Full o'Festive Spirits Page 14

  Gabriel bent low enough to slither the length of Dylan’s back in a smooth glide, covering his overheated self with an onslaught of cool skin. A rush of relief as heady as the branding iron now nestled between his cheeks. It felt…fuck, it was all Dylan could do not to arch towards it, so it would fit more snugly, but he held still. Waiting. Gentle fingers stroked his hair from his face, then so-soft lips pressed a kiss to his temple.

  “Dylan, I want you—you—more than this. I can’t lose you, not for this. I won’t. Promise you’ll stop me…” The soft urgency of his plea made it all the more...potent. In every sense. On every sense.

  “’Kay! Now stop fretting and fuck me,” Dylan grinned. Possibly the same one he’d sported while doing the conga. It would be the death of him. He hoped.

  ∞∞∞

  Earlier, when Gabriel had huffed, ’Tis a bloomin good job I lo— Dylan’s heart surged so sharply it damn near throttled him. If Gabriel had just continued without a care, as was customary—whatever the hell he unleashed—Dylan would have thought it mere ‘merry miffery’. A sprinkling of fairy dust on a magical day. But Gabriel had bitten down on his lip as if he’d let slip a stonking insult. Or…a word he feared would be neither welcomed, nor returned.

  'I…didn’t think ’twould go down very well so soon after lunch…’ had been the verbal equivalent of a bashful shrug…bordering on the offer of a retraction.

  Both unnecessary, but Gabriel’s words had felt too tentative. Their truth too precious, the mood too light-hearted, to bear the weight of Dylan’s response, to something not quite said. It would have felt akin to snatching a gift from Gabriel’s hands before it was given. So, Dylan had responded in the same teasing tone they’d fallen into before ‘it’s a bloomin’ good job’ had blown the festive fuses… Told the truth, swathed in banter for Gabriel to unwrap later, if he wished. Shut-up-and-fetch-the-ice-cream-I-love-you-too.

  A not-quite conversation that had lingered in the air all day, like the scent of Christmas itself. Mulled wine, cinnamon, nutmeg, pine…and promise.

  A promise that they weren’t enacting a festive scene, as fleeting as a game of charades. Just another tinsel strewn tableau, to be packed away with the fairy lights, when the tree had been stripped of all its magic. Then dumped on twelfth night, surplus to requirements…abandoned to the winter frost, forgotten. Alone.

  ∞∞∞

  “I love you…” A wisp of words weighted with more than Dylan had ever dared dream might be his.

  “Show me, Gabriel.”

  “I still won’t hold you to it.” An assurance murmured into Dylan’s hair when Gabriel planted his elbows on the bed to shuffle back a little. The moist smudge of his mouth to the nape of Dylan’s neck sent a shiver of flame skittering down his spine, chased by a trickle of tongue that sparked along every nerve ending. His muscles kept twitching in sharp tics, as if itching to spring into motion, but he gritted his teeth and remained still as his body burned.

  “Hmm…” When rosebud lips skidded to the left upon reaching the small of his back, Dylan knew damn well where Gabriel was heading. Much to his mortification, he’d been informed that a pair of bloody dimples resided at the base of his spine. He was still unable to fathom if Gabriel found these indents as ‘luscious’ as he insisted…or merely delighted in making Dylan squirm in embarrassment, every time he mentioned them. Luridly. As often as possible.

  Sure enough, his torturous tongue dappled in each, until Dylan was, quite literally, squirming…to wriggle away from it.

  “Arggerrof! Ga—sstop!”

  “Have it your way,” Gabriel sighed. Fulsomely. Then yanked Dylan’s hips up and buried that goddamn tongue between his bloody cheeks. Before he had so much as chance to blink, let alone scrape his face off the bed.

  “FUUCCK!!” Goddamn? The bloody thing was demonic. Deadly. Oooh…

  “In a bit, I’m busy…”

  “Gnn-god-gabrel. Stoh-ah-aah…”

  Christ, there weren’t words—Words? Dylan could barely breathe, let alone speak, see, hear, anything beyond the hot rush of blood and the mind-boggling onslaught of far too much, far too fuuuck…

  “No…?” This was wafted along his bum crack. Dylan was going to kill him, later.

  “Ooh…”

  His bones were melting, and his brain was molten mush. This clearly couldn’t be happening…could it? Dylan felt leaden, yet light as air, and half-crazed with craving. His backside was clearly in cahoots with Gabriel, both dead-set on driving him demented. He couldn’t even cling to the belief that he was dreaming. He’d never had a dream this filthy in his life. Much to his chagrin.

  Moist heat, hot breath, flickering up, in, out—lathing a lingering swipe along his crease before darting back inside—oooh gawd.

  “Gabriel! Pleassse…” His s’s were still a hiss in the air when Dylan felt a press too firm for tongue. The air gushed from his lungs in a rush when a fingertip slipped into his body. “Aaah!” Christ, it felt…strange.

  “Y’okay…?”

  Okay? F'fucksakes. He would never be okay again. Dylan sure as hell couldn’t ‘unknow’ that had happened, nor exactly how much he’d…oh fuck. Gabriel slid the finger in a little deeper before pulling it back, which felt far less…wrong-right…right-wrong. Ooohelp.

  “Yeah.” Dylan croaked.

  “Answer me true…” Gabriel lowered Dylan’s hips before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I need lube, d’you want me to stop?”

  Stop!?

  “Noo…” Dylan blinked, trying to bring his eyeballs back from…wherever, to search for Gabriel’s face; moist pout parted, bottomless eyes ablaze with black fire. Like burning-embers of coal.

  “’Kay…” When he reached for the lube, Dylan let his lids slide shut…which felt safer, somehow. Enveloped in darkness…in a world of dreams he couldn’t destroy.

  The comfort of familiarity, strangely similar to the last few nights. From which he’d been catapulted from sleep, jolted to sweat-drenched awareness, burning with unfathomable need. A craving as intense as the hunger gnawing at his nuts. He’d felt oddly empty, yet filled with something akin to fury, because he was awake. Wanting. Desire; dark, coiled, waiting. Each time he’d startled to consciousness, Dylan had been cocooned in the curve of Gabriel’s body, pressed into the cradle of his hips.

  “Dylan, d’you want to turn over? I don’t want you to feel…”

  There was no need to voice the rest. Emasculated? No, Gabriel would never have chosen that word. He would have wrapped a similar sentiment in vowel sounds that smoothed its jagged edges…and Dylan’s ego, as they rolled off his tongue.

  “No. I want…this.”

  There could be no more lies. If Dylan was going to do this, then he was damn well going to do it…honestly. He sure as hell didn’t intend to grant himself any leeway in owning the truth. No cushion to obscure the fact he wanted to be fucked. Nor a pillow beneath his arse. Dylan planted his palms on the bed and pushed himself up onto all fours, letting his head hang forwards. Until fingers tangled into his hair and gave it a tug.

  “Dylan, I fully intend to make love to you, not punish you.” Gabriel whispered across the shell of his ear, before catching its lobe between his teeth. I-fully-intend-to-make-love-to-you. Words that thrilled through Dylan’s veins, despite himself, as if to verify that Gabriel didn’t need to take him, to claim what was already his.

  “Please…” He groaned, when Gabriel fastened his lips to Dylan’s neck and started feasting so fiercely, he would wind up at his Mum’s with a huge bloody love bite. Well, that would announce a helluva lot more than whatever he managed to mangle aloud.

  When a slick, smooth, finger was eased into his body, Dylan let rip with a gasp as his muscles tensed in shock. It slipped in deeper, then swivelled, before easing almost all the way out. Back and forth it slid, slowly, too slowly, scattering his senses in a frenzy of what-the-fuck. Weirdly unsettling, and yet… “More…” he pleaded, bowing his back, pushing towards it, but
Gabriel took no notice, merely crooked his finger instead.

  “FUUUCK!” Merely? What the—strewth. He might as well have shoved a stick of dynamite up there. Shockwaves of sensation shot up Dylan’s spine and ricocheted round his body, spilling dark heat from his very core…and still Gabriel stroked over that same spot. Whatthegoddamnfuck? Of course, Dylan knew—in theory—but nothing he knew had prepared him for this…staggering blitz of too muchness. “More…” he heard himself plead, from another planet, when a second finger was pressed to the knot of inscrutable need.

  “Gnnrrh…” His guttural groan was akin to creaking timbers on an ancient galleon when it gave way with a sharp sting that blurred into a low burn, fuelling the flames afresh. When Gabriel began to move them, it was with a glide to and fro, swivelling, stretching…oh Christ. “Gabriel, please…” Dylan groaned, when he could no longer bear the need, or the not-knowing, any longer. “Noww!”

  “’Kay…” One syllable, which seemed to get stuck in Gabriel’s throat; more hiccup than word. So much was compressed into that catch of breath, it clobbered Dylan with a brick-bat of truth.

  Fuck, how much has he held back? Gone without—kept from me—for me? Just how bloody blind, blinkered, have I been?

  He’d been utterly oblivious, which was as shameful as it was selfish. But…he’d never had lover so responsive; who exuded pleasure with such lavish abandon. It had been so easy to believe that Gabe hadn’t been left wanting. Craving...as Dylan well knew. Now.

  “Gabriel, I did-I wanted—” It was Dylan’s turn, apparently, to choke on his own words when he craned his head around, seeking the face that had turned his world upside down, and himself, inside out.

  “I wanted you, full stop.” Gabriel simply smiled. As if there was nothing to forgive. Far too lavish a gift to be given while free-falling into obsidian and ablaze with realization.

  “I…love you, too.”

  No words could have told Dylan more than burned in the drowning depths of that gaze when cherub lips were brushed across his own.

  “Yours, always.” The impossible, pulled off with without forethought, barely above a breath.

  Yet another miracle conjured in a Christmas Gabriel had strewn with them. As lavishly as the tinsel he’d bedecked everything with, if it had dared sit still for five minutes. Everything.

  When Gabriel straightened up, Dylan closed his eyes and steeled himself for what he feared…he craved far too much. A fear he’d been determined to deny he felt, by denying…them this. A purgatory that had been pointless all along: ‘I wanted you…full stop.’

  Gabriel had known, but still held back.

  Dylan gasped when a featherlight stroke of slick heat was ghosted ever closer to the ache of emptiness. It had ratcheted to a silent scream alongside a nudge of pressure, so Dylan gritted his teeth, determined to remain just as schtum.

  “Dylan…?” Even now, one last throw of the rope.

  “Do it,” he demanded.

  “When I press, push back, okay…?” Gabriel murmured.

  Push? Dylan felt a mite more inclined to clench. Push. Fuck. The dull press burst in a confounding scorch when the head of Gabriel’s cock breached his body. “G-GAAH!!” So much for keeping schtum. It was…incomprehensible, the most strangely compelling pain he'd ever felt in his goddamn life.

  Push back…Dylan belatedly remembered when Gabriel stilled and blew out a long, soundless whistle. Okaay. The sharpness gave way to a low burn of surreal sensation when Gabriel began to ease further inside…sooo slowly. Fuck, it was overwhelming. Indescribable. Dylan’s whole self—not just his arse—consumed by uncontrollable fullness. Yet, so much more; something deep, powerful, burning with a hot, tense, liquid flame.

  “Dylan…”

  “Move…please,” he groaned.

  “’Kay.” Gabriel began to ease back, which Dylan’s arse seemed to deem less bizarre but this, conversely, made him crave more. Much more.

  Gabriel—clearly hell-bent on doling out everything Dylan’s dark heart desired this night—started a slow sweep of movement that sent a tingling ripple radiating from the base of Dylan’s spine. Spilling sultry heat through every fibre of his being. That was how it felt; too all-consuming to fathom. As if…he were teetering on the brink of some unbearable bliss. “Aaaahh!”

  “T-tight. Y’okay?”

  “Yess. Harder…” Dylan threw his head back and arched toward Gabe, pushing him deeper.

  “I don’t want t’hurt—” Gabriel gasped.

  “Fuck me!” Dylan demanded, clenching as hard as he could.

  “Dyl-aah!” His name cut off on a strangled sound that sent a rush of exhilaration coursing through his system. A surge of adrenaline so intense it made Dylan feel invincible, yet never more vulnerable in his life.

  Never so naked—stripped back to blood and bone and raw lust—in thrall to a need so fierce he felt feral. The noises that crawled up his throat were unearthly when Gabriel began to move. Move? It was a hypnotic surge and sweep so devastating, Dylan was reduced to a writhing wreck. There was only this…only Gabriel and the mesmerizing roll of his hips. Dylan had never felt closer to him…nor closer to the edge of his very self.

  “Morrre…” Ground out as he grappled fistfuls of sheet and slammed himself back.

  “Fuck!” Gabriel faltered briefly before steadying himself to fire off a volley of short, sharp thrusts that shattered the darkness in an ecstatic rush.

  “GABRIEL!” He was a mess, a squirming, sweat-drenched mess. He didn’t give a rat’s ass—he couldn’t control anything—couldn’t care less. He just wanted this…

  “Ah-kay—” Gabriel had scarce enclosed his cock with firm cool, when the impossible pressure buckled in a white-hot blitz of bliss.

  “Gnnargh!” That hellish racket had no sooner ripped from Dylan’s lips than his own name clawed the walls, as wave after wave of warmth pulsed into his body.

  “Oooh…” A sublime sigh accompanied Gabriel’s welcome weight when he sank onto Dylan’s slick back. “Are y’okay…?”

  “Okay…?” His arms juddered with the chuckle that bubbled up his windpipe, then promptly gave out, dumping Dylan flat on his face on the bed. Plastered in Gabriel. Full of Gabriel.

  Lust addled and verily full of Christmas spirits too, if the ditty doing an inner conga told its tale true:

  ’Tis the season to be…merry

  Happy Christmas my arse…

  Gabriel

  New Year’s Day

  Dylan stirred in his sleep and mumbled something akin to “Gbrul…” afore nuzzling deeper into his pillow, apparently intent on a smidge more slumber.

  Thus, the smile of the damned and glad of it smeared itself across Gabriel’s mush a few seconds later when a husky hum rifled the air.

  “Hmm…” After a fidgety twitch or two, Dylan angled his arm behind himself to grope for…Gabriel’s thigh, and grasped it to tug him in tighter as the lush tush wriggled a bit. Hmm, indeedy…

  “Hmmorning…” Gabriel murmured.

  “Gnrrhh…” No merrier greeting could have wafted Gabe’s way than that low rumble of pleasure. ’Twas a festive soundtrack to savour for evermore.

  He had been dreading this day all week, perchance Dylan was one of those pesky peeps hell-bent on bidding farewell to all life’s best bits. New Year’s Revolution style. With a guillotine. Said annual vow of abstinence had set off a fit of inner fidgets; fretting that Dylan—far too fond of custom for comfort—would wake up this morn, full o’resolve to give up bum-sex, blowjobs…and Gabriels.

  “Happy thirty-second of December,” he whispered, reaching for what he hoped would be hard. Wanting. ’Twas indeed…firm evidence that Dylan’s cock hadn’t got the memo o’doom.

  “Is it goin’ t’becember f’rever?” he groaned when Gabriel began a slow glide of wrist.

  “I hope so…”

  “Pity.” Dylan tutted with a fulsome sigh. “I wanted…”

  He arched that sinuous spine still further, tilting
his head back to clobber Gabe with a lusty blaze o’blue.

  “…You to start the New Year in…me.”

  Hmm…and a verily Happy New Year it was, t’be sure.

  ∞∞∞