In this Bed of Snowflakes we Lie

by Sophia Soames

  “Come eat,” Erik whispers. “Then, I will throw them all out and take you to bed and give you the best attempt of a blowjob you have ever had.”

  “The only blowjob I have ever had.” Oskar giggles.

  “First of many.” Erik laughs. “Is Naomi okay?”

  “Victor is sitting with her. I’ll go check on her in a bit.”

  “Good. He needs her. He is so lost. He just needs someone to need him. He is one of those people who has so much to give, but doesn’t know how to give it. I think he would be good for her, and she would be so good for him. If they can just talk and hang out, maybe it would be a good start?”

  Oskar could reply. He could go into a long discussion about Naomi and her needs and how another man in her life would probably be as good for her as a hole in the head, but Erik... Erik is just right. As always. Erik, who kisses him and is holding him and whose fingertip is under the elastic in Oskar’s joggers, and Oskar is now braving up to just pull his damn pants down and shove his cock down Erik’s throat like some feral alpha male in a Game of Thrones episode, or something.

  “Come eat,” Erik begs and tugs at the elastic. Whilst Oskar’s cock is turning everything that comes out of Erik’s mouth into something dirty, full of promises. Yes, he will eat. Then he will get blown. Then he wants to blow Erik. Then he wants... Fuck.

  “Food,” Oskar whispers. “Then sex.”

  “Absolutely,” Erik whispers back, the smile on his face wider than ever. “Lots of sex. Naked. In your bed.”

  “Epic.” Oskar laughs. He is fucking ridiculous. He just doesn’t care anymore.

  Erik knows. He does. He understands. He just needs to do this.

  It’s probably selfish in a way, but fuck, if he can just make a start here, in the safety of the people who he kind of thinks of as family, then maybe, maybe he can make this right. Make things work for both of them.

  So what, if he practically drags Oskar out in the kitchen? The boy needs to eat. They both need to eat.

  And, so what if Oskar is terrified? He shouldn’t be. Because Erik is right there, his hand supportively on the small of Oskar’s back as he pushes him around the table and makes introductions to the boys, who are enthusiastically shaking Oskar’s hand whilst tucking into the boxes of food on the table in front of them. All served with plastic spoons on kitchen roll.

  “Classy shit, this.” Mikael laughs and hands Oskar a sheet of festive-patterned kitchen roll. “Less washing up. We just stuff everything in the bin. Done.” He wipes his hands and hands Oskar a warm flatbread, whilst Erik shuffles nervously behind him.

  “Sit, my friend,” Adam says, and puts his hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Eat, dude. You look like you are about to faint.”

  “Been a long day,” Erik lies. Again. He has to stop this fucking lying, because it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

  “Good Christmas then, everyone?” Carlos wonders, and shoves another mouthful in his mouth. “I love your mum, Mikael. She can come cook for us anytime.”

  “Remember in May when she travelled down and cooked up that big feast upstairs? She was horrified at the state of the fridge, so she went down to Grønland on the bus and bought all these ingredients and filled the freezer with little bags of rice and stews and bread. We lived like kings.” Jakob is smiling, and the others are all nodding in agreement.

  “Yeah, we all lived like kings for about a week until you lot had finished everything and then we were back on noodles again. She’s coming down in February, she promised.” Mikael is smiling, and Adam is just looking at Mikael again, with that little smile that Erik envies. The smile that tells a million stories.

  It says, “I love you.” It says, “I am so fucking proud that you are mine.” It kind of says, “please,” as well. “Please just love me as much as I love you, because without you my life would just fall apart.” So many things in just one look. And now Erik has that. Well, he hopes he has that. He looks over at Oskar who is nervously picking up a piece of lamb with his fingers, then relaxing as the taste hits his tongue.

  Erik can almost taste it—the rich spices, the saltiness and chilli coming through as an afterthought—when Oskar bites into the tender meat. He picks up his own meat, but it kind of grows in his mouth. He can barely swallow it.

  “Boys?” he calls out, whilst a bead of sweat falls down his forehead. He needs to do this. Get it over and done with before he loses the plot.

  The table falls silent. All eyes on him. And he looks over at Oskar. Reaches out and carefully places his hand on Oskar’s, right there on the top of the table. His eyes pleading. Trying to say, “I’m sorry but please let me do this. For me. Because I need to start somewhere, and this is the only place to start. Because I love you. Please.”

  “Thank you for helping. You were brilliant. Honestly. Thank you.”

  There are mumbles around the table. Supportive words and easy nods. They would have helped. Anytime. Of course. Always.

  “I took food down for Victor and his princess-girl, they’re fine,” Jakob says, and everyone nods again, looking expectantly at Erik, like he is supposed to tell them what happens now. Like he is supposed to have all the answers.

  He usually does. He is usually the ringmaster. The one with the ideas. The one who pulls the strings.

  They expect him to take the lead, to be the one who keeps them moving. The one who makes them all laugh with his stupid, reckless little stunts.

  “Oskar and I are together,” Erik says. And his heart is beating so fast that he can barely breathe for the static that is whizzing in his ears. “I love him. He’s my boyfriend, and I love him.” Then he finally breathes out. There is no going back now. “He’s the best thing that has ever happened to me, he is kind and funny and wonderful and he makes me happy. I just need you to know. That he is with me, and I am with him.”

  “We kind of knew that,” Jakob says, his voice low and kind. “You have kind of been obsessed with him for a while. Good on you.”

  Erik barely knows who is speaking. They’re all kind of speaking at the same time, and now he feels a little bit dizzy.

  “Finally.”

  “Yay!”

  “Cool.”

  There are nods. Words of kindness. Laughter. But it is kind laughter.

  “Good man,” Ammar says and drags Erik up from his chair, enfolding him in a hug. “You deserve it. Be happy, dude.”

  “Here.” Someone is handing him a drink. “You look a bit pale.”

  He drinks. Not that he knows what it is, but he takes a gulp from the glass handed to him and looks over at Oskar. He barely dares to. Doesn’t know what he will get.

  They didn’t quite talk about this. Telling everyone. Well, they mentioned it. Kind of. And now Erik has kind of outed them to everyone. Just like that.

  “HEEEEEYYYYYYYY!” They all turn around to find Carolina standing behind them, with her suitcase and a massive grin on her face. “Who said you lot could party down here? And who forgot to invite me?” She wiggles her hips and throws her coat on the floor! “Bring me food, slaves. Queen Carolina has arrived!”

  Everyone laughs, the chatter and giggles filling the room, and Erik finally dares to look. Meet Oskar’s eyes.

  Oskar who is sitting there with the biggest smile on his face. His eyes all twinkling and proud. Oskar looks proud. He looks so fucking happy and proud and gorgeous and Erik can't stop himself. He leans over and presses his lips to Oskar. Hard and fast and arms and they are kissing and it’s hard to kiss, because he is smiling so much that his kissing is just a mess. All teeth and lips and their noses pressed against each other.

  “You’re mine too,” Oskar says.

  Oskar can’t stop smiling, nor can he stop the kind of stupidly half-crying he’s got going on. He loves this Erik. This brave, crazy, strong, wonderful Erik, who just sits there smiling as Oskar kisses him again. Lots of little uncoordinated kisses all over his face. On his lips. His cheeks. His cheekbones. Top of his eyes. He loves him.

&nbs
p; “Oh, fucking hell. You two? You really are fucking, aren’t you?” Carolina shouts above the chatter from the table and again everything falls quiet as all eyes are on them. On Erik. And on Oskar, who climbs onto Erik’s lap, his arms around his neck, clinging to his boyfriend like an over-friendly monkey.

  “Hell, yes.” Oskar laughs. “Of course, we are.”

  He doesn’t know how to stop now that he has started. He doesn’t know how he has become this brave. How he is kind of calm about all this. With all these people sitting around the table, back to chatting and laughing and eating like there is nothing wrong. Like this is normal. Like this is a thing he could get used to.

  He thinks maybe he was wrong all along. Maybe these guys aren’t that bad. They are just humans. Pretty decent humans, he thinks as he looks down the table. The blonde one, he thinks his name is Mathias giving him a friendly smile. Well this Mathias is lifting his beer can up, nodding at Oskar and giving him a thumbs-up, like he is a friend, then winking when Oskar smiles back.

  So, he does what he knows he needs right now. He wraps his arms around Erik’s neck and breathes in the scent of his hair. Squeezes him and holds him and Erik does that thing on Oskar’s back with his hands. Slow strong strokes and Oskar would purr if he could. Stay here where it’s safe. With Erik.

  “Come on. Take me to bed, baby,” Erik whispers.

  And Oskar just nods. This. This here. Fuck. He laughs out loud.

  What the hell just happened to his life?

  “Night boys,” Erik shouts to the table as he drags Oskar towards the door. “Keep it quiet and fucking clean up.”

  “Somewhere you boys need to be?” Hassan shouts, and everyone roars with laughter as Erik sticks his middle finger up.

  “Love you guys,” Erik shouts back, and Oskar can’t help himself. He just laughs. He lets Erik drag him down the corridor, his hand in his. Laughter spilling out of his mouth and happiness fluttering in his stomach.

  “Come on, baby, let’s go get naked.” Erik laughs.

  “Blowjob time.” Oskar giggles.

  “I’m going to blow your fucking mind,” Erik whispers back.

  And Oskar thinks, You already have baby. You’ve blown it out of the water.

  This being naked in bed is pretty cool, and to be honest it feels liberating. Oskar has never slept naked. Never liked the bareness.

  It has never felt safe, whilst now, he never wants to wear clothes again. Not when he is lying flat on his back with his legs spread out for the world to see, and Erik is pressing little kisses down his chest and Oskar’s cock is right in the game. Throbbing and filling and tapping against his groin as Erik’s fingers are dancing over his skin. Little feather-light touches on his hips. Stroking gently over his bellybutton, circling the skin around his nipples, teasing, denying him what he really wants.

  Fuck! He wants.

  He wants Erik to touch him. As long as Erik touches him, he is fine. And touching.

  God.

  He loves touching. Not that he can reach very much right now, where his fingers are back tangled in Erik’s hair. Pushing him closer and guiding his mouth to where he needs him.

  He said. He promised. Him. Ugh.

  “Tell me what you need. You need to tell me what feels good,” Erik whispers.

  “Jhjjjslllslskk,” Oskar moans. Because there are lips on the head of his cock. Soft kisses over his slit. And Oskar arches his hips, because there is just no way he can’t. He feels like a puppet where Erik is holding the strings. Every little touch making his body do things he just can’t control. Like his legs that are kicking off even though Erik is straddling him and pushing all his weight on his limbs. They still jerk and kick with every little lick of Erik’s tongue, flicking over his skin. Over the foreskin, teasing the soft, loose skin around the opening. Little licks up and down his shaft. Then open-mouthed kisses over his balls. And Oskar is making sounds, noises, and spilling out words that make no sense at all.

  “Do you mind if I play with your balls?” Erik asks, his fingers moving gently over the taut skin. Rolling Oskar’s testicles between his fingers. And Oskar moans in response, because he can’t speak in proper words if he tries. Instead he mumbles and blubbers out sounds like he is speaking in tongues, attending some wild and wacky church service where everyone is off their heads.

  Well, he is definitely off his head. Erik, because he’s got one of Oskar’s balls in his mouth, sucking gently and pulling a little and Oskar isn’t quite sure that this is his thing, but he wiggles his hips and Erik lets him go with a little pop.

  “Ball play. You can do it to me, I kind of dig it.” Erik giggles. Then he opens his mouth and just stares at Oskar. Oskar who stares back. He wants to watch. But he doesn’t. Because he is, no doubt, about to truly embarrass himself.

  He is close. It’s not going to take much.

  He is beautiful, Erik thinks. All wild and unhinged and craning his neck up so he can watch. Which is hot. It’s fucking hot. He is grateful for the light, because if the room was dark, he would miss all these amazing little things. Like the blush on Oskar’s chest. The way his breath is making his lungs pump. How his mouth is hanging open and how he closes his eyes when Erik lets his lips close around the head of his cock.

  He tastes just as he looks. Fucking delicious.

  There is salty fluid spilling into Erik’s mouth, and soft throbbing against his tongue. Just like the little jerks of his own cock where he is trying to hold back. He knows. He knows this feeling. The last seconds of almost-painful pleasure before he falls over the edge and swan dives into orgasm. It’s dizzying being the one to do this, making someone come.

  Sex was never like this before, and, to be honest, Erik doesn’t think he has ever had sex sober. He’s never been so hellbent on making someone feel good, and right now he is freaking acing it as Oskar lets out another desperate moan.

  It’s a heady feeling, being able to do this. To make someone he loves fall apart, and to have someone trust him enough to do this, to let go and just lie back and feel. Because Oskar’s head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed, and Erik may need to have words about this hair pulling, because he quite likes to have his hair attached to his head, and Oskar seems to have this thing for burying his hands in Erik’s scalp and tugging at it.

  Not that Erik minds. But still. He doesn’t want to go bald, however hot this bossy version of Oskar is. The one that pushes his head down, making Oskar’s cock slide into Erik’s mouth.

  He’s big. It’s not comfortable. But, fuck, it’s mind-blowingly awesome and so freaking sexy, the way Oskar clearly loses the plot. His hips are jerking and his legs kicking out and Erik doesn’t want this to stop. This helpless desperation in Oskar’s body as he starts to slowly bob his head. Up and down. Using his tongue to create movement. Licking the head as he comes off, flicking his tongue, and then taking him all the way down in one steady stroke as Oskar roars up above him. Shakes and shouts and tugs at Erik’s hair to the point that it is a little bit painful.

  Not that Erik minds. He’s hard. Very, very hard. And if he leans his shoulder just so, he can use one hand to work the base of Oskar’s cock, steady strokes in tune with his mouth, and the other hand.

  Oh yeah. Here we go. Much better.

  He swallows Oskar down and starts pumping his own cock in time with his mouth. Slow and steady with his mouth sucking around the tip. His other hand moving faster. The familiar feeling rushing closer as Oskar seems to get louder and louder. Tugging and pushing. Shouting that he loves him. He is pretty sure that is what Oskar is shouting. He loves him. It’s a bit hard to hear with all the noises rushing through Erik’s head. The sound of his mouth. The drool dripping from his chin. The salty taste on his tongue and the scent of Oskar. All musky and soft and Erik loves this.

  “Stop!” Oskar shouts, and then he pushes Erik’s head away.

  He is sitting up, all wild and unhinged and glassy eyed and his cock wet from spit, and, oh God. Erik wants to just eat him up. Kiss
him and touch him, and fuck, please let me suck your cock again.

  “I want you to fuck me.” Oskar looks determined. Perhaps slightly unhinged, but very determined.

  “We don’t have to do everything in one night, baby,” Erik tries. “It’s a big thing to have anal sex. Not everyone likes it and I don’t want to hurt you. We need to take it slow, we’ve got loads of time…”

  “No!” Oskar shouts. “Because we could get a bomb dropped on us tomorrow, or some terrorist shit like that, and then we would die without ever having truly had sex, and I want to have sex with you. I want to feel what it’s like to have you inside me, and I want to be yours and then I want to be the one to have sex with you. I want to be the only one you ever have sex with. Because you are mine. Mine. I want to make sure. I want…”

  “Shhuuuusshhh, baby,” Erik coos, and he is all over Oskar. Crawling on top of him kissing his face and kissing that mouth of his that is still trying to speak. “Just relax and let me make you feel good, because whatever you want, I will give you.” He kisses Oskar’s lips. Letting his forehead rest against Oskar’s. Just breathing.

  “Then do it. Fuck me. I know I can take it. I have played with myself before. You just need to loosen me up a little.” Oskar is slurring. Like he is drunk.

  “We haven’t got any lube. Or condoms.” Erik kisses him again.

  “I might do,” Oskar whispers and hides his face in Erik’s neck.

  “What do you mean, you might do? Baby, you either own condoms or you don’t.”

  “I did a clinical trial for Professor Reinback’s dermatology class,” Oskar whispers, letting his arms wrap around Erik’s body. “I was supposed to be testing stuff for this Latex-allergy Alternatives study. I have a boxful under my bed. I was supposed to hand them out to people and then ask what they thought and if they had any reactions to them. I cheated. I just made it all up for my report. I never used any of the stuff.”