by Anders Grey
By this point, I felt like I’d poked and prodded at his guard enough to let it down. Maybe now he would start to let me in.
I smiled at him slowly. “It’s called flirting. Ever heard of it?”
Nash’s eyes went wide and his mouth gaped open. His expression was totally blank, and I wondered if I’d broken his brain. He didn’t immediately turn me down, so I knew he couldn’t be straight. But then why was he having such a dramatic reaction? Had he never been with a man before?
“All done,” the attendant announced with a clap of his hands.
“Ah, thanks,” I said, slipping him a big cash tip. “Here you go.”
“Wow,” the attendant exclaimed with bright eyes. “Thank you so much, sir!”
I waved him off. “No worries. Happy holidays.”
After we loaded up the dogs, Nash and I silently got back in the truck. We were already on the road when he suddenly turned to me.
“Why are you so nice?” Nash asked bluntly.
“Huh?”
“I saw the tip you gave that guy. It must’ve been fifty bucks, at least,” Nash accused.
“Actually, it was a hundred.”
“See what I mean?”
“Well, why not?” I countered. “I can afford it, and it makes someone’s day. It always feels good, but especially during the holidays. Don’t you think?”
Nash stared at me like I was speaking a different language. He blinked, then slumped back in his seat, defeated.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I just don’t get you. How can you be so happy and cheery all the time? Are you always like this, or are you on some kind of holiday drugs?”
I chuckled. “I mean, I get amped up during the holidays, but I guess I’m not that different year-round.”
“Why?”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Why, what? I don’t understand what you’re asking, Nash.”
“Why do you give a shit about someone like me?” Nash cried.
Without a word, I pulled the truck over, parked it and shut off the engine. I faced him. Turmoil and pain clouded his eyes. He looked like a cornered animal, frightened and wanting to lash out. Whatever was bothering him, I had to deal with it gently.
I held a hand out to him. Nash’s eyes snapped to it warily. His resolve seemed to waver. With a stiff motion, he put his hand on mine. It was warm.
“Now, tell me what’s going on,” I urged. “Because, frankly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Nash shot me another guarded look. His hand froze, like he was afraid to move, to touch me.
Finally, Nash spoke up. His voice was quiet. “I’ve done some bad things. Things I regret.” He rubbed his arm. “If I’m being really honest? I’m a shitty person, Dylan.”
“What kind of things?” I asked.
A dark shadow passed over Nash’s face. “I… I made up a rumor in high school about my closest friend. It hurt him, for a long time. And I was a total asshole to someone else who trusted me.” He winced at the memory. “I called him a word I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean it. I was just upset.”
He exhaled and rubbed his head as if it hurt. “And…I kissed him without asking. It was wrong. But I was too much of a proud asshole to apologize to either of them properly. I’m just one big fuck-up.”
I took in this new information and nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“What do you mean, okay?” he spat, his temper flaring. “I just told you how awful I am. You shouldn’t want to spend time with me when there’s so many better people out there.”
I looked deeply into his eyes, searching them. “Do you regret what you did?”
“Yes,” Nash said.
“Are you going to do something like that again?”
His voice was quiet with pain. “No.”
From the desperation in his voice, I could tell he was being truthful. I curled my fingers over the back of his hand, holding it firmly.
“It doesn’t make what you did okay, but you can’t live your life spending every waking moment beating yourself up over it,” I told him gently. “Everyone makes mistakes. We all hurt people sometimes. The best you can do is better. You know?”
Nash’s eyes were watery and raw as they met mine. “What are you, some kind of fucking saint?” he mumbled.
“No. A regular guy.” I gave his hand a gentle, comforting squeeze. “Just like you.”
Pain flashed across Nash’s expression. It was obvious he didn’t believe me.
“I don’t even deserve your friendship,” he murmured. “You’re funny, sweet, thoughtful. I’m a fucking Grinch, just like you said.”
An impish smirk toyed at the corners of my mouth. “Okay. If you don’t deserve my friendship, what about something else?”
“What?”
“Y’know.” I tapped my lips. “Something a little extra.”
He choked out an incredulous scoff. “Are you seriously flirting with me right now?”
“Maybe.” I smiled. “Is that bad?”
His cheeks flushed. “After all I told you, you’re still—doing that?”
“If you’re not into men, or not interested, just tell me and I’ll stop ASAP,” I promised. “I just got the feeling you were holding back.”
Nash hesitated. I sensed there was a mental barrier between him and his feelings. Maybe I could help him get through it.
“Well?” I prompted.
“I—I don’t know,” Nash admitted. He bit his lip and drew back in confusion but didn’t try to release his hand from my grip. “I’ve been straight all my life. Or I guess, that’s what I thought. My family wasn’t exactly accepting. My stepbrother was downright homophobic, so it was ingrained in me growing up.”
“A lot of guys have that experience,” I reassured him. “It’s not uncommon at all. Especially if you had those feelings internalized.”
“I’ve been afraid to feel any attraction to men,” Nash admitted. He paused, lowering his gaze before glancing up at me from beneath his lashes. “Until now.”
My heart fluttered. Did Nash just say what I thought he said?
“Is that weird of me to say?” Nash mumbled, frowning. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Oh my god, relax.” I laughed. “You’re fine. I was just having a moment ‘cause you took me off guard.”
“What kind of moment? Like an, oh, fuck, I have to get this guy out of my truck moment or—”
“No, actually, more like a I wanna kiss this guy in my truck moment.”
We both went silent. I grinned while Nash stared at me with eyes like saucers. A huge blush lit up his cheeks.
He made a display of looking around. “I don’t see any other guys in the truck except us.”
“Wow, what an astute observation.” I rolled my eyes. “I was obviously talking about you.”
If it was even possible, his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Are you being serious or is this one of your jokes?”
I chuckled. “I’m serious. But to be honest, I don’t want our first kiss to be in a parked truck on the side of the highway while our dogs stare at us.”
As soon as I said it, Nash seemed to remember we weren’t alone. We both turned and saw Sheba and Barley staring at us with big curious eyes, apparently wondering why the truck wasn’t moving anymore.
Nash cleared his throat and shuffled against his seat. “Right. We should get going.”
“Is that a yes, by the way?” I asked. “To the whole kiss thing?”
He gave me a stiff, shy nod. I grinned widely. My heart did a little backflip from joy. I cranked the truck from park into drive, excitement pulsing in my blood.
“Hold on tight, ‘cause I’m about to floor it,” I announced.
7
Nash
As soon as we got back to my place, the air turned charged and electric. There was an unspoken want between me and Dylan that almost felt like something tangible. Neither of us spoke as we got past the front door.
Dylan laced his fingers in mine and gently pushed my back to the wall. I shivered.
“Hey,” Dylan said, a hint of amusement on his face. I was already familiar with that look—it was the same one he wore before roping me into the Christmas tree adventure.
I quirked a brow. “What now?”
“So, you know how I said I don’t want our first kiss to be in my truck?” Dylan began.
My heart lurched. Hearing him say it out loud again made everything seem raw and real.
I grunted. “Good thing we’re not in your truck anymore.”
He grinned. “I was thinking… What if it was somewhere even better than the front foyer, too?”
“Bedroom?” I suggested.
Dylan’s smile was sweet. “Do you trust me?”
I nodded, but my heart was racing impatiently. What the hell did he have in mind this time? He dangled a kiss right in front of me, and now he was going to snatch it away?
“Okay. Then…” His body moved closer, inches from mine. With a smooth motion, he trailed a finger down from my collarbone to the center of my chest. “Tonight. You and me. I want to show you something.”
I huffed. My cock ached inside my rapidly tightening pants. “Okay. So now what? We’re just going to wait until later?”
“Oh, no. I still wanna have sex with you right now,” Dylan growled playfully, continuing to run his finger down my chest where he’d left off. “We just won’t kiss until the time is right.”
I swallowed thickly as his teasing finger descended further down my body. He was getting dangerously close to my belt. I watched as he looped his finger inside my waistband, then snaked down to my zipper. I was hypnotized and unable to move as he made quick work of my pants and shoved them down to my ankles.
I let out a shuddering breath. Before I knew it, Dylan was on his knees.
“Fuck,” I muttered. “You’re gonna just—do it here?”
He smiled up at me, his brown eyes hot with lust. “Would you prefer it somewhere else?”
I bit my lip. It was kind of hot to see him on his knees. I shook my head.
Dylan reached for my cock, currently tenting my boxer briefs, and paused. “I’m gonna touch you now. Are you cool with that?”
“Yes, please.”
“Just making sure you didn’t panic and change your mind in the last five seconds.” He winked. “But if you do change your mind, that’s okay too. Tap out whenever you want.”
With the rush of arousal pooling above my groin, I didn’t think that was going to be a problem.
Dylan wrapped his fingers around my cock, still hidden behind the straining fabric. He rubbed his palm languidly against my length. It sent a jolt of pleasure right up to my brain and I moaned before biting down on the sound.
“Let me hear you,” he said. “I like knowing I’m making you feel good.”
My cheeks flushed in embarrassment. I leaned harder against the wall, bracing myself even as my knees began to tremble. My mind felt hazy with lust. I wasn’t even fully naked—hell, Dylan had barely touched me, and I was already this far gone? I couldn’t remember the last time a sexual encounter had lit such a bright fire within me.
Maybe it’s not the sex itself. Maybe it’s the person I’m having it with…
I ran my fingers through Dylan’s hair, and he responded eagerly to the touch. He leaned into my hand but never took his focus off my cock.
“You are a big boy, ain’t ya?” Dylan said, chuckling as he wrangled my cock out of my underwear. I let out a hiss as the cool air hit my hot, sensitive flesh, but it was quickly warmed as Dylan wrapped his hand around me. My inhibitions melted away and I let out a low moan.
Dylan gave my cock a few gentle pumps, casual and slow, taking his sweet time with me. He was in no hurry. He glanced up at me and smiled. I could tell by the smug look on his face that he was enjoying turning my knees to mush. Jackass.
Dylan wrapped his other hand around my thighs, holding just beneath my ass. He moaned as if the action of jerking me off turned him on, which was insanely hot. Never had I seen a partner take so much pleasure in giving instead of receiving. I was really starting to think Dylan was a Christmas angel or something instead of a man.
My fingers slipped from his hair to his cheek. I stroked it gently with my thumb. Dylan nuzzled my hand and pressed a brief kiss to it that made my whole face turn red.
“That doesn’t count, by the way,” he said, grinning. “As a first kiss, I mean.”
I nodded. My brain wasn’t exactly working properly.
“Oh, no,” Dylan said. “I broke him.”
“Uh huh.”
Dylan leaned his face closer to my cock. In a smooth motion, he ran the flat of his tongue from my balls to the tip, finishing it off with another kiss there. I let out a whimper before I could stop myself. The sound encouraged him, and Dylan parted his lips and wrapped them around my head, giving it a gentle suck. My next cry was louder—enough to echo embarrassingly in the hall. But I didn’t care. Dylan’s mouth was heaven.
I grunted, carding my fingers through Dylan’s hair and holding on to him for dear life. “How are you so…” I trailed off as my brain stopped working again.
My vision went blurry as Dylan swirled his tongue teasingly, then popped off my cock. “So what?”
I struggled to find words. Any words. “So… augh.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Nash.” He said it innocently, but his grin was downright evil.
“Shut up and suck me off more,” I grumbled.
Dylan’s mouth engulfed my cock once again. The hot, wet heat of him was incredible. My whole body was on fire, burning with pleasure. No other orgasm in my life would compare to this one, I knew it. It built and built like a powerful flood banging against a dam. But I didn’t want it to break yet—I wanted this feeling to last forever.
My head rolled back against the wall. I groaned pathetically. I felt vulnerable under Dylan’s touch, and for once, I liked it. It felt good to let go and let someone else take care of me.
He made me feel like I was worth being taken care of.
Dylan moaned around my cock, and the humming vibration made me shudder. I bit my lip hard. I held his hair a little tighter. The flood was getting harder to hold back.
“Don’t know… how much longer,” I managed to mumble.
Even though I couldn’t form a proper sentence, Dylan got the picture. He nodded and blew me faster, taking me in deeper. His cheeks hollowed and he shot me a sultry glance.
I bucked my hips and cried out, emptying myself in his mouth. Dylan shut his eyes and sucked harder through my orgasm, like he was trying to get every last drop out of me.
When it was over, I was afraid I might pass out. My knees shook and I grasped at the wall for purchase. Not missing a beat, Dylan stood quickly and held me by the waist, making sure I didn’t stumble.
I blew out a breath. “Thanks.”
He grinned. “No worries.”
I felt something thick and hard pressing against my leg. I looked down to his erection straining on me, begging for attention.
“You got that hard just by blowing me?” I asked.
He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. Making someone else cum really turns me on.”
I snorted. I found myself caressing his face again before I realized I was doing. I paused, then realized I didn’t want to withdraw my hand. I wanted to touch Dylan—so I did.
At the same time, I felt a flash of jealousy. With the post-orgasm daze killing my filter, I blurted out, “I don’t want you to make other people cum.”
“You don’t?” Dylan asked, smiling.
“No.” I cupped his face possessively.
He chuckled. “So I can’t make anyone cum, or just other people? Because if it’s the former, I’m pretty sure that means I can’t give you a sick blowjob ever again, either.”
“No, I… I want you. And me. Just us,” I said. “Fuck, putting words in an order that make
s sense is hard right now.”
Dylan stuck out his tongue. “Sorry, not sorry.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved it back in his mouth with my thumb. “By the way, I do want more ‘sick blowjobs’ from you in the future.”
His brow shot up. With a goofy grin, he ran his hands down my arms, holding me close. “Oh? Well, it’s a good thing I have that written down on your Christmas list.”
Our proximity reminded me of a pressing matter—literally. Dylan’s cock was pushing against my leg. I cleared my throat softly.
“Can I?” I asked.
“Please do.”
My nerves began to fray, but I pushed aside my anxiety and reached down for his cock. It was warm and firm, a strangely pleasant feeling beneath my hand.
“You look a bit nervous,” Dylan commented, searching my face. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
Dylan tilted my chin up with his finger, making me look him in the eye. “Are you sure? Be honest. Santa doesn’t give presents to boys who lie.”
I snorted. “I am fine. It’s just…” I sighed. “I’ve never done this before. With a man.”
Surprise flashed across Dylan’s eyes, quickly replaced by understanding. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything—”
“No, I want to,” I insisted, cupping his cock. “I’m just warning you in case I do a crappy job.”
Dylan grinned. “It’s called a handjob, not a crappy job.”
“Shut up and take your damn pants off.”
When Dylan stripped his lower half to nakedness, I found myself staring at his cock. It was oddly mesmerizing. I’d never thought a cock could be beautiful before, but that was the word that sprang to mind. Pushing aside my apprehension, I slowly kneeled.
“Nash, you don’t have to use your mouth,” Dylan said gently. “I’m pretty close anyway. Just your hand is fine.”
“Can the peanut gallery be quiet when I’m trying to suck my very first dick?” I snapped.
He laughed. “Sorry.”
I gripped Dylan’s cock with trembling hands. He let out a content sigh, which encouraged me that I was doing something right. I traced the thick vein with my finger, examining every part of it. The musky, heady scent went straight down to my balls and threatened to turn me on again.
