by Meg Harding
It must have, because Logan rolled off of him almost immediately. Their antics had moved the coffee table far enough back that Logan could flop down beside him. Their shoulders brushed.
“No more games,” said Logan.
Colin wholeheartedly agreed. He was finding Logan’s competitiveness just a little too appealing.
“We can watch a movie,” suggested Logan. “Or TV. They’ve got all the Christmas specials on.”
Colin rolled his head to the side to look at Logan. “You sound way too excited about that.”
“A Charlie Brown Christmas is a classic.”
Colin scrunched his face up.
Logan pushed himself up and grabbed Colin’s hand. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to fix this.” He hauled Colin up like he weighed nothing and kept hold of his hand as he dragged him through the house and into the living room. He shoved him down onto the couch next to Shea, finally releasing his hand. “Stay,” he said.
Despite Shea being right there, Colin was pretty sure Logan was talking to him.
THREE HOURS of A Charlie Brown Christmas, Frosty the Snowman, and Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer (it was still on, save him) wasn’t doing anything to foster a love for Christmas shows in Colin’s apparently cold heart.
“This is so cheesy,” he said as he watched Santa run over Grandma for a second time.
“That’s the point,” laughed Logan, sinking farther down the couch. His socked feet were mere inches from being pushed underneath Colin’s thigh. He was sprawled across one side of the couch, legs bent at the knee and torso twisted into the corner and cushions. Colin had his legs propped on the coffee table and his side supported by a snoozing Shea. It shouldn’t have been so cozy.
“I can feel my brain cells melting.”
“That’s the receding hypothermia,” said Logan. “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer is up next. If you can’t take it, you don’t have to stay on my behalf.”
“I’ll stay,” said Colin, wiggling so he was a little lower on the couch. Shea, apparently peeved at the movement, leapt from the couch and curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace. “Not cool,” muttered Colin.
He spent the first fifteen minutes of Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer shifting around trying to find a comfortable position.
“If you don’t sit still, I’m going to lie down on you,” warned Logan, poking at him with one foot.
He flipped him off but did settle down with his back to the armrest and legs bent in front of him. As the hour went on, he sank lower and lower till his head rested on the armrest, and his legs were tangled with Logan’s. The awareness of just how intimate their position was provided a distraction from the TV, but Colin wasn’t sure if that was better.
Their ankles touching, warm skin to warm skin, shouldn’t have felt like a big deal, but it did. Colin was acutely aware of that point of contact, the only point that wasn’t covered by clothes. Whenever Logan laughed at something happening on the TV, he’d bump his leg into Colin’s, and their skin would slide.
Maybe he was losing his mind.
He tried to focus on the film but quickly ended up watching Logan’s face instead. If he wasn’t smiling fondly, then he was laughing, his dimple and laugh lines embedding themselves on his face. Colin didn’t think it should be so endearing that a grown man was so into Christmas movies.
When Rudolph finished, Logan turned to look at him. Colin hastily tried to look away so it wouldn’t seem like he’d been staring. Logan chuckled, knocking their legs together. “I’ll give you a break from the Christmas marathon,” he said, grabbing the remote and switching it off. He stretched, arching his back, and Colin watched as he then tilted his head back, stretching his neck in the same move.
Colin swallowed, willing himself to get some control.
“What do you do for tradition?” Logan asked him. “Obviously it’s not movies.”
Colin’s lips were dry, so he licked them. It had the added bonus of giving him time to think. “I go visit my parents. For the last couple of years that’s meant skiing, but we don’t have anything we consider a tradition really.” And they didn’t. They had different food from year to year, they went to different places to celebrate, and they didn’t decorate together or go look at lights. Some years they weren’t even all together. “We’re not really a family of tradition, I guess.”
Logan hummed, looking thoughtful. “If you had to pick a Christmas tradition, what would it be?”
Colin thought about it. “I guess it would be driving around and looking at the lights. People do the craziest things with their decorations.”
“Well that won’t work,” said Logan. “We can’t go around looking at lights when there’s a blizzard.”
“You should have specified,” said Colin. “You didn’t say we had to be able to do it.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Pick something we can actually do.”
Colin tried to think of Christmasy things. “Um.”
“It’s not rocket science,” teased Logan. “Just think of something you like doing.”
“Hot chocolate and a nap?” he tried.
“Now that I can do.” Logan disentangled their legs, much to Colin’s dismay, and stood. “I’ll get the hot chocolate, why don’t you pick a book? There’s a closet of them off the hall going to the game room.”
Loath as he was to leave the comfort of the couch, Colin shoved himself up and got moving. “You put your books in a closet?” he asked.
“It’s a large closet, and it keeps Shea’s dog hair from getting in them,” called Logan.
He wasn’t kidding. The closet in the hall wasn’t so much a closet as it was a small bedroom. Colin was pretty sure he’d stayed in hotel rooms that were tinier than this closet. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books. “Unreal,” he muttered.
There were so many options that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Logan found him sitting on the floor, The Hobbit in one hand and The Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes in the other. “I can’t decide,” said Colin, tilting his head to look back at him. “You’ve given me too many options.”
“Have you read either of them?”
“Both,” admitted Colin.
“Then go with The Hobbit. You can at least finish it before you leave.” Before he left he said, “You better put Sherlock back where you found him.”
Colin put Sherlock back where he found him (or where he thought he’d found him) and headed back to the living room. Logan was back in his spot, a Kindle in one hand and his drink in the other. Colin’s drink was sitting on the coffee table, waiting for him.
“All those hard copies and you’ve got a Kindle,” he said.
“Ran out of space to put all the hard copies,” answered Logan. He entwined their legs again once Colin was on the couch.
“You could give away some of the old ones to make space for the new,” pointed out Colin. He adjusted his right leg, trying to return to the ankle touching from earlier. He’d definitely lost his mind, he decided.
“Perish the thought,” said Logan. “I don’t give my books away.”
Colin held up the hand with his book in it. “The thought is perished,” he said. “So sorry.”
Logan looked smug, but he didn’t say anything else. He tucked his chin to his chest and focused on the screen. Colin followed his example, wriggling around to get himself comfortable and then settling in to read. Maybe he’d talk Logan into watching the The Hobbit films later. Were non-Christmas themed movies allowed? The one movie took place in winter. That was kind of Christmasy….
He tried to focus on the book but found that the couch was too comfortable, and Logan was too warm. Before he knew it he was sliding into sleep, the words on the page now nothing but a blur.
WHATEVER WAS underneath him was moving and not near as soft as the couch had been. He frowned. His hand patted the surface, felt it rise and fall. “What?” he muttered and cracked open his eyes.
His face was tucked into
a warm neck, his legs tangled with familiar muscular legs.
“Did you know,” said a familiar voice, “that you’re quite active in your sleep?”
Colin closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Logan’s arm was around his waist. He squeezed him. “Nothing to be sorry for. You’re like a blanket.”
“How long?” asked Colin. He tried to pull up and away, to retreat back to the spot he’d originally fallen asleep in. Logan wouldn’t let him. He kept him pinned in place. Colin couldn’t look him in the face.
“A couple hours. I was napping, and you just threw yourself down on me. Eyes closed and all. I don’t know how you didn’t wake up.”
“I used to sleepwalk,” said Colin. “Had to do those sleep studies and everything. It hasn’t happened in ages.” He tried to push away again. Logan let him go this time, grunting when Colin used his chest to push himself up. From that angle, Colin was looking down into Logan’s face.
Logan looked sleepy with his eyes half-lidded and hair mussed. In the soft light, the gray in his hair wasn’t as noticeable. He gripped Colin’s hips and smiled when Colin blinked down at him in surprise.
“I’m going to try something,” said Logan. “Let me know what you think.”
Colin started to say what, but was interrupted by Logan’s mouth touching his. He froze, as still as a statue, his eyes popping wide as Logan pressed up into him while insistently moving his lips.
After a moment Logan pulled back, slight disappointment written across his face. Colin got with the program. He followed him down, reconnecting their lips and sliding his hands into Logan’s hair. His heart felt like someone had doubled the beat. He couldn’t believe it.
One of Logan’s hands moved to his ass and cupped, pushing him down and forward. Colin moaned eagerly into Logan’s mouth, fingers twisting tight in his hair.
Logan broke their kiss, running the hand not on his ass over his back. “Yeah?” he asked.
Colin huffed, tracing his lips over Logan’s jaw. “Yeah,” he said. “I can’t believe you have to ask.” He couldn’t believe they were kissing in the first place. This kind of thing did not happen to Colin.
Logan flipped them. There was a chance Colin made an undignified squeaking noise. He laughed down at him, bending to kiss the hollow of his neck. He nosed his way up to his mouth, leaving a trail of messy kisses on his way and a couple nips here and there. Colin wiggled beneath him, tilting his hips and searching for friction.
“Slow,” said Logan, right before he kissed him again. He kept him pinned to the couch with his weight as he slowly ravished Colin’s mouth. Colin didn’t think he’d ever been kissed so thoroughly or with so much thought.
Colin hitched his leg up around Logan’s waist, laughing when Logan asked him if he understood what slow meant. “Just like this,” murmured Colin, biting at Logan’s jaw. It took a lot of effort on his part to keep things there, to resist the urge to thrust into Logan’s weight and rub himself off. He kept his hands on Logan’s back, sliding them underneath his shirt to touch warm skin. He could feel the muscles rippling and traced the movement with his fingers.
He didn’t know how long they lay like that, exchanging nothing more than slow kisses and the occasional detour downward to suck a mark into exposed skin. Colin was pretty sure he was going to have a hickey necklace. “I don’t think I’ve kissed this much since I was in my teens,” he said, head shoved back into the pillow as Logan sucked on the sensitive skin behind his ear.
Logan worked his way back to his mouth, grazing his teeth over Colin’s bottom lip. “There’s something to be said for necking for hours.”
“You’re ridiculous,” laughed Colin, unable to contain his smile. He moved forward, capturing Logan’s lips with his once more. He certainly didn’t want it to end anytime soon. Despite how painfully hard he was, the rest of his body felt loose and relaxed. His thoughts were nothing but hazy wisps that he couldn’t hold on to.
He wouldn’t have noticed the phone ringing if Shea hadn’t started barking obnoxiously. Logan tried to pull away, but Colin clung tight to him. “Ignore it,” he said.
Logan laughed, kissing him through it. “It’s probably family. Let me get it.”
Reluctantly Colin slipped his hands from under his shirt and moved his leg to the side. “Fine,” he said. “But bring me a water when you come back.”
“Demanding,” teased Logan, bending to give him a quick peck before he left the room.
When he was out of sight, Colin rubbed his face, trying to work out the ache in his jaw. He couldn’t believe his jaw actually hurt from kissing. His lips tingled, feeling puffy and numb. He licked them and wondered just how long they’d been kissing for. It had to have been a while.
He stretched, rolling from his back to his stomach and burrowing his face into the pillow. Lazily, he rutted his hips into the couch once, twice. He felt tired despite his earlier nap, his eyes drooping.
He was drifting back to sleep when a heavy weight landed on his back. He grunted, squinting his eyes open to scowl up at Logan. Logan had his phone to his ear, a landline phone—who even used those anymore?—and was smirking down at him.
“It’s fine,” he said. “This moron wrecked his car, and he’s going to spend Christmas here.” He winked at Colin as he said it, smirk firmly in place.
Colin flipped him off. Logan shoved his face into the pillow.
“No, he’s cool,” said Logan. “Definitely not an axe murderer. He does hate Christmas movies, though, so maybe there is something wrong with him. I’ll keep my eye out.”
Colin tried to buck him off, scrambling to get his knees and hands underneath him to push off. Logan compensated by collapsing to the side and sprawling out lengthwise over Colin’s back.
“If you talk in my ear,” Colin warned him, “whoever you’re talking to might have cause to worry.”
Logan reached out and covered his mouth with his ridiculously large hand. Colin licked his palm in retaliation. Logan grimaced but didn’t remove his hand. He proceeded to hold an entire conversation with his mother, squishing Colin into the couch throughout. He removed his hand when he’d finished talking and obligingly lifted himself so Colin could roll over. He then straddled Colin’s stomach.
Colin mock-glared up at him. “You’re an asshole,” he said, fighting back the dopey grin he wanted to plaster across his face for some inexplicable reason. “Where’s my water?”
“You should be way more grateful to the man who rescued you from certain death,” said Logan. He leaned to the side, though, and came back with a water bottle in hand. “If this wasn’t my couch, I’d totally dump this on you.”
He swiped the bottle from Logan. “I need you to get up. I can’t drink it like this.”
Rather than getting up, Logan leaned down over him. He dragged his thumb along Colin’s bottom lip. Colin tried to bite it. Laughing, he pulled away and finally removed his ass from Colin’s stomach. He scooted down to sit on his thighs.
Pushing himself up, Colin ignored the weight and guzzled the water. Logan watched him while Colin tried to look at anything and everything that wasn’t him. “Can we watch something not Christmasy?” he asked when he was done drinking.
“Sure,” said Logan, reaching out and running a hand through Colin’s ruffled hair. “What does Scrooge feel like watching?”
Chapter Three
COLIN JACKKNIFED up from where he’d been sprawled across the couch sleeping with the realization that he had never called his family to tell them what was going on. What had even happened to his phone?
The room was in complete darkness, and he was more than a little disoriented. The last thing he remembered was watching Bilbo talk to Smaug. Now the TV was dark, and the bag of chips he’d had lying on his stomach was gone. Carefully, with one hand extended to make sure he didn’t walk into the coffee table, Colin tried to make his way from the room. He needed to call his mom, but he didn’t think the middle of the night was really the time to do t
hat. He could send her a text to let her know he’d call in the morning, though.
Navigating the stairs in the dark was a challenge he’d rather not repeat. He felt like he was drunk, practically having to crawl up the stairs to avoid tripping. He made a note to tell Logan that he needed to buy night-lights for when he had guests over. Making it to the guest room, he fumbled his hand over the wall looking for the light switch. His hand hit something hard, he thought it might have been a picture frame, and a moment later there was a crashing sound as it hit the floor. He froze. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and he definitely heard a shattering noise. He did not need to be stepping on glass.
He was debating what to do when the light in the room came on. He turned to look at a sleep-mussed Logan. “What are you doing?” Logan demanded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “It’s late.” His gaze trailed down to the floor.
Colin followed his look, staring down at the shattered remains of what was indeed a picture. “Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t find the light, and I needed my phone.”
Logan ran a hand over his face. His hair was sticking straight up in some spots. “Get your phone and come on.” He held out his hand.
“Come on?” repeated Colin. He carefully moved around the glass and retrieved his phone from his bag.
“You can sleep in my room. I don’t need you stepping on the glass when you don’t remember it’s there tomorrow morning.” He took Colin’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
“That’s the weakest excuse I’ve ever heard to get someone in bed,” said Colin, but he allowed Logan to lead him from the room anyway.
Logan’s room was pitch black. “I get the right side,” said Logan, letting go of Colin with a squeeze and sliding into said side. Colin could hear the rustling of the sheets as he settled. “Don’t hog the blankets.”
