“Hey,” I said, looking up and down the half-full platform. Fresh out of the pubs like us, people were smiling and laughing, and there was more than one couple snogging who I’d bet would be mortified about it in the morning. The heady atmosphere was kind of infectious. And maybe the beers we’d downed had something to do with it, too. “If I go for the intimidating look again, do you think I could kiss you down here without getting both our heads kicked in?”
“No.” Neil smiled, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “But it’s a nice thought. We’ll save it for later.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“I’ll hold you to holding me. So this church we’re going to—is it a Catholic one?”
I shook my head. “Church of England. Are you Catholic? Protestant? Or what?”
“More of an ‘or what,’ to be honest. So your aunt’s a regular attender, is she?”
“It’s kind of unavoidable in her profession. She’s the vicar of St Saviour’s.” I grinned. “My Aunty Gerry’s not ashamed to call herself an Anglican priest.”
“Out and proud as C of E? Good for her.”
“How about you, Neil? Are you out and proud? As a gay man, I mean, not as an ‘or what’.”
“Well, not that there’s been a lot to be out about lately, or proud, for that matter—”
“Ah, we’ll soon change that,” I interrupted.
Neil acknowledged it with a faint blush. “—but yeah. You? Can’t imagine you ever hiding who you are.”
“My family don’t hold with hiding, so you’d be right, there.”
Neil drew in a sharp breath that was swallowed up by the sound of the train clattering into the station. “Bloody hell,” he said, as the doors opened. He paused a minute as we were warned to Mind the gap. “They’re all going to be there, aren’t they? At the church. Your whole family. What the hell do you think they’re going to make of me rolling up, old enough to be your dad?”
“Trust me,” I said with a grin, as the train lurched into motion. “They’ll love you. Can’t guarantee the feeling will be mutual, mind.”
* * * *
Churches come into their own at Christmas time—even a heathen like me can appreciate stained glass windows lit up from inside, their jewel colours like lights on a child’s Christmas tree. When we pushed open the heavy oak doors of St Saviour’s, the warm smell of candle wax and pine cones drew us in. The place was packed already—St Saviour’s has a healthy congregation all year round, due in no small part to my Aunty Gerry—but at Christmas, everyone and his dog turns up. Though the dog has to wait in the porch, mind.
“We’d better go up to the gallery,” I murmured, but Mum spotted us. Well, with me in the psychedelic cardigan topped off with Aunty Mags’s tea-cosy, and Neil still wound up in Aunty Des’s scarf, she’d have had to have been struck blind not to.
She stood up and waved frantically, and an old man in the pew behind turned puce as her breasts jiggled in front of him in her low-cut top. “We’ve saved you a couple of spaces,” she called, her voice carrying effortlessly all through the jostling, laughing crowd to where Neil and I stood by the font.
“Sorry,” I murmured to Neil. “I tried to save you.”
“We’re in a church,” he said, shrugging as we made our way up the aisle. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“You want me to answer that?” We sidled into the pew, and I laid my saxophone case on the kneeler. “Mum, this is Neil.”
She gave him a good look up and down before extending a hand. “Lily.”
Her eyes went wide as Neil bent to brush a kiss across it. “Oh, you’ll do,” she purred. “You’ll do very well indeed. I can’t wait to get to know you better.”
“Mum! I haven’t even got to know him better myself, yet!”
“If we’re talking biblically, here,” Neil muttered in my ear, “I think your mum and me are going to have to stay nodding acquaintances.”
“Pen-pals is good, too,” I whispered back, glaring at Mum. “If you look down the pew, you’ll see my aunties.”
Just because we don’t hold with her beliefs, they’ve always said, doesn’t mean we can’t support your Aunty Gerry in her chosen profession.
He looked. Aunty Mags showed him her dimples, and Aunty Des waved a bony hand. “I knitted that,” she mouthed, pointing at the Doctor Who scarf.
“It’s great,” he mouthed back, beaming, just as the organ struck up and Aunty Gerry came out in her gleaming white, a teddy bear dressed up as an angel.
The church fell silent as she opened wide her arms, welcoming us all in, and taking a good, hard look at the lot of us at the same time. Judge not, that ye not be judged, she always says, but there’s no harm in forming a preliminary opinion. When her gaze reached me and Neil, she gave a wicked grin.
“Welcome, all of you, to our service where we put the Mass into Christmas. All are welcome in God’s house, even if they’ve only rolled in because the pubs have shut—that’s right, you lot up in the gallery, I’ve got my eye on you and so’s my boss.” It was an eye that twinkled, nonetheless.
Well, Aunty Gerry’s was, anyhow. I couldn’t answer for the big guy.
“We’re going to start with hymn number seventeen on the carol sheet, ‘Silent Night.’ And that’s no excuse for just mouthing the words. I want to hear you raise a joyful sound to the Lord!” She gave Miri at the organ a fond smile as the intro crashed out.
I could tell Neil wasn’t too sure what to do when we got to the Peace. Me, I’ve always loved that part of the service. Usually—yeah, all right, I’ll admit I’ve been to a few services, and maybe I’m not so much of a heathen as I like to pretend—usually, it’s just a handshake and a “Peace be with you.” But at Midnight Mass, the place is filled with friends and neighbours working their way down the pews to wish each other Happy Christmas with a handclasp, a kiss, maybe even a hug.
The old guy behind us nearly had a stroke when Mum leaned over the back of the pew to give him a full-on embrace. Neil swallowed. I guessed he was thinking it’d be him next. I pulled him in close and gave him a peck on the cheek—hey, we were in church. The only tongues the Good Lord allows in his house, my Aunty Gerry always says, are the ones you speak in. “Happy Christmas,” I said, and glared at Mum over his shoulder to make sure she’d restrain herself.
“Happy Christmas,” she said, and gave us each a chaste hug.
After the service, everyone had a smile on their face. I offloaded my saxophone onto Mum, and Neil and I walked out into the porch to see snowflakes drifting down from the clouds. “Will you look at that?” I said in wonder. “It never snows in London at Christmas.” I leaned down to give my Aunty Gerry a kiss. “Know someone in high places, do you?” I asked her with a grin.
“That I do, my lad, and He’s told me to remind you what naughty boys get in their stockings.”
“What’s that, then?” I asked, wide-eyed.
“A great pair of legs—what else?” She cackled, and gave Neil a nod and a handshake. “I take it Miri and I won’t be seeing you back at the Rectory, then?”
“Not this year,” I said. “But give Miri a kiss from her favourite nephew, will you?”
“I’ll give her several. From her only nephew. Now, hold on a mo, I’ve got something for you.” She reached behind her for a moment then held out a crumpled carrier bag. “Happy Christmas—and remember: if you can’t be good—”
“—be careful,” I finished for her. I was guessing she’d got me the same present as last year, then. “Thanks, Aunty Gerry. You’re a peach.”
I kissed her cheek again, and she made shooing gestures. “Now get along with you! I’ve got the rest of the parish to shake hands with!”
I shoved the present into one of my voluminous pockets—Mum’s cardigan coming up trumps again—as we crunched on settling snow back through the churchyard.
“Miri?” Neil asked
“She’s the organist. And Aunty Gerry’s significant other.”
“Right.” Neil chuckled, a warm, soft sound like mulled wine on a cold winter’s night. “That explains a few things.”
We headed away from the crowd, cutting through side streets, and stopped under a streetlamp. Its light shone off the snowflakes that had fallen in Neil’s hair, blending with the silver and turning it to white gold. It seemed like another bit of magic had happened; we were alone, not another soul on the street. This was the crossing of the ways. “So…what’s it going to be?” I asked. “Down the hill to the Tube station—or up the hill and back to my place?”
“I’ve got to go,” Neil said, sounding like the words wrenched his heart as much as they wrenched mine. “Promised my sister I’d drive down for lunch tomorrow. The kids are expecting me to bring ‘em presents—they’re five and seven. I can’t let them down. And if I don’t get some sleep tonight I’ll never make it down to Devon in one piece.”
I stroked his cheek, the stubble rasping against my fingertips. “And if you came home with me, I can guarantee you wouldn’t get any sleep,” I said softly. Neil’s eyes closed under the caress, and his breath warmed my fingers, a teasing hint of the heat we could raise between us, if we only had the time.
Desperate, I looked around—and saw the entrance to a narrow alleyway between two boarded-up shops. I grabbed Neil by the hand and pulled him down it with me. It was free of winos, pre-digested booze, and other detritus of the night, thank God for a Christmas miracle.
“So I’d reckon it’s time we had that kiss we were saving for later,” I said, my voice coming out a little breathless.
“Well, it’s definitely later, now.” Neil glanced at his watch, not that he’d be able to see it in the sallow glow of the now-distant street light. “It’s so late, if we’re not careful it’s going to start getting early.”
“Can’t have that, now, can we?” I pulled him to me and slipped my arms around his waist, inside his trench coat. He felt warm and solid—in fact a certain part of him was getting more solid by the minute. Probably warmer, too.
“Never kissed anyone with a mohawk,” he said, his voice low and rough. His hands slid up to cup my face. “Wanted to. There was this boy who lived round the corner from my mum’s—I never even spoke to him, though. He was straight, and he wouldn’t have looked twice at me even if he hadn’t been.” A smile curled his breath. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me, if you’d known me back then. And I don’t mean just because you’d have been in nappies. Weedy little thing, I was then.”
“Filled out nicely now, though.” I let my hands slip to his arse, and kneaded it to show him just one of the areas I was talking about. “Fine wine’s not the only thing that gets better with age.”
“I wouldn’t know. Give me a pint of beer any day.”
“A pint of beer, a bag of chips, and thou?” I misquoted with a grin.
“See? There you go again. Surprising me. I wouldn’t have thought you’d know your Omar Khayyam from your elbow.”
“That’s my Aunty Des’s influence. She doesn’t only do scarves, you know.” I reached out to unloop part of the scarf from around his neck, and put it around mine. “There. Let’s see you getting out of this.”
“Where there’s a will there’s a way. And I’ll be buggered if I’ve got the slightest bit of will-power where you’re concerned, my lad.”
“Then I’d say it’s time I gave you your Christmas present,” I said softly.
“So which alternate universe did you pop to the shops in, then? I’ll warn you now, I haven’t got you anything. I might be wearing Doctor Who’s scarf but I haven’t got a bloody TARDIS.”
“Ah, well that’s the beauty of it. See, my Christmas present to you is also your Christmas present to me.” I kissed him again, and without losing eye contact, unwound the loop of the scarf that was tying us together and lowered myself to my knees. In my head, “Edge of Glory” was playing, clear as day.
Neil drew in a sharp breath, and shivered. “Sure about this? It’s brass monkey weather out here.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything freeze off.”
“Gonna keep it warm for me?”
“Oh, yeah.” Slowly, I pulled down his zip. His prick was straining at his boxer shorts, so I eased it out gently with a hand. “Doesn’t look like the cold’s affected it too badly.”
“You reckon? You should see me in a heatwave. Grown men run screaming.” His eyes closed briefly as I stroked him up and down. “Nah, it’s all down to you being so…fucking…hot.”
I stuck out my tongue to lick along the length of him, savouring his saltiness and breathing in his musk.
“God, don’t stop,” Neil panted, as I palmed his balls and swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. “Fucking amazing, that is. Fan-fucking-tastic.”
“You know, you’ve got a dirty mouth on you,” I mused. Then I wrapped my lips around his cock and started to suck. He filled my mouth nicely, heavy on my tongue. My jaw was gonna ache tomorrow; it’d be something to remember him by.
“Pot—fuck! Meet kettle. Christ, don’t stop.”
His hips were jerking, and I guessed he was having a hard time holding back from just thrusting down my throat. Damn, that was hot. I love it when a man loses control. I moved a hand onto his shaft to stop him choking me by mistake, and pumped him with my fist as I alternately sucked and licked at his cock head.
Neil’s balls tightened in my hand, and the curses became one continuous groan that was swallowed up by the darkness. I was harder than cold iron, desperate for a touch, so as his cock started to pulse I thrust a hand down my trousers and pumped my aching stiffie in rhythm with his spurts. Each tug was a crescendo of ecstasy. My breath caught and my head spun as I came, swallowing Neil’s come as I shot out my own, as if his orgasm was shooting right through my body and out through my cock into my underwear.
As Neil’s cock slipped from my lips, I collapsed against his hip. I felt dizzy, and I still couldn’t catch my breath.
Then I remembered I still had my hand in my pants, so I yanked it back out again and gulped in snow-flavoured air, able to breathe once more. Damn, those leather trousers were tight.
Neil’s hands were running over my head, stroking me feverishly.
“Don’t muss the mohawk,” I told him, my voice hoarse and shaky.
“Ah. Bit late. Sorry. You might want to put your hat back on before anyone sees you.”
I yanked my hand up to feel for the damage. “Hey—there’s nothing wrong with it!”
Neil laughed, the bastard. “Course there isn’t! You think I’d mess up your crowning glory?”
“Maybe not, but I just did,” I said ruefully, realising I’d just rubbed my own spunk all over my hair. Couldn’t seem to stop smiling, though.
Neil put his hands under my elbows and helped me to my feet. Maybe the moon had come out or something, because there was enough light to see he was wearing a smile to match my own as he zipped himself back up. I gave my hand a wipe on my T-shirt, just to be sure, then put my arms around him and kissed him, letting him taste himself in my mouth.
“Better let you go,” I said at last, since neither of us seemed in all that much of a hurry. “Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel tomorrow.”
“Wish…” Neil sighed. “Wish you could come with me. The kids would love you.”
“Ah, but my mum would kill me. And serve me up cold on Boxing Day.”
Neil’s eyes twinkled. “I wouldn’t mind eating you on Boxing Day. Make a nice change from turkey.”
“There’s nothing wrong with turkey. I like a good bit of stuffing myself, I do.”
“That joke,” Neil said with a groan, “was old when I was a nipper.”
“Joke? What joke?” I said, wide-eyed. “I was talking about my Aunty Mags’s sage and onion.”
“Course you were. Course you were. And I’m Father Christmas.”
“Will you take me for a ride on your sleigh?”
“No, but if you’re a good boy I might
bring you some goodies later.”
We walked out of the alley slowly, back to the street light, and stood there again in its ersatz moonlight. The clouds up above glowed orange from the lights of the city, and a couple of stray snowflakes came down to dust our shoulders and gild our hair. “So this is where we part ways,” I said, soft as the new-fallen snow. “Drive safely, now. And come back to me soon. I’m looking forward to our second date.”
Neil quirked an eyebrow. “On our first date, I’ve met your entire family, celebrated baby Jesus’s birthday, and had a blow job in a dark alley. Is there anything left for us to do on a second date?”
“I should hope so.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out Aunty Gerry’s Christmas present—a bumper-size pack of novelty condoms. “My aunty would be really disappointed if I didn’t use her present.”
He stared at the box. “What, all one hundred forty-four of them?”
I smirked. “Well, maybe we’d better go for a third date as well.”
THE END
Author’s Note
If you enjoy this story and would like to read more about Liam and Neil, please visit jlmerrow.com/free-reads/ive-got-my-love-to-keep-me-warm/ for a short coda set a year later.
For the Last Time by A.R. Moler
“Will you stand still?” Kari reprimanded her father. “I’m trying to get the boutonniere pinned on and if you keep fidgeting you’re gonna get impaled by the stupidly long pin.” She had the flower in one hand and was attempting to attach it to his lapel.
Scott Hedrich looked down at his nineteen-year-old daughter. She had her mother’s light brown hair but his blue eyes. Today she wore a cocktail length lavender gown for the wedding. “I guess it wouldn’t do to bleed all over my suit. Mark would have a cow.”
“Yes, he would. Where did he go? This thing is supposed to happen in less than half an hour.”
“Chances are he’s pacing outside in the garden wishing he had a cigarette.” Scott glanced toward the window of the historic bed and breakfast where they’d agreed to hold the ceremony.
2016 Top Ten Gay Romance Page 17