Chapter 17
brENT
I call my aunt when we’re finished with gifts. I make a mental promise that I will learn about Rafe’s family over the next year and that no matter what I have to do, I will repay this kindness with thoughtful gifts next year.
I also try to ignore the way my heart pounds in my chest when I think about next year.
I’ll be back here. I know I will. I’m just unsure in what capacity.
I know without a doubt what role I want to be in, but even though things seem to be happening between Rafe and me, at the moment, we’re still fake boyfriends.
Nothing we’ve put into words has changed that.
My ex-uncle calls as Rafe and I lounge in the chair after presents while dinner is being prepared. We have hot mulled cider in steaming mugs in our hands as I play the new handheld game and Rafe draws on his new professional artist tablet. Or something like that.
My phone rings, and it takes me a minute to fish it out of the massive sherpa blanket we’re wrapped in. I barely manage to hit the green button to accept the call before it goes to voicemail after the third ring.
“Hey, Uncle Ellsworth,” I answer. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, son. How’re you?”
“I’m good. Really good. Are you guys having a good day?”
“We’re having a great day. Are you sure you don’t want to spend some time with us, Brent?”
I close my eyes, smiling. I was a little broken up the first year that I spent Christmas alone. Right after my aunt went into assisted living and I was on campus by myself. It was hard to hide that. But I didn’t want to invade someone else’s happiness just because I was miserable and alone.
While I feel less like a mopey, unwanted child these days, I still haven’t wanted to intrude on other people’s happiness—including my uncle and his family. Everyone has their traditions, and I don’t want to interrupt them. I don’t want other people to feel like they have to include me.
Even family.
“I’m not on campus,” I assure him.
“Oh? Did you…”
“No,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I haven’t spoken to them in years and don’t plan on it.”
“I didn’t want to say anything, but good,” Uncle Ellsworth says.
I smile. “I’m with my boyfriend.” The lie falls easily enough that I scrunch my nose.
“Oh?”
“Yes. We’re in Napa Valley.”
He sighs. “I’m really happy to hear that, son.”
Uncle Ellsworth has called me son ever since I was kicked out of my own house. It’s meant a lot to me. Even if we don’t talk as often as I’d like to. Through no one’s fault, though. Life is just busy, and time goes by before I realize it has.
We talk for a while longer, and I hear about his husband and their two kids. I tell him about Rafe and Rafe’s family, feeling slightly guilty because it’s all on the pretense of a lie.
Then again, I am cuddled up in Rafe’s lap as we lounge in the chair.
Once I hang up, Rafe asks, “That’s your ex-uncle?”
I nod. “So, my mom had a brother, Lenny, who was also disowned by the family for being gay. He married Ellsworth. Lenny died when I was a kid, though. I suppose I should have realized how awful my parents were when they said that Lenny died because God was punishing him for being gay.”
“I’m sorry, but I really hate your parents,” Rafe says.
“Yeah. To be honest, I don’t know how I managed to remain in contact with Uncle Ellsworth. I’m positive my parents didn’t encourage it since they preached that they were living in mortal sin and would burn in hell.”
“They said that to you as a small child?” he asks incredulously.
“There is no greater Christian fear tactic than burning in hell. Yes. Somehow, I managed—oh. I know. Once Uncle Lenny died, Uncle Ellsworth was ‘begging for God’s forgiveness’ by becoming a priest. My parents thought it was a good idea for me to talk to him and learn from his mistakes.”
“Wow.”
“Yep, but Uncle Ellsworth wasn’t actually doing that.
He promised Uncle Lenny—who was a very devout Christian, but he didn’t take the Bible to extremes and interpret everything in it into spewed hate.
Anyway, he promised Uncle Lenny that he’d find God and make peace.
Uncle Ellsworth never believed in God. But he made a promise, and now he’s a priest who doesn’t believe in God, but he still tries.
More than two decades later. But he’s since remarried.
A man named Zaiden and they have two kids, my cousins Lorelei and Preston. ”
“That’s… kind of incredible.”
I laugh. “Yeah.”
We’re quiet for a minute before Rafe says, “I think you should invite them over. Invite them to spend some of the holiday with us. Regardless of whether you celebrate a Christian Christmas or just the season, this holiday is about family. You should have yours here, too.”
“I don’t know. We’re sharing a room because they’re all full. Isn’t that what your mom said when we got here?”
Rafe rolls his eyes. “We’d be sharing a room regardless of our relationship status. We’ll find room, Brent. Invite them over.”
I haven’t seen Ellsworth since I was a teenager. I’ve only met his kids once. That’s when my parents realized that Uncle Ellsworth had taken up the life of sin again and was further mocking God by pretending to be a priest.
That might be the only thing she has right.
He is kind of pretending. But he’s not doing so in a negative way.
Uncle Ellsworth is truly trying to find the God that Uncle Lenny believed in.
I think he wants to. It’s difficult to believe in something when there are so many voices telling you that the thing you’re supposed to believe in condemns you to burn in Hell for being born the way you were.
I understand that struggle. There’s a part of me that believes, but there’s a louder part of me that isn’t quite so sure.
“Invite them,” Rafe says.
“Are you sure?”
“I swear to you, we’ll find room.”
Chewing the inside of my lip, I nod. “Okay.” I call Uncle Ellsworth back and do just what Rafe said. I’m both excited and nervous when he excitedly agrees.
“My uncles, their kids, and Lor’s fiancée are coming. Are you sure there’s room?”
“There’s room,” Rafe promises. “Sit tight, and I’ll go let my mom and Grandma know.”
I’m trying very hard not to feel like an inconvenience. Even as I watch from across the room while Rafe tells them, they’re both grinning. Big happy smiles. His mom gives me a hug on the way by and tells me how happy she is that they’re joining us.
By the time we’re stuffed with a big dinner and lying in bed, my uncles and their family on the way for tomorrow, I’m staring into the darkness at the ceiling, wondering how to function with the overflowing feeling of happiness in my chest.
I’m biting my tongue, trying to keep from asking, ‘Are you sure?’ for the eightieth time. The feeling of imposition is weighing heavily tonight. Mixed in with all the overwhelming feelings of being made to feel like part of Rafe’s family, I’m a little emotionally raw.
“You’re thinking too much,” Rafe says as he rolls to his side to face me.
I take a breath. “Sorry.”
“Want to kiss like teenagers for a while to take your mind off it?”
Laughing, I roll onto my side and meet him in the middle of the bed. He’s hidden in shadows, but I don’t miss the way he’s smiling.
“You want to make out, huh?”
“I feel like it’s the perfect end to a perfect Christmas. Begins with orgasms, filled with sweets, treats, and family, and ends with some sexy making out.”
“I’m surprised you’re not asking for orgasms to round out the night.”
“I’m working up to it. Didn’t want to spook you.”
“I’ve been acting a little spooked since this morning, haven’t I?”
Rafe’s fingers trace along my jaw. “A little, but that’s okay. We’re… crossing some lines that I don’t think either of us was planning on. And it’s been a good, albeit heavy day for you, emotionally. I get it.”
“I know I’ve been a little all over the place, but in case it hasn’t been clear, this is the best Christmas I think I’ve ever had. Even without the gifts, your family is just… everything.”
“I’m glad you think so too. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.”
“I wouldn’t either.”
He scooches closer, bringing his body almost flush with mine. I feel the heat wafting from his bare skin. He’s a breath away. My dick enjoys his proximity.
“How about we don’t pretend we’re only going to kiss?” I suggest. “Clothes off?” Even if this is just fake, if it only exists while we’re at Rafe’s house, I’m going all in. I’m going to live this moment as if it’s real and hang onto it for the rest of my life.
“Deal,” Rafe agrees, and we roll away to shove our clothes off. When we come back together, this time there’s not even a feather’s width of space between us. He groans, hand digging into my ass cheek, and that sound travels right down my spine, settling in my balls.
Our mouths hover together as we awkwardly rub against each other. It’s definitely awkward on our sides like this, but it’s tantalizing all the same. Sexy. Our mouths open, don’t quite engage in a kiss as we share oxygen.
I’m filled with too much need, though. All kinds of needs, but the one I can satisfy right now is sex. I shove Rafe onto his back and throw the blankets away. Giving in to temptation, I kiss and lick down his chest and stomach until I can take his dick in my mouth.
His knees bend up and then fall wide for me as I sink down on his cock.
God, he feels good. His strong body, sculpted by hours in the gym, is hard and flexing under me as his cock fills my mouth.
I work him down my throat, listening to the way he whines and groans at the same time. So sexy. So hypnotic.
He’s not exceptionally long, but he’s a thick boy with a spectacularly pronounced head. Each time I pull back, I lick around the rim of his crown. Mesmerized by his shape. I grip the underside of his thighs, keeping his legs spread for me as I stuff him down my throat.
The choked sounds he makes has my cock leaking for him. His fingers tangle in my hair, and he keeps my face buried in his pelvis while rolling his hips, moving his cock in my throat.
“So hot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you feel good, Brent. Your throat was made for my dick, wasn’t it?”
Your dick is made for me with its pronounced head, I think in response.
I can’t help myself. A sexy cockhead is my kryptonite.
Everything about a perfect crown has me weak in the knees.
A shaking, needy mess. I haven’t had such a perfect cockhead in my mouth since the glory hole, and I’m positive Rafe’s is even better than that.
“That’s it,” Rafe says, voice raspy. “God, you make me feel good.”
Yes. More. I press my face as far into him as I can get, taking his dick down my throat, and swallow around him. Rafe’s body shudders.
“Keep doing that, and I’m going to come,” he gasps.
I swallow again and listen to him nearly beg. Again, and he’s shaking.
I’m surprised when he pulls my hair tightly, taking me off his dick. I come away coughing, trying to catch my breath. Rafe rolls me onto my back, and his mouth covers mine, devouring me. Stealing what little oxygen I managed to inhale. His kiss leaves me lightheaded.
Our dicks come together, and he wraps his hand around them before thrusting against me like a damn piston. It’s rhythmic, insistent, hard. My body thrums. The air around us crackles with electricity. I feel slick all over with sweat as heat surrounds us.
Between our sloppy kisses and the slick noise of our cocks covered in my spit, the grunts and moans we share between us, my head spins with lust. I grip him tightly and match his thrusts with my own so we’re in a wild, desperate dance.
My orgasm is right there. It’s coming. It’s coming.
I moan loudly as I spill between us. Hot cum fills the space, covering our dicks as Rafe continues to jerk against me. He bites my lip, not slowing down. If anything, he gets faster. More insistent. A little wilder.
Then he’s coming too, covering me. Painting me. Marking me with his cum and his scent.
Rafe collapses on me, our mouths once again hovering over each other while we share oxygen and struggle to take full breaths.
Frotting is sexy on a good day, but seriously, when you’re secretly crushing on a man, when your heart has yearned for him for ages, everything about the moments shared is even hotter. More intense. More intimate.
“Best Christmas ever,” Rafe murmurs as the rest of his body weight comes down on me. His face tucks into my neck, and I feel his hot, uneven breath on my skin. He wraps his arms around me, under me. His hips wiggle as if he’s trying to get closer between my legs.
I smile, my body feeling limp. It takes me a minute before I can wrap him in my arms, too. “Best,” I agree. “I’ll never forget it.”
He hums his agreement. He feels as if he’s falling asleep, and while I know we’re going to regret letting the cum dry between us, I don’t have it in me to break us apart to clean up. I don’t really care because I don’t want to break this moment.
It’s everything. No Christmas has ever—or will ever—been more deeply engraved on my heart than this one. Not just because of the moments where Rafe and I are alone. Those are something I’ll secretly cherish for the rest of my life.
But in combination with what he and his family have given me today, I truly do feel like some deep wound that I’ve covered and ignored for years has finally begun to heal.
I’m not sure I ever truly wished my parents would reclaim me and take me back.
I think I’ve seen their colors, and I don’t ever want to be a part of their dysfunctional love again.
I’d wrongly thought that I didn’t want to be loved by a family again. I was wrong. I was just waiting for the right family to love me.