Page 16 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

Reaching in, I turned off the water, noted his shiver, and checked his eyes.

“Not cold,” he rushed out, “just hopeful.”

He eased out of the shower and stepped onto the bathmat, dripping, and I went to my knees.

“No,” he nearly cried, hands on my shoulders. “Chris, love, I’m not even kidding when I say I⁠—”

“Where’s your lube?”

“My…oh no,” he gasped. “I don’t have any.”

I stood and wrapped him in my arms, even though he was very wet and I was very dry, and hugged him tight. “Don’t worry, baby, I brought lube for you.”

He choked on a sob, and I let him go, darting out the door to his bedroom, where I’d dropped my bag. Rifling through it, I came up with the bottle I needed, and was back to find him standing exactly where I’d left him.

Charging up to him, I took his face in my hands and kissed him. It was hard and mauling, and he sucked on my lips in return, chasing my tongue with his, his teeth on my bottom lip making sure I couldn’t break away.

When he had to pull back to breathe, I saw how pleased he was with himself. “Happy?”

“I will be,” he said, and then moaned, low and filthy, as I took him in hand and stroked him from balls to head. “Oh, Chris, please.”

Working his length, I used my other hand to press one slick finger gently inside him.

Turning, he bent over the sink as I added another finger.

“You don’t have to go slow.”

“Yes, I do,” I told him, my voice low, dangerous, letting him know who was in charge. “I would never hurt you. Not ever.”

“You could hurt me a little,” he begged me. “I might⁠—”

I turned his head and kissed him, over his shoulder, as I pushed my fingers in and out, deep, then dragged them shallow, circling, scissoring, before adding a third. When he pushed back onto my fingers, I eased them free, notching the head of my cock there.

“Christopher Gardner, I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

“I feel the same about you, Dawson West,” I whispered and pressed in slowly, without stopping, filling him, feeling his muscles stretch around me, resist briefly, which brought a groan of pleasure deep from his chest, before the opening and the pull, his body wanting me in deeper. “And fuck…could you be any hotter or tighter?”

“Just fuck me, hurry, hurry, hurry, do it now. Now. Now!”

“I won’t last. You need to grab your⁠—”

“No, I want it long, Chris. I need you to let me know I belong to you.”

“You’re mine,” I husked in his ear, and he bucked back against me as I began a slow thrusting that felt incredible.

“Chris,” he howled, bracing on the sink with both hands, not touching his dick, head down between his shoulders, just taking the hammering and pleading for more.

I had to grab hold of him, one hand tight around his throat, bowing his back, the other like a vise on his hip, holding him still, immobile, making him take the pounding he craved and that I was dying to deliver.

It only worked like this with Dawson, mind, body, and heart intertwined, all longing for the same thing, to be the sole owner of all that he was, while at the same time wanting to see all his dreams come true.

When I took hold of his cock, the mewling cry was loud before his muscles clenched around me tight, all at once, as he came on the side of the sink, pulsing out a stream of cum that was dripping off the porcelain.

I pistoned into him, not stopping, feeling his orgasm twist around my cock as I finally spilled into him, shoving deep, unable to stop, needing to make sure he would feel me even after I was gone.

Wrapping both arms around him, I held him so tight, I wasn’t sure he could breathe, until I heard his warm chuckle and felt him shake with it.

“I’m holding too tight,” I whispered, relaxing my hold in small increments, unable to simply release him.