Holiday Flash: Christmas with Jacob

Holiday Flash for you all... 

Christmas With Jacob

Malcolm lay stretched out on the sofa, watching Jacob decorate the small pine tree he'd brought down to the cabin.  He'd tried to place a few ornaments himself, but after being gently corrected for the third time, he'd giving up. He sipped hot apple cider and nibbled on the chocolate chip cookies he'd baked. Jacob had tree decorating down to a science, apparently, and every bulb and bow needed to be placed at precise intervals or the "Whole effect would be ruined."

Since he had no intention of inadvertently ruining any aspect of their very first Christmas as an official couple, he decided to turn up the Christmas music and just enjoy the show of supple muscles flexing and sexy strips of skin peeking out as Jacob's purple t-shirt rode up when he stretched to wrap a string of popcorn around the small tree.

His blood warmed slowly and he sighed softly in contentment. This was what he'd missed most over their time apart. Yeah, he'd missed the most amazing sex of his life, but the contentment of being with someone you love, someone who loved you, that was what he'd rather die than give up again.

That was the reason he held back, watching, taking his cue from Jacob's actions, trying to read every little expression and reaction.  He didn't ever want to misread his lover again.  He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut out the memories of those long, dark years. Years when he'd felt alone, even in the bosom of his family.

Soft lips brushed lightly over his. Malcolm smiled, keeping his eyes screwed tight shut. He darted out his tongue, licked the teasing lips, parted them and swept inside. A smooth hand ran down his stubbled jaw, and he wondered briefly if he should have shaved before Jacob arrived. He shook away the thought, brought both hands up to cup Jacob's head, winding his fingers in the man's dark curls. His breath caught, his heart rate sped. Jacob tasted of apple and cinnamon and home.

His arms lowered and he crushed Jacob to him, pulling the man across his body so they lay together on the sofa. He pushed his erection against the cradle of Jacob's thighs. It might not be about sex, but sometimes, sex seemed like the only time he clearly understood what Jacob wanted and needed. The only time he really felt like he was what Jacob wanted and needed. His tongue plunged deep, stroked along slick surfaces, chased after Jacob's to lure it into his own mouth.

Jacob broke away to kneel in front of him with a short, mirthless laugh. "What's going on, Malcolm?"

"Nothing." He stared into curious blue eyes. "What's going on with you?"

Jacob pulled away.  "The tree is done. But you're just lying here. You were frowning. You don't like it? We can go with a more eclectic look, if you want?"

"No!" He cast a cursory glance at the tree. "It's fine. You like it, that's what matters."

"Since when, Malcolm?" Jacob asked intently, frowning at him. "Since when is it only what I like that matters?"

Malcolm shrugged.  He sipped from his mug, grimacing as he realized it had cooled. "I want you to be happy with me, this time around." Surely that was obvious?

Jacob scowled. A fine boned hand landed square in the middle of his chest as Jacob leaned over him. "Since when? All this time, I thought we were doing things differently this time. I thought we were going to do things right this time, not repeat the same mistakes."

"I'm not making any mistakes." Not taking any chances that Jacob would run away again, would leave him for someone else.

"Yeah, you are."

Malcolm froze, pushing up, shoving Jacob away. "Seriously? You're just looking for a reason to leave, aren't you? I've done everything you wanted, when you wanted, the way you wanted. If that's not enough..."

"It's not."

The pain ripped through him, leaving him gasping for breath. He needed a drink.  He reached blindly for the mug, succeeded only in knocking it over so the cold cider spilled across the pine table and dripped onto the floor.  It might as well have been his blood. He stood, frantically searching the room for his keys, finally finding the lump in his pocket.

"What are you doing?"

"I need a drink.  There's no alcohol here, ergo, I'm going to get some."

"No, you're not. Just us, remember? No booze, no cutting, just plain and simple, us and communication."

Malcolm sank to the floor, buried his head in hands.  He drew in a deep breath, blinked back the moisture in his eyes. "Yeah. Just us." He'd nearly fucked things up again, with the best of intentions, yes.  He snorted weakly.  "You said it, didn't you? We really did nearly fuck up this peanut butter sandwich trying to make a cake."

Hands slid around the nape of his neck, warm breath bathed his temple before a soft kiss landed at the corner of his eye. "Yeah, but we're not quitting, and we're not giving up. Now, I want to do something the way you want to do it, not the way you think I want to."

Malcolm glanced at the tree. "The tree is fine. I really don't want to re-do it."

A hand landed on his cock, squeezed. "Yeah, not the tree. You can tell me your theory on holiday decorating some other time."

   Light dawned as the buttons to his jeans were flicked open one by one.  "Oh, but you know how I like to do this."

A warm pink tongue lapped at his belly button.  "I do? But tell me you don't sometimes want to do it a little different...a little like that first time."

Groaning, Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut again.  His hand fisted in Jacob's curls, his hips thrust forward. "In the elevator."


"I was an ass."

"You were amazing."

"You want to do that over again?"

A sharp slap on his thigh. "I know you like that, rough and fast, and I want that if and when you want it. Love doesn't always have to be slow and careful. Sometimes it's a fucking storm that picks you up and tosses you around until you land battered and spent and grateful to be alive."

"Bed, now." Malcolm rose, towing Jacob behind him as he raced across the room, shedding clothes as they went.


  1. Sigh. Will those two ever be on the same page Lee. Poor men.


  2. Hot to trot! Great story honey


Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955