A Small Miracle Happened

by Mari Donne

  Sharon: Okay, new subject. Mom says there’s a guy.

  Dan: World’s full of guys.

  Sharon: Mom and Dad say this one is there every time they call.

  Dan gave up. She’d drag it out of him eventually. That’s Chris. He’s amazing. We hardly know each other but he took care of me yesterday.

  Sharon: Oooh, details!

  Dan: Shut. Up. I mean when I was worrying about the baby. He calmed me down.

  Sharon: More than I can ever do. If he’s figured out the trick, he’s the one for you.

  Dan thought about changing the subject again, but what the hell. A big sister had to be useful for something. So he dumped some of his insecurity on her. But am I the one for him?

  Sharon: If you think you could be, take care of him right back. Show him you’ll be there if he needs you.

  Dan: I don’t know how to do that.

  Sharon: Duh. Figure out what he needs. If he doesn’t need anything, figure out what he wants.

  Chris had made it pretty clear he wanted Dan’s ass, but since he’d already had it, that didn’t help. Besides, Dan was so over talking about body parts with his sister. I’ll try.

  Sharon: Good. I’m e-mailing baby pics. You’re required to say Aw! or How cute! for each one.

  Dan: I’ll make a note of it.

  Dan once believed there was a law against following your sister’s advice about anything, but maybe the statute expired after you turned twenty-one. Chris had been a rock yesterday. But he’d be within his rights to back away now that he’d had a taste of the behavior that caused Dan’s grandmother to label him “highly strung.”

  No use wishing he hadn’t fallen apart in front of someone he hadn’t known a week. Now it was time to demonstrate some redeeming qualities. If only he could dredge some up.

  He went out for lunch, but only grabbed a sandwich from a local shop and stuck it in his backpack. He’d eat at his desk later. He spent the rest of his break in a used bookstore.

  The small hardcover had obviously been read, but it was in good condition. When Dan saw how Chris ran a hand lovingly over the cover, he knew he’d chosen well.

  “Leaves of Grass. How did you know?” Chris opened the book like a man welcoming an old friend. “Whitman is one of my favorites. I found him when I was in middle school, and no one told my parents he was gay, so I was allowed to keep him.”

  “The copy on your dresser was a clue. And I thought you might need a new one, because when I tried to pick it up this morning, the spine was split and it came apart in my hand. I’d have bought a new edition, but the only bookstore nearby sells used books, so…” He shrugged.

  Chris smiled. “I love used books. I like to think they connect me to the people who’ve read them before.” He set it down on the coffee table, then kissed Dan in that gentle way he had, hands resting on shoulders, lips open but not insistent. It turned Dan’s stomach to mush and made him want to grab Chris and perform all kinds of fierce and lascivious acts on him.

  Chris released him, then went into the kitchen to check on dinner, so instead Dan began to set candles in the menorah, carefully moving from right to left.

  Chris came into the room and began paging through the book, stopping to read a few lines here and there, reading with the assurance of someone who already knew the text well. A buzzer sounded again. Chris returned to the kitchen, leaving his gift on the coffee table.

  Dan picked up the book. It was well thumbed enough it had remained open at the page Chris had been reading, even without a bookmark.

  Are you the new person drawn toward me?

  To begin with, take warning—I am surely far different from what you suppose;

  Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?

  Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?

  Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?

  Do you think I am trusty and faithful?

  Do you see no further than this facade—this smooth and tolerant manner of me?

  Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?

  Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?

  Dan looked at the menorah. Only one space was empty tonight, and tomorrow that too would be filled with a candle. All the lights would burn for an hour and then…would their little Hanukkah miracle end too?

  Would the connection Dan hoped they’d made this past week fray instead of growing stronger? Would Chris realize Dan was just a high-maintenance bundle of nerves not worth his attention? Would Dan learn things about Chris that would disillusion him? Maybe he’d so associated Chris with the comfort of holiday trappings, he hadn’t seen the real man. Perhaps once the menorah was packed up and put away, the bond between them would disappear with it.

  Chris had to be thinking the same. He knew these poems. He hadn’t stopped at these words by chance. Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?

  Dan had let other relationships slip away because of similar fears. And maybe that had been the best thing to do with those other men; he could barely remember some of their names. But was that the right path now? Maybe it was time to take a stand and try to hold on to a miracle.

  Maybe Chris wouldn’t want to try. Maybe they’d both try and fail. But what if they succeeded?

  After dinner, Dan offered to give Chris a massage. He remembered how, when they’d sixty-nined, he’d imitated each of Chris’s moves. Chris had liked that. And didn’t people often give you what they wanted themselves, not out of egotism, but because it was something they imagined everyone would enjoy? So perhaps Chris would like a massage.

  Chris looked surprised but pleased, as if no one had ever offered before, which made Dan even more anxious to do a good job. He didn’t have Chris’s hands or experience, but he was no weakling, and by dint of demanding feedback, he soon found a rhythm. The muscles in Chris’s back were like iron, and it was hard to tell if he was loosening them appreciably, but Chris made purring noises, so he figured he was doing okay.

  When he’d worked his way along Chris’s arms, down his back, and then to that very excellent ass, Dan hesitated for a moment. But the temptation was great, and Dan had never had much self-control.

  Chris shivered and groaned when Dan bent down, kissing a path along his spine, opening those firm ass cheeks, then giving that gorgeous butt the attention it deserved.

  When Dan raised his head, Chris raised up to his knees, offering himself in obvious invitation.

  Dan took a deep breath. He wanted to pump his fist and shout, Yes! Instead he said, “You don’t have to.”

  Chris rolled over to face him. There was no reluctance in his expression. “I want to. I love it as much as I love topping. But when you’re as big as I am, guys don’t expect you to bottom.”

  “I like the unexpected.”

  Chris’s intense expression softened. “Yeah?”

  Dan crouched between Chris's legs, sliding his hands along the undersides of those impressive thighs. “And I’ve wanted this ass ever since I saw you bending over to pick up that package on your porch.”

  Chris sighed, letting his legs drop open in a gesture that would seem like surrender if there hadn’t been so much eagerness in his voice. “My ass has belonged to your package from the moment you opened your door and smiled at me.”

  Dan tried to keep his resolution to mimic Chris’s moves, going slowly and carefully. But Chris thwarted him by bucking against his fingers, demanding two and then three in short order, and insisting he needed Dan inside him.

  Apparently what Chris liked to do to another man and what he liked done to him were different matters. So as Dan slipped a condom over his cock, he asked, “How do you want it?”

  “However you want me.” Chris’s eyes were darker than Dan had ever seen them. He meant his words. That was the turn-on for him when he bottomed, Dan realized. He wanted to be used and to be told what to do.

  Which le
ft Dan with a dilemma. He wanted to use that big body fiercely, without mercy, but he needed to see Chris’s reactions too. He looked around the room, saw what he needed, then smiled. “Roll over. No, not there. I want you right here.”

  When he had Chris positioned exactly as he wanted him on all fours, sweating, panting, and needy, he lined up his cock, then pushed in. He had one hand on Chris’s shoulder as he bent to his task. His eyes were focused on the mirror over the dresser. In the glass he could see Chris’s profile and gauge his expression. With that guidance, he dared to move faster than he normally would with a new lover, one he suspected hadn’t bottomed for some time.

  He’d been so concerned with getting this just right for Chris that Dan hadn’t anticipated his own body’s reactions. It had been a long time for him too, and the sensations in his cock as he seated it deep in that tight, warm hole were overwhelming. He had to stop, breathe deeply, and pull out a little. He wished he’d had the forethought to use a cock ring.

  “Please.” The tone in Chris’s voice almost undid Dan again. “Please, move. God, Dan, fuck me.”

  “Okay, but this may be over pretty soon.” Dan grabbed Chris’s hips and slammed into him. The noise Chris made nearly sent him over the edge. Hoping a change of position would help him hold on, he reached forward, taking hold of Chris’s shoulder, then pulling him up so they were both kneeling on the bed.

  Dan looked in the mirror and saw Chris gasped, his body taut, his impressive cock erect. Dan’s torso was pressed against Chris’s back, a pale shape in the dim light, his dark hair in stark contrast with Chris’s. Dan wasn’t a weakling, but he hadn’t known he had the strength to control all that masculine bulk, even with Chris’s cooperation.

  “Grab yourself,” he growled. “I want to see you work your cock until you come so I can come inside you.”

  Chris turned his head slightly, and for the first time, he caught sight of them in the mirror. “Oh, God.” He reached down to follow Dan’s orders. “You are so fucking beautiful, Dan. God, look at you.”

  “I’m too busy looking at you. Fuck, Chris, get yourself off! I’m not going to last.”

  At that moment Chris had to release his cock, because he began to fall forward and needed both hands to support himself. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he moaned as their bodies started to separate.

  “No, I’ve got you.” Dan shoved deep inside. “I’ve got you.” He thrust again. “You said this ass is mine and I’m taking it.”

  “Jesus!” Chris had barely gotten a hand on his cock again when he came, and the spasm racked Dan’s body as well as his own. They fell prone on the bed, Dan sprawled over Chris’s back, before either had finished climaxing.

  “That…I could have done a better job,” was all Dan could come up with when he was able to speak again. “For you, I mean. It was great for me.”

  Chris’s laugh rumbled through his chest. Dan felt the tremor like a small earthquake. “Anytime you want to claim your property again is all right by me.”

  It was more than all right with Dan too. He’d thought fun, playful sex was his thing, and he wasn’t planning on giving that up anytime soon. He liked bottoming, although he’d never much enjoyed being dominated. But he’d never been the one to dominate during lovemaking before tonight, and the experience had been revelatory.

  “As soon as I can move again, I’m making an appointment.”

  Chapter Eight

  Eighth night—Wednesday

  Wednesday was the last night of Hanukkah. Unfortunately, it was also two days before payday, and Chris was broke. He wanted to make Dan dinner, but he hated to buy food on credit. He’d gone overboard a few times, and had found it distasteful to make payments on meals he’d digested months earlier. But if he didn’t get new ingredients, he’d have to make do with the potatoes and applesauce left over from the third night. Was there anything he could serve with that? He was trying to remember what he had in the freezer when he noticed a strange car parked in Dan’s driveway.

  The gift he’d ordered on Friday had arrived the night before, but he’d decided not to take it over to Dan’s just yet. He didn’t want to present it with other people around. As he walked to the front door, it occurred to him that slipping a key to his condo into the box with the dreidel might be a good way to let Dan know he was serious about spending lots of time together, even on nights when there were no candles to light. He’d do that once these visitors had gone.

  He winced at the off-key sound of the doorbell. While he waited, he examined the small oblong box affixed to the door frame. Dan had explained it was called a mezuzah, and had been nailed up crooked on purpose. He blinked in surprise when the door was opened by a stranger with a familiar smile.

  “Chris?” the tall woman with short salt-and-pepper hair asked. He saw Dan in her eyes.

  “Mrs. Sobol?” Chris wondered if he’d missed an e-mail or text from Dan warning him of this.

  “Rachel.” She pulled him inside, then helped him off with his coat as if he were a child coming in from playing in the snow. “Please call me Rachel.” She raised her voice. “Ben! Danny’s guest is here.”

  A man with short gray hair and Dan’s slender build came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Nice to meet you.”

  Chris remembered his manners and shook Rachel’s hand. “How are you? I didn’t realize you were coming.”

  Dan appeared from behind his father. “They surprised me. I thought they’d be with my sister at least another week—”

  His mother interrupted him. “We decided to leave when the other grandparents and about six aunts and uncles showed up after the scare with jaundice. There were just too many people around. Probably still are, but at least Ben and I aren’t adding to the congestion and making Sharon nervous. We’ll go back in a few days when everything’s calmed down.” She smiled at her son. “Besides, we wanted to see Dan. He always loved Hanukkah best when he was little, and we felt bad leaving him on his own.” She gave Chris a shrewd glance. “Although it looks like he hasn’t been on his own very much.”

  Ben finished wiping his hands, then extended one to shake Chris’s. “So we checked online and were able to get tickets, and a rental car at the airport. It all happened so fast we didn’t have time to let Dan know we were coming. If it’s okay, we’ll stay here, and Dan can stay with you, but if that doesn’t work, we can get a hotel room.”

  It took Chris a moment to get over the shock of that assumption. “No, it’s fine. Of course.” He tried to imagine either of his parents being that blasé about his sleeping with a guy.

  Rachel smiled, gave him a hug, then thanked him. For what? It wasn’t as if spending the night with Dan was a hardship. Ben excused himself as he ducked back into the kitchen. Dan rolled his eyes in Chris’s direction in a way that indicated he’d have a lot to say if they were alone, before going to the windowsill to set the candles in the menorah. His mother followed to watch…or perhaps to take over the task.

  Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching over. His mother had always scolded him for that habit. “Don’t stand around looking lost. Find something useful for those hands to do.” Since he couldn’t put them on Dan with his mother standing there, he went into the kitchen to offer to help with dinner.

  “Hmm. I ran out to some excuse for a grocery store a few blocks down and bought some fish. It’s marinating in the fridge.” Ben’s gaze was measuring, as if he was trying to decide if Chris would be help or hindrance. “I’m starting the batter for the latkes.”

  Chris knew better than to interfere with a cook with that expression on his face. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to hang around while you make the latkes. I tried the other day using a recipe I found on the Net, but there’s no substitute for watching someone who really knows how to do it.”

  “These won’t be the best I’ve ever made. I couldn’t find any matzo, so I bought some saltines to grind up.” Ben scowled at an open cabinet. “I may have to put them in a bag and s
mash them with a hammer. Dan doesn’t have a food processor or a blender.”

  “I have both. What else do you need? We can raid my kitchen.”

  Ben’s eyes lit up as he realized he was talking to someone familiar with more cooking paraphernalia than a toaster and microwave. A minute later they pulled on their coats and walked across the street, deep in conversation.

  “I couldn’t find any matzo meal either, so I ground up soda crackers.”

  Ben appeared struck by the wisdom of this. “That might work better. They’d be less salty. I don’t suppose you have any left?”

  “Sure. I’ve got cast-iron skillets too, if you’d prefer one of those to Dan’s.”

  “You mean that flimsy Teflon-coated thing? I certainly would.”

  They loaded two boxes of equipment before heading back. Dan and his mother blinked at them in surprise, but really, how could you cook without a decent set of knives?

  As they unpacked their loot, it occurred to Chris his stuff looked better in Dan’s place than his own, which was foolish, because the condos were identical. But the combination of Dan’s decorative sense and Chris’s cooking could make a home more comfortable than either could manage on his own.

  Ben distracted him from that enticing thought by explaining he’d wanted to make brisket, but there hadn’t been time. “You have to cook it slowly so it isn’t tough. I always try to make it a day ahead.”

  “I only know it as barbecue.” Chris hesitated before adding, “I’m not Jewish, you know.”

  “The name was a clue.” Why did Chris think that was going to become a running joke if he were to meet any more of Dan’s relatives? “That might have been a problem for my great-grandparents, but we’ve been welcoming gentiles into the family for a couple of generations. Some of my favorite cousins are Christians.” Ben grinned. “You’re not a girl either, and that might have been a problem for my grandparents. But not for us. When the kids were little, we’d tell them that Hanukkah is a celebration of people being able to live their lives according to their beliefs, not those of the government or other people around them. I’d like to think Dan took that to heart.”