Chapter 14 Seth
FOURTEEN
Seth
The first snowball smacked me sneakily in the back of my head, the blow softened by the beanie. White rage of vengeance blinded me as I stumbled forward, soon fueled by Damon’s booming laughter.
I hadn’t even heard him falling back. Worse than getting snowballed in such a cowardly way was that he had let me walk away alone, chatting like a madman, so he could make his move.
I bent down and formed a snowball hard enough to smash his balls should my aim be off. I launched it at him while he was bending over, laughing, and it hit his shoulder, throwing him off-balance so that he slipped on the wet ground and fell onto his ass.
The shock replaced his laughter instantly. He stared at me in disbelief, and I stared at him with murder in my defiant eyes.
For a moment, we were in a standoff, measuring one another.
Then, as he moved, I did, too. Damon slid behind a mound of shoveled snow by the narrow walking path, while I ran for the snow-covered bush.
The white blanket of snow stretched far between us, making it much less likely that I would throw any effective snowballs and still hit my mark. Damon was at an advantage here.
A few passersby moved out of the line of fire, laughing good-naturedly as if these weren’t matters of life and death, of honor and courage. The morning was clear, the sun shining and reflecting off the thick, clean snow.
I knew what I needed to do as Damon catapulted two snowballs in quick succession toward me. One fell into the snow next to me, still perfectly shaped, while the other slammed into the snowy bush and released a small avalanche onto me.
I picked up his intact snowball and made two more, carried them in my folded left arm, and threw them one after the other with my right hand, hitting close to Damon’s hiding spot while cutting diagonally across the empty field to a naturally formed mound of snow halfway between Damon and my original hiding spot.
I lay flat in the snow and used my bare hands to shovel more of it onto the small rise, building a little fortification while Damon’s snowballs missed me by an inch.
One particularly strong ball smashed the edge of my newly raised wall, but that was okay.
I had my defense for now, so I focused on building ammunition.
I swear to God, he earned a rock in at least two out of three snowballs, but I decided to be merciful.
I poked my head above the wall of snow and saw him bent down to make a new snowball.
Taking a chance, I opened fire, launching a barrage of attacks from behind my wall and missing every single time. As I depleted my ammo, I fell down to build up the reserves, realizing that I had no chance of winning with my terrible aim.
I needed to change my strategy.
So I built up my reserve and let Damon hurl the snowballs at my battlements, bringing my wall down.
Poking my head out into the open proved what I had been suspecting.
He was cocky. He was moving toward me out in the open, closing in on what he imagined was a defenseless, harmless pup. He would learn his mistake soon.
I made a soft snowball after forming five really hard ones, then turned onto my front with the softer ball carefully placed under me, right hand closed around it.
I covered my head with my left hand and played dead until Damon’s snowballs playfully slammed into my back, where the jacket protected me from damage.
“You lose,” Damon said.
I didn’t move. I was dead for all he knew. I held my breath.
“You can get up now. You lost.” The snow crunched under Damon’s shoe, and his shadow fell over me. “Get up, Seth.”
I didn’t move.
“Seth?” There was the tiniest note of worry in his tone. He bent down, the whisper of his jacket moving growing louder as he neared me, his hand falling onto my shoulder.
I spun around, turning onto my back and launching the soft snowball into his face just as his eyes widened with surprise. The ball broke into a powder of snow as it slammed into him, stunning him for long enough that I could reach the small pile of real snowballs a couple of feet away.
One after another, I released them with all my might, hitting his shoulders, his stomach, his legs, and once, accidentally, his crotch. He bent over, laughing and begging, but I didn’t stop until he fell onto his back.
I seized the moment and jumped onto him, sitting on his legs and grabbing handfuls of snow to feed him. “That’s…what you get…when you mess…with me,” I said between the laughs.
He begged and pleaded until he was so cute that I couldn’t keep tormenting him. I grabbed his wrists and pinned his hands in the snow above his head, watching him shake with laughter, face red from melting snow, drops of water trickling down his neck and under his sweater.
“Kiss me, I dare you,” he said.
I leaned in, crushing my mouth against his, making him sink back into the snow with the force of the kiss. He didn’t even have a beanie or a scarf, the cocky fucker.
“Gonna fuck around again?” I asked after biting his lip.
“No. No, Sir. You win,” he whimpered, unable to hold back the laughs. “I’ll do anything. Just don’t do that again.”
“Anything?” I asked, voice dropping low. I crawled a little higher up his body, sitting down on his crotch. “Christ, you’re hard already, you devil.”
“You love it,” he said. “I’ll let you play with it if you forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said.
“Let me go,” he demanded.
I wondered if I should torture him a bit more, but he was too adorable like this, horny and defeated and completely red. Yeah, I couldn’t find it in my heart to keep messing with him.
I let go of his arms and realized my mistake instantly. Damon swiped his arms down and flipped me onto the ground, turning us around and falling onto me.
“Trusting me was your biggest mistake,” he said in a cheesy villain voice. He sank onto me, slamming his lips against mine and kissing me so deeply that I lost my breath, the whole world shifting a degree away from its place with the intensity of the impact.
If that had been a mistake, I would happily repeat it a million times more.
Damon kissed me hard, then pulled back, picking up snow with two fingers only.
I whimpered and pleaded, but he slipped the freezing snow under my sweater, making me squirm and panic while he got up, standing proud above me and extending one hand to help me up.
I accepted it. We’d both lost. And we’d both won. The balance was restored to the universe, and we could have breakfast. Not bad at all.
“Next time,” I muttered, “we’re building a snowman instead.”
Damon grinned.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at me, eyes big and fiery. “There’s gonna be a next time?”
I hadn’t even thought about it. It had seemed like the most natural thing ever. Why would I ever do anything else? Why would I even consider it? Today was our last day in heaven, and we were returning to Northwood this afternoon.
We had spent days in the cabin and outside of it. We had gone on a snowy hike, had spent hours in the hot tub, had made love in every room twice, and had played Go Fish so many times that my mind was spinning.
How would there not be a next time? But I wasn’t going to be the loser who fell for a playboy, so I shrugged. “If you beg hard enough.”
Damon smirked and nodded. “If you behave yourself, I just might.”
We went into the log house for breakfast and piled up our plates with french toast, butter, all sorts of cheeses, and boiled eggs.
Damon added a couple of sausages to his plate, poking one with a fork and waving it between us while making crass jokes.
I put pancakes and syrup on another plate for us to share.
Coffee was unlimited and delicious, flavored with a little bit of cinnamon to make you really aware that it was winter, as if a snowball fight hadn’t been enough.
And when we returned to the cabin to pack the last of our things, Damon took my hand and traced the lines of my palm.
“This was a great idea,” I told him honestly.
“If everyone would just listen to me, the world would be a better place,” Damon said, full of himself as ever.
I laughed. “Damon for president of the world.”
“The whole galaxy, my dear.”
I snorted and pulled my hand back. Being called his “dear” did things to me I didn’t need him to see. Instead, I put my hands on his chest and pushed him back on the sofa until he sprawled and grinned.
“You said you’d do anything,” I reminded him.
“I would have said anything to get you off back there,” Damon teased. “I’m a lying liar.”
I moved along his body and sat down on his abdomen, reaching back and easily unzipped his pants. The button required more work, but I undid it and found his semi-hard cock, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Beg me to stop, then.”
A glimmer of mischief passed over his eyes, and he pressed his lips together, not uttering a word.
Something about Damon uncovered all the layers and revealed the true me. Something about this thing of ours liberated me, freed me from shame, from self-consciousness, and from fear.
Damon slipped the waistband of my sweatpants and briefs over my ass, sparking flames inside my body that had been burning since the summer we’d first kissed. Hell, these flames had been there for much longer than that.
I pulled his underwear over his cock and held him in my hand, stroking him slowly as the ripples of pleasure passed over his face.
On the sofa, forgotten there last night, was the bottle of lube, and I decided that I couldn’t resist him. I couldn’t resist the chance to have him one more time in this incredible, wonderful place. And I wanted him like this, dressed and in a hurry, rough and quick.
I grabbed the lube and poured it over my fingers, then stroked him well until he was biting his lip and holding my gaze like it was made of steel.
I inched backward, sitting down on him and letting the pressure wash over me for a long, held breath until he was inside me.
My eyes rolled back, and a deep groan rumbled out of my chest as his cock filled my body, the fabric of his pants rough and rubbing against my ass as he thrust his hips from below.
My sweats and briefs were only low enough to bare my ass, my cock and balls still packed inside the tight, folded fabric.
I pressed my hands against Damon’s chest, his sweater soft and stained with lube now, but neither of us paid attention to that.
Sweaters could be washed, and our time could never be reclaimed.
He jerked his hips a little faster, fucking me from below until I sank low on him and pinned him to the sofa, grinding painfully slowly against him, letting the pleasure last, letting it get away from us and rise lazily toward the peak.
And when I sped up, riding him hard, I didn’t slow down again. I led him there, to that distant, hidden place where our souls united into one. He came inside of me, face sweaty and bright, hair matted, eyes rolling back, fingers sinking into my waist.
My dick tensed, and I came inside my briefs with little more than a passing touch over my sweatpants.
I could feel him inside me even after he pulled his cock out. I could feel the heat of his orgasm burn through my body. I could feel those tingles, that residual passion, when I pulled my briefs and sweats back on, and lay on top of him, catching my breath.
“You’re so beautifully dirty, Seth,” he said in a low purr. “I’ll never get enough of it.”
Never? Neither would I. Not for a second did I fool myself into thinking otherwise.
We lay in the afterglow not only of a quick and dirty one on the sofa, but also of four days of the best sex of my life. And if it were only sex, I would have walked away with ease. Sure, I would forever long to feel something close to it again, but I would live.
It hadn’t just been sex.
The snowball fights, the hikes, the tender holding of hands, and the kisses that woke me up each morning.
The caressing of his fingertips down my torso and the sweet words whispered into my ear when I was on the precipice of sleep.
Those innocent moments of proximity, of closeness between two bodies and two beings.
Those I would forever yearn for. Those I would never learn how to live without.
Later, when the cabin disappeared from the rearview mirror, my heart sank a little lower, and I looked out my window to hide the stinging tears in my eyes. My eyelashes fluttered, blinking the tears away, and I swallowed. Would there be a next time for us?