14. Milo

FOURTEEN

MILO

Christian had a little smirk on when he stepped into the kitchen. It was late, and I was burning my reserves of energy to get things done. Still, seeing him come in using that key I had given him just the other day filled me with the kind of supernatural power you only ever read about in stories. He made me think I could do anything.

“Now, what exactly are you up to?” Christian asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.

“Just that I saw Ezra Thorne from Santa’s Workshop this morning, and he asked me to tell you that Rudolph’s nose glowed red yesterday.” Christian laughed as he quoted the message.

“What a peculiar thing to say,” I teased. I had no reason to hide these things from Christian except that he was adorable when confused. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. If I told Christian that I somehow tripped into the role of this town’s Secret Santa, he would think too much of me. He would think it was all my doing. And praise for other people’s actions was not what I was after. I didn’t want him to form idealized opinions of me because of that. I wanted him to see me with my flaws and still be with me.

“Peculiar is one word for it,” Christian said.

“You know Ezra doesn’t curse, right? Maybe it’s a euphemism.” I shrugged.

Christian frowned in horror as he tried to decipher which part of the message was dirty, and I barely stifled a laugh. The truth of the matter was that a very nice man got to do a very nice thing for his daughter, and Nicholas was the guy that did it. All I’d done was pass on the message.

“Forget about Ezra,” I suggested. “And come try this.”

Christian didn’t need me to tell him twice. He crossed the kitchen and extended his arms to hold my hips. As he came closer, lips forming a kiss, I pressed a small chocolate heart against his lips and inserted it into his mouth.

He looked positively in love. “Holy mother of sweets,” he singsonged. “How the hell did you do this? Be honest with me. Is it something terrible? Did you have to lace it with mercury?”

I threw my head back and laughed aloud. “The truth is the opposite. I’m cutting out most of the unnecessary ingredients. All natural.”

Christian let his head hang back as he savored the aromas. “It’s so silky and smooth. You’re spoiling me.”

“Good. That’s exactly what I want,” I said.

When he lifted his head again, he glanced around the kitchen as if coming back from a dream. “Need help here?”

“I could use your company while I tidy up,” I said. We both knew that wasn’t all he would offer, but I didn’t want to ask.

And without being asked, Christian let go of me and rolled his sleeves up, picked up an apron from the hook by the door, and began moving in sync with me to clean up the space. It wasn’t hard work, but there was a lot of it. So when he took a little break with a large bowl where I’d mixed chocolate filling that still remained creamy, I joined him. He ran his finger through the inside of the bowl and licked it with a smack of his lips. “I’ll never get used to the unlimited supply of chocolate.”

“Is it good?” I asked.

Christian smiled to himself and ran his finger over the inside of the bowl again, then slowly offered it to me.

Butterflies scattered through my stomach as I thought of licking his finger, wrapping my lips around it, and taking it into my mouth. As I slowly moved closer, my lips parting, Christian moved his hand swiftly and pressed his chocolate-dripping finger against the bridge of my nose, smearing the chocolate all the way down to the tip of it.

A widening grin was his reply to my shock. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said in a lower voice, the one he used when he was feeling sexy. “You’re always delicious. But a chocolate-glazed Milo is my new fantasy.”

My eyes sparked with mischief. “Is he?”

“Uh-huh,” Christian said, lifting his fingers out of the bowl and pressing them against my face.

I was still horrified, but it didn’t escape me that this was easily the most seductive and erotic thing that anyone had done to me. Chocolate glazing was soft and creamy on my smooth skin, and Christian’s fingers were determined and deliberate but never too rough. He made a mess of his hand and my face, looking into my eyes and at his work in short, darting glances, his breaths growing shallow as I lifted my chin defiantly and took what he gave me. Smears went over my cheeks and my neck, and I waited patiently for more, but I also reached inside the bowl with my fingers and brought them to Christian’s face. He was so consumed by what he was doing that he noticed my movement a heartbeat too late, and I pressed the chocolate cream against the side of his face, laughing like a giddy boy as I smeared his face with chocolate.

Christian gasped in shock, then laughed loudly and grabbed my hips as soon as he dropped the bowl on the smooth metal surface of the kitchen worktable. He yanked me close to him and brought his lips to mine in a fervent kiss that made me forget all else that was going on.

He kissed me so heatedly that the only thing I could still do that had anything to do with logic and reason was to whisper, “Let’s take this to my room.” However hot this abrupt foreplay was, and however much lust filled my veins, I didn’t want us fooling around in the kitchen.

Not caring about any mess we made, Christan ran his chocolate-covered fingers through my hair and kissed me harder, inching back and pulling me with him. We slowly moved toward the hallway, kissing and gasping, holding on to one another as if letting go was never an option.

We bumped against the walls, tumbling back and forth, and kissing with more urgency and passion with each step we took. And when we reached the door and entered my studio, neither of us took the time to light the candles or turn up the heating. These things were so unimportant in the face of our need for one another.

We dropped our dirty aprons on the floor, taking them off each other in hurried moves, and we didn’t stop for a second before reaching for one another’s shirts.

I had never been with someone who was so filled with passion, so shamelessly interested in me, and so free and willing in his lust. I had never been with a man who cared so much with his entire body.

Christian had told me how lukewarm he had been in his relationships before. He hadn’t told me all the details, but he had hinted at enough for me to form an image of a much different dynamic. I hadn’t expected his explosive desire to shine so brightly. I hadn’t expected him to be so openly needy for my body.

So when he threw me on the bed and climbed in after me, I surrendered myself to him completely. He kissed me harder, then licked my chocolate-covered cheek and moved down to kiss my bare chest and my flat stomach until my toes were curling and my breaths were coming in deep, struggling heaves.

His lips caressing the skin under my belly button turned me on harder than any fantasy I could have come up with if I had a lifetime to daydream. He dragged his hands down the sides of my torso while inching lower with his lips. And when he reached the coarse fabric of my black pants, he showed off the skill of his nimble fingers, undoing the button and pulling the zipper smoothly before dragging the pants to my knees.

My cock throbbed painfully as Christian brought his face near the bulge in my briefs. He exhaled, and I felt the heat of his breath on my thighs, his nose and lips so near my packed balls that it tingled in my stomach just to see him.

He held my hips in his strong hands as his face sank between my legs, mouth open and pressed against my balls as his nose rested against my groin. It was a shocking sensation, wild and unexpected, holding me on the very edge between panic and delight.

He turned his head and kissed my inner thigh, his breath tickling me maddeningly and his lips soothing it quickly. His fingers, slow and careful, moved lower to hook under the waistband of my briefs. He lifted it, gaze darting to the hard bulge before his eyes, and brought it over my cock, giving me a breath of relief before yanking the briefs lower, leaving me bare.

Christian took me in one hand, and I throbbed, making his eyes widen instantly. His other hand pulled my underwear and pants all the way to my ankles, his slow movement never changing as he stroked me.

“I love doing this to you,” Christian said in a husky, breathless tone. “Seeing you collapse like this.”

I moaned against my best attempts to stop it. He tightened his grip briefly in reply, then relaxed and continued to move his fist up and down.

His eyes were shining with desire. “I want to make you mine, Milo.”

“Make me yours,” I whispered, coiling under him in rapturous pleasure.

I didn’t have the faintest idea how he planned to do that, but I was willing to walk off the edge of the world with him just now. My heart had been his for so long that all he ever had to do was ask me, and I would give him the universe if I could.

Christian lowered himself and inhaled, taking my scent and giving a soft sight of pleasure in return. He wrapped his lips around the tip of my cock and took me deeper into his mouth.

I reached down and threaded my fingers through his rich, dark hair, holding him where he was, but his hands found my hips, and he lifted me a few inches higher, pushing me into his mouth.

The practice had been slow and steady in the days after we had first gotten together. Christian had slowly removed all the barriers, dismantled them one after another, and assured himself again and again that it hadn’t all just been the heat of the moment. Every time we were together, he was so present in the moment that I knew he was reliving the experience of discovering just how right this felt.

He wanted it all, and he wasn’t afraid to say it.

He wanted to taste every part of me, to kiss and touch and lick me. He wanted me to do the same to him, and I was only too happy to oblige. It was the last remaining dream of mine, one I’d had for the longest time, and to get to trace the shape of him with my lips was more than I’d ever truly hoped for.

His yearning for us to be together like this, to be a whole unit made of two bodies with lines blurring and disappearing, showed itself in his eagerness to do better.

I never minded his clumsiness. I never disliked anything he did as he learned the small uniqueness of my body. I was learning all about him anew, too.

He took me deeper into his mouth, breath coming in rapid bursts in and out of his nose. I felt his throat constricting against my cock. I felt it relaxing to let me in. I felt the trembling desire and pleasure in his fingers as he succeeded in taking me as deeply as I could take him. It was the first time, and he soon choked up, pulling his head back and smiling victoriously. The fact that he had choked didn’t make him hesitate in trying again.

He had his way with me, teasing me and relaxing, bringing me to the edge of climax and loosening his hold on me to fill me with frustration and desperation. I wanted it to end, yet I wanted this sweet expectation to stretch on for eternity.

I thrust my hips upward when Christian could no longer resist his own urges. He had undone the button and the zipper on his pants and slipped a hand inside his underwear, touching himself slowly while sucking me deep into his mouth. My moves, jerky and short, were enough of a spark to light a constellation on fire.

I cried out that I was close, and Christian tucked his lips around my cock. The idea that he wanted me to come inside his mouth was the final push that I needed, triggering the unstoppable and thunderous orgasm that rocked my body and the bed beneath me. I wriggled under Christian, his one hand pressing the middle of my chest hard and the other working furiously along the length of his cock.

When I throbbed and filled his mouth with my hot cum, he moaned against me and shuddered, lifted his torso, and pulled his underwear down, working himself for another two heartbeats before the ribbons of his cum shot across my chest.

I pulled him in as he trembled, his torso slick with sweat and lips shining with the evidence of our passion. He lay next to me, swallowing deeply and exhaling with satisfaction, then burying his head in the crook of my neck.

We lay still for the longest time before I got up and brought a warm, wet cloth to wipe us clean. After, I joined him in the bed again, naked and happy, warmth sputtering in my chest.

The first thing I noticed was the warmth of Christian’s hand against my back as I nestled myself in the form of his arm. It was grounding and soft, a kind of touch I hadn’t felt in so long that my body wasn’t sure what to do with it. I let myself sink into the sensation, my cheek pressing against his bare chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady and slow, the kind of sound that might lull you to sleep if you weren’t so very awake.

His other hand rested loosely on my hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles on my skin.

The room was quiet except for our breaths and the occasional creak of the floorboards below us. My studio wasn’t luxurious by any means. The bed took up a third of the space, and the ceiling had cracks that spidered out in faint, uneven lines. I used to frown at those cracks. Now, lying here with Christian, they looked like constellations.

I tilted my head just enough to catch his eyes. They were half-lidded, dark and soft in the low light. “You okay?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, the kind that reached his eyes and crinkled the corners. “Yeah,” he said. “Better than okay.”

His answer made my chest feel too small for my heart. I ran my fingers over the line of his collarbone, tracing the contours of him like I was committing it to memory. Maybe I was. This was Christian, after all. My first friend. My first everything. And now, here we were, tangled up in sheets, tangled up in each other, like we were never meant to be apart.

I wanted to say something about how long I’d waited for this moment, how impossible it had always seemed. But the words felt too heavy to speak, and I didn’t want to weigh us down. Not tonight.

Instead, I kissed him softly, just once. His lips curved up against mine.

“You’re staring,” he murmured.

“Maybe.”

Christian laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down my spine. “What are you thinking?”

That you’re here . That nothing has ever felt this right.

I shrugged, trying to play it off, but my face must have given me away.

“Milo.” His voice was warm, teasing.

“Fine,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow. The sheet slipped down my back, but I didn’t care. “I was thinking about how weird this is. Not bad-weird,” I added quickly, “Just…surreal. Like if I blink, it might disappear.”

Christian’s hand slid from my hip to the small of my back. “It’s not going anywhere,” he said. “I made you mine.”

And just like that, the words I’d been too afraid to speak earlier were stolen from my lips.

We lay side by side, staring up at the cracked ceiling. I felt Christian’s arm brush against mine, his warmth radiating even in the cool air of the studio.

“Do you remember the time we tried to build a tree house?” he asked suddenly.

I turned my head to look at him, surprised. “The treehouse that was more duct tape than wood? Yeah, I remember.”

He chuckled. “We were so proud of it, though. Until it collapsed.”

“Hey, it lasted a whole week.”

“Because we were too scared to actually climb into it,” he pointed out.

I laughed, the memory coming back in vivid detail. “Your dad was so mad about the mess we left in the yard. And then your mom made us clean it all up.”

Christian smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “It was worth it, though. For a little while, it felt like we had our own secret place. Like nothing else in the world mattered.” His smile widened. “It felt like we were building our home. Christ, how did it take me so long to realize this?”

His words settled over me, warm and bittersweet. “I think that’s why I kept thinking about you all these years,” I admitted. “You were my secret place. My safe place.”

Christian turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know I was that for you.”

“You were everything,” I said softly. “Even when we lost touch, you were still…there. Somewhere in the back of my mind.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy. I could feel the weight of all the things we hadn’t said yet.

“I thought about you, too,” Christian said eventually. His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I mean, not all the time. But…sometimes. Especially when things were bad.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just…life. You know how it is. Things don’t turn out the way you plan, and suddenly, you’re thirty, and you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

“You’re not thirty,” I pointed out, trying to lighten the mood.

“Close enough. But this will get better now.”

I wanted to ask what he meant, to press him for details about the years we’d missed. But I didn’t. Not tonight. Instead, I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together. “You’re here now,” I said. “That’s what matters.”

Christian’s grip tightened, just slightly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m here.”

We fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that didn’t need to be filled. I traced patterns on the back of his hand with my thumb, small, aimless shapes that probably didn’t make sense to anyone but me. The cracks in the ceiling started to blur as my eyes grew heavier, but I didn’t want to sleep yet. Not when the night still felt like it belonged to us.

“Do you ever think about what might have happened if we’d stayed in touch?” Christian asked suddenly.

His question caught me off guard. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I like to think we’d still end up here, somehow. But who knows? Maybe we needed the time apart to figure things out.”

“Maybe.”

I glanced over at him. “Do you think about it a lot? The past, I mean.”

“More than I should,” he admitted. “But I try not to dwell on it. What’s the point, right?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I agreed. The past had shaped us, for better or worse. It had led us here, to this moment. And for that, I couldn’t regret it.

Christian shifted beside me, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at me. His hair was messy, his eyes soft, and I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“Of course.”

He hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. “When you moved away…did you ever think about returning?”

“Every day,” I said without hesitation. “But I couldn’t. My parents were struggling. It wasn’t a choice. I daydreamed about it.”

Christian nodded, his expression unreadable. “I used to wonder if you were happier, wherever you were. I used to be jealous of your friends.”

I sat up then, reaching for his face. “The ones I invented so I wouldn’t look like such a loser. I wanted to impress you,” I said regrettably. “You were the best part of my childhood, Christian. No matter how far apart we were, you were always with me.”

He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes. “I wish I’d known that,” he said softly. “I wish I’d let myself have you even if it was from so far away.”

The night stretched on, but neither of us made a move to get up. The town outside was quiet, the snow muffling any sound. It felt like we were the only two people in the world, tucked away in this tiny studio, surrounded by memories.

I thought about the future, about all the things we hadn’t talked about yet. But the idea of it didn’t scare me as much as it used to. Because no matter what happened, I knew we’d face it together.

And for now, that was enough.