The Remains of Christmas

Chapter 5

Chris

I stretched my hand across the bed, searching for the warmth my body was missing. I’d fallen asleep curled protectively around Daphne. Now she was gone.

The bed was still warm where she’d lain. I opened my eyes to a blur of glare as light streamed in through the open curtains. A figure stood next to the Christmas tree, looking out onto the leafless landscape below.

I groaned, turning around, checking my phone on the nightstand.

Seven-thirty.

Plenty of time to have a leisurely morning and still make it to Knoxville before noon.

I put on my glasses so I could see Daphne; not just her dark silhouette. She hadn’t turned yet. I didn’t know what caught her attention out there, but I was grateful for the opportunity to take her in.

Her back was to me. Her head turned in profile, highlighting her prominent nose. I loved her nose. It was too large, too Roman to give her face that generic beauty of an Instagram model. It gave her character, and added to her allure. Patrician. That was the word for her. With her creamy pale skin, that deep cupid’s bow of her lip, her striking cheekbones, she could have been honed from marble and crowned in laurel, the frozen representation of a mythological goddess. Daphne, her namesake. Her long, blonde hair, still snarled from sleep, looked almost white in the early morning light. When she hugged her body, the motion pulled her shirt tight across her back, revealing the nip of her waist and elongated curves of her hips under the crimson t-shirt.

Finally, she turned, her face exploding into a wide, toothy smile and eyes that crinkled in the corners. Oh, God. To wake up every day to that look... it would be worth all the pain, all the heartbreak I’d ever experienced.

She ran over and hopped onto all fours on the bed. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve.” She leaned over and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips before I’d had a chance to respond.

“I don’t think that’s a thing.”

“Who’s to say it can’t be though? Except, once it starts, where does it end? Merry Christmas Eve Eve Eve? Four Eves. Fifteen? All the way up to Thanksgiving, and Halloween, the way the retail stores are going. Okay, I see your point. I’ll save it for tomorrow.”

She yelped as I put my hands on her waist and rolled her beneath me. “Do you ever stop talking?” I asked, looking down into her soft gray eyes.

“Only in my sleep. Sometimes not even then. Only I make even less sense. It’s always cheeseburgers taking the alligator for a walk and— Oh! There was one time I got shot in a dream and it felt really good. Losing all that blood felt relaxing, like sinking into a warm pool.”

My glasses slipped off my ears as I kept my body dutifully away from hers. Last night was last night. It was magical. It was spiritual. But maybe sex was always magical and spiritual for her. We hadn’t talked about anything continuing beyond a single encounter. I didn’t want to presume.

“Do you think it really feels like that? Like stepping into a warm pool?”

“What does?”

“Getting shot.”

I looked at the empty pillow beside her. My brain had automatically assigned it as her pillow .

“Um..." I shook my head, trying to pull the brakes and stop the train of thought my body had been following. “I think... getting shot feels like your skin exploding, shattering your nerves, but not enough to render them incapable of sensation. Bones crushing, splintering apart as the path of the bullet snakes through your body, rupturing and bruising tender organs. And if there’s an exit wound, more skin ripped apart, as if an animal is clawing its way out. But it happens all at once, and you’d feel it for at least twenty to forty minutes until you’ve gotten to an ER and the docs have administered the first dose of morphine.”

“Mm. That’s the opposite of a warm bath, then.”

“So much for that dream. Our pool is heated, though. You can go for a swim later. Is that bougie enough for you.” I shot up. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“You’re coming back to bed, right? I’ve already brushed mine, I thought you’d appreciate the effort before I kissed you.”

“Do you want me to come back?” My dick throbbed inside my boxers. Her eyes tracked down my body.

She sat up, nodding with a hungry smile, as she flipped the t-shirt over her head, baring a vast expanse of gorgeous, naked breasts and pebbled pink nipples.

Fuck, I needed to be inside her again, immediately.

I brushed my teeth for the required two minutes. The time had never passed that slowly. I counted the seconds with my breaths. Daphne naked. In my bed. Waiting.

“I’m already starting,” she called from the bedroom.

White foam trailed from the corner of my mouth. My eyes closed. She was touching herself. Daphne was in my bed, touching herself. My dick throbbed again, painfully. I swore it was sentient when it came to her. It reacted uncontrollably. I’d never been this fiendish before.

I spat into the sink. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m pinching my nipples.”

Oh fuck. Those nipples. Those big rosy peaks that had felt so perfect rolled between my thumbs and forefingers last night. Standing so proud on my tongue. I couldn’t wait to taste them again. Taste the rest of her.

I braced myself on the edge of the marble countertop, letting my head drop between my shoulders. My cock was so heavy and thick with blood, it almost pulled me down. She was going to be the death of me.

The toothbrush shut off in my hand. I had to restart it to actually finish brushing.

“Move your right hand lower. Touch your pussy. Make yourself wet. By the time I get out there, I want you glistening.”

There was a breath and then, “I already am.”

Ow. Fuck. The toothbrush skidded across my incisors, and stabbed the inside of my cheek.

I cupped my cheek with my other hand and continued the path across my front teeth. Brushing had never been such torture.

Finally, the toothbrush shut off. Daphne moaned quietly.

I spat out the remaining toothpaste and wiped my mouth.

“I thought you’d never be done.”

I said nothing. When I came around the corner and saw her, my heart was skipping into arrhythmia. Her head snapped to the right, and something like relief spread across her face.

I threw back the covers, my eyes immediately locking on her delicate fingers teasing herself. I watched her work, studied the way she dragged her middle finger straight up through her center before tracing a wide circle around her clit. She did it slowly, her hips moving in rhythm with her hand.

“Chris,” she said with need in her voice.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“You’re here now. Touch me.”

I shook my head slowly, still unable to tear my eyes away from what she was doing to herself. She was so free with her body, so generous in allowing me to see so much of her. “I want to watch you come.”

She moaned. “I need you.”

“No. You can do this all by yourself. Look at you—so wet, so beautiful. Give me this, baby. Please?” I kissed her forehead.

She reached lower, dipping her middle finger into her vagina before bringing it back up to swirl over her clit once more. Still agonizingly slowly, she brushed the pads of her fingers over her lips with the lightest touches. Maybe she was sensitive. Maybe any more pressure and it would be too much. I tried to memorize the pattern she was creating, imagining it was my tongue and not her fingers.

It would be soon enough.

“Will you touch yourself? Come with me?”

I swallowed a laugh. “I might come just from this... watching you.”

Her fingers worked herself a little faster and her legs fell open. My eyes were ready to pop out of my skull when her inner lips spread like butterfly wings.

Her arousal soaked her beautiful cunt.

Her mouth was open. Panting. Her back arching off the bed. When she looked at me, there was uncertainty in her eyes.

I’d give her certainty. It was only a matter of saying out loud what I’d already been thinking.

“Your pussy is fucking beautiful, Daphne.”

Her ribs flared out on an inhale, plump breasts bouncing as she fucked her hand. Those eraser-head nipples pointed toward the sky.

I squeezed my dripping cock. “It’s taking everything in me not to sink to my knees and rub my face all over your perfect cunt.”

“Please,” she whimpered.

I nodded. “After you come.”

“I n-need you.”

“You don’t.” I stepped closer, still standing over her, staring down. “Show me, darling. Show me how you come. Let me see how perfect you look.”

Her toes scrunched, gripping the sheet, upper back arched off the bed as her orgasm gripped her and possessed her body. Her breath was ragged and she came with a deep moan , as if nothing could possibly bring her more pleasure. God, even her noises were perfect.

It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. And I’d been to Rome, Florence, the Alps.

Daphne’s face as she came made all the vistas and artistic masterpieces seem banal compared to the way her body jerked as pleasure coursed through her.

And I planned to give her a lot more pleasure.

I was a patient man, but I’d waited long enough. Her scent was filling the room and driving me insane with want. I grabbed the ankle closest to me, twisting her body and dragging her closer to the edge.

I dropped to my knees, taking a moment to appreciate the slowing pulses of her pelvic floor as she pumped out more moisture. Moisture that I was about to lap up and swallow down. Then I’d beg for more. There’d never be enough of her. I’d never be through with this woman.

She lifted her head, glancing down her body toward me before raking her fingers through my hair and pushing my face into her pussy. “Already?” I smiled, lazily flattening my tongue just below her clit.

Her head dropped back with a moan. “Oh God that... Wait a minute..." her head snapped up again. “Ah! Your tongue is freezing.”

I chuckled. “Toothpaste.”

“Ohhh..." she wailed.

I licked a slow, lingering swath through her slit, feeling every fold and ridge, every delicious texture, following the path I’d seen her own fingers tread, before spreading her wide open, stroking everywhere, everything, concentrating my peppermint-cooled tongue on her clit.

“Oh my God, Chris!” She moaned and writhed under me, her feet slipping off my shoulders, scrambling until her thighs closed around my ears, pulling me closer as her fingers pulled my hair at the roots. Greedy girl.

My cock throbbed. It had worked its way out of the fly of my pants. A thread of pre-cum stretched to the floor.

I dropped my hand from where I’d been kneading her ass and squeezed my dick. Just once.

I just needed a moment of relief to stop this ache. But it wasn’t just my cock; it was my skin, my heart, my blood. Every bit of me needed to consume every bit of her.

“Yes, please. Touch yourself,” she said, noticing where my hand had gone.

"Oh, no. Not yet." I shook my head and smiled against her pussy. My whole face was covered in her. I needed both of my hands to hold her open so I could catch every juicy drop of her.

I moved lower—stroking, circling, leaving behind a wake of fiery cold.

My scalp burned as her fists tightened in my hair, her clit throbbed out a rhythm on my tongue as she came, milking out more precious fluid I lapped up with a desperate sort of hunger.

And fuck, I didn’t think it was possible for my cock to get any harder. But it hurt now—oh, God—it hurt. It fucking… So angry and purple, pulsing from the engorgement of blood and then, oh fuck, oh fuck I was coming. Thick spurts of cum painted abstract streaks on the navy rug as I watched helplessly with my hands still between her legs, pulling her wide open.

I nuzzled her softly, kissing her cunt until her both of our orgasms faded completely.

Daphne was exhausted. Her legs hung loosely off the bed, her arms straight down at her sides.

“Now you. I can’t move, but I want you inside me.”

I laughed and kissed a path down her thigh. She didn’t realize I’d already... but that didn’t stop me. My cock had never softened and I never wanted her more.

I grabbed a condom and rolled it on. Daphne still hadn’t moved a muscle. She lay on the bed, groaning anemically, muttering words I couldn’t make out.

I laughed. “You sure you want more?”

There was a sleepy smile on her face. “Not more for me. Seriously, I can’t move.” She let out a shocked laugh. “I’ve never been able to do that... twice. What did you do to me?”

I loved how unashamed she was. So open and free, like she was just as delighted by her body as I was.

Seeing her like this, exhausted and immobile from pleasure—pleasure I’d wrought—carved something deep into my chest. The beauty of her openness, the willing exposure, not just of her body, but who she was underneath all that flesh and muscle—it was doing something to me, changing me, rebooting components that hadn’t been updated in years.

God, this woman.

I pulled her legs up to my shoulders, kissing the inside of her calf and stroking her thighs.

Slowly, I pushed in, little by little, hissing through my teeth as I teased into her wet heat. It was torture, but she was too much to take all at once.

She sank further into the mattress and her legs fell open at the knees.

Sweet Jesus, she was a ragdoll.

I caught her thighs, and the motion seated me fully inside her. A long, low-pitched moan escaped from deep inside me. She felt as good as I’d remembered.

It was exquisite watching her lying there, limp and dripping, unable to move, unable to do anything except fuck me.

Or be there for me to fuck.

I dragged myself out and eased back in. Her slick pussy made it so easy, too easy. I was already on the verge of coming.

If I could make her come one more time, feel her pulse around my cock the way she had last night, that’d be it.

Jesus Christ. Fuck. Fucking her like this—so excruciatingly slowly, watching my cock disappear into her, her clit growing harder as more blood filled the sensitive tissues in her pussy—it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

“You’re so fucking perfect. I want you to come again. Tell me what to do to make you come on my cock. I need to feel it again.”

“Chris, I can’t.”

“Let me try. Please, baby.”

She smiled. Her arms drifted to her belly, smoothing over her skin before pulling my hand to her clit. “Press,” she said. “Don’t move.”

I pressed my thumb there, lightly. Using the momentum of our slow fucking to provide stimulation.

This had to have been the longest stretch of her not talking since I’d met her yesterday. God, was it only yesterday? So much had happened and nothing really happened. Just that I’d met her, and that, in itself, was magic.

My head rubbed a spot inside her that made her gasp. I focused all my attention there. Her head rolled back into the tangle of sheets.

“Ohhh,” she breathed.

“Like that? Is that where it is, sweetheart?” I rocked my cock back and forth, right where it made her breath catch.

The sounds we made together were wet and sloppy. I could hear her moisture when the suction broke. She dripped onto the floor and my feet.

“Um, Chris, I don’t know… I think... something’s diff— I’m... I’m gonna...”

“Let go, sweetheart.”

And holy fuck, she was… Wet. Everything was wet and hot. “Oh, shit.” I froze, trying to figure out what was even happening. “Daphne, you…” God, she wasn’t just coming on my cock; she was fucking soaking it.

Everything was covered in drops of wetness and she was squirting out more. “Fuck. Baby. Look at you.” She looked down just as she gushed on my dick as I pulled out, watching her make a mess all over us, all over everything, the bed, the floor...

“Chris, what did I do?”

I was in awe. Her body was made to be fucked.

“Daphne. You’re so perfect. You’re so beautiful when you come.”

I pushed back in as the last of her orgasm clenched around me, milking my cock and taking me right with her. My breath escaped in a ragged huff as I spilled into the condom.

I was as wrecked as she was. More so. After that, I couldn’t conceive of fucking anyone else. She was mine. Maybe she didn’t know it yet, I still didn’t know why, but this was more than sex; it was a bonding.

Hours and countless orgasms with several clean-ups later, she lay still in my arms. Comfortable and complete, like she knew she belonged there.

“Were you going to be alone for Christmas?”

I laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t always come home for Christmas, anyway. When I do, it’s just for volunteer work. But now that Darius has passed, it’s hard.”

“Tell me about him?”

I groaned. “He was the best.”

“What made him important to you?”

I reached for my glasses on the nightstand, and slid them on. “My parents run a nonprofit called Nourishing Nashville. It’s a huge conglomerate now, but it started as a community kitchen. Darius was one of the first people they hired. Just for odd jobs, mostly. Their first location was a church basement and there was this old upright piano there. Every time I’d come in with my parents, Darius would drag me away and teach me the ragtime and Dixieland jazz tunes his granddad had taught him. He loved music—all kinds—and he gave me an ear for it. Loved food, too. He had a picky palette. After he complained enough about the quality of the food, my parents found him scholarships and grants for culinary school and eventually put him to work as the head chef, but he was always more like family. I was more afraid of disappointing him than I was of disappointing Dad.”

My throat grew tighter the more I thought about him. I took my time kissing Daphne on the top of her head, waiting for the ache to pass so my voice wouldn’t hitch.

“His food was amazing. It’s why we needed to finally expand this year. Even though he’s been gone for several years, he left that legacy behind—that even the unhoused deserved good cooking.”

“I’m sorry he’s gone. I think I would have liked him.”

“Everyone liked Darius, but he would have loved you. His wife, too. She’s still on our board of directors.”

“Hmm. I think that would be a nice way to spend the holidays—helping others in a tangible way. Just maybe not every holiday.”

She nuzzled my neck. It tickled in the best possible way.

“It was Darius who showed me balance. You can go home and leave your work at work. There will always be someone hungry. Someone in need. Missing persons to find. You have to learn to find joy, even if you feel you haven’t done enough. Because it’s never enough. Not for one person.” I drew circles on her shoulder.

“Have you found that joy, Chris?”

There was no point in playing coy anymore. I tipped her chin up to look into her eyes.

“I think I’m starting to.”