by Ashton Cade
Mostly because everyone I love was there.
…And I beat Paul to the altar. By twelve days. We didn’t mean to steal his thunder, but Liam’s friend was scheduled to leave for a two-year mission trip in Bulgaria, so it was kind of a now or never situation.
Paul’s probably never going to let me live it down, though.
Mom and Dad were happy to make their visit one extended trip instead of coming up for two weddings. Mom would’ve been a lot happier if we’d had a double wedding, but there was no way either of us was going to go for that.
“What’s missing?” I ask Brandon again, seeing him start to sweat. He asked to be more involved this year, so Liam made him propmaster. I’m guessing something’s unaccounted for. Somehow, the show will go on without the myrrh. No one even knows what that is.
Brandon bites his lip, a habit he’s picked up from Liam. It’s just as cute when he does it.
“I can’t find the baby doll,” he says.
“The… You mean the baby Jesus doll?”
He bites his lip again. “Uh-huh. Do you think Dad’s seen it? Maybe he wanted to… give it a new dress? Oh man, he’s gonna be so mad, Papa. You gotta help me.”
“He’s not going to be mad… It’s not that big of a deal—”
“It’s Christmas. The whole thing is about baby Jesus and I lost him.”
“I’m sure there’s another doll around we can use. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go talk to him, okay?”
Brandon bites his lip again, then nods. “He’s not going to be mad?”
There’s still these little glimpses sometimes, the peeks into Brandon’s past life that break my heart. He doesn’t really like to talk about his old family. He quickly started calling Liam “Dad” as soon the court declared him ours. Well, not his parents, exactly. It’s a long bureaucratic process to sever parental rights and then go through adoption. Word that the judge had accepted their petition to abdicate their rights was the first big step in Brandon feeling more comfortable with us. A few months later, after the wedding, he started calling me Papa.
Still, in the eyes of the legal system, we were only his guardians. After a year, we’ve finally got those papers. Lonny got the adoption finalized before he took his Christmas vacation, and the documents that say it’s all official are waiting for Brandon under the tree.
Liam and I are dying to keep the secret. We haven’t even told Meryl because we don’t think she’ll be able to stay quiet, but tomorrow, the whole world can know that he’s our son. Our family is complete.
I grab my coat and head outside to find my handsome husband hard at work.
“Hey babe?” I call into the snow.
He stops and turns. “Yeah?”
“You, uh… Haven’t seen the baby doll we’re using for Jesus, have you?”
Liam scoffs, his breath a puff of white in the cold, then he laughs. “I can’t clear the walk and keep track of baby Jesus. Brandon lost it?”
“Appears so. Or an angel wandered off with him. Who knows. He’s worried you’re going to be mad at him.”
Liam frowns. “That’s silly. There’s probably four in Lost and Found. Just grab one out of there.”
“Will do,” I say, smiling as I go in for a kiss. “Don’t use up all your energy out here,” I tease, nipping at his bottom lip. After a big event like this there’s always a lot of steam to blow off, and after being married half a year, I know just how he likes to do that.
He’s right about Lost and Found, and I bring Brandon over to show him, too.
He’s so relieved I’m worried he might cry.
“Hey, bud, you’re doing a great job. Your dad and I are both really proud of how you’ve stepped up to help us. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”
He nods, still looking over the baby dolls.
“This one doesn’t have a frilly dress or frizzy curls,” I offer, passing off the only brunette baby doll in the mix.
“Thanks,” he says, taking the doll.
“Can I get a hug?”
He rolls his eyes, then cracks a little smile before relenting.
I think this year’s rendition of the Nativity play is even better than last year’s. Maybe I just feel that way because now I know all the kids participating a lot better. Somehow Liam’s got me to be pretty involved in his church. I don’t mind when there are moments like this.
This year I’m the odd man out in the pew, with both Liam and Brandon helping out during the play. Meryl’s next to me, but she’s here with her new beau Cooper. I’m not supposed to say anything to Liam just yet, but she told me they’re “very serious,” whatever that means.
Maybe there’s going to be another wedding before too long. Liam doesn’t have anything to worry about with Mr. Nichols. He’s always been a decent man. He’ll treat Meryl right. Not that she’d accept anything less.
She moved out of the house not long after the new year, wanting to give us the space we needed to mesh as a family unit. She didn’t go far though, still within walking distance. Plenty close for dinners, for Monopoly nights, for watching movies and making memories.
Liam’s service is beautiful and simple as always. He really had it right when he told me this is a calling for him. Every aspect of this job is practically tailor-made for him. He’s told me about guys he dated in the past who would ask if he’d ever consider another job, and it just goes to show how little they understood him.
This isn’t a job for Liam. He couldn’t stop being a pastor any more than he could stop being impossibly sexy. It’s just a part of who he is.
After the service, we’re all gathered around chatting, and Paul wags his finger at Meryl.
“I have a bone to pick with you, ma’am,” he says, a familiar glint in his eyes. She doesn’t know him well enough to spot it though, and thinks she’s in real trouble.
“Oh?” she asks, puffing up a little. Meryl’s no shrinking violet; she knows how to stand her ground.
“You dazzled me with a seafood smorgasbord last year, and now I’m hearing that you’re not having a Christmas Eve dinner at all? What have I been looking forward to all year?” he teases.
Meryl’s eyes go wide, then she looks a little contrite, glancing over at Cooper.
“I didn’t realize people enjoyed it so much, and I’ve had less free time,” she adds, clearing her throat. “Maybe we’ll bring it back next year.”
Paul smiles. “Only if you want to. Congratulations to both of you on your lack of free time,” he teases. “We’ll see you tomorrow for presents?”
“Yeah, noonish?” I answer, looking to Liam. He shrugs, then nods.
“Noonish is good.”
Alton waves, and I wave back. He’s been good to my brother this time around. It’s time I stop holding his past against him. He’s all right by me.
After the congregants have all filtered out, it’s just the three of us headed home. Brandon is practically skipping through the snow.
“Can I open a present tonight?” he asks.
“Who says you have any?” asks Liam.
Brandon snorts. “I’ve seen them under the tree with my name on them.”
Liam scoffs. “You must be seeing things. From whom?”
“From you and Papa, duh.”
“I dunno, Phin. Do you remember getting him any presents?”
I shrug. “Couldn’t tell you. Maybe I’ll remember tomorrow…”
“You guys could open one too!” Brandon offers. “I got you stuff.”
Now Liam’s interest is piqued. “Oh yeah? What kind of stuff? Is it new slippers? I loved the ones you got me last year so much they’ve started to wear through.”
Brandon shrugs. “I dunno. Guess there’s one way to find out…”
Liam looks at me, smirking. “I think our kid’s trying to manipulate us.”
“I think you’re right,” I agree. “That seems like a risky choice when Santa’s showing up tonight.”
Brandon rolls his eyes, pushing the parsonage door op
en. “Santa? That again?”
Liam sighs, then looks at me, a question in his eyes. I shrug. I don’t really care when he opens his presents, if it’s now or eight hours from now.
“Get ready for bed and maybe we’ll let you open a little one,” Liam says.
“Yes,” Brandon hisses in victory, darting off to his room.
“You are such a softy,” I tease, kissing my wonderful husband.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes. “But I’m pretty sure I remember which one has those silly socks we bought in Niagara.”
“Oooh, devious,” I laugh. “I love you.”
He grins. “Because I’m devious?”
“Among other things,” I answer.
“I love you too. I’m really glad tonight is over. It feels like a marathon every year.”
“It is,” I agree, rubbing his shoulders after he sheds his coat.
He turns his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders, arching his back. “That feels so good,” he groans, those words sending a jolt straight to my cock. He never fails to turn me on, but that’s a fast reaction even for me.
I guess I have been anticipating this all night. We’ve just gotta get the kid off to bed.
The whole time Brandon’s prepping for bed, brushing his teeth, changing into pajamas, all that good stuff, Liam and I are on the couch. I give him a massage, him slowly turning to jelly under my fingers. When the water in the bathroom turns off, we both simultaneously realize we’re sporting erections, and toss a throw blanket over our laps, a picture of innocence cuddling on the couch when our son emerges.
“Here,” Brandon says, handing us each a present from under the tree.
“You can have that one over there with the red bow,” Liam says. “Then right to bed, okay?”
“Okay,” Brandon agrees.
Sure enough, Liam got a new pair of slippers—he hasn’t exactly been subtle about his old ones wearing out—and I got…
“A tiny car?” I ask. It’s like a miniature Matchbox car, barely the size of my thumbnail.
“The wheels turn and the doors open and everything,” Brandon says proudly.
“Cool…” I mutter, a little confused.
He sighs, like he expected having to explain it. “Now your Monopoly piece is a tiny working version of what it is too,” he says, positively beaming with pride.
Liam and I both laugh, warmth flooding through the room.
Brandon starts to open his, then Liam straightens. “Wait, you should open this one instead,” he says, pulling the wrapped adoption papers out from under the tree.
Brandon’s a little confused, but shrugs, taking the larger present without argument. He tears through the tape, then opens the envelope, frowning and confused while he’s reading it.
“Do you understand what that says?” Liam asks, moving in closer.
Brandon looks up, eyes bright. “You’re my dad? For real?”
“We both are,” Liam says. “Lonny got it all finished a few days ago. It’s really official now.”
Brandon flings his arms around Liam, who’s already crying. Liam looks at me, then waves me over. “You get in here too,” he says.
We all hug for a good long minute, then Brandon sniffles.
“Grandma is gonna hug you sooooooo hard,” Liam says, laughing softly.
“She doesn’t know either?” Brandon asks, incredulous.
“You think she could keep it a secret?” I ask.
He laughs. “No.”
“All right, kiddo. Off to bed. That was the deal,” Liam says, giving him another squeeze before grabbing my hand and squeezing it too.
“Good night,” Brandon says, taking his papers with him to bed. It’s all legalese that I barely understand, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got it memorized in a couple of days. He’s wanted this probably as much as either one of us.
“Night,” we say in unison, left alone in the glow of the tree.
“Good call,” I say, picking up scraps of wrapping paper. “Really good call.”
Liam helps me clean up, and then starts pulling me back to the bedroom.
Another good call.
“I have loved every minute of tonight,” he says, once the door’s closed behind us, “but I’ve been looking forward to this the whole time.”
I kiss him, locking the door, flipping on the white noise machine, and walking him back to the bed. It’s a pretty practiced maneuver at this point, and I can to it all without breaking the kiss, my tongue making him groan as he stumbles backward, calves hitting the mattress.
“You’re not the only one who’s been looking forward to this,” I say, dragging my hands up his sides, pulling his shirt up too. I never get tired of his body, the perfection of his muscles, the quiet strength you’d never guess he was hiding under that sweet preacher exterior.
“Wait’s over, baby,” he says, grinning, shoving my pants down. We’ve gotten really good at undressing each other over the last year. Between Brandon and Meryl, long stretches of privacy aren’t something we really get. We’re used to squeezing in time together wherever we can, which has led to us getting very efficient.
But tonight we actually have some time. Tonight, we can enjoy each other.
I drop down to my knees, holding his cock in my hand, and stroking him slowly. Each time I bring my mouth closer to him, making sure he can feel my breath teasing him before he ever feels my lips.
“Oh… Phin, damn…” he groans, fingers threading through my hair as I lean in, tracing my tongue along the tip of his cock. “Yes,” he hisses, hips bucking when my lips wrap around him.
The salty-sweet taste of him floods my tongue, sending signals straight to my balls, my own dick hardening in anticipation. But first I want to make him come. I want to make him feel so good that he forgets to be sweet for a minute and fucks my face.
I circle my fingers around the base of him, squeezing as I take him deeper into my mouth, opening my throat to take all of him.
“That feels… so… so good,” he pants, already close judging by that breathlessness. He tightens his grip on the back of my head and I groan, encouraging him, taking him all the way into the back of my throat. He holds me there, thrusting into my mouth, panting, his eyes closed, head tossed back, the wild abandon on his expression the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
With my free hand, I reach up to cup his balls, stroking that little spot I know he loves.
“Oh God,” he cries, thrusting deep into my throat, then stilling, hot jets of his cum spurting out of him.
Once he’s finally spent, he releases my hair, and I’m free to come up for air, swiping at the corners of my mouth. I stand up, knees a little shaky after being on the ground, then kiss him long and deep. I let him taste himself, letting him come down from that high.
Soon he’s groaning into the kiss, his hands roving downward, fingers wrapping around me.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” he pleads, stroking my full length. It feels so good I forget to breathe for a second. The only thing I can do is lean into his hand, breath hitching with every stroke.
“You’re gonna have to stop that if you want me to fuck you,” I finally growl, pushing him back on the bed. It’s not easy to break the spell of his hand on me, but I know there’s something better waiting for me.
Liam has the pillow under his hips by the time I have the condom on, and we put lube on each other, fingers wandering and teasing the whole way. I love the way he squirms with two of my fingers buried in his ass, but I’m impatient. Despite all this time we have, I want him now. I’m done waiting, and I think he is too, since he’s grabbing my cock and pulling it toward him.
“Please, Phineas,” he whispers. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
How could I with a plea like that?
I press into him, his body opening up to accept me in one long, fluid stroke, until we’re fully connected.
“Yes,” he whispers, reaching for my hand. �
��You feel so good.”
“You feel so good,” I echo, his pulse radiating through me, his heat so intense. “So perfect,” I say, slowly withdrawing.
He whimpers, a sad sound of loss that only lasts a second before I fill him again, both of us gasping.
“More,” he says, squeezing my hand, keeping us locked in multiple ways. Before too long, he’ll have his legs wrapped around me too. That’s when I know I’ve found just the right rhythm.
I kiss him hard and deep, picking up the pace, driving him down into the mattress, the pressure inside me building higher and higher, a tight coil ready to explode. Then he wraps his legs around me, he pulls me closer like he needs me so much he’s going to try to absorb me into him.
“Liam, I’m gonna—”
“Come,” he says, squeezing, his legs around me, my hand in his, my cock deep in his ass. It’s all at once, and I have no choice but to do what he says. My whole body freezes, that coil shatters, and then warmth floods every cell in my body all at once.
As soon as I have the smallest amount of sense back, I’m kissing him like my life depends on it, pouring every ounce of love and adoration for this man into it.
“You’re amazing,” I whisper between kisses.
“You are,” he says, sounding dreamy. Sleepy. I brush his hair back from his forehead, kissing him a little softer this time.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, grinning before I finally pull out, both of us a little disappointed by the separation.
“You too,” he says, taking the pillow from under his hips, putting it at the bottom of the pile under his head. “Our first one as married men,” he says, smirking while I’m cleaning up.
“The first of many,” I say, crawling back into bed with him, pulling him into my arms.
He snuggles into me, and already I can feel his body relaxing, sleep starting to pull him under.
“I love you,” he whispers, voice barely there.
“I love you too,” I answer, kissing the back of his neck, content to lie there and listen to his breathing slip into soft snores. I can’t imagine a better Christmas. In fact, I can’t imagine a better life.
