The Holy Nite (BL)

3.

When we walk towards the wardrobe, I drop a couple of steps behind him. Not to check him out, because I know since my brief career in Latin class that he's got shoulders (broad), back (v-shaped) and arse (…I'm sure there are better ways to describe it, but all I can think right now is "tight") that poets should write sonnets about. I just drop behind him to admire it all.

James and I don't say a word to each other as we wait for our jackets. James gets his first and it's one of those functional but not very fashionable numbers. Down, multiple pockets, bright red. It's charming, but it does nothing for his figure. It kind of makes him look like the Michelin man.

He gets a stripy scarf from one of the pockets, wrapping it casually around his neck. That's all it takes to put him right back into the cute and intelligent category. A haphazard scarf and a Michelin man jacket.

I get my coat shortly after, and then we're out the door.

In the short time I've been in there, the mild evening has transformed to cold, crisp night. The street is covered in frost, and gazing up, through the film of light pollution, I can sense a spray of stars, and in the center of it all, the full moon.

For a weak moment, I can almost believe that this is a night of magic. The night of Santa's improbable journey across the earth to deliver gifts to nice children. I can even imagine three camel-mounted magi braving the desert and its dangers to make it to a small Judean town in time to pay their respect to a newborn Jewish boy in a mangers.

"Penny for your thoughts," James says, bringing my attention back to the here and now.

"Just thinking about Santa" I smile.

"Oh yeah?" He smiled back.

"Yeah."

"Worried you've been naughty?" He stands right in front of me, then turns his back to press it against my chest.

I rise to the bait and wrap my arms around him. His puffy jacket makes a deflated noise as I press the air out of it to get my arms around him.

"Oh, I know I've been," I say, fishing his damn jacket wasn't stopping me from kissing his neck.

"Ah.." He says playfully. "What's that then? Staying up past your bedtime?"

It probably says a lot about my place in the Sunders household that the mentioning of anything being past my bedtime makes me think that I should let them know that I'm spending the night somewhere else's. I know James noticed a reaction in me, and he turns around to face me.

"Seriously?" Asks.

"No, God, no…!" Try desperate. "It's nothing like that."

I get my mobile phone from my pocket to check if it would be too late to phone Gabby.

"I'm staying with an older couple; I just don't want them to worry about me. I know it sounds insane, I mean, I don't normally phone them, it's just that I'm supposed to spend Christmas with them and whatnot." I'm embarrassed, and it makes me babble.

"It's cool, Matt," James says with a crooked grin. If he knows me any better, he'd be taking the piss beyond mercy; I know it. He knows it.

As it turns out, it's only twenty to eleven, so with a diffuse "just give me a second" type of gesture at James, I dial the Sunders' home.

"Hallo?" I hear the voice at the other end. It's Gabby, sounding a little tipsy and a little worried.

"Hiya, it's me," I say.

"Oh, Matthew! We were wondering where you went to!"

James walks up to me again, and sneaks his winter-cold hands underneath my shirt. I feel them against my warm skin, I feel the goose bumps forming from the cold of them, and I squirm.

I've always been ticklish. James notices this, and looks excited about learning something new about me - but instead of letting me go, he laughs. A soundless, beautiful laugh.

"I've been to the pub with a couple of mates," I say, wriggling like a worm underneath James's soft hands. "I was just phoning to let you know that I'll be sleeping somewhere else ton."

"Oh!" She says again, sounding a little relief (though that might just be my imagination). "Well, we'll have Christmas dinner by four tomorrow, love, and the cousins will arrive an hour before then. Will you be home for then?"

"I'll be home well before then," I tell her.

"Good boy" she says, sounding very mother hen-ish. "Thank you for letting us know. Have a nice night now, dear."

"i will's. And you, ok?"

"See you tomorrow, Matthew."

"See you's. Good night."

I disconnect the call and slide the mobile back into my pocket.

"Are you allowed to stay out now?" James asks, still teasing the skin on my midriff with feather light touches.

"If I have myself tomorrow and don't create my shirt before the guests arrive," I say, catching his wrists in my hands, pulling them out from beneath my shirt.

I guess I should let him go, but I can't really bring myself to pull away.

"So where do you live then?" Ask.

"Not too far away. We could get a taxi though, if you're impatient" James says. He doesn't even struggle against my grip, he just surrenders to it and I'm loving it.

"Oh, I can wait," I say, winking at him. He laughs again's. "Let's walk."

I release his hands, and he leads the way down the street, out of the city centre, southwards. He's humming some Christmas Carol that I just about recognise, looking at me every now and then. I put my hand on his shoulder, because I'm a little more impatient than I like to let on. He gets even closer to me, and I begin to regret suggesting we walk with an intensity that is almost overbearing.

Stopping, I put both arms around him, pulling him as close as his stupid jacket will allow, and I kiss him.

It's probably a stupid thing to do, for so many reasons. Not least because we're not exactly the only people walking back from the pub, and we're currently in an area notorious for muggings and beatings. I know this, yet that seems less important than his lips against mine.

James sees surprised at first, but shortly his arms have sneaked beneath my open jacket, wrapping around my waist, and his mouth opens up to mine. His tongue makes me feel like I'm going to burst. Arousal hits me with a force that makes me all but treble. This is passion, desire, pressure and submission all wrapped into one and it's delicious.

His hands hold my body in place against his; my chest against his chest, our legs strangely tangled, my groin against his, and it's only immense willpower that stops me from rubbing against him. Even though I don't want to, I break free.

"How much further?" Ask.

"Ten minutes," he says feebly, his lips a little shiny with our saliva. He licks them carefully. I watch and swallow.

"If we walk really fast?" I probably mean it to be humorous, I don't even know anymore, but I don't laugh or smile. Neither does he's.

"Maybe seven?"

"Ok, let's go."

He gives me a short kiss with cold, closed lips, and pulls away with an exhale of such hopeless frustration it makes me want to wrestle him to the ground and devour him.

When I look down at him, I can clearly see the outline of his erection through his pale blue jeans. It makes me smile; I can't help it. He smiles back and shrugs, before taking me by the hand and dragging me towards his home.

...