"This," he said, voice cracking. "Just this. I want to feel you—all of you—like this." He arched beneath me, and I felt his cock pulse against mine, a sign that he was close. I wanted to push him over, but I also wanted to savor every second.
Gently, reluctantly, I drew back, easing free of him. He made a small, bereft sound at the loss, and wrapped my hand around both our cocks, gripping them together.
The sensation was overwhelming. The heat, the wetness, the way our bodies fit together. He gasped, bucked, his fingers digging into my shoulders. I stroked us in a slow, steady rhythm, the glide becoming smoother, wetter, our mixed precum coating our shafts.
"God, Thane—" He was trembling now, his eyes squeezed shut.
"Look at me, Kieran."
He forced them open. I saw vulnerability and desire, and something deeper. Something that looked a lot like–could it be love? My heart hammered against my ribs.
"You're beautiful," I said. "You're so fucking beautiful."
He let out a shuddering breath, and I felt him tighten around me. His cock throbbed against mine, and I knew he was on the edge. I slowed my stroke, letting him feel every inch of the slide, and I leaned in to kiss him, soft and deep.
"Come for me," I said against his lips.
He did, with a cry that was half sob, his release spilling hot between us, coating my hand, my stomach, his. The sight of him coming undone. The way his body arched, the way his mouth formed a perfect O, the way his eyes fluttered shut. Pushed me over the edge. I buried my face in his neck and came, harsh and deep, my own cum mixing with his, our bodies slick and sticky and utterly spent.
I didn't pull away. I stayed inside the circle of his arms, my weight heavy on him, his legs still wrapped around me. His hand found the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair, stroking. The soft rhythm of his touch soothed the aftershocks, and I felt the tension drain from my muscles.
After a long moment, I lifted my head and pressed my forehead to his. His eyes were still closed, his breath coming in soft, slow puffs. I could feel his heartbeat, still fast, echoing against my chest.
"Merry Christmas," I said, my voice rough.
He laughed, soft, breathless. "Merry Christmas." He opened his eyes, and they were bright, a little watery. "That was… I don't have words."
I kissed the tip of his nose, then each of his eyelids. "You don't need words."
Reluctantly, I eased away from him and sat up. The room felt cooler without Kieran pressed against me.
"I'll be right back," I murmured.
He made a sleepy sound that might have been agreement.
I crossed to the bathroom, cleaned up quickly, then dampened a washcloth with warm water before returning to the bedroom. Kieran hadn't moved much. He was sprawled across the bed, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
A faint smile touched his mouth when he saw me. "Hey."
"Hey, yourself." I sat beside him and brushed a hand through his hair. Then I gently cleaned across his stomach and chest.
He shivered at the first touch.
"Sorry."
"It's warm," he mumbled.
I smiled and continued, taking my time. When I finished, I set the cloth aside. Kieran stretched and glanced toward the bedroom door. A suspicious look appeared on his face.
"What?"
His gaze returned to mine. "Are we doing presents before breakfast?"
The question made me smile.
Somehow, I'd forgotten about breakfast entirely. "I think that's probably how Christmas works."
"I was making sure."
