by Elinor Gray
They parted reluctantly, and David opened his eyes. Adam was looking at him, his green eyes staring into David’s. Adam’s smile was crooked.
“This was nice,” he said, his voice a little rough.
“Thanks for coming over,” David replied.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” Adam said, and then he was gone.
David closed the door and leaned against it. His pulse was racing and a warmth had been lit in his belly. It had just been a kiss! He hadn’t felt such a rush of amorous excitement in a long time. He couldn’t remember if this was a normal reaction to be having to a first kiss.
ON SATURDAY, David had to get over to Whitesprings Elementary & Middle by nine o’clock to help with the setup for the Santa Project’s letter distribution. He was responsible for wrestling two tables up on the gymnasium stage, along with a couple of hard folding chairs. Then he went back to his office for the tablecloth his class had decorated and the filing box full of letters, and returned to make his tables as enticing as possible.
Students and parents were also arriving, setting up their own tables to vend art, crafts, food, and services, all for the benefit of the school. David had a few students come up to say hello while he was setting up, and their parents came over for a look at David’s letters. There were close to three hundred letters from all over the county, from kids whose requests ranged from little things like new shoes for school so they didn’t have to wear the ones with the holes in them anymore, to big things like a new car for their mom, who couldn’t afford to repair the junker that sat in the driveway. David usually picked two or three letters and added them to his Christmas shopping list. His salary wasn’t overly generous, but he tried to keep his personal good fortune in mind during the holiday.
He laid the tablecloth out and began to open and unfold the letters. They were all tagged with a code on the back that corresponded to entries in David’s spreadsheet, so he knew which letter went with which family, what they had requested, and who would be fulfilling the requests. It was a method he had perfected over the years, and since adopting it he hadn’t missed a single claimed letter. If any of the letters didn’t get claimed this weekend, he would take the remainders around to local businesses and get them to sponsor the families so no one went without acknowledgment.
By the time he was done, the gymnasium was buzzing, the voices of children and adults mingling to make a cacophony of sound. Tables had been set up in long rows, displaying handmade wares of varying quality: from preschool-framed finger paintings to professionally stitched quilts; from homemade cookies in cellophane bags to custom cakes guaranteed by Christmas. There was a dad who was a professional bodyworker who set up a massage chair every year for cheap, and David was eyeing him thoughtfully when the doors were opened to the public. Maybe he’d see if he could sneak in on his schedule around noon.
There was no room on the schedule, it turned out, by midday. David should have rushed down there at nine, but instead he turned away, privately lamenting missing Mr. Barclay’s magical hands, and looked out at the room, trying to decide whether he should buy something from one of the tables or just order his lunch in. His co-leader, Mrs. Patel, had arrived at eleven after her daughters’ ballet classes and was sitting at the Santa Project table now, talking with two other moms and taking good care of his spreadsheet.
He hadn’t made a decision by the time he reached the door to the gymnasium, where he almost ran straight into Adam Martinez.
“Adam, hi,” he said, filled with warmth all at once.
“Hi,” Adam said. “Um.”
“What are you doing here?” It couldn’t be for the craft fair. Surely Adam had enough of crafts during his workweek.
“I came to see if you were free for lunch.” Adam held up a paper bag. “I stopped at Oliver’s on the way over and picked up some of their fancy mac and cheese. There’s pesto with sun-dried tomato mac, and chicken alfredo.”
David stared at him for a moment and then broke into a grin. “Yeah. That would be great. Let’s go to my classroom.”
Adam smiled. “Sure.”
As they walked down the hall together, David realized Adam would finally get a look at all the crafts he’d bought supplies for and see how many of the supplies had been a ruse. He felt his palms start to sweat, even as he tried to tell himself it was not a big deal. Nervousness was not like him at all.
He was gratified, then, when he opened the door and Adam said, “Wow, you really decked this place out.”
“Thank you.” David led him in and closed the door behind him. “I love holidays.”
“Do you do this for all the holidays? Throughout the year, I mean. Halloween, Valentine’s Day?”
“President’s Day,” David said solemnly, “Black History Month, National Donut Day—”
“I can’t tell which ones you’re serious about,” Adam laughed as he put the paper bag down on David’s big desk. He started to unpack it, and the smell of cheese filled the room.
“Donut Day, definitely.” David went around the desk to find plastic forks.
“Do you want one of these in particular, or do you want to split them?” Adam asked.
“Let’s split.” He liked the idea of sharing the plastic dishes back and forth over the desk.
Adam took the liberty of sitting on the desk, hopping up on an unoccupied corner and balancing himself with an artful crossing of his legs. It gave David a magnificent view of his jean-clad thigh and made it easy for them to trade mac and cheeses.
“What are you up to after this?” David asked, trying to sound casual. “Do you have to work today?”
“I’m on my lunch right now,” Adam said. “I have to get back in half an hour, but I wanted to come by and get a few letters from you.”
“Letters?”
“For the Project,” Adam said with a grin. “Altruism and service, isn’t that what you’re all about?”
David beamed. “That’s right! How did you—?”
“I saw you on TV, so I googled the Project,” Adam said. “I’m planning on hitting the mall after work if you want to come with me. Do a little community gifting together.”
“I’d love that,” David said. “This pesto is fucking amazing, by the way.”
Adam laughed delightedly. “You teach your kids with that mouth?”
“Not that one,” David said, smirking, and laughed when Adam blushed.
David spent the rest of the day looking forward to the end of it. He gave away dozens of letters, more than half of what he’d received; he would have to spend the next week sending reminders to everyone to ensure that no letter was left behind. It was a lot of work, but it was worth it for the kids.
He and Mrs. Patel finished breaking down the tables and putting everything away around four thirty, and Adam was waiting in the parking lot, his car running and the heater on full blast. He was outside, leaning against the driver-side door with his arms and ankles crossed so David would spot him when he came out of the school. He looked like a cross between a hot dad and a high school boyfriend. He hurried over and without thinking about it, reached out to give Adam a hug. Adam accepted it, wrapping his long arms around David and squeezing him. They stood still for a moment, but it was too cold out for the hug to last, no matter how good Adam’s embrace felt. He let David go, and David hustled around to the other side of the car.
“To the mall!” David said, pulling his hat off, grateful for the heater running.
“To the mall,” Adam agreed.
THE MALL was crowded, Christmas shopping in full swing for families with kids, parents with lists, and teens escaping the cold. David wanted to reach out and take Adam’s hand, but decided against it as they headed for the department store. It wasn’t an unfriendly town, but as an elementary school teacher, he wasn’t sure he wanted to draw attention to himself. He hadn’t had to come out to the administration yet, and he didn’t plan on doing it until he had something—someone—to show for it.
Instead, he sim
ply enjoyed Adam’s presence, his grumbling about the crowds, and his disdain for the long line outside Santa’s Grotto.
“It’s magical,” David argued.
“That child is crying,” Adam said, pointing. “He hates Santa.”
“He hates strangers. He’s four,” David said.
“So much more reason not to make him sit on some old man’s lap for the sake of a photo,” Adam said.
“Let’s focus,” David said. “What’s in your letters?”
“This kid loves basketball,” Adam said, unfolding the first letter. “He wants to play it professionally. I think I’m going to get him some decent sneakers.”
“They’re not cheap,” David warned.
“I know. He’s not getting nice sneakers, but he needs something pretty good.”
“Anything else?”
“He also wrote his sister wants some kind of Princess Helen doll.”
“Ooh,” David said, “that’s big this year. Good luck.”
“Shit,” Adam muttered, “there are reasons I don’t have kids, and Christmas lists are most of them.”
David laughed. “We might get lucky. You never know.”
The toy store had just received a huge delivery, and David breathed a sigh of relief. He would have felt genuinely bad if he’d launched Adam into some kind of ultimate Christmas toy quest before he was really ready; Adam was just starting to warm up to the holiday. But thankfully, dozens of Princess Helen dolls were lined up in rows, and they were reasonably priced too. Adam splurged on gift wrapping.
“I don’t own gift wrap,” he protested, when David reminded him that wasn’t necessary.
David’s own letter-writer wanted clothes for school, so their next stop produced a few pairs of little kid jeans, T-shirts, collared shirts, and some underwear and socks. This kid wasn’t dreaming big, which made David think this was really important. He spent a hundred dollars, reminding himself that the Santa Project was a 501(c)(3) and he was going to be able to write this donation off on his taxes.
Next they found the basketball shoes Adam had been imagining and discovered they were twice what David thought was reasonable to spend on a child, let alone a stranger. They ducked out again without buying anything and went back to the department store where similar shoes were half the price. These David could approve of Adam buying.
It was close to eight when they finally left, the hours having vanished into the magical mall-time vortex. Adam drove them back into the city, and as they approached, he glanced at David sidelong, thinking about something.
“Do you want to come back to my place for a cup of coffee or a drink or something?”
“A little more knitting tutoring?” David teased, feeling a spark light low in his gut.
Adam grinned. “Sure, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it.”
“This was fun,” Adam said.
“I’m glad! The Santa Project really is one of my favorites.”
“It’s a little selfish,” Adam said thoughtfully, gazing out the front window. “It’s uplifting to know you’re making a difference. That pesky altruism trap.”
“No action is truly selfless,” David agreed.
When they reached Adam’s place, the spark in David’s body bloomed into a warm glow. It propelled him out of the car and up the sidewalk, eager for more than just a nightcap.
“Coffee?” Adam offered, hanging up their coats behind the door. “Wine? Neither?” This last was said with a glance at David from under his eyelashes, self-conscious and amused.
“Wine,” David said. “Just a little.”
As Adam rummaged in the kitchen for a bottle and glasses, David went to sit on the big leather couch. It was warm in Adam’s apartment, and he had had a long day; the drowsiness threatened to overtake him. Adam nudged him gently a moment later, offering one of the two glasses, half-full of dark ruby-red wine.
“I can take you home, if you like,” Adam said softly, sitting down beside him, their knees bumping.
“I’m okay,” David said, sitting up a little, “I mean, I want to be here.”
Adam’s smile was shy, and David reached out to smooth a palm over his knee. He took a sip of the wine; it was fruity and dry. Adam shifted closer, until they were elbow to elbow, looking at each other over their wineglasses.
“How did you get started with the Santa Project?” Adam asked.
David told him: about the first batch of letters that arrived unannounced, how his predecessor had spent that winter first trying to find out why they’d come and then trying to find people who would become benefactors. The project had grown the next year; more people wrote letters, more people gave gifts. Soon the folks who had inadvertently been in charge of it decided they had enough traction for a nonprofit, and David had gone from a participant to a member of the board. The school craft fair wasn’t the only distribution point, but it was the most productive.
“That’s awesome,” Adam said when David finally reached the end of the tale. “It speaks a lot to your obsession with this holiday season.”
“Obsession!” David protested, but he could tell Adam was teasing him. He put down his wineglass, now empty, on top of the book on the ottoman beside the couch, and Adam followed suit. David reached for Adam’s wrist. “Come here, you.” Adam moved easily to lean against him. David could feel Adam’s soft exhale on his cheek, and he slid his free hand up Adam’s arm to his shoulder, appreciating the muscles that flexed beneath his sweater. Adam’s mouth fit gently against his own, and David kissed him languidly.
Adam’s mouth was warm and soft; his lips parted easily under the gentle press of David’s tongue. He tasted like wine and the cinnamon pretzel they’d split at the mall. He made a soft noise in his throat and let go of David’s hand to pull him closer by the back of his elbow.
David shifted his weight, leaning back, and Adam followed, half-covering him, their chests pressed together as they kissed. Adam’s sweater was soft and cushy between them. David could feel his heartbeat thumping in his chest. Adam’s hair was soft and thick between his fingers, and the slide of his tongue into David’s mouth was coy. Another shift of their bodies, and David had the weight of Adam’s hips against his thigh, the bulk of Adam’s half-hard cock pressed into his quad. Adam made a noise in his throat and gripped David’s sweater in his fist. Feeling bold, David bit Adam’s lower lip and got another little huff of breath for his trouble.
It felt good to kiss him here, on the couch, where it was warm and soft and David could taste wine on his breath. He definitely wanted to peel Adam’s hand-knit sweater off and get down to his skin, but he was enjoying just making out with him, slow and steady, with whatever else might happen a nice possibility.
Adam’s hands had begun to wander, dipping under David’s sweater and pushing up the hem of his shirt. Adam’s palms were warm against David’s skin, the ends of his fingers lightly callused. David wondered if a person could have calluses from knitting. He shifted, giving Adam more room, and Adam took what was given, pushing David’s shirt and sweater right up to the bottom of his ribs. At the same time, he pulled away from David’s mouth and began to kiss his way along David’s jaw, lips rasping on the first growth of stubble. When he reached the corner of David’s jaw, his teeth made a brief appearance in a gentle bite that made David shiver, his own cock perking up between his thighs.
David pulled Adam’s sweater and shirt up his back, baring the expanse of skin to his hands, and Adam made another noise against his throat. He pushed up on his hands, hovering over David, and hunched his shoulders in a way that David took as invitation to remove the sweater and shirt. He threw them aside onto the floor in a heap, and Adam grinned at him. David skimmed his hands along Adam’s sides, appreciating the contrast of his dark hands against Adam’s pale chest and curly auburn chest hair, and rubbed his thumb in a circle over Adam’s left nipple.
Adam’s grin widened. “Your turn?”
David nodded and took his glasses off.
He folded them and put them beside his wineglass on the ottoman. Then as Adam’s hands delved under his shirt again, he lifted his shoulders and helped Adam pull the sweater off. The shirt had to be unbuttoned and wrestled off his arms. As soon as David was free, Adam bent to give his bare shoulder a kiss, and then he settled back down between David’s legs so their erections were pressed snugly together. The feeling made David gasp, his hands closing reflexively on Adam’s shoulders. Adam pushed his hands under the pillow beneath David’s head and captured his mouth again in a deep kiss.
David’s skin was all on fire, tingling with sensation, his pulse pounding between his thighs as his cock thickened and filled. He could feel how hard Adam was, the press of his dick against the fabric of his jeans. He kissed Adam deeply, licking into his mouth, sliding his hands into Adam’s short hair, and spread his legs wider so Adam could grind against him and send pleasure sparking along his spine.
Adam pulled back again just a fraction and said, almost against David’s mouth, “I would love to suck you off.”
“Jesus,” David said, “yeah, okay.”
He felt Adam smile. “Yeah?”
“Please, be my guest. I’ve got a condom in my wallet.”
Adam laughed and climbed off him, taking a moment to skim off his jeans before he knelt on the floor. He pulled David’s wallet out of his back pocket and fished the condom packet out, placing it on the floor beside him.
David had one leg stretched out along the couch and one foot planted on the floor; at Adam’s urging, he shifted so that both feet were on the floor and Adam was kneeling between them. David was slouched in the cushions, able to watch as Adam unbuttoned the button on his jeans and eased the zipper down. David lifted his hips and Adam pulled the jeans down, and then he was in his briefs and socks on Adam’s couch, his cock straining against his cotton underwear, a damp spot already showing at the tip.
