Chapter 31 Darío #2
“We’re so glad you’re here, Lan,” my father says.
“Holidays aren’t the same without you.” My father is significantly more reserved in his greeting, but his affection has the most profound effect on Harlan.
When Dad kisses Harlan’s cheek, a small sob escapes Lan’s lips.
In countless ways over the years, my father has provided Harlan with the paternal support that Noah Bishop is incapable of.
Once everyone is satisfied that they’ve showered enough attention on him, they scatter to allow us some privacy, and without a word, he’s collapsing against me.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I kiss the top of his head.
“I left. Obviously,” he laughs, without humor. “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced.”
“You never have to apologize for showing up here. You look exhausted. Do you want to talk about it? Are you hungry? Do you want to go upstairs and take a nap?” My rapid-fire questions have him giving me a sleepy smile.
“Thank you. I am. Later. No. Yes,” he rattles off a response to each question, and I huff a laugh into his hair.
“Ok, sweetness. Head upstairs, take a shower. You know where my clothes are. Change into something comfortable and get some sleep. I’ll come wake you up when it’s time to eat.” I spin him toward the stairs, but he freezes.
“This isn’t weird? I can go home,” he says, uncertain. I want to gather him in my arms, carry him to bed, and keep him there. I’ve no clue what happened with his parents, but I know it had to be bad enough that he’s standing in front of me.
“Absolutely not. You’re not spending Christmas alone. Not that Mama would let you leave.” He’ll be lucky if she lets him leave at all while she’s here, honestly. My mother is going to spoil him rotten, especially after not seeing him for so long.
Harlan still hesitates at the foot of the stairs. “Will you nap with me?” My heart stutters, but I don’t have to think about it before I agree. There’s nothing I’d rather do in this moment.
“Yeah, baby. Let me tell them to wake us up for dinner. Go shower and change, and I’ll be right behind you.” I usher him upstairs before going to find my mother, and she shoos me out of the kitchen with a promise that we won’t miss the meal.
I detour to the living room, where my sister is on the couch, and I pull her to her feet and hug her tight. “Don’t let that boy go, Dare. He’s hopelessly in love with you. He’s meant to be yours. He’s meant to be ours.”
“We have a lot we need to talk about, Antonella. It’s not that simple,” I counter.
Love hasn’t been the issue. I’ve never stopped loving Harlan.
His heart is as familiar to me as my own.
Down to the very core of who I am, I know that I will never love anyone the way that I love him.
I’m so terrified of losing him again. I don’t know that either of us could survive it.
“You two will figure it out. You don’t keep finding your way back to someone the way you two have if you weren’t meant to be together.
He’s your soulmate. Like fated mates shit.
Some people spend a lifetime looking for the type of love you have.
Now go love him.” She gives me a firm shove.
“It’s been a rough couple of days for him. ”
In my room, I find Lan sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands.
He doesn’t look up when I take the spot next to him.
“Being in this room feels like coming home,” he whispers.
His hair is still damp from the shower, and he’s in a pair of my flannel pants and a plain white T-shirt.
The only thing that would make this better is if he smelled like his soap.
“I missed having you in this room.” I let the truth of that settle around us. “I missed you so much when you were gone, but I think it hit me the most in here.” I feel him inhale, only just realizing how closely we’re sitting.
“Dare, I—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Can I kiss you, sweetness?” Like magnets, we move toward each other.
I force myself to stop until he answers.
We’ve taken enough from each other—each in our own ways—over the last year.
I want him to want this. I need to know that he’s feeling exactly what I’m feeling.
Lifting my hand to his cheek, I stroke his bottom lip.
The soft puff of breath on the pad of my thumb lights every nerve ending in my body, and he nods before he closes the distance between us.
The moan that escapes his lips nearly undoes me.
He tastes exactly how I remember. A lot has changed, but so much has remained the same.
Namely, our chemistry. It’s incendiary, and I’m afraid that if we ignite it again, nothing will remain of either of us.
Harlan seems content to light the match, despite it all.
I feed a desperate groan into his willing mouth as our tongues pick up right where they left off.
Fisting my hand in his hair, I do my best to bring him closer, and he obliges, straddling my lap as he allows me to take control of the kiss.
I lick into his mouth as though I’m starving for him.
I have been starving for him. Every cell in my body is alight with the taste of Harlan.
I run my hands up and down his arched spine as he leans into me.
I continue to reacquaint myself with the feel of him under my touch—the need growing stronger, desire licking up my spine.
My head has never been more clear than it has at this very moment. Fuck it, let the world burn.
With another moan, Harlan pulls back, panting.
His lips are swollen, and his pupils are blown out, while he strokes his fingers mindlessly over my beard.
It’s a test of restraint not to pull him back in, to finish what we’ve started, but I wait him out.
“God, I forgot how good it is to kiss you,” he breathes.
He runs his fingers over my lips and tracks his own movement.
In the dim light, I can see the beard burn on his face.
I take my time soaking him in. Seeing him in my clothes, in our bed, does something to my heart.
As much as I want to see where this goes, he looks exhausted from traveling.
He yawns and blushes. “You really need sleep, Harlan,” I say gently, before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.
I shift our bodies so we’re properly in bed.
The moment I situate us, he’s wrapping himself around me, the way we’ve always done.
The routine of it makes it seem like the last year never happened.
I pull him closer, tucking the blanket around us, and wait for him to bury his nose in my neck.
He exhales a sigh the moment he does that, and now I feel like I’m finally home again, too.
“I know you’re tired, but do you want to talk about what happened?” I stroke his hair as the tension bleeds from his body. He’s softer now. Relaxed. Content.
“It was more of the same, really. He hates the work I do, and he made a comment about not wearing anything inappropriate when the family came for Christmas. Then, he said I ruined things with you, and I’ve fucking had it, Dare.
I’ll never be enough for him, and I couldn’t stay in that house and listen to it anymore.
” After he unloads everything, he lets out a ragged breath and snuggles closer.
“Christ, Lan. You are one of the most hardworking men I’ve ever met.
You deserve to be proud of the work you do.
There are young queer people out there, watching you live their dream.
You make it seem possible for them, and that matters.
” It pisses me off that his dad does this so often.
As a father, he should be celebrating Harlan’s accomplishments.
Lan got his work ethic from watching his father, so I know it fucks with him when Noah shits all over his work. “I’m so sorry he did that to you.”
“Mum tried to convince me to stay, and I feel guilty about leaving Millie, but I’m not doing it anymore.
I promised Mum I would meet her in London for a bit after the New Year, but I won’t be going back to the house again.
Not unless my father apologizes, and we both know that will never happen.
” He releases a big yawn against my skin.
“Thank you for letting me crash your Christmas.”
“It’s our Christmas, sweetness. You know my family will always welcome you, and they love you exactly as you are. Why did you text my sister and not me?” The answer isn’t relevant—not really—but I want him to know he can count on me.
“I wanted to make sure it was a good idea. I didn’t want you to feel obligated, and I knew she’d be honest with me,” he says, his words beginning to slur as sleep pulls him under.
“Harlan, having you here isn’t an imposition.
I would never want you to be alone on Christmas.
Get some sleep, I’m not going anywhere.” I kiss the top of his head while stroking softly up and down his spine.
His breathing evens out, soft and steady against my neck, and sleep finds me easily, with Harlan in my arms.
Soft kisses on my neck wake me up, and instinct has me leaning into the touch, with a quiet moan.
My veins are on fire with anticipation before I can entirely understand what’s happening.
I tighten my grip on Harlan’s bare hip, where the pants he’s wearing have slid down.
“Hi there,” I gasp as he nips at the skin under my jaw.
My cock is uncomfortably hard and leaking already as his thigh grinds insistently against it.
“You taste so good.” His words are a caress on my skin, as he moves his mouth to mine.
He stops just shy of kissing me. “Is this ok?” His hesitance won’t do.
I grab his face with my free hand, pulling his lips to me.
Things get heated quickly as he gifts me with his needy noises and the relentless press of his own erection into my hip.
“Kissing you is more than ok. It will always be one of my favorite things.” Harlan smiles softly at my confession before taking my mouth with his again.
He starts grinding more insistently against my hip.
Starting something with my family in the house seems like a terrible idea, but his urgency is fueling my own.
“Fuck, you’re making this incredibly difficult,” I grunt.
“Papito! Harlan! Dinner!” My mom’s voice on the other side of the door may as well be a bucket of ice water.
Harlan starts to giggle into my chest. “Cover up, because I’m coming in.
” Harlan adjusts the pants that slipped down his waist. With no further warning, my door swings open, and Mama is standing there with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.
“We’re coming, Mama,” Harlan says sweetly, sitting up and offering her a brilliant smile. She returns an indulgent smile at this beautiful boy in my bed.
“Not in a fun way,” I grumble. He smacks my chest before following my mother into the hallway, his laughter trailing behind him.
After dinner, Harlan insists on a quick trip to his apartment.
I drive him, suggesting that he pack some clothes to sleep in, since Mama told him he’d be spending the night.
Antonella and Enrique pout at having to wait longer to open gifts, but with a sharp look from our mother, they quickly closed their mouths.
“I’ll be right back,” Harlan says, opening the door before I’ve even put the car in park.
He hauls his suitcase from the back seat, declining my help, before hurrying into his building.
I smile at his retreating figure. I can’t think of a better way to end Christmas than with him in bed next to me.
When he readily agreed to stay the night, I couldn’t hide my excitement.
Twenty minutes later, the back door opens, and a huffing Harlan is dropping several bags into the back seat. “Do I want to know?” I smirk in the rearview at his frazzled expression.
“Gifts,” he puffs out. “I was going to ship the stuff to your family when I got back from London, but since they’re here, I figured I’d bring them.
” He flops into his seat before buckling his belt.
My family has a stack of gifts for him under my tree, and I can’t wait to watch him be spoiled by people who love him.
Once we’re all settled around the tree, Mama starts handing out gifts.
She still labels our gifts from Santa, making all four of us smile.
Harlan flushes as he thanks everyone for the unexpected presents, and when he finally gets to my gifts, my nerves kick in.
There’s no reasonable explanation, but my palms start sweating anyway.
He treats me to a soft smile as he opens the slippers.
He slips on the neon green atrocities—which he loves immensely, obviously—before moving to the set of perfumes.
“You always pick the best fragrances.” He opens a few, smelling them before passing them to my sister, who sprays her favorite on her wrists, before handing the bottles back.
“Thank you, Dare. I love all of them.” Surprising me, he slides closer and kisses my cheek.
He hands me two elaborately wrapped gifts.
My name is on the labels in his impeccable handwriting.
It brings back memories of him surrounded by boxes and several different wrapping paper rolls each Christmas.
Gift giving is Harlan’s love language, so he always looked forward to Christmas and birthday celebrations.
He used to shop months in advance, buying things the moment he realized someone would love them.
Our closets were always full of things that he forgot he purchased, until it came time to wrap.
I was on tape duty because I can’t wrap a perfectly square box without fucking it up.
It feels like a sin to ruin the paper, so I tear through the first one carefully.
Harlan cannot contain his giggle as I pull out a book.
A cookbook, to be exact. “Baking Pies for Beginners,” I read aloud.
His giggle turns into an outright cackle as he tells my family how I ruined the pumpkin pie.
“Hilarious, Lan. You missed your calling as a comedian.” He shrugs as my mom and sister join in on the laughter.
The next gift is heavier. I tear the paper just as gingerly, revealing a framed painting of Craig and me running in the park. It occurs to me that he must have snapped this on one of our morning runs. “One of Penelope’s friends is an artist. Painting, obviously,” he says.
“It’s perfect, sweetness,” I assure him. The only thing that would make it better is if he were in the picture, too. One day. “The details are incredible. Thank you so much.” I place the painting to the side and pull him against me for a kiss.
“Best Christmas ever,” Antonella squeals. I murmur my agreement against his lips, and he smiles in return.
“Merry Christmas, Dare,” he whispers. It’s definitely a Merry Christmas.