11. Eleven
Eleven
December 2018 - Four Years Ago
Phoenix Campbell
Me: Merry Christmas babe, miss you! xx
Cee: It’s Christmas Eve
Me: It’s now past midnight so it’s Christmas day!
Cee: Yes but when you sent the message, it was 11:59pm
Me: I hope Santa brings you a lump of coal for being a shit.
Cee: MERRY CHRISTMAS FEE!!!!!
Me: Grrrrrr I hate you
Cee: No you don’t, you love me ;)
Me: It’s a good job you’re pretty -_-
Cee: And to think, I thought it was my mad BJ skills that won you over ;)
Me: You’ll have to remind me :p Going to sleep before Santa gets here, night xxx
Cee: Hope you’ve been a good boy this year ;) Night xxxxxxxxx
“ W ho ya texting?”
“Jesus Christ, Alf, thought you were asleep,” I whisper shout at my younger brother.
We’re staying at the family cottage in Kendal for Christmas, so I’m sleeping on a pull-out bed on the floor in his room because Jasper and Jade are sleeping in the room I used to share with Jas.
“I was trying to sleep, but then I kept hearing you giggling down there,” he replies.
“I wasn’t giggling, and it’s Alice. Santa won’t visit if you’re awake,” I tell him. I make a mental note to text her because then it feels less of a lie.
Alice is my best friend and neighbour, we’ve known each other since we were pups. She doesn’t know who Cee is specifically, but she does know I’ve been seeing someone in secret, and she covers for me sometimes.
“Charlotte told me Santa isn’t real.”
How did I go from a quick Merry Christmas text to my boyfriend to having to choose whether or not to kill my ten-year-old brother’s Christmas spirit? As future Alpha, Jasper can field this one.
“Maybe you should ask Jas about it tomorrow. He’s very clever; he’ll know,” I whisper back. “But it’s probably best to go to sleep just in case, you know?”
Alfie lets out a little hmm, like he’s debating the merit of my suggestion.
“Yeah, okay. Night, Nix,” he says before rolling over. I may not have a visit from Santa to look forward to, but I can’t wait to see Jasper try to dodge Alfie’s line of questioning tomorrow. I shoot a quick Merry Christmas text off to Alice and try to get some sleep myself.
“You ever going to tell me who your mystery man is?” Alice asks down the pack bond. We’re both in our wolf forms so we can head to our respective New Year’s Eve plans.
“Are you going to tell me which Eastwood sibling you’re going to meet tonight?” I ask back without answering her question.
This whole situation has worked out pretty sweet for me this year. A couple of weeks ago, Alice started hooking up with one of the Eastwoods, I’m guessing it’s Benjy because he’s our age, but she won’t tell me. I’m pretty sure the only reason she’s keeping it a secret is because she’s salty I won’t tell her who Cee is. We told our families we’ll spend New Year’s Eve together, so we’re meeting back here tomorrow morning.
“I’ll tell when you tell,” she replies. See? Salty.
“I’ll tell you one day.” This is my stock answer to this question now, and I’m not lying. I will tell her one day; I’ll tell everyone one day. I know I’m only twenty-two, but Cee is it for me, and I know we’ll find a way to be together out in the open eventually.
I’m an hour early when I get to the abandoned barn where Cee and I meet. Plenty of time for what I have planned. I carried a big duffel bag in my mouth the entire way here so I’d have everything I needed. I start by hanging a pack of battery-powered fairy lights along the top of the wall in the corner. The hay we use to cushion the ground is scattered from the last time we were here, so I set to work spreading it more evenly before laying out two thick blankets over the top.
We found this barn last autumn; there’s never been anyone else’s scent here, so we assume it’s probably sitting on some unused land. There was a particularly bad storm in November, though, that ripped off some of the roof shingles. Fortunately, we were able to patch it up. Okay, so it was mostly Cee—he’s an actual joiner—I just passed him the tools when he asked for them.
The final touch for my New Year’s plans is the bottle of champagne I nabbed from my parents’ cellar and two plastic wine glasses. Laying them in the centre of the blanket, I step back to admire my handiwork. It looks pretty cute, if I do say so myself.
Around six months ago, Cee made us a joint playlist we could both add songs to. It’s basically half songs I enjoy and half songs he adds to try to annoy me. Joke’s on him, though, because I love me some Whitney Houston. I’m connecting my tiny portable speaker to my phone when I hear the gentle thud, thud, thud, of heavy paws in the distance.
A few minutes later, Cee's big furry grey head pokes through the door; he nudges it wider and walks inside before he shifts back.
“You did all this?” he asks, taking in my surprise. I grin at him in response and make grabby hands, beckoning him to hurry up and cuddle me. “One sec, let me throw some joggers on,” he says, reaching into his rucksack.
“I mean, don’t feel you have to because I’ll probably just take them right off.”
“Exactly, and who am I to deny you the opportunity to strip me naked.” He winks at me as he pulls the joggers on; they hang loose on his waist, and I accidentally let out a needy whine.
“Get over here and kiss me. I haven’t seen you in a bajillion years.” Cee laughs at me but makes his way over and straddles my thighs. Holding my face in his palms, he presses his lips to mine in a kiss far too chaste for my liking.
“Two weeks, actually,” he says between kisses.
“Precisely, two whole weeks. I’m surprised you even recognise me,” I reply before I grab him by the hips and flip us so he’s lying under me.
Our mouths crash together, his tongue pressing against mine, and he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth. This is the kiss I wanted. A loud, embarrassing moan slips free, and I’m way too on edge already.
Cee tugs my t-shirt up, and I help him pull it off over my head quickly before our mouths are fused together again. I grind my hips against him; our erections rubbing together is amazing, but it’s not enough.
I need to feel his skin against my skin.
I pull my joggers off with an unnecessary degree of urgency. It might be December, but my skin is burning so hot I can hardly bear it.
“I told you not to bother putting these on,” I tell him as I tug his bottoms off.
“Fine, you were right. Now hurry up,” he says, sounding needy. I love it when he gets this way.
“Hold on a minute… Did Connor Kelly just say I’m right? I’m going to need you to repeat that.” He lets out an unimpressed huff and glares up at me indignantly until a sly smile crosses his lips.
“I was gonna suggest you lie back while I ride you, but if you’d prefer I repeat myself, I can do that instead.” I think my brain sort of reboots over the mental image.
“Have I ever told you you’re never wrong? Like you’re the rightest right person I’ve ever known?” I say before I go back to kissing him.
“That’s what I thought,” he replies breathlessly.
Slowly making my way down his body, I pause to flick my tongue over his hard nipples, which never fails to get a sexy little gasp out of him. Settling on my front, I kiss and lick the soft, milky skin of his inner thighs. As I graze my teeth against the delicate skin, he shivers beneath me. Unable to help myself, I give him one long lick from the base of his cock to the tip and then push his knees back, exposing his hole to me.
“Hold your legs back.” He does as I ask immediately, and this slightly submissive side of him never fails to make me as hard as a rock. I blow gently over his tight, pink hole, and it flutters. Watching how his body responds to me never gets old.
He whimpers as I press my tongue lightly over his rim. I gradually increase the pressure, tasting him thoroughly and loving the feel of him softening from my ministrations. He tastes so good, musky and something else so uniquely him.
“Fuck… I need…” he stutters.
“What do you need?” I ask between licks.
“I dunno, I just need,” he mumbles incoherently, and I chuckle.
Grabbing the bottle of lube I packed, I coat two fingers in the silky liquid. His hole is already relaxed from my tongue, so I press two slick fingers into him easily.
“Is this okay?” I ask. I’m hypnotised as I watch my fingers move in and out of him. When he starts to move his hips, seeking out more, I crook my fingers to brush against his prostate.
“Fuck. Yeah, more than okay,” he says, writhing and moaning. The way he comes undone for me is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. His brow is sweaty, and his chest and neck are flushed a dusky pink. I lick a bead of sweat from his Adam’s apple and gently nip at his jaw.
“Stop, fuck. I’m too close. I’m ready; lie down,” he says before gripping my shoulders and pushing me down onto the blanket.
He straddles my hips and grabs the lube, coating my cock. As he strokes the liquid up and down my shaft, I scrunch my eyes closed and try to think unsexy thoughts because I’m dangerously close to erupting.
Note to self—don't go quite so long without having a wank.
I can’t look away as he goes up onto his knees, preparing to take me. I hold the base of my dick still and line it up before he sinks down onto me. The pressure around my cock as it squeezes through the two rings of muscle is almost too much, and I grab his hips to hold him still for a moment when he’s fully seated.
After a few deep breaths, I’m not quite so on edge anymore, and I use my hands to guide Cee's hips up. He takes the greenlight to undulate up and down my length, slowly at first, as he adjusts. His own cock is hard and leaking precum; I swipe my thumb over it and bring it to my lips to taste him. He watches me intently as I lick my thumb clean, and his eyes darken with desire. Leaning down, he kisses me, tasting himself on my tongue. My fingertips dig into the fleshy part of his bum, and I’m frustrated there’s no physical way to have him as close to me as I’d like.
Sometimes, sex with Cee feels like all my filthy fantasies come true. But he’s water slipping through my fingers I can never quite hold onto, no matter how hard I try. He moans loudly when I bend my knees and thrust my hips up to meet him, pumping myself up into the tight warmth of his arse. I’m frenzied, fucking him harder and harder, completely out of my mind. My ears are filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and loud, blissful moans. Both of us chasing our release and enjoying how amazing our bodies feel joined together.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, and suddenly he’s vibrating on top of me, ropes of his cum shooting out of his cock and coating my abs.
The combination of watching him come without even touching himself and the way his orgasm causes the muscles in his arse to constrict around me has me following him into ecstasy like a freight train. My hips surge up as I pull him down onto me as hard as I can, feeling my cum fill his hole. My whole body shakes, and I grunt when he clenches, milking every last drop out of me.
He flops down onto me like a dead weight, pressing his face into the crook of my sweaty neck, and I wrap my arms and legs tightly around him. I wonder briefly if you can be addicted to a person? If so, I think I might be addicted to Connor; it’s been a year and a half and every day, I want him more and more.
“Happy New Year,” I say softly. Cee starts laughing, which causes my very over-sensitive and softening dick to slip out of him. He lifts himself up so his face hovers over mine and kisses me gently.
“I love you, even if you’re a bit ridiculous,” he tells me. I grin up at him because I never tire of hearing those three words.
“I’m going to just ignore that last bit. I love you too, babe.”
And then I squish him in my arms as hard as I can.
“Bitter-sweet, memories, that’s all I’m taking with me…” I sing into my plastic cup, pretending it’s a microphone. We’ve finished the champagne, and I’ve taken to serenading Cee with all the ballads he’s been adding to our joint playlist.
“How can you not even remotely sing in tune?” he asks, lying on the blanket and laughing hysterically. I’m not actually a terrible singer, but making Cee laugh so hard he snorts has become one of my favourite pastimes, so I do what needs to be done and sing very off-key.
“I’ll have you know my mother says I have the voice of an angel,” I tell him.
“Then your mother is either tone-deaf or a liar,” he replies with the biggest smile on his face.
“How very dare you.” I chuck my empty cup to the side and dive on top of him, tickling his ribs until he’s begging me to stop with tears running down his cheeks.
We eventually curled up under a blanket, and I fucked him again—slowly. Laid on our sides, I took him from behind, and if I was the type of person to say things like ‘make love,’ that probably would have been it. Neither of us desperate to get off, just enjoying being close and connected with my arms wrapped around him, kissing every bit of skin I could reach.
It’s the early hours of the morning now, and Cee is fast asleep. He’s tucked up in my arms, breathing deeply. I’m totally exhausted and should probably try to sleep for a while, too, but I want to enjoy the moment. Sometimes, it feels as if our entire relationship is built on a foundation of stolen moments. I only hope they're strong enough to withstand our inevitably turbulent future.
I worry it’s not sustainable, though. How long can we keep this a secret from everyone? How long until someone finds out?
For now, though, I let the current take me. I press a soft kiss against his temple and tug him in closer, breathing in his scent— heather and lightning —until all the tension and worries fade into the background, and I’m just here with him warm and safe in my arms.