16. The Fourth Night Before Christmas #2
I do. After hearing how they’d flex-scare Mal, more than ever.
I’d love to come out and joke about all the things that happened today.
To compare beard-chafing. To talk about how Maria put pamphlets for community colleges in our Santa loft and signs in the bathroom encouraging us to wash our hands quickly.
To just laugh and have fun and be with my friends.
I just can’t.
“No, you guys go on without me.”
They do. One by one, they filter out, offering me a punch on the shoulder and a sympathetic “bro” as they leave.
All except Duke.
Oh Duke, my Duke. With his hands in his pockets and his nervously dipped head, he looks nothing like the cocky guy I first met. Sure, he’s still beyond handsome, but there’s a vulnerability there now. Somehow, it makes him even more adorable.
“You know, if you wanted me to, I would go beat him up. Your ex.”
I smile. “Yeah?”
He shrugs. “I mean, we’d have to come to an agreement beforehand about no face shots.” He points to his face, smiling an arrogant smile. “This is the money maker, after all.”
“Of course.” We both laugh. Then, it fades into an awkwardness we almost never find between us.
“So, you’re gay then?” Duke asks. He winces, running a hand through his hair. “That was a lot more casual in my head.”
“I like men,” I answer carefully.
“Right,” Duke says, inhaling deeply. He steps towards me, then takes half a step back. He nods to himself a little more, amping himself up with some internal conversation. “Well, it turns out I don’t really give a shit about the specifics of that stuff. I like you . You, Sebastian. So much you.”
With one last surge of confidence, Duke steps forward and takes my Santa-bearded face in both his hands and kisses me right in the middle of the Santa Court. Christmas lights and fake snow glisten around us under the stars of a crisp and clear December night sky.
There’s a question in his kiss—a question and an answer. His kiss sings through my body, filling every crack and recess of my broken heart. My body alights with the feel of him, with the need for him, as his kiss becomes less of a question and more of a confession of everything we’ve left unsaid.
He moans against my lips. It’s a sound undammed, unmoored upon the ocean, freed from the cage we’ve been putting ourselves in. I echo it back into his breath as his tongue slips into my mouth.
My moan makes him come alive. His hands are all over me—as much as they can be with my Santa belly still in place.
He gropes and grabs and pulls me against him as we kiss and kiss.
It’s hot—a pulsing, swooning, deliciously suffocating heat.
The kind of heat that makes me realize I’ve never known true warmth before.
How could I when Duke was somewhere waiting for me?
“Fuck,” he moans when he pulls away from our kiss. He moves my beard out of the way to put his mouth, hot and wet, against my neck. “I’m so fucking hard right now.” He licks up the column of my neck and then scrapes his teeth down. Then, he laughs. “I’m rock hard for a guy in a Santa suit.”
I’m already a hot, throbbing mess of need, but the feel of his teeth on my throat pushes me even further. My clit is so swollen that I press my legs together and squirm to alleviate some of the pressure.
And even though I know I shouldn’t, I find myself reaching forward to see just how hard he is. Amid our panting need and exploring mouths, I palm the front of his jeans to find him deliciously hard.
“Fuck yes,” Duke moans as the heel of my hand rubs against him. Then, more and more as he continues to bite and suck at my neck. “Baby, I’m getting so close.”
I can hear in his voice how desperate he is. He wants me, ridiculous Santa voice and all. He needs me. He’s on the brink of detonation because of me. And, my god, if that isn’t the sexiest thing ever.
“I want you to come,” I breathe, curling my fingers around him as best as I can through his jeans.
He’s somehow even harder, straining against the confines of his jeans to the point that it must be almost painful.
His cock is hot and hard and so ready to come.
I really, really want him to. I want to make Duke come in his jeans for me.
He pulls back, eyes wild and breathing like an animal.
“I want to make you feel good,” he says.
I shrug. For once, he doesn’t seem endeared to the gesture. “That doesn’t matter.”
Duke practically snarls. “That’s all that fucking matters. I don’t come unless you come first.”
For a second, I think I might orgasm from his words alone. With Mal, my orgasm was always an afterthought. Something that was a nice perk, but not the goal. Something that I could take the lead on afterwards, if there was time, since I was ‘so hard to ramp up’.
Apparently.
Apparently not.
I’m teetering on the edge, and the look that Duke gives me threatens to push me over. Especially as he sinks down to his knees in front of me, tilting his head to look up to me from the ground.
“God, I never thought I’d be so fucking excited to suck a cock, but I can’t wait to blow you.
I want to make you feel so good, Sebastian.
” He trails off, adjusting his erection, then running two hands up my thighs.
“I’ve never done this before, though. You’ll have to tell me if I do something wrong. ”
He’s not. He couldn’t. He could never do anything wrong when it comes to pleasing me.
I am, though.
This all, despite how it feels, is so wrong.
I step back from him. Even though it breaks my heart, I step away from him. Leaving him with sad, confused eyes, kneeling in the place I once was.
But I can’t do this. Not just because I don’t have a dick for Duke to suck, but because it’s wrong. The only thing Duke has ever asked for is the truth.
And he doesn’t even know my real name.
“Is everything—I thought—Seb?” Duke starts and stops his questions. He doesn’t need to complete it though. What he’s trying to ask is the same question my heart screams: why?
“I just can’t,” I say, not even looking at him in the eyes because I’m a fucking coward.
Duke stands awkwardly, and puts his hands into his pockets as he, too, looks away.
“I’m sorry. I’m being a dick. You just got out of a relationship, and I’m throwing myself between your legs.
” His eyes flick to between my legs, possibly at my distinct lack of erection, and his jaw ticks.
He goes to take another step towards me and then stops.
“Sorry.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“I’m just so crazy about you. Every thought I have, awake or dreaming, is of you.
I see your smile when I close my eyes. I dream of touching your face.
Whenever something happens, I want to talk to you about it.
I’m obsessed with you—something I wouldn’t change, even if I could. ”
I take a step back. Because I have to. I’m afraid if I stay any closer, I’ll lose myself to this pull that’s between us.
“It’s not you, Duke,” I say quickly. “It’s me. I-I’m not who you think I am. I’m not this amazing person you’ve built me up to be.”
He nods, still not looking at me. After a second, he clears his throat.
“It could never be you, Sebastian. I don’t know what that asshole ex of yours had you believing, but you’re everything.
” He slowly exhales. “And if you decide you want to be my everything, I’ll be here. Waiting—because you’re worth it.”
“Yeah?” I ask, even though I really shouldn’t.
He smiles at me with that Duke smile. All the tension, the specter of heartbreak and the shroud of awkwardness dissipate. That’s just how amazing Duke is.
“Yeah.”
My throat bobs. I should leave this alone. I should leave him alone.
But I can’t.
“I think my sister thinks you’re waiting on her, too.”
Duke sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just a sucker for those Pearson twin eyes. You’re both truly special.”
We also don’t exist. Not in the way he thinks we do. He’s waiting on two people who don’t exist. On two people who will disappear.
“I got to go,” I say.
He nods. “I’ll be here.”
Exit Viola, who flees to the Santa loft. The screen of her phone glows through her pocket with the incoming of a new text message.
Duke watches after from the Santa Court, adjusting himself after a few moments.