Chapter 3
“Hey, babe,” Noah called. “Do you know where that big red bow ended up? I need it for Dad’s present.”
He sat in a fort made of dozens of gifts, scraps of wrapping paper littered around him like confetti, scissors and tape lost somewhere beneath the fray.
The faint scent of pine from the tree mixed with fresh paper and adhesive, the kind of holiday chaos he secretly loved.
He listened intently for any sign his husband was within the vicinity, but only heard their four dogs snoring loudly in the corner of the living room.
Last he’d seen, they were lying stacked on top of each other like a tiny pile of corpses.
Warm, spoiled, and utterly unconcerned with human productivity.
Another gust of wind rattled the windows that made up the back of the house, causing Noah to glance at the now-frosted glass with mild concern. Adam wouldn’t be stupid enough to go out in this weather alone…right?
A year ago, Noah would have said no. But now, with his husband’s strange love-hate relationship with their neighbors and his newfound proximity to his brothers—especially Atticus—he wasn’t so sure.
Adam had started paying attention to the world around them and that came with Adam having thoughts, thoughts that led to opinions, which led to conclusions.
Sometimes the wrong conclusions, some might even say delusions.
And now that Atticus had started feeding those delusions, they were starting to spread to the rest of the family.
“Adam?” he called again.
“In the bedroom,” came a voice from deep within the house. “If you want your bow, come get it.”
Both heat and annoyance zipped through him at the taunting words. What was he up to now? They didn’t have time for this. Whatever it was. Not with a dozen gifts left and an unspoken countdown ticking in Noah’s head.
They were gonna be late to Dad’s house, for sure.
Still, he wouldn’t leave him waiting. He carefully broke down his box fort, standing and wiping any scraps of ribbon and paper from his sweatpants before carefully putting his presents in a safe place where the dogs couldn’t turn them into chew toys.
Experience had taught him that Dexter, in particular, had expensive taste.
Sadie raised her head to give Noah a look, then huffed before dropping her head back onto the heated Tempur-Pedic dog bed. Imagine being annoyed despite being a freeloader currently enjoying the spoils of someone else’s labor. Though he supposed the same could be said for Adam.
Noah padded barefoot over their hardwood floors, heart beating a little faster as he attempted to anticipate just what would be waiting for him in their bedroom.
Since their impromptu roleplaying on Halloween, their sex life had taken a turn.
Playful, indulgent, and dangerously distracting at the worst possible times.
When he entered the bedroom, he stopped short.
There was Noah’s—well, Thomas’s really—bow, stuck squarely on the chest of his insanely hot husband.
It wasn’t all Adam wore, but almost. He also wore skin-tight red boxer briefs trimmed with white fur hugging his upper thighs, and a waistband made to look like Santa’s belt sat low on his hips.
Three black buttons ran down the front, highlighting his already hard cock.
Adam was reclined on the bed, a Santa hat perched on his head, that ridiculous bow slapped between his pecs.
“Wanna unwrap your gift early?”
Noah let his eyes linger despite himself.
Adam was intimidatingly hot. Supermodel, K-pop star, actor-level hot.
His abs were perfectly chiseled, the deep V of his hips so pronounced water could run down them like rivers.
His skin was flawless, his husky blue eyes almost supernatural in certain light, his full lips still perfect.
He looked smug about it, too—like he knew exactly how badly he’d just derailed Noah’s evening.
“We don’t have time for this,” Noah said, though there was no heat behind his words. If anything, they sounded suspiciously resigned.
“Too bad. I’m invoking the Santa Clause.”
“Come again?”
“Oh, I’m trying.”
Noah rolled his eyes. “What is the Santa Clause? Other than a tacky movie from our childhood?”
Adam gave him a smug look. “When we got together, you said that anytime I dressed up like Santa, you’d drop everything and do whatever you’re told.”
“I absolutely didn’t do that,” Noah said.
Adam began to pout. “How do you know? You totally could have. It sounds like you.”
“No, it sounds like you,” Noah mused.
“Is that a no?” Adam asked huffily, eyes already flicking down Noah’s body like he knew the answer.
Noah didn’t answer. He just crawled up the bed to straddle his husband’s hips.
“No, it’s not a no, you big baby. You look hot.
But you’re going to have to explain to Dad why we’re late.
” Adam opened his mouth, but Noah pinched his lips shut.
“In a way that doesn’t involve you giving the poor man graphic details about our sex life. ”
Adam huffed. “Fine. I’ll say Dexter ate a Christmas ornament. Another Christmas ornament.”
“That works,” Noah said, saliva already pooling in his mouth at the way his husband’s abs shifted beneath his hand. The motion was deliberate—Adam showing off without even trying to hide it.
Noah carefully removed Thomas’s bow, tossing it to the floor on the opposite side of the bed where it wouldn’t be crushed by whatever happened next. Somehow, that felt like a line being crossed.
“Is this what you were doing while I was slaving away wrapping the dozen last-minute gifts you decided to purchase?”
“I had to keep you busy while I got ready,” Adam said.
“It took you two hours to put on a pair of underwear and a Santa hat?”
“No, I had to shower, manscape, make sure I was squeaky clean for you… everywhere.”
Noah gave him a flat look. “You’ve made me suck you off right after a workout, but today you took a two-hour ‘everything’ shower like a girl getting ready for a third date?”
“Made you?” Adam countered, giving him a smirk. “Aww, am I abusing you?”
When he reached out to pinch Noah’s cheek, Noah slapped his hand away, glowering at him. He refused to dignify that with an answer.
Adam didn’t need one apparently. “How many times have you begged me to fuck you just ’cause you saw me all sweaty? You’re the one with the perspiration kink, not me.”
Noah flushed but that didn’t stop his hips from settling more comfortably where Adam clearly wanted them.
Okay, so he wasn’t wrong. So what if he liked the way Adam smelled after a run. Was that a crime?
“Whatever,” Noah murmured.
“Mm,” Adam said. “I think it’s a pretty worthy trade-off. Don’t you?”
Noah rolled his eyes, even as he let his hands roam his husband’s torso.
His golden skin was still warm from the shower, faintly damp in places, the clean scent of soap mixing with something unmistakably Adam.
Noah let his fingertips trace every groove, every dip, before finding his way to his chest. He squeezed the muscles there, teasing over taut nipples, licking his bottom lip as he explored what was—by now—very familiar territory.
Familiar, but no less distracting for it.
“Is this my Christmas gift?” Noah asked, scooting lower to sit on his thighs to trace the bulge behind the velvety fabric.
“One of many,” Adam murmured, goosebumps erupting along his skin.
Noah’s hand closed over him, squeezing, enjoying the way Adam sucked in a sharp breath, bucking beneath him like he wasn’t as in control as he pretended. Noah loved making him lose control. It felt like his own personal superpower.
He laid on his belly between Adam’s splayed thighs, looking up at him through his lashes before rubbing his face against the outline of his cock.
He felt Adam shudder beneath him. He let his lips trail over the velvety fabric, inhaling the scent of soap and skin, noting the wet spot that had formed where Adam was already leaking.
“Can I unwrap my gift now?” he asked, his fingertips teasing at the waistband of his husband’s boxer briefs.
“I don’t know,” Adam taunted. “Have you been a good boy?”
Noah once more flicked his brown eyes upwards, letting his tongue dart out over that darkened spot on his underwear, tasting fabric more than the fluid that had created it. “Not particularly, no.”
“No?” Adam asked, arching a brow, that dark look making Noah grind his own now hard cock against the mattress.
“Nope,” Noah said, shaking his head, his mouth skimming over the fabric as he did. “Want me to show you what I did to get on the naughty list, Santa?”
Adam shifted, reclining back on the pillows, threading his fingers behind his head. “Show me.”
Noah dragged the fabric down and off, flinging it somewhere behind him. “Let's see how long you can keep that Santa hat in place.”
“Someone’s feeling spunky today.”
“That word out of your mouth just feels wrong somehow,” Noah mused.
Before Adam could come up with some kind of witty retort, Noah ran the flat of his tongue up the length of his cock, savoring the taste, before taking him into his mouth.
He licked at the fluid gathered at the slit, then just nursed on head of his cock until Adam groaned, squirming restlessly beneath him.
Only when Adam made a growl of frustration, did Noah let his mouth slide down his length, not stopping until it hit the back of his throat. He breathed through his gag reflex as Adam’s hips jolted upwards, trying to push deeper.
“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “That’s so good.”
Adam’s hand landed on the back of his head. Noah fought a smile. He hadn’t even lasted a full minute with his hands behind his head. He bobbed his head slowly, taking him fully, then hollowing his cheeks as he dragged his way back up.
“Your mouth never gets old,” Adam whispered, almost like he was talking to himself.