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In the hall were a few other people, all headed to the foam party, none of them paying us any attention as we walked past, hand in hand. I found it a little comical. Sometimes in life, the freshly out-of-the-closet prince of Spain could walk right past you and you’d be none the wiser. As we walked down the hall, we passed the theater, which was currently getting ready to show The Nutcracker. People were lined up on the side of the wall, waiting to get in, and we had to walk past all of them, wearing our little swim trunks with our flip-flops flapping, our hands twined together. Here I could feel some eyes land on us. I couldn’t tell if the stares were people checking us out or judging us, if anyone knew who I was or didn’t.
And yet the bottom line was, I found that I didn’t give any cruising fucks. I looked to my right, Shiro walking confidently with his chest out and his head up, a cocky little grin on his face. He didn’t care either.
The elevator we got into was empty, which was perfect because I couldn’t keep my lips off Shy any longer. I kissed him for a moment as the doors shut, barely able to wait until we got to my room. If the wall behind us wasn’t pure glass, I would have dropped to my knees and started to blow him.
“Are you ready?” I asked, kissing him again as we rode the elevator up to my floor. “Because I want to worship you until the sun comes up.”
“Oh, I’m not planning on sleeping.”
I laughed, kissing him again, not caring that the glass elevator didn’t hide any of my affection from anyone watching.
“There’s a saying in Spain. We call Christmas Eve: Nochebuena. And the saying goes: Esta noche es Nochebuena, y no es noche de dormir.”
“Okay, I got ‘good night,’ but that’s about it. You speak Spanish so fast!”
“Tonight is the Good Night; it’s not a night for sleep.”
“Ahh, now I got it.” This time Shiro kissed me, leaning up, his smiling lips pressing against mine. “Well, I’m glad we’re doing Nochebuena right then.”
“We’re doing it very right,” I said, almost purring, feeling myself getting carried away. Thankfully, we weren’t in the elevator any longer because I’m sure the glass would have started to steam up any second. The doors opened on my floor. We got out, hands locked together again. My swim trunks were tight against my growing bulge. I shot a glance downward and saw that the head of my cock was clearly outlined against my thigh.
“Someone’s excited,” Shy said, having followed my gaze. I licked my lips as we stopped in front of my door. I moved his hand so that he cupped my erection.
“Isn’t this what you asked for for Christmas? A hung prince from Spain?”
“I thought that was confidential! Fucking Santa, always blabbing shit.” Shy shook his head, laughing as he gave me a few gentle strokes. “It’s not even Christmas morning, though. Shouldn’t I wait to unwrap my gift?”
“We open gifts on Nochebuena,” I said, kissing him again, making my cock twitch in his grip. “So let’s go unwrap yours.” Still kissing him, I managed to take out my key card and press it against the lock. The sound of the heavy dead bolt sliding open filled the hall.
Inside my room, I dropped my trunks, revealing nothing underneath except for my already rock-hard cock. Shy didn’t waste any time either. He untied his trunks, still a little moist from the foam, and dropped them, also revealing he had gone commando. I grabbed his hips and tugged him in for a kiss, our cocks crossing like two dueling swords, his soft shaft sliding against mine. I thrust, rubbing myself onto him.
“I’m done being scared,” I said between breaths. I had to let it be known. Here, when the two of us were naked and connected, I needed Shy to know that I was done. “From this point forward, I’m living my life the way I want to live it.” I kissed his smiling lips.
“I’m proud of you, Nick. You deserve to be happy.”
“You showed me that, Shy. I hit rock bottom when Luna came to me with that photo. But you pulled me out of it.” Another kiss. I felt him throb between us, causing me to do the same. “And you deserve to be happy, too, Shy. You should never have to search for fake friendships or fake relationships ever again.” I cupped his head with a gentle hand, pushing a rogue strand of hair from the side of his forehead. “And you certainly don’t deserve to find yourself with another potato-chip-addicted bum.”
“Who do I deserve to be with, then?” His amber brown eyes pierced through me.
