by Jaime Samms
“So when I’m lost in an art project and you’re stuck watching Netflix on my couch. That’s exciting enough for you?”
“I sure don’t want to have more adventures like Cedric, if that’s what you mean.” He put both arms around Ira, slung low on his hips so he could still see him. “If you need to dance or dive head-first into your art so deep you forget to eat, if you need everything around you neat as a pin, if you want to wear heels and skirts everywhere we go, I will support you doing whatever you have to do to be you.”
Ira stared at him, a slow smile sneaking over his features. “So.” He plucked at the tie of his shirt as he slithered backwards out of Jed’s grasp. “For instance, if I did this . . .” The knot fell open and his nimble fingers flew over the few buttons, opening the shirt for him to shimmy off one shoulder at a time. “You wouldn’t stop me.” He let the filmy material flutter to the floor off the ends of his fingertips.
Jed shook his head. His cock stiffened and his mouth went a little dry.
“What about . . .” He did something at the waistband of his skirt, and it dropped with a thump of wool and clank of buckles to the floor. “This?”
“Do what you must,” Jed whispered, voice a scratchy shadow of normal.
Ira turned away to take a few steps toward the bedroom, swivelling to crook a finger for Jed to follow.
Which Jed did.
At the bedroom doorway, Ira turned again, hooking his fingers into the shorts and wiggling them past his hips and down. He stepped one foot out as he swivelled, depriving Jed of the view of his lace-clad ass, then kicked the shorts up into the air, caught them deftly, and slung them over a shoulder.
Jed groaned. “You’re too far away.” His cock was full mast now, and he grappled with the too-tight crotch of his jeans. His gaze slid down Ira’s frame, stopping where he didn’t bulge out between his legs. Why was it so sexy to see a flat plane where normally he would look for an erect dick? “Much too far away,” he whispered.
“Oh?” Ira high-stepped towards him, hips swinging, long legs glorious in stockings, garters, and those sinful lace panties. When he was near enough, he slung the shorts around the back of Jed’s neck to yank him forward. An instant before their lips met, he flashed out his tongue and licked at Jed’s mouth. “This close enough for you?”
“No,” Jed growled, grabbing him around the waist and hauling him in.
He plastered his mouth over Ira’s and took the kiss Ira had only teased at.
Ira melted against him, all lithe limbs and sinuous muscle.
Jed ran a hand down Ira’s spine until he reached the rough texture of lace over the round swell of ass.
Ira pulled back from his mouth to look him in the eye. “If you are going to keep touching, you have got to take those off.”
“You want me to . . .” Jed stared at him.
“Do you want to? See behind the curtain?” Ira’s eyes were big. Worried. His cheeks sported pinks spots.
“Yeah.”
Ira stood in front of Jed. “Pull them off?”
Jed did, watching Ira’s face as he snagged the top of the panties and dragged them down. Once he had them past his pelvis, his attention shifted.
“Curious?” Ira asked softly.
“Obviously.” He dragged the panties to mid-thigh and paused.
“Just pull it out.” Ira parted his legs a little.
Gentle as could be, Jed eased Ira’s cock out from between his legs and smoothed it straight with a long, soft caress. He frowned a little. It was odd not to see Ira’s balls hanging. Before he could say or do anything, Ira took his hand and placed it just above the base of his cock. He flexed his muscles under Jed’s palm and his balls appeared.
“Do they hurt?” Jed blurted, then groaned. That was probably inappropriate. Glancing up, he met Ira’s amused gaze.
“I’m used to it. It doesn’t hurt. But it’s nice to have everything back where it belongs.” He moved Jed’s hand again, cupping it around his balls and cock. “Dangly bits intact.”
“Yeah.” Jed studied him. This was as close as they had come to explicitly talking about the clothes or what they meant. He should probably have asked Ira about it a long time ago. Was it too little or too late to do so now?
“You’re worried.” Ira guided Jed’s hand to knead his fingers over Ira’s balls while Ira stroked his own cock with his other hand. “You never asked, and that’s okay. I never felt like you didn’t get me, or like I had to explain myself, so I never did. That’s precious to me, you know. Not having to explain, but just being allowed to be me, and that be okay.”
“Okay.”
“I cross-dress, Jed. That’s all. Promise.”
Jed nodded. “You don’t have to promise me anything.” He caressed Ira’s cheek. “I only ever saw you, so whatever else you think matters to tell me, I’ll listen. I can’t imagine it changing anything.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Can I fuck you with the stocking and garters still on?” Jed asked. Okay. Granted his brain was a bit muddled by all this. His cock certainly liked Ira, balls in or out.
Ira laughed. “I certainly wish you would get on with it.” Swiftly, he undid his garters to get rid of the panties, then reclipped them so his hose stayed up. “Okay?”
“Bed.” And now he just sounded like a Neanderthal.
“Good plan. Come on.” Ira took Jed’s hand and led him to the bed where he sat and pulled Jed between his legs. “Let me help you out of these.”
Ira’s slow unbuckling of Jed’s belt, unbuttoning, unzipping, and easing Jed out of his jeans and underwear, was even more sensuous than Ira’s little strip tease had been. His hands were strong and smooth, warm on Jed’s skin as he caressed him. He stroked along Jed’s stomach as he worked the belt open, slid palms over his ass as he pulled the jeans down, and continued the study in touch over his thighs and down his calves to his ankles.
That move left him on his knees in front of Jed. He gazed up, licked his lips, and slid his mouth over the tip of Jed’s cock.
“Oh. God.” Jed placed a hand on Ira’s head. More to steady himself than to control what Ira was doing. Ira did not need guidance. He laved from the base of Jed’s cock to the head with the flat of his tongue, left a light kiss on the very tip, and breathed a blast of hot air over him.
Just when Jed thought he would plunge back down, Ira stood.
“Wha—”
Ira turned his back to Jed, knelt on the bed, and slowly slinked across the mattress on hands and knees until there was room behind him for Jed. He stayed there, on all fours, perfect set of balls dangling, slender, hard cock pointing out from his body and slightly to the right.
“Fuck me,” Jed whispered.
“I have papers that say I’m disease free,” Ira told him. “Some of the better clubs demand it, even from sex workers who don’t have actual sex with anyone.” He looked back over his shoulder at Jed. “I just spent the last three weeks going over all the fun and intimate details of your various bodily functions with nurses and clinic doctors and you. So I know you’re good. But if you want, there are condoms in the box on the little table beside the bed.”
Despite being about the least sexy thing to talk about right then, Jed found himself drawn to Ira more strongly because he’d spoken up. Claimed what he wanted.
“No condoms, then?” Jed asked, to be sure.
Ira grinned. “No condoms.”
Jed did go to the table to find lube, then crawled up behind Ira. He ran a hand over the soft, smooth skin, covering acres of Ira’s body with his hand that looked huge and ungainly against the porcelain clarity of Ira’s perfection.
Ira shivered under him and closed his eyes. “Fuck, I like that. Your hands are rough. Perfect.”
Jed glided a hand over one globe of Ira’s ass and pushed his thumb between the ass cheeks to feel the pucker of Ira’s hole. The move pulled a groan from Ira and his breathing quickened.
“Jed.”
�
��Yeah.”
“Can you get on with it, please?”
Jed bent and kissed Ira’s ass. “Patience.”
“Oh.” Ira sighed and slumped down to lay his forehead on one arm. That left his ass high in the air, and Jed’s cock jumped.
Taking his time, Jed explored all the lovely temptations open to him, stroking Ira’s hole, fondling his balls and teasing at the head of his cock, coaxing soft moans and pleas from Ira, watching the goose flesh crawl over his skin, delighting in smoothing the shivers away after he’d caused them.
Pre-come leaked from Ira’s cock as Jed played with him. He smeared it up Ira’s shaft, trailed his finger between Ira’s balls and once more over his hole. He stopped there to apply a slight bit of pressure.
Ira instantly swayed back into that touch, almost impaling himself on Jed’s finger.
“Easy. Need lube,” Jed reminded him.
He stroked his own cock a bit as he thumbed open the lube. Pre-come adorned his tip, and he rubbed it directly onto Ira’s opening.
“Jed. Please.” Ira’s breath was wheezing in and out now, his fists tangled in the bedding.
“All in good time.”
“Now!”
Jed chuckled but had enough pity to squirt some lube onto his hand and warm it a bit before he began to open Ira up. The first penetration was slow and deliberate, while he held Ira from pushing onto his finger with his free hand on Ira’s ass.
When Ira started squirming and tugging at his dick, Jed freed his fingers and lubed up.
“You ready?” he asked.
Ira glared over his shoulder. “If you don’t fuck me now, I swear to God—”
Jed smirked and lined his cock up.
Ira wiggled and pushed back.
Between them they joined their bodies, and Ira let out a deep sigh. “Thank fuck.”
Jed leaned over him, wrapping an arm around his waist and a hand around his cock as he began to roll his hips. Before long, he had to straighten, grip Ira with a hand on each hip, and thrust.
He would have liked to build up to the moment, but once they were engaged, there was no slowing. No stopping. Their bodies dictated the speed and strength, and before long, Jed was grunting an incoherent warning as Ira’s come spilled through his fingers. His release came hard, stealing his breath, stopping his heart, flashing white noise and kaleidoscopic colours through his brain. He held Ira to him, his only anchor to the real word as his mind spiraled into fuzzy grey space.
They toppled in unison and lay spooning sideways on Ira’s bed.
Jed nuzzled his face against the back of Ira’s neck, and Ira gripped Jed’s hand to his chest so tight his fingers ached a bit.
“Shower,” Jed mumbled, semiconscious.
Ira gripped him harder and tangled their legs together. “Sure. In a sec.” He hummed and the sound faded into the pillow.
Ruby’s knock on the door woke them to the still darkness of too-early morning.
Christmas Eve wasn’t just crisp. It was cold. Ira had jumped at the chance to join Cobalt and some of his other students and instructors for a small gathering at Cobalt’s house. He didn’t have to work that lunch shift at the Hen, so it would be nice to visit before the three-week break in lessons Cobalt was taking to go somewhere warm with his boyfriend.
The neighbourhood wasn’t spectacular, but the little house looked well loved and cared for. There was some clearly newly renovated construction alongside original touches like the divided living room windows and sturdy square pillars on the front porch. When it was time for Ira to say goodbye, he didn’t even mind that Jed had taken a fast run from the Hen to pick him up in the Green Giant, as Ira had begun to call his monstrosity of a truck. He was glad of the warmth and not having to walk to the bus stop and wait.
As he pulled the creaking door open to climb in, he caught a glimpse down the street of a mop-cut of ashy-mauve hair as a man leaned down to peer into a car window.
“Get in!” Jed waved him inside. “Freezing!”
Ira paused. “Is that . . .?”
“What?” Jed craned his head around, but by the time he did, the man had gotten into the car, and Ira decided he’d been mistaken.
“Nothing, Sorry. I thought I saw Mitch. But must have been someone else. That hair colour is popular lately.” He settled into the middle seat and buckled up. “Let’s go. I managed not to stuff myself on Cobalt’s treats because you guys kept talking up that Chinese place. It had better be worth it.”
“Oh, it will be. Don’t you worry.” Jed put the truck in gear, and they headed toward the Hen and Hog.
As they arrived, the last of the afternoon shoppers were heading out and the staff was clearing away the tureens of soups and stews Herschel had prepared. It was a tradition, Ira had learned. The Hen and Hog put out a spread of homemade soups, stews, and chowders, with fresh bread to feed the Christmas shoppers between eleven and two. The cost to the shoppers was a donation. The charity of choice this year was an LGBT youth centre on Church Street that needed to redo their gym floor.
As Ira and Jed stomped snow off their boots, Kearn taped a sign to the door stating that the bar was closed to the public for a private function.
Ira was looking forward to the rest of the afternoon.
“I’ll be in my office counting the donations,” Kearn told them. “Let me know when everyone gets here and has been seated.” He looked Ira up and down, from his loose blond mop past his parka and jeans to his Uggs. “That what you’re wearing?”
Ira grinned. “No, sir.” He hefted the bag in his hand. “I’ll just help move the tables, then I’ll change.”
“Good show.”
“You seem happy,” Jed commented as they made their way deeper into the bar.
“I think this is the best tradition ever. How many are coming?”
Jed shrugged. “A little over a dozen, maybe? Rex and his guys, Perry and Sid. Johnny usually comes, but he’ll be eating with us this year. A few other regulars should show up. Kearn sent out something like fifteen invites. It’s been a lot of years since anyone turned him down.”
“I think it’s awesome of him to treat them to a free meal.”
“Those guys are like family to him, you know? Like how Rex’s guys had your back that time. Kearn’s put a lot of love into this place, and he’s got a lot back out of it. So this is him showing how grateful he is to the people who have journeyed with him.”
Unlike the soup buffet, this was a full-on sit-down turkey dinner. The staff would serve, and Ira planned to wear a crowd-pleasing green-skirted elf affair that he’d never expected to need again, since he’d decided exotic dancing was off the table in his very near future.
People started arriving around four thirty, and everyone was seated by five. The food got heaps of compliments, and Landon, Mel, and Jed were kept busy behind the bar making myriad festive drinks. It was the most fun Ira had had in a bar full of tipsy patrons in a very long time.
The last stragglers staggered out to a cab a little after eight, at which point Landon cranked the Christmas tunes and everyone pitched in to clean up. Just over an hour later, with the tables all pushed together in the centre, the staff settled in for a bit of Christmas cheer of their own. The meal, provided from the Chinese restaurant down the street, was bountiful and delicious.
Ira ate way more than he needed to. It was a luxury he had lived without for a very long time. As was the comfort of sitting back to rest within the curve of Jed’s arm draped over the back of his chair.
“You about ready to go?” Jed asked, soft and breathy in Ira’s ear. “I’m looking forward to getting yourself on.”
“How drunk are you?” Ira swatted his chest. “That was a terrible joke.”
Jed chuckled and rubbed at his pec. “It kind of was.”
“Shouldn’t we help clean up?”
Jed wiggled a take-out container in front of him. “Why do you think Kearn orders in for this stage of the tradition?” He drank the last of his ice water fro
m the plastic cup it had been poured in, and sat forward. “Well, this has been fun.”
Kearn laughed. “Time to get your elf home?”
“Hell yes.” Jed stood and held out a hand to Ira. “Shall we?”
They did, of course, help tidy the bar, though it didn’t take long. Most of the others had left by the time Jed was satisfied his bar was clean enough. Ira wasn’t averse to helping, since Jed wasn’t shy about kissing him as he stood by the sink washing glasses.
Finally, he, Jed, and Kearn were the last left. Jed was just putting up the last few glasses when there was a sharp rap on the glass of the front door.
“People can’t read?” Kearn mumbled.
All three of them waited. When there wasn’t another knock, Jed opened the door so he and Ira could peek out. A hunched man hurried away down the street, pale hair glittering with fallen snow.
“Mitch?” Ira squeezed past Jed and skittered through the fluffy new snow in his heels to catch up with him. “Hey, Mitch.” He put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder, and Mitch flinched.
“You okay, kid?” Jed asked.
Mitch didn’t face them, but he nodded. “Fine,” he mumbled. “Thought you might still be open.” He began to walk again, but Ira could hear his teeth chattering. The thin Army jacket he had on was not near warm enough to be out in. He glanced back at Jed. They should do something.
“Hey!” Kearn called down the street from the open door of the bar. “Kid, get your ass in here.”
Mitch stopped dead, arms wrapped tight around himself.
“Now,” Kearn ordered.
Slowly, Mitch turned and shuffled back toward the bar. “’M fine.”
Ira tried to see his face, but he shouldered past and stomped to the door Kearn held for him. Once they were all back inside under the lights, Ira’s heart fell.
“Oh, Mitch.” He gently lifted Mitch’s head a bit. “What happened?”
Mitch’s face was battered, his nose and lip swollen, one eye already blackening. He stared past Ira at Kearn, but kept his mouth stubbornly shut.
“Sit your ass down,” Kearn grumbled. His eyes flashed, and he looked about ready to explode. “I’ll heat up some leftovers. Jed, get him some water?”