breathing and his cock turned soft in a millisecond. Cal reacted fast but it felt like they were in the water for an age before he turned it off.

  When they dried off and redressed, Cal lead Ben to the fireplace. Cal sat cross-legged, his arms wrapped around Ben’s shoulders. They sat staring into the flames, Cal’s slow and soft kisses brushing against Ben’s neck every now and then.

  They stayed silent like that, enjoying the feeling of being together, without the need for words. Neither moved until the smell of burning Christmas cookies filled the tiny cabin.

  “I told you I couldn’t cook,” Ben teased.

  “Never mind,” Cal whispered warmly into his ear, “I’m sure we can try again next Christmas.”

  Ben wondered if that was an empty statement because it didn’t feel like one. He wanted to take Cal home with him. Ben didn’t want to have Cal just for Christmas.

  Christmas morning in the cabin was unlike any Christmas morning Ben had ever had before. He wasn’t woken up by his little sister jumping on his bed, nor the smell of his mum’s early morning special Christmas bacon sandwiches. He was awoken with a mouth around his cock, on the verge of the best dream and the strangest orgasm he had ever experienced. By the time he fully awoke and realised what was happening, Cal’s head appeared under the sheets with a cheeky grin plastered across his lips.

  “Merry Christmas,” Cal whispered, “hope you don’t mind. The alarm clock isn’t working.”

  Ben pulled Cal up to his face to kiss him, the taste of his Christmas morning surprise fresh on his lips. Cal rested his chin on Ben’s chest, his beard digging into his skin in a way that he didn’t find completely unpleasant.

  “Merry Christmas,” Ben croaked, his throat huskier than expected.

  He guessed that was from another cold night, not that he had noticed because he had been spooned by Cal from the second they had gotten into bed. The fire was already roaring in the grate and the smell of roasting meat drifted from the kitchen.

  “What time is it?” Ben forced himself to sit up causing Cal to drift down to lay in his lap.

  Cal beamed up at Ben, excitement in his heartfelt eyes, “About ten, but I was up with the sunrise. I always wake up early on Christmas.”

  “Me too, usually,” Ben rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair off his forehead, “but I was having such a nice dream.”

  “What was this dream about?”

  Ben thought for a second, the bizarre images swirling around in his mind, already slipping away from him. He could remember Cal, a cabin and a Christmas tree.

  “It was this,” Ben looked around the cabin, noticing something new fastened to the mantelpiece, “exactly as it is now.”

  “That’s not a dream.”

  “It was,” Ben sat up further, stretching out and scratching under his armpit, “and it ended in the best way possible.”

  “I had to give you something for Christmas,” Cal shrugged, “I figured head would be a good place to start.”

  “Start?” Ben noticed that the things pinned to the mantelpiece were Christmas stockings.

  Had Cal been out to the resort, or to the village? Ben cast his eye to the nearest window next to the front door and it didn’t look like the snow had eased off. He could only imagine how far up the door the snow would be now.

  “Santa has visited,” Cal jumped up, completely naked, “and he even ate your charcoal cookies.”

  “Santa?” Ben stood up, pulling the bed sheet around his shoulders, “How did he get in? Through the window?”

  “That would be dumb,” Cal rolled his eyes, “everybody knows Santa comes down the chimney.”

  He wandered ov
er to the fire, pulling down a stocking and handing it to Ben. It was nothing more than an old, long sock that didn’t smell particularly clean. It even had a small knot in the end, which he figured was to stop whatever was inside falling through a hole.

  Ben didn’t care that it was a smelly old sock. Just the very idea that Cal had attempted to do something for him on Christmas meant more to him than anything he had ever received on Christmas day before.

  “I had to be thrifty,” Cal collapsed into the couch, “but I gave us the same.”

  “I thought Santa brought them?” Ben collapsed next to him, wrapping the sheet around both of their shoulders.

  “Shit, you’ve caught me,” he held his hands up, “we don’t get eBay deliveries out here, so don’t judge me too harshly.”

  Clutching the sock and not even looking inside, Ben leaned in and kissed Cal softly, whispering thank you as he did. He imagined his family at home, sitting around the tree and opening expensive presents. He probably had a small pile waiting for him on his return but he didn’t care. Five minutes into his first Christmas abroad and it was already the best. He did feel slightly guilty about not spending it with Jonny like he was supposed to, but he knew Louise would probably be keeping him busy.

  He reached into the sock and pulled out an orange, which Cal told him was an old family tradition. He then pulled out a small tin, filled with hot chocolate mixture, a small packet of digestive biscuits and two small pieces of paper filled with flowing artistic handwriting.

  “Sex coupons?” Ben held them up.

  “Don’t spend them all at once,” Cal laughed, nudging him with his shoulder.

  “My only question is, why only two?”

  “Four,” Cal pulled two out of his stocking with a wink, “I hear you can get double points at happy hour.”

  “I’ll look out for it.”

  Ben rested his head on Cal’s shoulder, feeling a sudden wave of sadness. He loved Christmas but he knew that Christmas day meant he was nearing the end of his Alps trip. Tomorrow would be Boxing Day and the day after, he would be leaving in the morning. Ben would be home in Oxford and back studying before he knew it and his time in Cal’s cabin would feel like a detached memory. Even though he didn’t want to leave, he knew he couldn’t throw away his expensive education. He still had his dreams and his goals, but he unexpectedly felt Cal worming his way into them.

  No matter how many times he told himself it was just a fun little fling, prolonged by unexpected weather, that notion didn’t sit right with him.

  “I know you Brits eat turkey on Christmas day but they’re in short supply, so we’re having ham.”

  “You’re making Christmas dinner?”

  “It wouldn’t be Christmas without food,” Cal stood up, ridding his naked body of the sheet, “we’ll just have to eat it on our knees because there’s no table.”

  He sauntered over to the kitchen, his perfect buttocks shifting and bouncing as he did. Ben looked down at the sex coupons in his hand, knowing they were a joke but still wanting to cash them in as quickly as possible. Cal bent over, checked the contents of the oven and closed it again with a satisfied nod.

  “It’s a shame you don’t have a TV,” Ben looked into the empty corner adjacent to the Christmas tree, “I’ve never missed a Queen’s speech.”

  “Queen’s speech?” Cal laughed.

  “Yeah, she makes a speech every Christmas and they put it on TV. It’s a bit dull, really, but we watch it every year.”

  “That’s so funny,” Cal squinted, shaking his head, “what does she talk about? Tea, scones and Corgis?”

  Cal’s mock British accent sounded like no British person Ben had ever met, but he still laughed. It sounded like the type of bad British accent he would hear on US shows on Netflix when they were too cheap to hire a real British actor.

  “She mainly talks about family, charity and bringing people together. It’s quite sweet actually.”

  “The president back home does something similar, but it’s more robotic. They always talk about how money isn’t important at the holidays and how family is what Christmas is all about, tiptoeing around mentioning any religion or wars. They say all of this while making cuts everywhere they can and sitting in their expensive suits in their cosy oval office, with most of the country in poverty, struggling to get decent medical care and housing. It’s sickening. Who knows, maybe in the time I’ve been gone, things have changed?”

  Using one of the many cartons of UHT milk, Cal helped Ben make the hot chocolate. After adding a little sugar and a cinnamon stick, it was the perfect warming treat for such a cold morning. The snow was still falling thick and fast but sitting under a blanket and nuzzling into Cal’s side he wouldn’t have known it.

  The unusual Christmas continued through the rest of the day. They shared stories about family, friends and everything in between, they made multiple cups of hot chocolate, they prepared the food for the dinner and Ben didn’t feel like he was missing out on anything. He wasn’t fighting with his dad for the remote or watching his nan drift off in the armchair but it was very much Christmas; one that he wasn’t going to forget.

  “Here, hold the door open and I’ll lift it out,” Cal wiped the steam from his face after quickly closing the oven door, “she’s done!”

  Ben rushed over, shrugging off the blanket and dropping the book he was three chapters into. Poirot could wait but from the excitement in Cal’s voice, the food couldn’t.

  Using an old tea towel that would have been ready for the bin in most people’s homes, Cal slowly lifted the huge tray from the tiny oven, careful not to spill any of the juices over the edge. Ben had never had anything other than turkey at Christmas but his stomach grumbled and moaned for the rich and somewhat sweet aroma that rapidly occupied the cabin.

  “How did that thing fit in the oven?”

  “It’s bigger on the inside,” Cal heaved as he slid the tray onto the counter with delicate precision.

  The parsnips and the roast potatoes were still in the oven, so Ben pulled them out while Cal carved up the cured ham, ready to be dished out onto the waiting chipped plates. It was amazing how much Cal had in the back of his cupboards that would help to make a Christmas dinner, but Ben was a student so he knew how quickly you could collect food, especially when it was cheap. Along with the potatoes and parsnips, both of which had been glazed in generous helpings of honey before cooking, they had beef gravy and stuffing balls.

  When everything was plated up, Cal pulled two candle filled jars from his nightstand, “I only use these for special occasions because they were a gift and they smell amazing.”

  The second he unscrewed the metal lids, Ben could smell the strong cherry and cinnamon. It was perfect for Christmas and he was flattered that Cal would burn the fresh wick for him.

  Instead of sitting in front of the fire and eating on their knees, they sat face to face on the bed and ate using pillows so their food was slightly raised. It was almost like they were sitting at a fabric table. When Ben was cross-legged on the bed, facing Cal with the two candles flickering behind him on the edge of the counter, he closed his eyes for a split second and burned the image in his memory.

  “This looks amazing,” Ben picked up his knife and fork.

  And it was. The parsnips were soft and fragrant, the potatoes crunchy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, the ham melted in his mouth and the gravy that topped everything off, even though made from granules, was rich and hearty. They ate slowly, even though Ben could tell that Cal was trying to devour it as quickly as possible. It was the biggest meal either of them had eaten since the whiteout had started and it showed. Ben didn’t stop eating until he had scraped every single drop of gravy and every crumb of stuffing from the very edges of the plate.

  When they were both finished, Cal stacked and pushed the plates onto his cluttered nightstand, propped the pillows back at the top of the bed and leaned back with his hands behind his head and a smile on his lips. His normally fl
at stomach was raised through his t-shirt, looking exactly how Ben felt.

  “What’s for dessert?” Ben whispered, joining Cal at the top of the small bed.

  “We always have those sex coupons.”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Ben laughed softly, half joking, half deadly serious.

  They lay silently, listening to the crackle of the fire and the Christmas music on the radio. It was familiar Christmas carols but sung in a language and a pitch new to Ben, giving them an odd new vibe. When Ben rolled over and placed his hand on Cal’s chest, ready to see if those sex coupons had any real value, the lights flickered and the radio produced ear-deafening static. Instead of bouncing straight back, they faded out to nothing, leaving the fire and the candles to do all of the work. The corners of the cabin descended into darkness as the sun quickly fell out of the sky. Ben waited for Cal to break the silence.

  “I’ve been waiting for that,” he heaved himself up with a sigh, “the generator’s empty.”

  “Empty? Empty how?”

  “We’re off the grid here, so it’s a gasoline generator. Gotta go out and fill it up.”

  “Outside?” Ben joined Cal in sitting at the edge of the bed, “Do you have spare gas?”

  “Plenty,” he nodded, “and yes, outside. It’s probably buried but the thing is so hot, it keeps itself ticking along under the snow. I was hoping it was going to see us through until tomorrow but I don’t usually spend so much time here with the lights on.”

  Even on a full stomach, the prospect of going outside again didn’t entertain Ben. It didn’t sound like it was going to be an easy job that would let Cal run outside into the freezing cold and run back in. Cal opened his wardrobe and started to dress in the same clothes he had pulled out when they had gone in search of the Christmas tree.

  “I’m coming with you,” Ben joined him, “no questions.”

  “I was counting on it,” Cal winked, “it’s going to be a two man job to dig us out of here.”

  This time, there was no sneaking out of the back door and walking around. The generator was at the front of the cabin, attached to the left corner. When Cal opened the door, Ben stopped breathing for a second. He pulled the heavy earmuffs over his lobes and yanked the hood low over his eyes. With a shovel each, they stood and looked at the solid snow. It was a solid wall of ice moulded around the wood grain of the door. Cal stabbed his shovel into the untouched snow, causing it to crumble into the cabin.