by Renae Kaye
“I’m guessing one of them isn’t finishing that Scrabble game?”
“No.”
“Or singing Christmas carols together?”
He chuckled as he placed a couple of kisses along my jaw. “I don’t know. That sounds remarkably kinky. Do you know ‘Jingle Balls’?”
He was too damn sexy to go with that funny. And he was giving me green lights all the way. Then there was the fact we’d been drinking. My inhibitions lowered, and I forgot the real Geoffrey Saxon as I reached out and decisively put my hand on his butt, hauled him in close, and let him feel what he did to me.
“I know ‘Jingle Bell Cock.’”
“Do you?” He stroked my chest and went lower. “I don’t think I know that one.”
He brought his legs around me, and I had to concentrate to not let go of the side this time. “It’s an actual song. I found it on YouTube.”
“Yeah? What’s it about?”
I swallowed loudly. His fingers were on the edge of my shorts now. “Giving head.”
“Excellent idea, then. You can teach me that one.”
Were we talking about the song still? “If I do, I’ll probably burst out with a couple of gloria choruses.”
“Or we could act out a couple of verses of ‘I Saw Vaughn Kissing Santa Claus.’”
Then he pushed his hand under my waistband and found my erection. “I always wanted to know what happened after Mummy tickled Santa Claus. Do you have any idea?”
His hand was warm and firm around my cock. “I think there was something about a white Christmas that followed?”
“A white Christmas? In Australia?” It had been a while since I’d had a white Christmas.
“A white Christmas from down under is just what the doctor ordered,” Vaughn said throatily. He pushed my shorts down at the front to pull me out.
And unfortunately at that very moment, the doorbell rang loudly through his house. He cursed, kissed me briefly on the mouth, said, “I’m sorry,” and hauled himself out of the pool.
And left me only dreaming of that white Christmas.
Chapter Seven
VAUGHN’S SISTER looked a lot like him and only stayed half an hour—she was checking up on their mother’s Christmas present, which had been purchased by several of them pooling their money and was kept in Vaughn’s other spare room—but it was long enough for our ardor to cool and for it to become awkward to pick up where we left off. So instead I offered to make dinner while Vaughn showered the day’s chlorine off his body.
I went to pack up the Scrabble game that was still spread over the table and peeked at Vaughn’s tiles. He had his word lined up on his holder, and I choked. He just happened to walk into the room and saw me gawking at his letters.
I didn’t bother denying I was laughing at his word. “Penis?” I asked. “You had the word penis to play, and you didn’t?”
He shrugged. “Playing with one penis is no fun. I was waiting for an E or an S so I could make a play with penises.”
I conceded he was correct with that.
I’d made a meal with cold roast chicken and salad. Vaughn fetched a couple of beers, and we sat down together to eat. I thanked him again for allowing me to share his air-con.
“It’s been a really nice day, actually,” I admitted. “I haven’t spent the day one-on-one with someone for… well, since Ben left. And it’s been nice. I hope it’s been okay for you too.”
“It’s been the best day I’ve had for a long while,” he said, then looked at his plate. “And this chicken and rice stuff is delicious. What the hell did you put in it? I love it.”
“It’s couscous, not rice. And the ingredient is lemon with onion and pepper.”
Vaughn scooped up another spoonful and moaned his appreciation. “Can I keep you? Sexy as hell, funny, and you can cook. It must be my match made in heaven.”
“You and I must have a totally different idea of what sexy is,” I retorted.
“Yeah? Then what’s your idea of sexy?”
I was quick to reply. “What you see when you look in a mirror.”
There was an instant change in atmosphere. I couldn’t say what it was, because we didn’t move closer to each other or stop eating our meal. It was specifically a sudden awareness and mutual acknowledgment that we found the other person attractive.
We finished our meal in silence, although it wasn’t awkward. Then Vaughn said, “So—Christmas Eve tomorrow. Since neither of us have to go to work, what are your plans? Have you finished your shopping? Need to buy food?”
“All my shopping has been done. Nothing more to buy in the way of food either. I have to ring the air-con place, but that’s about it. What about you?”
“Some presents to wrap, and I have to duck down to the liquor store for some drinks. Otherwise I’m at your disposal for the day. Do you want to do something together?”
“Sure. As long as there’s air-con and we’re going nowhere near a shopping center.”
He nodded, a satisfied look on his face. I wondered where we were heading with this strange relationship of ours. We’d admitted we found the other sexually attractive and spent the whole day together without getting on each other’s nerves, but could that mean more? Did Vaughn want more?
“Great. I guess I’m on kitchen cleanup while you have your shower now?”
Someone who did the dishes without complaining? My God, he was my perfect guy as well.
“I get to pick the movie this time, though,” I warned. We’d already decided we’d watch a movie after dinner, and since the movie we’d watched that afternoon was a boring-as-fuck sci-fi, I was determined to find something better.
Vaughn laughed. “Yeah—that movie was pretty bad. I never understood how big-name actors would take on a bad script like that. Is it the money?”
“Being able to act is a matter of taking someone else’s words and putting them to motion. It doesn’t take business intelligence. It requires body language intelligence. People don’t necessarily have both.”
“True. Just like some people have no idea about when someone is desperately coming on to them, even when that person repeatedly invites them to his pool parties.”
This time the silence was awkward until I said, “Are you talking about me?”
“I don’t know, Geoffrey. Were you invited to your neighbor’s pool party and didn’t come?”
My mouth twisted with self-derision. “Only my hot young neighbor who should’ve known better than to be inviting unadventurous people like me over to swim and flirt in front of strangers.”
He gave a rueful grimace. “Point taken. I’ve gotten to know you a lot better in the last twelve hours, and I can see that now. I’ve learned a lot about you, which is why I’m going to allow you to pick the movie, even though it’s my Netflix account.”
“Your attempt at appearing generous doesn’t fly with me,” I said, giving him the side-eye. “I know you’re merely using me to get my movie choices.”
With an abrupt movement, Vaughn surged to his feet and leaned over the table until we were nose to nose. “I want a lot more than just your flick picks.” God, those words sounded ever so close to “dick pics.”
Then he kissed me hard, grabbed my empty plate from in front of me, and left the table.
And damn if he didn’t sashay toward the kitchen again.
BY THE time I’d finished in the shower, a remarkable change had occurred in the house.
Not only was the kitchen spick-and-span again—I was learning Vaughn was a neat freak, neat kitchen, neat bedroom, neat little beard, neat with the body hair shaving I shouldn’t know about—but he’d closed all the heavy curtains and turned on Christmas lights in the lounge where we were going to watch the movie. It was summer and still wouldn’t be dark outside for another two hours, so he’d made it artificially night in the lounge.
He had a small Christmas tree decorated in white that sat on a side table in the corner, but colored LED lights were strung along every wall,
hanging over the curtain rods, running along picture frames, and held up by small hooks that had been drilled into the walls. The lights blinked in unison, cycling through some program so they winked on and off before dimming dramatically and building to a bright glow, then racing along the strings chasing each other.
I stood in the doorway and grinned. Christmas. Last Christmas I was still raw from the breakup, and every Christmas carol, decorated tree, and Santa grated. This year, however, I was more in the mood to celebrate. And this room was definitely festive.
“You like it?” Vaughn asked from behind me. He didn’t startle me. Somehow I knew he was there.
“Yes. I do. All that’s missing is the tinny Christmas song from the corner.”
He pushed past me. “That I can do.” He reached for a Santa figure next to the tree, turned it upside down, and pressed a button. Immediately the Santa’s arm moved and rang the bell glued to his hand.
“Ho, ho, ho. Meeeerry Christmas,” it said in a robo voice. Then the sound of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” played, sung by a group of children. Vaughn placed the Santa on his feet, and it whirled around on unseen wheels, turning in circles before stopping, raising his arm again, and ringing that bell. “Ho, ho, ho. Meeeerry Christmas.”
I was appalled. “Oh my God. That’s terrifying.”
Vaughn chuckled and agreed. “Isn’t it great? My mother keeps trying to make me throw it away. I rather like his satanic greeting.”
Santa continued to whirl in circles, ring his bell, call out his greeting, and play the song. I smiled, and it was a joy that filled my whole body. I felt an awakening in parts of me that had been asleep for a long time, a healing in parts I felt were shattered. I didn’t know what to do about it and whether I even needed to do anything, so I turned away from Vaughn and scooped up the TV remote, avoiding the whole situation.
Vaughn got the hint, turned off the nightmare-inducing Santa, and we sat to watch a movie. My choice wasn’t brilliant, but it was better than Vaughn’s sci-fi flick. We sat through the movie, sitting side by side on the couch. At first I thought Vaughn would make a move on me or something, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. He was hot and I was horny, but that didn’t instantly mean we had to do anything about it.
I’d told Vaughn the breakup with Ben was about me not being willing to join in swingers’ parties because I considered us monogamous, but there was another side to it. I wasn’t comfortable with the anonymous sex business. Ben had laughed at me over it. “We’re gay—why shouldn’t we have as much sex as possible before it becomes too hard to get it up? Just do it, Geoffrey.”
For Ben, the swinging wasn’t to liven up our sex life. He wanted it to be his sex life. And I wanted more than that.
I wanted the relationship, the hanging out together, the slow build, the anticipation, the gentle touches, the teasing banter. In short—everything I’d had with Vaughn that day. And I felt if we fell into bed immediately, that would be lost. And I didn’t know how to tell him I wanted it to last.
So when an hour had passed and Vaughn still hadn’t done anything, I decided it was time to show my wants and needs. I picked up his hand, threaded his fingers with mine, and placed our joined hands back on the couch between us. Vaughn looked at me for a moment, squeezed gently, then went back to watching the movie.
It wasn’t sexual. It was spiritual.
But, the way all movies do, it had to end. I was sad because it meant we’d have to move. To my astonishment, Vaughn stood, pulled me from the couch with our still-joined hands, and said brightly, “I have a great idea. Grab your wallet, some shoes to protect that cut of yours, and let’s go.”
“Go? Go where?”
I was fully prepared to utilize the excuse of my foot being too sore, although in reality it was no more than a mild discomfort when simply walking. It was well padded, and the cooling swims throughout the day had helped with the bruising.
“A surprise.”
And that’s all he would tell me. I decided it was Christmas and my neighbor was fun to be with, so I would try to pull myself from the mud just this one time. He ushered me to his car and drove several suburbs over. He turned down a street, and there were cars lining the road. I could hear music coming from somewhere. I hoped he wasn’t taking me to a party.
“Come on,” he urged as he pulled up on the side and parked behind all the other cars. It was dark, and people appeared to be milling around. There were kids and prams and dogs and people everywhere as we walked up another street, and I suddenly saw what we were there for.
It was a cul-de-sac of about twelve houses, but every single one of them was decorated with enough Christmas lights to single-handedly keep the power company from going out of business, and everyone had come to enjoy the show. There were some entrepreneurial teens blocking the entry of the street. They had a big sign that said No Entry for Cars but had then lined the pedestrian entry with their business. There were three large buckets on a table with the names of three charities plastered across the taped-down lids. A sign welcomed visitors to the street and asked them to donate to the residents’ chosen charities.
Vaughn immediately pulled out his wallet and put some money in one of the buckets. I copied and pulled out my wallet too. There was a large dish with candy canes for every person who visited and then several buckets with different-sized glow sticks. You could purchase a glowing plastic wand for two dollars, a glowing plastic sword for three dollars, or spend up big and splash out five dollars on a wand that had blinking lights. Vaughn, however, made straight for the last item—glow sticks and joiners for twenty cents each.
Looking around, I saw many of the other visitors wearing their glow sticks as necklaces or threaded through their shoes. Vaughn cracked his sticks, setting off the glow, and motioned me forward. Then he put one around each of my wrists.
“So I don’t lose you in the dark,” he whispered.
I helped him put his around his wrists so he had one pink and one green. I was sporting a purple and a yellow. Then he grabbed my hand, and together, in the safety of the dark, we walked hand in hand along the displays. One house had a veritable disco of lights out the front while the next had a complete trainset that whizzed past, stuffed full of presents. One house was decorated with fake snow and had lit-up reindeers grazing in the front garden while Santa’s legs were visible going down a fake chimney on the roof. We strolled through the crowds and checked it out. I laughed and pointed to interesting hidden features but never let go of Vaughn’s hand.
Several times I looked down and saw our joined hands lit up by the yellow and green glow sticks, and it gave me a funny feeling. Sort of an “Oh wow” moment. Finally we’d checked out the whole street, and it was time to go.
At the car we reluctantly disengaged our fingers. “Thank you for bringing me here,” I said softly. The crowds had thinned as the parents took their children home to bed, and Vaughn’s car was by itself in front of another house that had only a blinking sign in their window, saying Merry Christmas.
Just as softly, Vaughn replied, “You’re welcome, Geoffrey.”
Chapter Eight
ONCE HOME, Vaughn took me into the darkened coolness of his lounge and pushed me down on the couch. He turned on the Christmas lights so their blinking dimly lit our bodies, and I knew this was it. He was going to go in for the big one. But he showed remarkable depth and insight as he climbed on top of me and whispered against my lips, “There’s one rule for tonight. No clothing removal.”
I didn’t know how he knew, but somehow he had guessed if he pushed too far too quickly, I would bolt. The moment he’d pulled me into the dark room, I had come to the decision that if he wanted, I would have sex with him that night, but it would mean I would make some excuse not to stay, even if it meant renting a hotel room. Now he was making us a boundary, and I relaxed. I could do this.
And then we kissed for what seemed like hours. He squirmed on top of me until I could definitely feel his erection, and I kn
ew he could feel mine, but we weren’t in any hurry to get to it. I ran my hands up and down the length of his body, feeling those fine muscles under his shirt, cupping those perfect curves of his arse, and exploring what I could reach. Vaughn reached under my shirt, and, careful to not push up the hem—which I knew because he stopped and pulled the hem back down at one stage—he explored my chest.
And still we kissed. The boundaries he’d set worked well, because we took it slow. It was me who finally broke and reached for his cock, feeling its length beneath the fabric of his shorts. He groaned and pushed himself into my palm. “Geoffrey,” he muttered, and I felt him move his hand lower on my body, searching out my cock to touch too.
I half rolled so I had him pressed between the back of the couch and my body. “No clothing removal, right?” I checked.
He sought my mouth again. My lips felt swollen with the extended kissing session we’d had, but I welcomed him back. He kissed me again before saying, “No clothing removal. So as long as the clothes stay in place, our rules are not broken.”
Right. That meant I could slide my hand under the waistband, then, and Vaughn groaned loudly against my mouth as I did.
“Is this okay?” I asked.
He clutched at my shoulders. “Did you remove my pants? No? Then it’s okay.”
I made a fist and began moving it up and down his length. He urged me on. I lay back, and he threw his head against the armrest. I could watch him in the light made by the Christmas decorations surrounding us. There was a slight sheen on his skin that reflected the colored lights back at me, making him seem like part of the display. It was a much better display than the one we’d seen on the street.
He was lost in his pleasure, not caring about his surroundings or that I was observing him. Or perhaps he did know I was watching him, and he wanted that. It made the event even sexier. He widened his thighs to give me greater access, but I didn’t falter in my rhythm. I wanted to see him come. I wanted him to come for me. I wanted to experience him coming in my hand.