by KD Fisher
Not wanting to sound fifteen in front of a bunch of strange women, I bit back the he’s not my boyfriend retort and nodded.
“You got a boyfriend?” Abby asked excitedly. “Did he give you that necklace?”
My hand flew automatically to my chest, and I could feel myself blushing as I tucked it under my shirt. “Yup.”
“Oh, really?” Katie eyed me shrewdly.
Desperate to evade the coming inquisition, I grabbed a muffin from a tray on the concrete breakfast bar dividing the kitchen from the den. It was gross, though: store-bought and sickly sweet. I turned my attention back to my niece. “So what did Santa bring?” I asked. I’d given the wrapped geology kit to Katie the morning before, and she’d promised me Abby wouldn’t open it until I came over.
Abby ticked the gifts off on her fingers. “Umm, some books, and an art set, and a new nightlight, and, uhh… oh! A dog lovie that looks like Moose!” She pointed to a stuffed Bernese Mountain Dog tossed haphazardly on the plaid sofa.
“It does look like Moose,” I agreed. “You gonna name it Moose Jr.?”
Abby furrowed her brows at the suggestion. “No. His name is Gunther.” She sighed like this should have been obvious. Katie nodded seriously.
“Well, I got you something too.” I cut my eyes over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the den, circled with a popcorn garland and exploding with tinsel. Clearly, Abby had a large hand in decorating it.
“The big one?” Abby darted to grab the gift, tearing excitedly at the paper before I could even respond. “What?” she shrieked as she unzipped the canvas backpack storing the rock-collecting kit and pulled out the various tools and magnifying glasses. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
“This is a real geology kit. So you need to be careful with the tools, okay?” I gave Abby the sternest look I could muster in the face of her delight. She had slipped on the safety goggles, which were a little too big for her face.
“Do you want to give Uncle Matt his present?” Katie said to her daughter pointedly. With obvious reluctance Abby tucked the kit back into the backpack and rummaged through the remaining pile of gifts for mine, clumsily wrapped in cartoon reindeer paper.
“I wonder what it could be.” I grinned at my niece.
“You know.” Abby shook her head, exasperated.
This year’s ornament was made of bright green beads and pipe cleaners. It was some kind of animal, long, skinny, and four legged. Giving it an appreciative nod, I tucked it carefully back into the recycled cookie box it came in.
“Thanks, bug.” I bent to kiss the top of her head. “It’s a real nice… crocodile?” I knew I was probably getting it wrong.
Abby scoffed. “It’s a dog.”
Usually when I came to gatherings at my brother’s house, everyone seemed to segregate along gender lines. Most of the women hung out in the kitchen, chatting amiably and putting together trays of pastries or appetizers. The men congregated in the barn if it was nice out, or if it was cold, like today, in the heated garage. I never really felt comfortable anywhere and tended to walk back and forth between the two rooms so much, I worked up a sweat. When I drifted into the garage, it was crowded with John’s friends, most of them drinking coffee but a few already nursing beers. John, who never drank, was sitting in a camping chair and watching a football game on the portable TV resting on his workbench.
“Hey, Matt.” I turned to find Dylan Lloyd, my first crush, first kiss, first everything, leaning against the chest freezer. Dylan, whose deeply conservative family ran a sporting goods store a few towns over, was profoundly, heartbreakingly closeted. He was taller than me, which honestly was rare, and handsome with close-cropped dark hair and a charming smile. Because no one but me and his younger sister knew he was gay, he was the object of a lot of misdirected flirting and speculation around town. We got together from time to time, but even though he was a nice guy, I hated the secrecy of it. I wanted a partner, not a hookup who refused to look me in the eye after we both got off. Being with him just wasn’t enough. I wanted exactly what I’d found with Mikah.
“Hey,” I said belatedly. I wanted to brush my fingers against Mikah’s necklace, but I stuffed my hands into my pockets instead.
“Good Christmas?” Dylan took a long sip of beer.
I shrugged. “Not bad. You?” He grunted in response. Neither of us were stellar conversationalists.
Glancing around, he dropped his voice low. “Have any plans for tonight?”
My heart broke for him and, a little bit, for myself. “Yup.”
“Oh, is Mikah comin’ over?” John piped up from behind me. Had he been listening to my nonconversation with his friend? Surprise registered on Dylan’s face. I said nothing.
“My little bro got himself a real cute boyfriend.” John beamed. Everyone knew I was gay, but not everyone was comfortable with it. John, though, had zero tolerance for snide remarks or hatred in his house. “The dude came to buy a tree from us, and next thing I know, Matt was skipping out on work, and they were gettin’ hot and heavy.”
I shot my asshole brother a glare but refused to show any other signs of discomfort. A few guys mumbled what sounded like cool, and everyone else returned their attention pointedly to the game.
Dylan was staring at his hiking books, his grip on his beer bottle tight. When his hazel eyes met mine, I tried to communicate my apology without words. Unable to stop myself, my fingers closed around the necklace, and I let myself feel it all: the yearning, the affection, the desperate hope that Mikah could stay with me.
Chapter Nine
Matt
NOTHING had changed in my cabin since I locked the door behind me the day before, but emptiness echoed through the space as I flicked on the lights. My work boots were still on the doormat where I left them. The maple countertops were scrubbed clean, bare of clutter aside from the single unwashed coffee mug next to the sink. The woven blue-and-white rug Moose always slept on still needed to be vacuumed. Since I’d been away overnight, the familiar smell of my house was more noticeable, the lingering scent of fresh-cut lumber and woodsmoke almost overwhelming. Although the place was small, just a combination living room–kitchen, my bedroom, the bathroom, and the spare room I used as an office and weight room, now the high ceilings and exposed timber beams yawned hollow and stark.
Crossing the room in wool-socked feet to add my new ornament to the Christmas tree, I reminded myself that Mikah would be here tonight, in my bed and in my arms. My nervous, excited energy was back in full force, so I hurried to tidy up, throwing away old leftovers, changing my sheets, mopping the floors with pine soap. By the time I’d finished scrubbing every last floorboard and dusting every available surface, I still had two hours before Mikah would be coming over for Christmas dinner.
I needed music. Moose eyed me from his post in front of the woodstove as I huffily riffled through CDs. Nothing in my exhaustive library of classic country matched the energy burning through my body. For the first time in a while, I wished I’d replaced my laptop when it died a few months earlier. I wanted to listen to Mikah’s music, classical piano. Dragging my hand through my hair, I wracked my brain for the name of the song he’d played last night. Something with flowers? Flower dance? Finally, irritated with myself, I turned off my stereo and listened to nothing but the crackle of the fire and the whispering of the wind through the trees.
By the time the gravel in my driveway crunched beneath the wheels of Mikah’s car, my cabin was the cleanest it had ever been. Moose and I watched through the wide windows as Mikah kicked the driver’s side door shut behind him and yanked up the zipper on his new coat. At the sight of Mikah’s narrow frame trudging through the drifts of snow, Moose’s tail started wagging in wild circles, and he gave a tiny bark. I closed my eyes for a moment because it was all too much. Tenderness for Mikah swept through me, and when I pulled the door open, all I wanted was to wrap him up in my arms and hold him close. Instead, I stepped aside and offered him a small smile.
A blast of cold air and a flurry of snow followed Mikah into the cabin. His hair was even messier than usual, like he’d been running his fingers through it the whole drive over. He had a red nylon backpack slung over one shoulder, which I hoped meant he planned to spend the night.
“Coat warm enough?” I asked, sliding the snow-dusted Carhartt jacket off his fine-boned shoulders and hanging it on a hook next to the door. Mikah was adorably disheveled, jeans sprung at the knees, sweater stretched out and torn at the neck, black boots sloppily laced. It seemed like he’d gotten dressed in a rush. I wondered if his clothes came this way, predestroyed, or maybe he was just really bad at taking care of his stuff.
Mikah pressed up on the balls of his feet to kiss me. “It’s perfect,” he said against my lips. There was need in this kiss, but not the desperation to get off that colored so many of my sporadic hookups. It felt like he needed me. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him tight, my skin singing with satisfaction.
“Is it weird that I missed you?” Mikah asked, glancing up at me.
“Nope.” I cupped his face, tilting his mouth toward mine again. He whined as our lips met. I couldn’t get enough of his kisses, the smoothness of his lips, the way he grabbed at my shirt to pull me closer. I trailed a hand down the rough fabric of his sweater to his flat stomach. Dropping my fingers lower to the waistband of his pants, I slowly traced along the black denim, then the elastic band of his briefs. With a soft gasp, he pressed up on me, trying to force my hand in deeper. My fingertips grazed the warm, firm head of his erection.
“Matt.” Mikah breathed my name. I wanted to hear him say it again.
“Hmm?” I dragged my mouth from his to kiss his cheeks, his eyebrows, his jaw.
“Can we get in bed?”
I shivered and nodded, already throbbing with anticipation and the memories of the night before, as we walked the short distance to my bedroom. We undressed quickly. Heat washed over me at the way Mikah watched as I shed my jeans and henley and underwear. His eyes were hungry, sleepy, and heavy-lidded. They went wide as they landed on the necklace, and he stepped close to draw me into a soft kiss. His lips drifted down my neck to my chest, kissing the skin right next to the pendant. Desire twisted through me when the flat of his tongue dragged over my nipple.
After pushing him gently onto the bed, I lay on top of him, letting the full weight of my body press him into the flannel sheets. Mikah cried out and held on to my shoulders hard. He liked that. I had never been with a man like Mikah, so giving and present in bed. I loved how responsive he was, his pleasure heightening my own in a delirious feedback loop.
Mikah squirmed under my body, kissing me feverishly and sighing softly as I shifted so our erections slid together. “What do you want?” He was looking intently at my face, eyes wide, like he wanted to give me everything.
My throat clicked as I swallowed. How many times had I thought about being asked this very question, absolutely sure fantasy would never become reality? I let my hands drift down to the curve of his ass.
“You want to fuck me?” Mikah nodded slowly, eyes fluttering closed.
“Yeah. But first I want….” I didn’t know how to put it, so I squeezed the small, firm mound of muscle, delighting in the creamy tight expanse of his skin. I was so turned-on already, I felt like I could come apart.
“Oh.” Mikah’s eyes snapped open and his breath hitched. “Do you mean rimming?”
The last thing I wanted was to pressure him into anything he wasn’t into, plus I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, so I started to backtrack. “If you don’t want to—”
Mikah crushed his mouth to mine. “Yes. I very much want that.”
Easing back onto my knees, I turned him over and admired his smooth, slim body. Just looking at him made me light-headed and needy. Knowing he wanted me as much as I wanted him was almost overwhelming. Starting at a small constellation of freckles near the base of his neck, I kissed and licked my way down Mikah’s spine. I wanted to feel and taste every inch of his skin, wanted to tend to him the way I would a plot of newly turned earth. Mikah whined and arched into me as I licked at his ass. His quiet gasps and citrus soap smell stoked my lust, my whole body alive with desire. This was better than I’d ever imagined. Part of me wanted to keep going until he was pliant and begging, but I also ached to be inside him. When I slid a spit-slicked finger into him, Mikah tensed and worry flooded me.
“You okay?” My voice was ragged.
“Yes,” Mikah panted, clenching around me. “I… I, uh, need a second. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I don’t usually get this worked up.”
I kept still, not wanting to hurt him, and gently stroked my other hand up the notches of his spine. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t hold back my question. “Was that… not good? Obviously I’ve never done it before, so….” I trailed off, exposed and a little raw, but not ashamed. Mostly I wished I didn’t have to ask.
“Matt.” Mikah turned so his face was pressed into a pillow. His words came out muffled. “I was, like, two seconds from coming. It felt amazing. I really want you to fuck me.”
Without thinking, I moved my finger inside him, curling it slightly. Mikah gasped.
“Now, please.” His voice was thready.
Seeing him so acquiescent and wanting pressed a hot brand of lust to my skin. Something in me snapped, and my mind was sharp and clear, totally present.
“Get up on your hands and knees for me, baby,” I suggested, and Mikah complied immediately. Even though I was almost painfully aroused, I took a moment to watch him, the way the late-afternoon sun filtering through the curtains rendered his mess of dark curls even shinier and softer than usual, the way his eyes locked with mine when he turned to look at me. We both grinned. Quickly, I rolled on a condom and slicked myself with lube. “You ready?” I asked, pressing a fast kiss to the back of his neck.
“Please, Matt—” Mikah’s body shook like a leaf when I touched him. “Yes.”
I slicked myself and slipped into him slowly, gripping his narrow waist hard. Breathing slow and steady, I watched the sharp bones of his shoulder blades relax before pushing in deeper. He shifted his hips and sighed my name, his body and words asking for more. My world was a hot swath of white. He was incredibly tight, slick velvet clenching around me as I pumped steadily in and out of him. I was losing control. Heat unfurled low in my belly. Twitching muscles in my thighs pointed toward orgasm. But something basic in me needed to see Mikah’s release, to hear his broken cries, to watch as he came apart. I could feel him getting close.
“Touch yourself,” I told him, and again Mikah obeyed without hesitation. My erection seemed to thicken inside him as shivery pleasure pooled at the base of my spine. He was trembling now, murmuring an incoherent stream of profanities. I moved faster, drove into him harder. Then Mikah’s breathy moans and rocking back on me stopped. He clenched tight around my length, coming with a sharp cry before the arm holding him up gave out, and he collapsed down onto the bed. Needing him as close as possible, I hauled Mikah back up, bending over him to kiss the nape of his neck. His hair was damp, his skin salty with sweat. As I sank in deeper, his hot grip surrounded me, tipping me into oblivion. Two more hard thrusts, and it was over. My orgasm tore through me, leaving only tingling relief in its wake.
As I eased out of Mikah, he winced slightly, quickly cleaning up, then flopping back into the pile of pillows with a contented sigh. He threw his arms over his eyes and groaned. I was laughing, peppering kisses on Mikah’s face and chest and neck. Sex had never been like that before, had never made me feel so right and whole.
Mikah’s delicate fingers closed around my wrist, tugging me close next to him, wrapping us both in the warm nest of sheets. As soon as I lay down, he burrowed into my embrace. I smiled. Looking at Mikah outside the bedroom, with his arms perpetually crossed over his chest and ever-present cynical smiles on his refined face, I never would have imagined he was so snuggly. But, clearly, the guy loved to cuddle. He ran his finge
rs over me, slow and gentle, tracing tiny patterns on my skin.
A soft silence drifted down between us. The sheer-white curtains were closed, but through the small gap between them, I made out the golden glow of a setting sun. I always looked forward to watching the sunset. It seemed like the weather had cleared and part of me wanted to slide out of bed to open the curtains fully so I could watch as the sky faded to purple. But Mikah’s legs tangled with mine, and the gentle kisses he pressed to my shoulder made my bed too perfect to leave.
“What are you doing to me?” Mikah murmured, his voice a little sleepy.
“I could ask you the same.” I chuckled, turning to him so I could kiss the top of his head. Suddenly, though, my heart hammered in my chest, and I was struck by how much I liked being with Mikah, by the perfection of this moment. It wasn’t just the sex. It wasn’t just the fact that Mikah seemed to have an endless knowledge of musicians, writers, and artists I’d never heard of. It wasn’t the way catching the faintest hint of Mikah’s smell made my stomach light and heart race. It was the fact that we cared for each other. I could feel it in every brush of his skin against mine, hear it every time he said my name. I was in bed with a beautiful man who wanted me. A man I wanted so deeply, it was hard to wrap my head around. I was amazed that Mikah and I had found each other, that in the wide universe of possibility, someone so gorgeous and interesting and plain wonderful existed.
Mikah kissed me again, hard and firm like he’d come to some kind of private decision, but I wasn’t quite sure what that might be. Heat bloomed on my neck, and I rubbed at it automatically. For another long moment, we lay in the quiet, watching the light shift and wane as the sun dipped below the mountains outside. I was starting to think Mikah may have drifted off to sleep when he turned to me, grinning, and asked, “So what are you making me for dinner?”