Chapter Four #2
James stopped him with a firm, affectionate hand to his shoulder. He stopped as if startled all over again, and maybe he was, but he turned to face James and there it was. The look on his face would have made James fall in love if he hadn’t already.
“You asked what next,” he murmured when Cillian didn’t say anything.
He pulled gently, reeling Cillian in. Everyone needed a helping hand from time to time, especially when they were struggling, and what else were friends for?
Even friends who were becoming more. “This is what’s next.
No nerves. No interruptions. Nothing but us. Come here.”
“Well, aren’t you smooth,” Cillian said half under his breath, but let James pull him until they were chest to chest, James’ arms sliding easily around his back, and Cillian slipping his hands into James’ back pockets.
He gave a little squeeze that made James flex and his eyebrows shoot up, and grinned at him, still a little shy but not ashamed, and far less on edge.
“You have an amazing ass,” he informed James.
“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that. ”
James couldn’t help it. He cracked up, knocking his forehead against Cillian’s.
Honestly, he meant to say something else, maybe whip out a little snarky banter of his own, but Cillian raised his head and fitted their mouths together and that was far better than batting words around.
His hands slid through James’ short hair, while his own longer curls twined around James’ fingers.
His mouth, warm and wet, moved against James’ in a kiss that wasn’t in a rush -- it definitely had somewhere to go, but on the last leg of its journey home and so, so happy to be there.
He couldn’t have said how long they clung together, breaking for air and coming back together, only that they were both out of breath and shivering from heat when he stopped long enough to gather enough thoughts, words, and wind to speak properly.
He braced up Cillian, melted so sweetly against him, and couldn’t keep his own well-kissed lips from curving up into a broad smile.
“You look happy,” Cillian murmured.
“I might just be.” James brushed Cillian’s hair away from his face. “Want to know a secret?”
Cillian blinked, then nodded. “Hit me.”
“You and me? We’re a fine pair of idiots, you know that?”
There .
Cillian burst into quiet laughter. “You’re only just now figuring that out? I’ve known it for a while.”
“All those years,” James mused. “I always thought -- and then -- you had me shitting bricks for a minute there.”
Cillian wormed his arm free to reach up and flick James’ ear.
“Well, good. Me too.” Cillian caught his lower lip briefly between his teeth, expression turning pensive.
“Though I am sorry. For the time wasted, for the jumping in and out of reach. I was…” He trailed off.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing even the dream, forever. ”
James got it. As the carolers outside quieted, moving away, he pressed his lips to Cillian’s forehead. Wrapped an arm around Cillian’s shoulders as Cillian sighed, leaning into him. “What do we do next, then?” he asked against James’ chest.
“You don’t know?”
Cillian looked up. “I want to hear you say it.” He made a small face. “Think I need to hear you say it, just to be…”
James lifted his chin and kissed him again, grateful when Cillian melted into it.
He’d never get tired of that. “What we do next is figure it out as we go. Dummy.” He pinched Cillian’s side, delighted at the man’s squawk, slap at his hip, and laugh.
“Just try to get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.
Besides, it took us this long. I don’t want to waste any more time. ”
“Then seal it with a kiss.” Cillian pointed upward.
At first, James didn’t get it. Then he followed the point, and snorted. “Where the hell did you get mistletoe?”
“Surprised at my resourcefulness?”
“Never. It’s just that I tried to find it on Instacart and Uber and didn’t see any.”
Now they were both chortling, holding on to each other to keep one another upright. “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” Cillian told him archly.
“You stole it from the tree lot, didn’t you?”
“Me?” Cillian pressed a hand to his chest. “Never.” He relented.
“Okay, fine. That one lady you were talking about stuffed it into my pocket while you were paying. I tacked it on the ceiling when your back was turned. Doesn’t matter.
Point is, you and I are now -- quite coincidentally, I might add -- standing underneath it.
I believe you’re contractually obligated to kiss me now. Or I can kiss you. Whichever you like.”
“All of the above, because if you can still talk that pretty you clearly haven’t been kissed hard enough tonight.”
A light sprang on in Cillian’s eyes, sparkling-bright around his dilated pupils. “Then kiss me quiet, already.”
That, James could do. Or die trying. Either sounded good to him.
But because he couldn’t resist the urge, kissing Cillian again -- once more for good luck -- he dropped his hands to Cillian’s sides, wiggled his fingers, and attacked.
“Oh, are you still ticklish?” He dodged Cillian’s swipe at him and kept going, highly entertained by the way Cillian squirmed. “I had no idea, honest.”
“You, sir, are a bad, bad man,” Cillian informed him, then threw his arms around James’ neck. “And you’re still you. Still my friend. Who’d have thought?” His laughter ebbed away, back into desire. “So do something better with those hands before I do it myself.”
“I have a few ideas.” James took the hem of Cillian’s sweater and drew it upward, over his head.
The white undershirt beneath, guarding his skin against scratchy wool, came free next, leaving him bared.
He had small, dark pink nipples -- James had seen them before, sure, but not when he had the chance and full permission to lower his head and take them between his teeth, one at a time, and tug until Cillian moaned and clutched at him. “Sensitive. Good to know.”
“You are such a bastard,” Cillian sighed, moving against James like a well-beloved cat who’d taken on human form, sinuous and sweet and just a tiny bit unearthly in a way that drove James wild.
“Then do something about it,” James echoed him, nuzzling between Cillian’s pecs. “Now.”
“Bossy, bossy.” Cillian tugged at James’ clothes with less care than enthusiasm, but he didn’t have claws -- and if he had, James wouldn’t have minded a scratch or two.
He wrestled his sweater off, casting it aside to land who-knew-where-and-nobody-cares, and somehow between the two of them they wriggled and kicked out of their jeans.
Cillian took the elastic of James’ briefs between two fingers, grinned wickedly at him, and let it snap back. “Payback,” he said, and slid gracefully to his knees.
After that, it wasn’t about grace or favor but it sure as hell was about beauty. Cillian’s curls were perfect for combing through, James being careful not to pull too hard on his hair but holding fast to the warm head beneath them.
Cillian had no mercy, and didn’t pretend otherwise.
“Fuck, you have a pretty cock. Good and thick. I’ll be feeling the strain to my jaw for hours.
I love it.” He mouthed at James’ cock, lipping beneath, tracing the tip of his tongue down veins, and drawing the whole of it between his sleek, wet lips.
Technique of a master, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d sucked at sucking because he was Cillian , and he was there , and he was too good to take for long.
“Enough.” James pushed him back, light but firm. He could barely draw in enough breath to speak with.
Cillian set his jaw, which could have given James a whole new set of ideas if he didn’t already have his mind fixed on one. “Wasn’t done with that.”
“Neither am I.” James took Cillian’s hand and lifted him. “Follow me and I’ll show you what I mean.”
He thought Cillian would do as he’d been told, but he should have known better.
Mischief lit up his face for a brief, beautiful second, and then he reversed their grip somehow so that he had control of James, and he used it to full advantage.
One tug, then two, and they were on the floor together, drowning in the scent of tree sap and warm skin, salt and sweat, musk and cold air.
A shove from one hand, maybe two hands, both of them working together, and they had the last barriers of boxers and briefs gone.
Fingers, then, teasing around Cillian’s hole until Cillian grabbed for his jeans, swearing, and fished out a set of condoms and a sachet of lube.
His warm hands made it all glide on like silk, and as soon as he could he wiggled his way beneath James’ body, sliding into his space and taking all his air.
James braced himself on his elbows, breathing hard, and then on his knees as Cillian let his legs fall apart, brought them up, wrapped them around. “You’re sure.”
“Never ask me that again.” Cillian stretched up his neck to kiss James. “I’m so sure. You and me. We’re going to see where this takes us.”
No one could ask for more -- except the slow, steady, heated slide inside Cillian, the sensation of being engulfed by tightness and warmth.
He stretched beautifully to accommodate James’ girth and canted his hips to ask for more.
They lay still for a moment, breathing, then Cillian moved beneath him in waves.
His hips lifted and fell to meet James, moaning and grunting when James hit a sweet spot.
Digging his fingers into James’ back and leaving scratches after all, urging him on, begging for more.
He tasted sweet at the crook of his neck, the memory of cinnamon sugar tingling on James’ tongue, and salty there too from drops of sweat that dampened his hair.
His body swallowed James’, over and over, and his laughter at James’ stream of kiss-muffled swearing was better music than the carolers had made.
“Love,” he breathed once, not finishing the thought, not needing to, but drinking down James’ reply as if it was the finest whiskey. “Love.”
If it could have lasted forever --
But even as it ended, as he came with a strangled moan, a hand slipped between them to finish Cillian too, James thought: it will last forever. This is only the first. The best Christmas gift I could ever have asked for .