Home for the Holidays: Mr Frosty Pants, Mr Naughty List

by Leta Blake

  Bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Appeared. Disappeared.

  He started to sweat. Fuck. Was Mr. Danvers not going to reply?

  Bubbles appeared again. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  I’m assuming this is RJ?

  Aaron was pretending not to know who he was? Cold. RJ had texted himself from Aaron’s phone with his own name and a smiley face. It would be there at the top of the text thread. He decided not to call Aaron out on the lie. If this was how he wanted to play it, then so be it. RJ braced himself for outright rejection, even as he typed his casual response.

  Yeah. This is RJ.

  Bubbles came and went again, until RJ had to get up and pace the room. Finally, his phone dinged with a new message.

  Last night was incredible, but it probably shouldn’t happen again.

  Shouldn’t wasn’t the same as wouldn’t, and RJ’s heart tumbled. He’d been lucky enough to have Mr. Danvers once. He should be satisfied with that. But he really wasn’t.

  I’m grateful for last night. Thank you for letting me have it—and you.

  He scrubbed a hand in his hair and waited for a long time, but finally a short and sweet reply came through.

  It was a pleasure.

  RJ didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be pushy after Aaron had made his position on another hookup clear. He stared at the screen until he finally gave up and stared at the ceiling instead. After a few minutes, he got out his acoustic guitar for the first time since arriving in town. It took him about half an hour to pick out a melody that pleased him, and another twenty to start making progress on some lyrics, but he was pleased to finally be writing a new song.

  His phone dinged.

  RJ paused. It was probably Joel again. But he snatched it off the bed anyway, heart thumping with expectation.

  So how was your day?

  RJ bit into his lower lip and put his guitar aside.

  Yes. Fuck, yes. Aaron had given in and texted him. There was hope.

  Chapter Twelve

  24 hours later

  Sexting with a former student was probably just as bad as actually fucking one, but what Lauren didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. And Aaron really needed the distraction tonight.

  After dressing as an elf for the holiday pep rally, enduring the laughter of the entire middle school, and realizing that, after all he’d done to help out, Coach Ramirez now looked at him like…like maybe Aaron really was a raging queer—and worse, like that knowledge made Jack uncomfortable? Well, Aaron desperately needed something to take the edge off.

  The fact that his preferred “something” was a little hit off his former student, RJ Blitz, was…not worth examining too closely.

  The night before, they’d simply texted about life. They’d chatted about their day, the books they’d read recently, and had somehow ended up comparing memories of their favorite holiday movies from childhood. But when they’d signed off for the night, it’d felt good. Nice, like they’d agreed to be friends and nothing more. Maybe they’d shared an intimate, hot night together, but now they could be comfortable, casual buddies.

  Tonight, though, right from the start, things had felt different for Aaron. When the first text from RJ came through around seven, right after Aaron had finished up his lonely Chinese takeout dinner and he’d settled down with Constance on the sofa to contemplate whether reaching out to RJ first was allowed, he’d nearly crowed with joy.

  He’d flushed hot to see RJ’s message on the screen. Never mind that it was another completely innocent Hey, how was your day? It still sent him up in flames. Aaron had never felt a full-body blush that hot and hard before. RJ might as well have asked him if he’d like to get rimmed.

  Staring at the innocuous message, his dick chubbed up against his thigh. Aaron struggled with his conscience for about six seconds. And then he started it.

  Later, if Lauren ever found out and chose to hang him out to dry, he’d have no excuse worth giving. He’d just wanted to feel wanted, special, and sexy for a few minutes. And his former student was really fucking good at making Aaron feel all of those things.

  “If you were here with me tonight, what would you do to me?” Aaron’s thumbs shook as he typed, and he had to correct several typos before he could send his question through. Then he waited, dizzy with the urgent need to know what RJ would say in response. His heart thumped and his dick surged, an anxious glee filling him as he watched the message bubbles appear. He waited for an interminably long time before gasping at RJ’s response.

  I’d bend you over your kitchen table, spank your ass again just to see it jiggle, and then I’d fuck you until you begged to come. Why?

  Oh shit. That was real. That was exactly the response Aaron had hoped for. The spanking included. He’d been disappointed on that morning, only two nights after his encounter with RJ, to find the lingering swat marks on his ass had vanished while he was sleeping.

  Aaron settled himself on his sofa, getting comfortable. He closed his eyes, remembering the way RJ had looked at him the night they’d been together. Like Aaron was a movie star, or the physical incarnation of all of RJ’s hottest fantasies. Like Aaron’s body was a Christmas gift that RJ was amazed to find beneath the tree, all his to unwrap and claim. Aaron had never felt so admired and wanted. Like he was RJ’s dream come true.

  Fuck, how often did he ever feel special anymore? Try never. Aaron slipped one hand beneath his silky robe and pinched a pebbled nipple. His hips twitched and he flipped his robe open to expose his hard dick.

  Constance began to knead the fabric of the sofa where she sat perched next to him. Ignoring her and trying not to think about what she might witness, Aaron cupped his balls, fingered his taint, and considered his response. Finally, he managed to type in:

  How would you fuck me?

  The answer came without much delay. Every way I know how. There was a long, bubble-filled pause, and then, I’d make you come until you can’t handle it anymore. I’d make you sob and beg from how good it feels to have my dick in your ass. You wouldn’t even know what you were begging me to do after a while. You’d say nothing but please.

  Aaron’s dick ached. He fondled it, remembering the way RJ had reduced him to just that—a sobbing, begging mess—over the night they’d spent together. When he moaned, Constance shot him an aggrieved glare and hopped down, strolling away to hide beneath a chair. Aaron stroked himself more rapidly. He almost lost his grip on his phone, but he managed to respond with:

  Why would you spank me?

  Because you’ve been naughty. Very, very naughty.

  How would you spank me?

  He’d meant for RJ to give him more description (hard, until your ass burns red, until you’re crying out for me to stop), but RJ’s reply took his breath away and his cock jerked, releasing a pulse of pre-come.

  With a ruler, Mr. Danvers. With a ruler from your desk drawer.

  Oh, God, RJ was going down that teacher/student path again. It was so wrong, so, so damn wrong, but Aaron’s dick didn’t care, and neither did his left hand. It kept squeezing and pumping until leaking pre-come slipped down to coat his hand’s glide. He swiped at the drips and swirled the slick moisture around his cockhead while he caught his breath and tried to type with his shaking right thumb.

  Yes. I’ve been very naughty. I’ve fucked a former student.

  It was a dream come true. A+ would do again.

  Aaron groaned. His nipples tightened and tingled; his balls felt hot and full of come. Tell me more about what you’d do to me.

  Say please.

  Fuck you.

  Naughty, Mr. Danvers. I’m waiting.

  Please tell me what you’d do to me.

  That’s a good boy. I’d finger-fuck you. Rim your ass. Suck your dick.

  Aaron’s breath caught, and he nearly came imagining RJ’s mouth sliding down over his cock. RJ’s talented tongue teasing him and RJ’s greedy throat wrapping around him. Fuck, it’d be so good. Another text came thr
ough: Hang tight. I’ll come over.

  No. Stay there.

  Why?

  I just want to know what you’d do if you were here, not actually do it.

  Why?

  We can’t.

  If you say so.

  Aaron panted as he jerked himself, putting his phone aside for a minute to roll his balls in his other hand. Truth was, he wanted RJ to come over more than he wanted most anything else in the world right now, but he couldn’t hold off on his orgasm for much longer, and he knew once he came, he’d find clarity again.

  First, on the inappropriateness of fucking a former student, and second, on the emotional irresponsibility of starting a relationship—even just a holiday fling—with a guy like RJ, or with any guy at all.

  Luckily, RJ didn’t push the issue of coming over. He started up with the sexting again. Aaron’s nipples stung they were so tight, and his balls rushed with jizz, orgasm holding steady just a few strokes away.

  I’d put you on your knees, Mr. Danvers.

  Yeah?

  I’d grab your hair, force you down, make you kiss my balls.

  Oh God.

  I’d make you suck me until I decided I’ve had enough. Then I’d fuck your throat and shoot my load. You’d swallow it.

  Aaron cried out. RJ wasn’t exceptionally dreamy at sexting, lacking the descriptive powers of some men he’d done this with. But RJ was straight forward and certain, and Aaron knew he meant every word of it. If RJ were here in his apartment right now, he’d do those things to Aaron. He’d take control and make Aaron pleasure him, and, somehow, through it all, Aaron would feel cherished. He’d ache with joy while RJ wrung gratification from his body. God, he wanted that again.

  Aaron gripped his phone hard as the crescendo consumed him, forcing him to achingly hot heights. His come arced from his dick in a long spurt so pleasurable that his eyes rolled back. It splashed over his chest and his throat. Shorter, sharp jolts of pleasure rocked him as jizz slopped over his still-pumping hand. Fuck.

  Aaron’s phone dinged with a new message from RJ: I just came.

  Me too.

  Wish I’d seen that.

  Aaron swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut, laying the phone down on the sofa arm, riding out several aftershocks of pleasure. He wished RJ had seen him come tonight, too. He’d loved the way RJ had so ardently watched him fall apart when they’d fucked before. But…no. He couldn’t do that. Lauren was right. This was a mistake.

  He’d been an idiot. Christ, why was this all so hot?

  Going to clean up, he typed to RJ with trembling thumbs.

  There was no reply. RJ was probably doing the same.

  After a fast shower, Aaron tugged on his favorite soft sweatpants and an even softer T-shirt. He slid his hand over Constance on the bed, and then lay down next to her, burying his face in her fur. She began to purr.

  His mind was calm now, but his blood still seemed to fizz and pop inside him, a weird unsettled anticipation that even an orgasm hadn’t extinguished. His phone dinged in the living room, and he rose to check it.

  When can I see you?

  Aaron stared at the message and then, somehow, almost like an out of body experience, he typed in: Want to go to a middle school dance with me tomorrow night?

  Fuck, what was he doing? Why had he texted that? His mother would lose her mind if he showed up with a guy on his arm. She’d made it clear that his homosexuality had no place in a school setting and should always be kept separate from his work as a teacher. The situation with McAllister was proof of that, she’d said.

  Aaron bit his lower lip and waited, not sure what he wanted RJ to do, accept his offer or reject it. When the text came through, his heart dropped.

  I’d love to, babe, but I have band practice. Meet up after?

  The strange disappointment warred with a flare of renewed lust. He should say no. Nip this in the bud. He shouldn’t have texted RJ to begin with tonight, and the “babe” was a bit too much when they weren’t naked together. But…

  Yes.

  Your place?

  Yeah. Aaron’s head spun. Oh, God, what was he doing? He was being a slutty fool. Since when had he ever let his dick be in charge? Not since McAllister. And look where that had gotten him…

  Should I bring a ruler? ;)

  Aaron quivered and swallowed hard. Yes.

  What time?

  Ten. The dance isn’t over until nine, and I’ll need to get home. Prepare things.

  I’ll be there. And don’t worry, Aaron, I won’t let you down.

  Aaron shoved the phone away, staring up at where his string of Christmas lights glowed against the ceiling. He got up slowly, his insides humming with eagerness and dread.

  When he crawled into bed and Constance curled up along the side of his leg to sleep, all he could think about were RJ’s hands, his voice, and the surety he exuded whenever he stated what he planned to do to Aaron’s body.

  When Aaron finally fell asleep, he dreamed of being back in that damned elf costume—striped tights and green jingle-bell hat. But instead of being in front of all of his students, being mocked and laughed at, he was happily bent over RJ’s lap, getting spanked.

  The next morning, Aaron woke with soggy sheets for the first time in ten years.

  While choosing the perfect bowtie for the day, he decided he’d wear the elf outfit for RJ that night. See where that took them. RJ seemed the type to be game for anything. And the outfit wasn’t due back at the costumers for a week. Plenty of time to have it cleaned.

  Aaron made his lunch, grabbed his school satchel, and plucked his keys from the counter before heading out. Yes, if he was going to risk double-dipping with RJ, he planned to milk it for all the kinky pleasure he could. Wearing the elf costume, putting that fantasy out there… It was a risk, but it felt like he already had nothing to lose. He might as well go for it. It was the right thing to do.

  Or wrong thing, rather.

  Former student, risky choice, potential damage to his professional reputation and all that.

  But, hell. He was going to do it anyway. Might as well earn that lump of coal in his stocking.

  RJ messed with his favorite, showy pedal, making his guitar ring out in the cavernous space of Joel and Casey’s unfinished log cabin where they’d set up to practice. The downstairs was mostly complete, though they’d had to pull in wires from the temporary electrical panel set up for the construction company to plug in their amps, a few space heaters, and lamps.

  Even with the space heaters, the room was chilly, but they all wore sweaters and were protected from the wind off the lake by the walls, even if the glass windows weren’t in yet. Darkness closed around them in the winter gloom. RJ assumed the sound of their music must bounce off the lake and the cliffs around the property, especially without any leafy foliage to absorb it. He hoped the rich folks across the lake, including Casey’s parents, enjoyed it. Bruno, for his part, didn’t like the loud drums and always scampered off into the dark, bare woods to chase wild turkeys and squirrels.

  Becca and Madison had already left, the rehearsal cut short by their need to attend Becca’s holiday party at the hair salon where she worked. Becca had dismantled her drums and used her packing mojo to make it all fit in the back of her bizarrely roomy hatchback, but Madison was storing her keyboard at Joel and Casey’s for now. She used the Scruffy City Hall’s piano during the actual shows.

  Luckily, they’d sounded pretty tight during practice, so RJ didn’t mind that they hadn’t gone the full two hours. The girls leaving early also gave him time alone with Casey and Joel for some guy talk.

  “Wait, I don’t get it,” Joel said, frowning and scratching at his ear. “Mr. Danvers, the man you’ve wanted since high school, invited you on a date tonight?”

  RJ nodded and strummed his guitar again before bowing his head and closing his eyes to noodle a little, enjoying the ring of the pedal. It was just so spangly. It matched his jittery excitement over the evening ahead.

&nbs
p; “And you said no?” Casey asked, propped up on a pile of blankets in the corner with his iPad, making posts on Facebook and Twitter on behalf of his marketing clients. Always Old Skool Millennials’ biggest fan, Casey hadn’t wanted to miss their practice, so he’d worked through it like the good multitasker he was.

  “Band practice is sacred,” RJ said with a shrug. “That’s always been my rule.”

  “Sure, back when we were dumb kids trying to be a real band. But now we’re just fucking around playing some Christmas gigs for the hell of it,” Joel said, furrowing his brow.

  “It was a rule when we were kids, yeah,” RJ agreed. “But it’s a rule with every band I tour with. I can’t just not show up.”

  “Well, of course,” Joel conceded. “But you know this is different.”

  “It’s really not.”

  Joel checked his phone and clucked his tongue at RJ. “You’ve still got some time. Text Mr. Danvers and say you can make it after all. Show up at the dance looking like a million bucks.” He nodded toward Casey. “That’s what I did. Showed up at his folks’ holiday party in my best jacket. And look at us.”

  Casey gazed at Joel like a lovesick cow, and RJ rolled his eyes. “You guys are gross.” He refrained from mentioning that Joel’s surprise appearance at Casey’s family’s Christmas party had initially backfired on both of them. They were so in love and happy now, it was pointless to bring up the messy past. They were even on good terms with Casey’s parents at this point. Everything had come up Christmas miracles for them. That’s not how RJ’s life worked.

  “Really, you should crash the dance like Joel said,” Casey offered. “He’d be impressed by that.”

  RJ scoffed. “Would he? A random dude shows up at a middle school dance. That wouldn’t be, I don’t know, fucking weird?”

  “You’d be his date! It’d be romantic.”

  RJ didn’t think it would be actually. “I don’t have any clothes appropriate for a dance. I’m a touring guitarist. I don’t own a suit or sports coat. I can’t show up in ripped jeans, a T-shirt, and a studded leather jacket.”