“You’re going to fucking miss me when this is over,” I tell him.
Some kind of monster is rearing its head in me, and I don’t have the control to make it go away.
“I think you’ll miss me just as much, boyfriend.”
“God,” I hiss at him and grip his hips hard, digging my fingers into his skin. “Want you to think about this, when it’s all over. How I’m about to come down your fucking legs for your Christmas morning present.”
“You want to be on my mind like that, don’t you?”
“I’m going to live on repeat in your head,” I utter. “No one else will ever give you what I do.”
“And nobody else will doanythingfor you like I will.”
I exhale against the top of his back.
I love being close to him like this.
Spooning him from behind, practically pantomiming that I’m fucking him.
I need to come.
My head isn’t clear right now, and I know it’s just because I need release.
“You’re mine,” I whisper near his ear. “I think you always have been, Oliver.”
“Then use me like I’m yours.”
I groan and pump my cock harder between his thighs, sensation pooling low in my groin until I can’t hold back the wave anymore.
A full feeling crests inside me and I move my hand up until it’s around the front of his throat.
I keep my hand there, just cupped around his throat, as I let go, coming over and over as he squeezes around me with the hard muscle of his thighs.
I love this.
I love this so fucking much.
Too much, and I don’t know what to do.
My breathing is heavy as I slide my cock out from between his legs and he turns backward a little on the bed, moving his head so that he looks in my eyes.
I kiss him so he won’t speak.
I press my lips against his mouth before he can say a single thing that’ll break my goddamn brain again.
Because if I’m kissing him like this, he can’t call meboyfriend.
Christmas,somehow, starts out perfectly.
Right before dawn, Oliver and I fall asleep faster than either of us probably expected after we both came.
At nine o’clock on the dot, the faint smell of cinnamon, bacon, and maple comes floating through the air, and I wake up first, turning over toward Ollie in bed.
“Fuck you,” I say in a low, soft tone.
He squints as he blinks his eyes open. “Excuse me?”
“You’re one of those people who manages to look good even when you sleep. So annoying.”