Chapter 13 Damon
DAMON
By the time we’re ready to leave the hotel on Christmas Eve, the roads are clear, the pavements are covered in slush, and the verges and fields are still blanketed in snow, albeit melting now.
It’s a sunny, clear day, which makes the snow glisten almost painfully.
I sit in the front of the car, shielding my eyes from the glare.
Rowan wears sunglasses, which were tucked in the glove compartment.
He navigates the winding roads carefully but confidently, driving us ever closer to London.
“Would you mind if we went to yours via Elevated?” I ask.
“Elevated? That’s one heck of a detour, especially on Christmas Eve. Traffic in London will be awful.”
“Worse than normal?”
“Probably. But, sure, if there’s something you need?”
“There is.” I put my hand on his thigh. “Trust me.”
He glances at me, smiling. “I do, Daddy.”
It’s been a whirlwind two days, but, despite being trapped—or maybe because of it—it’s been an amazing time. I don’t want it to end. Not that it has to. We’ve agreed to spend Christmas together, and then who knows what this thing between us will turn into after that? Hopefully something beautiful.
Rowan was right about the traffic in London. It’s terrible, but Rowan and I chat and laugh, which helps the time fly by. Eventually, we’re in the secure car park, where Rowan carefully parks the Rolls-Royce beside the Artura.
“Should I wait here, Daddy?”
“No. Come with me.”
“Okay.”
We get out, and he locks the car.
He wanders around it quickly, inspecting it. “I’ll need to get it valeted. It’s filthy now.”
“That does tend to happen when you drive a car.”
He laughs. “Yes! But Nigel hates it when the cars are dirty.”
“Umm…”
“Hey, I don’t question it. I just make sure they’re sparkling clean.”
I thread my fingers through his. “He’s not here. Besides, right now, I’m the boss, and I don’t care how clean the car is. Plus, we’re going to drive it to yours.”
“We are?”
“Yes.”
“You’re the boss. Whatever you say goes.” He winks.
“We can worry about getting it cleaned after Christmas.”
He does a mock salute with his free hand. “Yes, boss.”
The building Elevated is in is locked and dark. Luckily, I have a key and know the alarm code. I let us in, turn off the alarm, and lock the door behind us. We make our way to the first floor, where I unlock the door to our office space.
“It’s weird being here when it’s empty,” Rowan whispers.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because it’s so quiet.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “This way.”
I lead him to the storeroom, which also requires unlocking. Our stock is heavily depleted, thanks to the Christmas rush, but there’s enough.
I brush my lips over his ear. “Pick something, boy.”
“For what?”
“Your Christmas present.”
He gasps. “My—?”
“Christmas present. Anything you want. Perhaps something we can play with together.”
He trembles, turns, and stares into my eyes. “Are you serious, Daddy?”
“Yes.”
He widens his eyes. “Anything?”
I smile and nod.
He hugs me tight and whispers, “Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best.” Then he turns his back on me and gazes around the room.
I’m reasonably sure he’s going to combust from excitement.
I lean against the wall, watching as he goes around the room, pulling sex toys off the shelves to get a closer look, before putting them back carefully, exactly where they were.
Every so often, he glances at me, grinning, his eyes sparkling. I’m glad he’s excited and happy.
Eventually, he returns to me and hands me a box.
I hum approvingly. “Room for Two.”
It’s our beginner double penetration toy. A slim, six-inch silicone dildo that attaches to a cock via two stretchy cock rings.
He blushes fiercely, the red glow temporarily masking his beautiful freckles. “I’ve always wanted to play with something bigger but never dared to. But if you were in control…” He dips his gaze and bites his lower lip.
I tilt his face up and kiss him. “I’ll take care of you, boy.”
He grins. “I know you will, Daddy.”
I’m semi-hard just thinking about wearing the dildo, and sliding it and my cock into his welcoming arse together.
“Did you have plans for Christmas dinner?” I ask.
“Nothing special. I enjoy cooking, but I’m not going to cook a turkey for one.”
“Then we should go shopping together.”
He purses his lips. “Wouldn’t you rather skip all the Christmas stuff?”
“Yes, but I also want to make you happy. I might not be a fan of Christmas, but you are.”
“You don’t have to make a fuss because of me.”
“I want to, boy. We’ll go shopping first. Then to yours and collect some of your spare decorations, before going to mine to decorate together.”
His eyes light up. “Really? Are you sure, Daddy?”
“I’m sure.”
Perhaps Rowan can teach me how to enjoy Christmas. I’m willing to try and embrace the festivities for him.
“Should we take the tube?” Rowan asks.
“No. We’ll borrow the Rolls-Royce.”
He gives me a doubtful look.
“I’m the boss, remember? I’ll take full responsibility if Nigel has a problem with it.” Not that Nigel is here to complain, and, honestly, he owes me one after dumping the Christmas rush on me when I was supposed to be on leave.
I briefly consider taking the Artura instead, but the boot space is non-existent, which won’t be much use. The Rolls-Royce, it is.
Finding a turkey on Christmas Eve is more challenging than I thought.
We try three different supermarkets, and two independent butchers, before giving up and buying a piece of beef in onion gravy for two, roasted in the foil container it’s sold in.
We buy potatoes, vegetables, and Yorkshire Puddings to go with it.
We manage to find a box of Christmas crackers, and Rowan insists on getting a small Christmas Pudding and some ice cream for dessert.
With that trying task accomplished, we drive to his place, which is precisely how I imagined it based on his description. The small bakery is closed. A sign on the bright blue door reads ‘Happy Christmas to all our customers!’
We go through a less flashy door, up a narrow flight of stairs, and into Rowan’s tiny apartment.
He’s decorated it beautifully for Christmas.
He’s gone with a red-and-gold colour combination, and while there are many decorations, none are over-the-top or garish.
They work together, turning the apartment into a twinkling, festive wonderland.
He points at a fresh sprig of mistletoe hanging from a lampshade. I pull him to me, kissing him eagerly, all thoughts of finding decorations for my apartment forgotten as I lose myself in the taste of his lips and the press of his body against mine.
“We should collect some decorations,” Rowan whispers breathlessly.
“Or we could spend Christmas here.”
He chuckles. “We could, but you said you wanted to decorate your apartment.”
Want is a strong word, but he’s right; that was the plan. I need to embrace the season Rowan finds so much joy in, not hide from it by losing myself in him, as tempting as that may be.
I glance around. “Is there even anywhere to store decorations?”
He laughs. “This way, Daddy.” He leads me into his bedroom and points at a loft hatch.
He pulls a pair of stepladders out of the built-in wardrobe and stands them beneath the hatch. He puts his foot on the bottom rung.
I stop him by putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Let me.”
Grinning, he steps back and loosely folds his arms. “Watch your head, Daddy.”
I go up the stepladder, lift the hatch out of the way, and use my phone's torch to see into the loft. The loft space is as big as the apartment beneath it, but the eaves are very low. I’ll barely be able to crouch up there.
It’s been properly boarded, and everything is arranged neatly and clearly labelled.
It doesn’t take me long to locate boxes marked as Christmas decorations, with colour scheme notes.
I choose a box labelled "blue and silver decorations," crawl over to it, and push it toward the opening.
I pass it to Rowan, and then climb down and replace the loft hatch.
“Blue and silver. Nice.”
“I figured that colour scheme would fit my apartment the best.”
“I’m looking forward to finding out. Are you?”
I grimace before I can stop myself and see some of the joy fade in his eyes.
“We don’t have to decorate, Daddy. We don’t have to celebrate Christmas at all.”
I put my hands on his hips and pull him against me. “I want to. It will make you happy.”
He smiles. “I don’t need you to do anything special. Just be you.”
I kiss his forehead. “I want to. I’m hoping you can help me find the joy in Christmas.”
He snuggles against me. “I’ll do my best, Daddy, if it’s really what you want.”
“It is.”
He takes the dirty clothing out of his overnight bag, puts it in a laundry basket in his bathroom, then packs clean clothes, including a garish Christmas jumper.
While he does that, I sit on the bed, taking in the room, wondering if he has a collection of sex toys somewhere, or if the Pride dildo is the only one. I doubt it is.
He places the bag on the floor beside the bedroom door, comes to stand between my splayed thighs, rests his hands on my shoulders, and leans down to kiss me.
“I’m ready, Daddy.”
“Do you have any unopened gifts, boy?”
“My parents left me a card and a present.”
“You should bring them so that you can open them tomorrow.”
He smiles and fetches them from the living area, adding them to his overnight bag.
I beckon him to me. Obediently, he returns, standing in the same place and position as before.
I wrap my arms around him, pull him close and lose myself in kissing him.
Far too long, given we have cold food in the car boot.
Then again, it’s barely above freezing outside, so the boot is probably as cold as a fridge.
Eventually, I gently push him far enough away that I’m not tempted to kiss him again. Not immediately, anyway. He’s so beautiful, with kiss-swollen lips, and a faint blush splashing across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
“We should go, or we’ll be decorating until midnight,” I say.
“It’s a good thing I’m not tired, Daddy.” He flashes me a grin and then grabs his overnight bag. “Let’s go decorate!”