CHAPTER 11 #3
"Welcome, everyone, to Winterbrook's annual Christmas tree lighting!
" She gestured to the massive tree. "As always, we're grateful to the Gibson family for providing this beautiful tree.
Clark's grandfather started this tradition sixty years ago and Clark has continued it with the same care and dedication. "
Applause rippled through the crowd. I felt Clark shift beside me, uncomfortable with the attention.
"But this year is special," the mayor continued, and my stomach dropped. "Because this year, Clark isn't celebrating alone." She smiled directly at us. "Everyone, please help me welcome Maverick Wright to Winterbrook. May this be the first of many Christmases he spends with us!"
The applause was genuine and warm, and I felt my throat go tight. People were smiling at us—not judging, not whispering, just... happy. For us. Maybe small towns weren’t that bad.
"Clark," the mayor called. "Would you do the honors?"
It was tradition, apparently, for Clark to flip the switch that lit the tree. He'd told me about it on the drive over, how his grandfather used to do it, then his father, now him.
He looked at me, then held out his hand. "Together."
"What?" I blinked.
"Together," he repeated firmly. "Come on."
The crowd parted as he led me to the platform. My face was burning, but his hand in mine was steady and sure. The mayor handed us the switch—a big, old-fashioned lever that looked like it belonged in a Frankenstein movie.
"On three," the mayor said into the microphone. "One... two..."
"Three," Clark and I said together, pushing the lever down.
The tree exploded into light.
Hundreds—maybe thousands—of white lights blazed to life, climbing up the branches in spirals, illuminating the star at the top. The crowd gasped and burst into applause, and I couldn't stop staring at it. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
Then Clark turned to me, cupped my face in both hands, and kissed me.
Right there. In front of the entire town. In front of everyone he knew.
His lips were cold from the winter air but warm underneath, and the kiss was gentle and claiming all at once. This is mine, it said. This is who I choose.
When we pulled apart, the crowd was applauding even louder. Some people were wiping their eyes.
We climbed down from the platform, and people surrounded us with congratulations and warm wishes. No judgment. No whispers. Just acceptance.
Just welcome.
***
Walking back to the farm later, hand in hand under the stars, I couldn't stop smiling.
"They really welcomed me," I said, still awed. "I thought they might... I don't know, judge us or whatever."
"I told you. This town takes care of its own." Clark squeezed my hand. "And you're one of us now."
"I've never belonged anywhere before," I admitted quietly.
He stopped walking, turned to face me. The moonlight caught the silver in his hair, and he looked so beautiful it hurt.
"You belong here," he said firmly. "You belong with me. And everyone in that town saw it tonight. They know you're mine."
"Good." I pulled him down for another kiss. "I want them to know."
We started walking again, our breath forming clouds in the cold air.
"Mav," Clark said quietly.
"Yeah?"
He stopped walking again, turned to face me fully. His expression was serious, vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before.
"I need to tell you something," he said. "I should have said it before now, but I wanted to wait for the right moment, and I think—" He took a breath. "I think tonight is the right moment."
My heart started hammering. "Okay."
He took both my hands in his, holding them between us.
"Maverick, you walked into my life two weeks ago with a broken-down car and no plan, and you turned everything upside down.
You made me feel things I didn't think I'd ever feel again.
You made me want to try again, to open my heart again, and to build something new. "
"Clark—"
"Let me finish." His thumbs rubbed across my knuckles.
"Tonight, watching you meet everyone, seeing you fit into my world like you were always meant to be here, watching you light that tree with me.
.." His voice went rough. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life.
I love you, Maverick. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. "
My throat went tight. No one had ever said it to me like that—like it was the easiest truth in the world and the scariest thing they'd ever admitted all at once.
"I love you too," I whispered, and then louder, more certain: "I love you too, Clark. So much. I didn't know I could feel like this. I didn't know it was possible to want to stay somewhere, to—" My voice broke. "To be someone's home."
"You are my home," he said fiercely. "You and me. This. That's home."
He pulled me close and kissed me, and this kiss was different from the one on the platform. That one had been for the town, claiming me publicly. This one was for us—private, desperate, full of everything we felt and couldn't quite say.
When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard, both trembling, both on the verge of tears.
"I love you," I said again, because I needed him to hear it. Needed to say it as many times as it took to make it real.
"I love you too, baby." He pressed his forehead to mine. "Always. No matter what."
We stood there under the stars, holding each other, and I felt something shift inside me. Something that had been restless and searching and afraid finally settled.
I was home. Really, truly home.
Not because I was stuck here. Not because I had nowhere else to go.
Because I chose it. Because I chose him.
And he chose me right back.
***
By the time we got back to the farmhouse, I was vibrating with energy. The night had been perfect—better than perfect—but there was something unfinished humming under my skin.
Clark knew. Of course he knew. He always knew.
He locked the door behind us and turned to look at me, his eyes dark with intent. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Great. I just—" I ran a hand through my hair. "Everyone knows now. Everyone saw you kiss me. They know I'm yours."
"They do." He took a step toward me, crowding me back against the wall. "Does that scare you?"
"No." My breath came faster. "It makes me feel... I don't know. Real. Like this is really happening."
"It is really happening." His hands came up to bracket my head, caging me in. "Everyone in that town knows you're mine now. My partner. My boy."
Heat flooded through me. "Daddy."
"That's right." He leaned in, his beard scraping my jaw. "Say it again. Tell me who you belong to."
"You." My voice came out shaky. "I belong to you, Daddy."
He kissed me then, hard and claiming, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he owned it. Like he owned me. I melted against the wall, letting him take everything he wanted.
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"Upstairs," he said, his voice rough. "Now."
I practically ran.
In the bedroom, Clark took his time with me. His hands moved to my shirt buttons, and unlike that first night when he'd been careful and tentative, there was a claiming edge to this. Possessive. Like he needed to mark me as his after showing the whole town.
"Everyone knows now," he murmured against my mouth as he unbuttoned my shirt slowly, deliberately. "Everyone saw me kiss you. Saw me claim you in front of the whole town."
"Yes, Daddy."
His eyes darkened at the title. "And you liked that. Liked everyone knowing you're mine."
I nodded, breathless.
"Say it."
"I liked it. I liked everyone knowing I'm yours."
"Good boy." He pushed my shirt off my shoulders, then reached for my belt. "And now I'm going to remind you exactly what that means."
The door barely closed behind us before Clark had me pressed against it, his mouth on mine, hot and demanding. I grabbed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and he made a low sound of approval.
"Been thinking about this all night," he growled against my lips. "Watching you at that party, knowing everyone saw me kiss you. Knowing you're mine."
"I am," I breathed. "Yours, Daddy."
His hands slid down my sides, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise. "Say it again."
"I'm yours."
He kissed me harder, one hand fisting in my hair to angle my head exactly how he wanted. When he pulled back, we were both panting.
"Strip," he ordered. "Fast."
I fumbled with my clothes, hands shaking with anticipation. He watched me with that intense focus that made my skin heat, not touching me but tracking every movement. When I was naked, he stepped close again, still fully clothed.
"Perfect," he murmured, running his hands over my chest, my sides. "My beautiful boy."
Then he spun me around, pressing me face-first against the door. I gasped at the cool wood against my overheated skin.
"Hands flat," he commanded, positioning my palms against the door on either side of my head. "Keep them there."
"Yes, Daddy."
I heard him stripping behind me, the rustle of clothes, the clink of his belt. Then his body pressed against my back, skin on skin, and I moaned.
"Feel that?" His voice was rough in my ear, one arm banding across my chest to hold me in place. "Feel how much I want you?"
"Yes—please—"
"Please what?" His other hand slid down, wrapping around my cock, and I nearly came apart.
"Please fuck me. Please, Daddy, I need you."
"So eager." He stroked me slowly, maddeningly. "But we need to get you ready first, don't we?"
"I'm ready—I am—"
"I decide that." He released me and I heard him grab the lube from the nightstand. "Stay just like this. Don't move those hands."
He worked me open with slicked fingers, faster than last time but still thorough, still careful. The position made everything feel more intense—exposed and vulnerable but held safe by his arm around me.
"Daddy—" I was trembling, pushing back onto his fingers.
"What do you need, baby?"
"You. Inside me. Now. Please."
I heard the condom wrapper, felt him position himself, and then he was pushing in—slow but steady and so deep I couldn't breathe.
"Fuck," he groaned, holding still once he was fully seated. "Feel so good, Mav. So perfect for Daddy."
"Move—please move—"
He did, setting a rhythm that had me gasping against the door. His arm kept me pinned in place, held exactly where he wanted me, taking what he gave me.
"Who do you belong to?" he demanded, punctuating the question with a particularly deep thrust.
"You, Daddy. Only you."
"That's right. Mine. My good boy."
The angle was intense but I needed more—needed to see him, touch him. "Daddy—can we—I want to see you—"
He pulled out and I whimpered at the loss. "Bed. Now."
I practically ran, climbing onto the bed. He followed, settling against the headboard.
"Come here," he ordered, patting his lap. "Want to watch you ride me."
Heat flooded through me. We hadn't done this position before—hadn't done it with him—and the thought made my cock twitch despite just being pressed against the door.
"Yes, Daddy."
I straddled him carefully, his hands settling on my hips. He positioned me, then pulled me down slowly onto his cock. The angle was completely different—deeper somehow, more intense, and I could see his face, see the way he was watching me.
"That's it," he breathed when I was fully seated. "Look at you. So beautiful taking Daddy's cock like this."
"So full," I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders.
"Good. Now move. Show me how much you want it."
I lifted up experimentally and sank back down, and the sensation made us both groan. His hands on my hips guided the pace, not letting me go too fast.
"Slow," he commanded. "Nice and slow. Want to feel every inch."
I obeyed, riding him with long, deliberate movements. The position gave me more control but his hands made it clear he was still in charge, still directing everything.
"Faster now," he said after what felt like hours. "Show me how desperate you are."
I sped up, chasing the friction, the angle hitting something perfect inside me. His hands tightened, helping me move, and the pleasure was overwhelming.
"Touch yourself," he ordered. "Want to see you come on my cock."
My hand flew to myself, stroking in time with the rhythm. The combination had me close embarrassingly fast.
"Daddy—I'm close—"
"Not yet. Hold it."
"I can't—please—"
"You can. Because you're my good boy and good boys wait for permission."
I made a desperate sound but held on, even though every nerve was screaming for release. He shifted the angle slightly and I nearly sobbed.
"So proud of you," he said roughly. "Doing so well. Being so good for Daddy."
"Please—please—I need—"
His hand covered mine on my cock, adding pressure. "Now. Come for me now, baby."
I shattered, crying out as the orgasm ripped through me. I felt him follow seconds later, his grip bruising as he groaned my name.
"Mav—God—mine—"
I collapsed against his chest, boneless and shaking. His arms came around me immediately, holding me close.
"I've got you," he murmured, pressing kisses to my hair. "So perfect for me. Such a good boy."
I made an incoherent sound of contentment, completely wrecked in the best way.
After a minute, he carefully lifted me off and settled us both down on the bed properly. He dealt with the condom and grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom, cleaning us both up with gentle efficiency.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, pulling me back into his arms.
"Amazing. Destroyed. Perfect."
He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Good. That's exactly how you should feel."
I flushed with pleasure. "I love that you make me feel everything. I can just let go."
"That's because you're safe with me. You can let go because you know I've got you."
"Always?"
"Always." He kissed my forehead. "You're mine, Mav. I take care of what's mine."
"I'm yours," I agreed, already drifting toward sleep. "Yours, Daddy. Always."
"Always," he agreed, and then softer, like a promise: "I love you."
"Love you too." The words felt easier now, natural, like breathing. "So much."
We lay there in the dark, wrapped around each other, and I felt something settle deep in my bones. This was real. This was home. This was forever.
And the whole town knew it.