15. Bryson
15
Bryson
As soon as we got home on Christmas Day, we hurried to our rooms to change into pajamas. Dusty followed me instead of Embry for some reason. He stood there wagging his tail while I pulled some wrapped gifts out of my closet, and he was right on my heels as we left the room.
Embry and I arrived at the top of the stairs at the same time. He was holding an armload of gifts too, and when he saw what I was holding, he said, “I thought we agreed to keep it to one present each.”
“Well, you definitely blew that as much as I did.”
“This is just some little stuff I thought you’d enjoy.”
“Same.”
“I don’t believe you. It looks like you got carried away.”
“So did you.”
We kept good-naturedly bickering as we went downstairs to the lounge and piled everything on the coffee table. When I retrieved one final, big, heavy present from the hall closet, he sighed. “This is a practical gift,” I told him, “so it doesn’t count.”
“Uh huh.”
I grinned at him and headed to the kitchen as I said, “I’ll go make us some refreshments while you let the dog out. Then you should open the big present first.”
“Why that one?”
“Because I’ve been dying to give it to you.”
Pretty soon, we’d settled in with hot chocolate and a plate of Christmas cookies. Dusty was watching us and wagging his tail, as if he knew something good was about to happen.
He was right. Embry picked up a lumpy package and said, “Dusty should get his present first.”
When he squeezed the package, it made a squeaking sound, and the dog went nuts. Embry held it out to him, and Dusty grabbed it and joyously ripped the paper to shreds, revealing a stuffed reindeer toy.
As the dog happily began chewing on an antler, I hauled the big present onto the couch, placing it between the two of us. Embry tried to frown. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s big and heavy. That means it was expensive. You’re going to think I’m a cheapskate with the stuff I got you.” He was still trying to frown, but he was also eyeing the present and looking like he really wanted to tear into it.
“I promise I won’t think that. You’ve seen the way my family gives gifts. Anything more personal than a bottle of wine is going to mean the world to me. Now please, open your present.”
He took a breath and grasped both sides of the big box. Then he tore off the paper as quickly and dramatically as Dusty had unwrapped his gift, and threw it over his shoulder.
When he saw that it contained a pale pink KitchenAid stand mixer, he immediately burst into tears. I exclaimed, “Oh, no! Did I do something wrong?”
He got up and threw himself into my arms, crushing me in a hug as he stammered, “It’s the most perfect present ever! I wanted one my whole life.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.” He grasped my face between his palms and planted a teary kiss on me. Then he rested his forehead against mine as he caught his breath. After a moment, I told him, “You should open your other presents.”
“You got me too much.”
“I wish I’d gotten you more. You deserve the world, Embry.”
It took some coaxing, but he finally moved the mixer over, sat down beside me, and let me hand him another present. “This is big and heavy, too,” he said, as he ran his hands over the rectangle on his lap.
“It’s just something I thought you could use.”
He ripped off the wrapping paper and threw it over his shoulder again. I loved his exuberance. The gift was a large, plastic carrying case with over a hundred piping tips in every imaginable shape, and in several different sizes. He actually screamed when he saw it, which made the dog look up from his new toy and perk his ears.
“Thank you, Bry,” he gushed, as he threw his arms around me again. “It’s the best cake decorating set I’ve ever seen.” He had a little set with twenty-four tips, which he loved, so I’d figured he’d like this.
The next box contained two professional-grade sets of nested cake pans, one round, and one square. Finally, three gift bags held edible glitter in many colors, a variety of fun sprinkles, sheets of gold leaf, and a selection of gel food colorings.
After he opened all his presents, he climbed back onto my lap and dotted kisses all over my face. In between each kiss, he managed a few words. “Thank you! You’re the sweetest—most thoughtful—most generous—man in the whole world.”
“I hope you have fun with all of this. It’s practical too, though. I wanted to set you up for success when you start your cake business, and I thought this stuff would help.”
“It will for sure.”
As he snuggled against me, I wrapped my arms around him and said, “There are three more gifts, but I couldn’t wrap them. First, I bought you a website package. It’s a one-stop shop, so whenever you’re ready, they’ll lock in your domain name, design the site, and get it up and running.
“I also paid for twelve months in a shared commercial kitchen, so you can start producing cakes to sell whenever you’re ready. The twelve months don’t begin counting down until you use it for the first time, so there’s no hurry. Finally, I’ve asked my lawyer to work on getting you a business license. It’s a pretty straightforward process, but he’ll make sure we don’t miss anything.”
He whispered, “Do you really believe in me that much?”
“Of course. I don’t want to put any pressure on you, and if I’ve overstepped then I sincerely apologize. But I got excited about the idea of helping you launch your business. It’s pretty low overhead, so there’s no reason to wait until we get my inheritance. I can help you buy any additional supplies you might need, and we can use my car for local deliveries, and, well, I guess we’ll figure out the rest as we go along.” He buried his face in my shoulder, and I rubbed his back and murmured, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you.”
“No, don’t apologize. This is all absolutely wonderful. I have my dream job within reach all of a sudden! But this is the only thing I’m good at, and there’s no Plan B. Where do I go from here if I fail?”
“You won’t fail. If you hit some snags, you’ll adjust and try again.”
He sat up and met my gaze. “You’ll help me, won’t you? I mean, I know you just did, in such a huge way. But you’ll be there for me, right? I’ll need you to give me advice, and cheer me on, and remind me I really can do it if I start to get discouraged.”
I gently brushed his hair out of his eyes and told him, “I’ll always have your back and help in any way I can, Em. I promise.”
He returned his head to my shoulder, and as I wrapped my arms around him, I asked, “Are you okay?”
Embry climbed off my lap and murmured, “I’m fine. Sorry. You should open your presents.” He grabbed a brightly wrapped box and handed it to me.
I put the gift on my lap and took his hand in both of mine. “You don’t have to say you’re fine if you’re not. What’s on your mind, Em?”
He kept his gaze downcast as he admitted, “It’s just an emotional day. I know Christmas is supposed to be happy and fun and all these wonderful things, but sometimes memories come bubbling up, whether I want them to or not.”
“If you want to talk about it, I’m always willing to listen.”
After a pause, he said, in the softest little voice, “My mom and I were usually on our own on Christmas. Fair season was over for the year, so the Olivettis and the other families would go home for a few weeks. We didn’t have a home to go to, so we’d usually stay in this depressing, run down campground in central California, because it was cheap and close to the last fair we worked.”
Embry let go of me and picked up a container of sprinkles, turning it around in his hands as he continued, “Mom had an on again, off again boyfriend who’d stay with us sometimes. The two of them never wanted me around, so I ended up spending a lot of time on my own. You can’t really go many places alone as a kid, because people tend to call child protective services on you. So, I’d just pick an empty country road and walk for miles.”
After another pause, he said, “This one Christmas weekend when I was eight or nine, I came across a holiday carnival on one of my walks. There were a lot of kids there, and they were all with their families. I’d never felt so alone. I was really hungry too, and when I caught a whiff of fresh cotton candy being made, I gravitated to it. If you ask me, there’s no better smell in all the world.”
He swallowed a lump in his throat, and his voice got even softer as he told me, “I stood off to the side, mesmerized as this guy working the concession swirled a paper stick around and gathered these huge, pink, fluffy clouds of sugary heaven. When he noticed me, he asked, ‘where’s your family, kid?’ I pointed behind me to make him think they were close by and told him, ‘my mom is with her boyfriend.’ He seemed to understand, because he said, ‘it’s no fun being treated like a third wheel, is it?’ Then he asked if she’d given me any money. When I shook my head, he swirled up the biggest, puffiest, most beautiful pink cloud of cotton candy and wished me a Merry Christmas as he handed it to me.”
He took a breath and whispered, “I can’t even tell you what that meant to me, or how delicious that cotton candy was. To this day, whenever I’m feeling like my whole world is falling apart, I find someplace selling fresh cotton candy, and I treat myself.”
I asked quietly, “Does it make you feel better?”
A sad little smile curved his lips. “No. But at least I have something good to eat.”
His story made my heart ache. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his forehead, and he murmured, “I love Christmas. I really do. But for so long, I associated it with feeling sad and lonely, and I guess there’s still a shade of that, even years later.”
I went on holding him, and after a while he whispered, “I don’t know what triggered that memory in particular. Maybe it’s because I was overwhelmed by that stranger’s kindness in that moment, and I’m overwhelmed by yours today.”
The need to take care of Embry and protect him from the world was overwhelming. Not that he needed protecting. He was strong and resilient, much more than he probably realized. But that need was there anyway.
A few moments later, he sat up and handed me a gift. He obviously wanted to lighten the mood, because he smiled at me and said, “Anyway, enough about that. I want you to open your presents, and I really hope you like them.”
Each gift was perfection, because Embry was incredibly thoughtful. One package contained a board game I’d mentioned once, which I’d loved when I was younger. Another held a pair of fingerless gloves he’d crocheted for me, because I’d complained that my hands got cold and a little stiff when I was sketching in my office. There was also a gift bag full of soft, golden-brown caramels he’d made, because he said no Christmas was complete without some sweet treats.
And finally, the smallest package contained two tickets to the national tour of a Broadway musical, which was coming to San Francisco next summer. “I don’t remember mentioning it, but I’ve always wanted to see this,” I told him.
“Yeah, I figured. I have a song from that show on one of my playlists, and whenever it comes on, you start humming along and shaking your hips.”
I grinned at that. “Do I really?”
“Yup. It’s very cute.” He hesitated before saying, “Just so you know, you can take anyone you want to see the show. It doesn’t have to be me.”
“I was actually planning to ask my best friend if he’d come with me.”
He tried to hide his disappointment as he murmured, “Of course.”
“So, here’s me asking. Will you come with me to see the show, Em?”
His eyes went wide. “I’m your best friend?”
“You’re… everything.”
A gorgeous smile lit up his face. “When I bought those tickets, I meant them to be for us, so we could see the show together. But then that seemed like… I don’t know. Like I was making assumptions, I guess.”
“Feel free to assume that whatever I’m doing, I want you with me.”
He launched himself at me and planted a passionate kiss on my lips. When things started to heat up, he asked, “What do you say to meeting me in my bedroom in about fifteen minutes?”
“Yes, please.”
He kissed me again and flashed me a huge smile before darting from the room. I could hear his footsteps as he rushed up the stairs and across the second story. A minute later, the familiar rattle of old pipes told me there was water running.
I was pretty sure I knew what was about to happen, and I was equal parts nervous and excited. The first time we were intimate, it had been wonderful, but it had also been pretty one-sided. I appreciated the way Embry had eased me into the very new world of sex with a man. This time though, I was determined to give more than I took, even if I was clueless and awkward.
To pass the time, I went upstairs to my bathroom and tried to primp. After I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, I was out of ideas, so I ended up pacing around my bedroom.
At about the twelve-minute mark, Embry texted to let me know he needed ten more minutes. I replied: No problem .
Two minutes later, he sent another message: Let’s talk condoms. I get tested regularly, and all my tests have always been negative. I’ve used rubbers whenever I’ve hooked up with random people, but you’re not random or a hookup, so if ? —
The text ended abruptly. Then another popped up: Oops, I accidentally hit send. Anyway, I wanted to throw the idea out there of giving condoms a skip. You should think it over, which is why I’m texting you ahead of time. I’m fine with whatever you decide. See you in six minutes.
I didn’t need time to think about it. I replied: I’ve been tested too, also negative. I’m totally fine with skipping the condoms.
His next text said: Okay then.
Six minutes later, I sent a message to let him know I was on my way. Then I tossed the phone onto my bed and made the ten-second commute to the other side of the house.
Embry’s door was slightly ajar. I knocked, and when he told me to come in, I stepped inside and murmured, “Oh, wow.”
The scene had been set with soft lighting and even softer music. He was on the bed facing me, lying on his stomach with his hands propping up his chin. Embry was mostly naked, except for a form-fitting cropped tank top. I crossed the room and ran my gaze down the length of him, lingering on the curve of his perfect ass.
I meant it when I said, “You’re incredibly sexy.”
That made him smile. “I’m glad you think so.”
I ran my hand over his calf and asked, “Do you shave your legs?”
“Always. I like being smooth, like a seal.”
I chuckled at that and took off my pajama top, tossing it aside before climbing onto the bed. “No pressure,” he said. “We can do as much or as little as you want to this afternoon, but I prepped myself in case you decide you want to fuck me.”
“And by prepped, you mean…”
“I’m all sparkly clean, inside and out. I also worked some lube into myself and fingered my hole a bit to loosen myself up.” I appreciated the matter-of-fact way he told me all of that, without a hint of embarrassment. “By the way, I don’t think we ever talked about it, but I only bottom,” he continued. “If you’d prefer to be penetrated, we still have options—toys, fingers, that big cucumber in the fridge…”
I stretched out on my side next to him, using one hand to prop up my head while I rested my other hand on his lower back. “That’s not something I’ve ever been interested in or curious about,” I admitted.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, we usually have a full produce drawer at your disposal. Think of the possibilities! We could get sexy with squash, or tawdry with turnips, or randy with radishes—” I pressed a kiss to his lips, and he grinned and said, “You did that to shut me up.”
“Correct. You were about to put me off salad for good.”
“Sorry, but not really.” I kissed him again, and he asked, “Was that one to shut me up?”
“No, that one was because you’re adorable.”
He tugged at my waistband and said, “Hey, I have an idea. How about if you get naked?”
I hopped up, shucked off everything I was wearing, and returned to the mattress, once again facing him with my hand propping up my head. “Done.”
He rolled onto his side and got into the same position I was as he said, “Question for you. Have you ever touched another guy’s dick?”
“Nope.”
“Never? Not even at summer camp?”
“Not even then.”
Embry pretended to disapprove, shaking his head as he exclaimed, “You are such a little straight boy!”
“I was. Past tense.”
A teasing smile made his eyes sparkle. “You haven’t even looked at mine yet.”
I glanced at his hard-on before meeting his gaze with a grin. “Yup, that’s a dick alright. Is it okay if I touch you?”
“I’m all yours. Touch, stroke, taste, do whatever seems fun to you.”
I looked down again and ran a fingertip up his length. His cock was pink and smooth and bigger than I would have expected, since Embry was on the petite side. Curiosity compelled me to ask, “When did you touch another guy’s cock for the first time?”
“I was eleven or twelve. Jamal Brewster was around the same age. His parents sold hats shaped like vegetables at the Central Valley Asparagus Festival. We snuck off behind the Porto-potties and played a game of show me yours and I’ll show you mine. But we ended up doing more than showing.”
I looked him in the eye and tried to decide if he was kidding. He must have known what I was thinking, because he said, “That’s all true.”
I wrapped my hand around his shaft and tried stroking him as I murmured, “This is familiar and completely disorienting, all at the same time.” I was obviously no stranger to jerking off, but doing it to someone else was about as smooth as trying to sign my name with my left hand.
“I can imagine.”
“Tell me how you like to be touched. I want to make you feel good.”
“You don’t have to be so delicate with me.” I ran my hand over his tip, so I could use his precome as lube. When I tightened my grip on his shaft, he murmured, “Perfect.”
He let me stroke him for a while before saying, “Let me show you something you might like.” With that, he moved closer, grasped his cock and mine with one hand, and started jerking us off at the same time.
It was incredible. The feeling of his cock sliding against mine amplified the pleasure somehow. I didn’t want him to do all the work like last time, so I took over. It was gratifying to see him respond to what I was doing.
We both really got into it, but there was a lot more I wanted to try. After a while, I kissed his lips, then his neck, before sliding down and kissing his stomach. He chuckled and murmured, “That tickles.” When I took the tip of his cock in my mouth, he made a sound that was an awful lot like a purr.
Since I’d only been on the receiving end of a blow job, I’d never realized how intensely pleasurable giving one could be. It was such a huge turn-on that my cock started to throb, but I ignored it so I could focus on Embry.
He was very vocal and incredibly responsive, which I loved. I paid close attention to what made him squirm and moan and gasp. My technique was clumsy, and I was only able to take a few inches in my mouth without triggering my gag reflex, but his reactions made it clear he was enjoying it anyway.
I would have happily finished him off that way, but after a few minutes, he murmured, “I need you inside me, Bry.”
I sat up and blurted, “Hell yes. Talk me through it, okay?”
“Absolutely.”
We both shifted around, so he was straddling my lap as I leaned against the headboard. He squirted some lube onto my hand, and I slid my finger into his tight little ass, following his instructions. When I happened to graze his prostate, he moaned and bucked, and I told him, “I’m definitely making a mental note of that spot.” That made him grin.
When he decided he was ready, he slicked my cock with a lot of lube and explained, “I’m going to start off on top, so I can control how fast and deep we go. Once I adjust, we have a ton of positions to choose from.”
He kept talking as he held the base of my cock and lowered himself onto it. I really liked how relaxed and chatty he was. It counterbalanced my nervousness, somehow. “We’re starting off with your basic cowboy, which I definitely like,” he said. “From here, we can move on to the launch pad, or deep impact, or the folded deck chair?—”
“You’re making those up.”
He smiled at me and draped his arms over my shoulders. “I swear I’m not.”
When he winced a little, I asked, “Are you okay, Em? Should we stop?”
“I’m fine. It’s just going to take me a minute to get used to being stretched like that.”
He exhaled slowly and held still. At that point, he’d taken every inch and was sitting on my hips. I kissed him gently and ran my hands down his thighs, and he rested his forehead against mine.
In that small, quiet moment with our bodies joined, I felt so many emotions all of a sudden. I didn’t even know what to do with them all.
But pretty soon he began to move, sliding up and down on my cock, which sent waves of pleasure radiating through me. I was glad to have that shift in focus—until I realized this was even more intense and emotional.
I’d never felt like that during sex. It had always been purely physical, in my experience. The fact that a pretend relationship had led to the first real connection of my life wasn’t lost on me.
Not that this was the time to overanalyze it. Instead, I focused on Embry and his reactions. After the line between his brows eased and he started to relax, we shifted positions. He rolled onto his back and put his ankles on my shoulders, grinning as he murmured, “Folding deck chair.” That made me chuckle.
I slid into him carefully and started with shallow thrusts. I was worried about hurting him, but he muttered, “Harder, please,” so I did as he asked. When I shifted slightly, it became pretty obvious that I’d found a good angle. He began moaning and bucking underneath me, which was incredibly gratifying.
Once I knew he wasn’t just okay but thoroughly enjoying himself, I could let go. I was overwhelmed by pleasure and sensation, by Embry, by the incredible connection that electrified the air around us. He clawed my back, arching off the bed, wild and totally uninhibited as he blurted, “Yes, fuck me. Make me yours.” A sound tore from me that was close to a growl. I fucked him harder still, and he threw his head back and moaned.
He slipped a hand between us and started jerking himself off, which sent us racing toward the same destination. Pretty soon, he cried out and shot onto his stomach, and that tipped me over the edge. I braced a hand against the headboard and yelled as I came, my voice unrecognizable to me as I shot deep inside him.
It was so intense that it left both of us shaking and gasping for air. I rolled us over, trying and failing to stay inside him, and he curled up on top of me as we caught our breath. When he could speak again, he murmured, “That was incredible.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
“Any regrets?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Good.” He kissed my chest, and I wrapped my arms around him. After a pause, he said, “Sorry if I scratched you. I got carried away.”
“I liked it.” He grinned at that and nuzzled my neck.
I felt him shiver, and it immediately spurred me to action. “Be right back,” I said, as I shifted him onto the mattress and got up. “I’m going to draw us a bath.”
When I returned, I scooped him into my arms. As I carried him to the bathroom, I told him, “I want to spend all evening taking care of you.”
I expected him to argue, but instead he murmured, “That sounds wonderful.”
The splash of body wash I’d added to the tub had foamed up like bubble bath, perfuming the warm, damp air with a sweet orange blossom scent. I put Embry down and reached for the hem of his cum-stained tank top, but he grabbed my hands to stop me. There was turmoil in his eyes when he looked up at me and whispered, “I want to leave it on. Is that okay?”
“Of course.” I obviously had questions, but it was best not to push. He’d tell me what that was about when he was ready.
I climbed into the tub and offered him my hand. He hesitated for a moment before grasping it and stepping into the hot water.
He leaned against me, and I put my arms around him. A minute ticked by before he whispered, “I know wearing a shirt in the tub is weird, but I don’t want you to think I’m ugly.”
“Why would I think that?”
“Because of my scar.”
“That’s why you wanted to keep your shirt on?”
He nodded. “That night when I showed you, it was dark, and you didn’t see all of it. I’m afraid you’ll take one look at it and be so disgusted that you won’t want me anymore.”
I wrapped my arms around him more securely. “I’d never do that, Em.”
His voice caught as he whispered, “You don’t know how bad it is.”
“It doesn’t matter. Absolutely nothing could stop me from thinking you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”
After a moment, he glanced over his shoulder at me. “I feel ridiculous, sitting in a bath with a shirt on. And I know you’re not the type of guy to reject me for something like this. But that’s happened to me before, and it made me really self-conscious.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
He shifted around so he was facing me and said, “I’m just going to get it over with and show you. If you think I look gross, I’ll wear a shirt from now on. Okay?”
“Do whatever makes you comfortable, Em. No pressure.”
He pulled off his tank top and clutched it to his chest. His slumped shoulders and the way he hung his head broke my heart. He hesitated before finally lowering the wet fabric, exposing an old, faded scar that covered most of his chest. The skin was uneven and his nipples were misshapen, but it really wasn’t that bad—to me, anyway. To him, it came with a lifetime of negative emotions, so it seemed worse than it was. “Go ahead and say it. I know I’m hideous,” he whispered, looking completely defeated.
“No, you’re not.” I sat up and ran my hands down his arms, in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. “That scar doesn’t make you ugly, Em. It makes you a survivor, and it shows you’re so much stronger than you realize.” I couldn’t stand the thought of how much it must have hurt, or how easily a burn like that could have killed him at such a young age.
He glanced at me from under his lashes. “It does?” I nodded, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the negative messages he’d been telling himself for years. “It was all my fault, though. I’m too clumsy, and?—”
“It wasn’t your fault. You told me you were three years old when you got burned, Em. If we’re looking for someone to blame, I’m going with the adult who should have been looking out for you.”
“The end result is the same though, no matter who’s to blame. I look horrible.”
“You’re wrong. That scar can’t touch how beautiful you are, inside and out.”
He’d lowered his gaze, but then he ventured another glance at me. “You still think I’m beautiful?”
“Of course I do. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Em. You’re ethereal.”
He flung himself into my arms, and as I hugged him he murmured, “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
After we finished our bath, we both put on warm, comfortable sweats and went downstairs to the kitchen. Since we’d been planning to have dinner at my uncle’s house, I didn’t have anything special on the menu. But there were enough ingredients to make savory crepes with a cheese filling, along with a side of roasted root vegetables. I also made mini tartlets for dessert, using some cherries I’d frozen at the height of their season.
Embry watched closely while I prepared dinner, eagerly tasting the samples I offered him along the way. He still treated every meal I made like it was a big deal.
We ate side-by-side at the kitchen island, our barstools so close that we were almost touching. Afterwards, I made him some hot chocolate, and we went into the lounge and curled up together on the couch.
“I have a silly little fantasy,” he said, after a while.
“Tell me.”
“I love it when you feed me while you’re cooking. Would it be weird if I said I wanted to eat an entire meal that way?”
“That sounds wonderful. When should we do it?”
“Surprise me.”
“Okay.”
Embry put his head on my chest and admitted, “I’d been thinking about that dinner idea for a while. I was too embarrassed to bring it up, but after tonight, I feel like I can tell you anything.”
I knew what he meant. Something had shifted between us this evening. Our connection felt deeper and stronger than ever before. The sex might have had something to do with it, but I thought it was because we’d both let our guard down and allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, especially Embry.
It made me happy and optimistic—two things I hadn’t felt in a very long time.