11. Moody

11

MOODY

“ T hat tree is too short. That one is too skinny. That one has a bald spot.”

Hudson put his hands on his hips and pivoted in the middle of the Christmas tree lot like a sheriff facing an outlaw, serious as heck and prepared to do battle if necessary. Possibly with me, but let’s remember, I came with the warning label, “No good until January.” He should have known this wouldn’t go well.

He tipped his hat and pointed at a medium-sized Noble fir leaning against a post. “How about that one?”

I trudged over to the perfectly decent tree and looked for faults. It was a nice height, full and lush, and the needles smelled gorgeous. There had to be something annoying about it. Anything at all.

But gosh, it was…perfect. It reminded me of the trees Dad and I used to pick out at the lot around the corner from our house the day after Thanksgiving. It reminded me of cool wind, snowflakes on my father’s beard, and mugs of hot chocolate filled with mini marshmallows.

“I don’t hate it,” was the best I could do.

Hudson set a meaty hand on my shoulder and snickered. “Try again.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If you don’t hate something, you might actually…” He wiggled his fingers as if hoping to conjure a spell. “What’s that word again?”

“Not completely dislike it?” I offered, batting my lashes.

He crossed his arms, his lips quirking in amusement. “Do you need a thesaurus?”

I scoffed. “Fine. I think it’s quite adequate. Perhaps even…charming.”

Hudson’s grin threatened to take over his entire face. His eyes crinkled and his teeth gleamed, and against my wishes, the corner of my mouth curled to mimic his. Oh, no. I bit the inside of my cheeks to nip the unwarranted smile in the bud, but he was talking now and it was hard to listen and keep track of my facial muscles at the same time. Don’t ask me why…it just was.

“Charming! We’ve got ourselves a winner, ladies and gentlemen!” He clapped and threw his arms in the air. “Woohoo!”

“Calm yourself. It’s a tree. No one won the darn lottery,” I huffed.

“You have a point. All right, I’ll grab the trunk, and you take the other end.” He swooped low and hefted the tree with ease, obviously requiring no assistance whatsoever.

“You’re impressively endowed in the biceps department. I doubt you’ll need my help.”

I started to turn away, but Hudson tugged my scarf to stop me.

“Not so fast. This is a two-person job,” he insisted.

“You’re literally holding it on your own now and…” I puffed my cheeks out like a blowfish and rolled my eyes. “I know when I’m being tricked. This is holiday coercion at its worst.”

He winked. “Come on. I’ll pay you in blowjobs if you help me get this in the truck.”

“Blowjobs…plural?”

“Plural.”

“Very well. I accept.” With that I slipped my hand through the fir branches, grasped hold of my end, and marched ahead of Hudson to the register.

“Moody? Is that really you?” Cheryl Dalton inquired with a swift double take that made the ball at the end of her Santa hat smack her on the nose.

I pushed at my glasses and inclined my chin. “It is, indeed. My presence isn’t indicative of a seasonal change of heart, however, so please don’t spread untoward rumors.”

The older woman’s lips twitched. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. I’m simply helping a friend.” I introduced Hudson, then meandered to a nearby rack of mistletoe, garlands, wreaths, and lights.

Memories assailed me from every direction: like the time I got stuck under a mistletoe in fifth grade with Missy Flaherty, who insisted I had to kiss her because those were the rules. The memory shifted to hanging silver garlands in Dad’s classroom and his boom of laughter when he caught me wrapping it around my skinny body. He’d asked what I was doing, and I’d answered quite honestly that it looked pretty…like a dress.

Some dads might have been scandalized or mortified, but Milt Moody had just ruffled my hair and told me to put one on my Christmas list.

Tears threatened out of the blue. I swallowed them down and dabbed the corner of my eyes to be sure there was no leakage.

“…find all the decorations you’ll need in town,” Cheryl was saying. “I’m sure Moody would be happy to point you in the right direction.”

Hudson winked. “I bet I can talk him into it. Thanks again.”

I scowled at Cheryl and hurried after Hudson, doing my darnedest to help him schlep the tree to his truck, happy I’d managed to fight off a new surge of déjà vu.

Once inside, Hudson fastened his seat belt and adjusted the volume on the radio, blasting “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” and then, to my dismay, he commenced singing. I smacked my forehead and slumped theatrically against the upholstery.

“This is torture. Are there really blowjobs attached to this assignment?”

He patted my knee. “And a rim job if you join in.”

I rolled my eyes. “That isn’t fair. I’ll have to do without.”

“Have it your way.” He put the truck in reverse and immediately broke into song again. It was pitchy albeit ridiculously endearing.

I was definitely, absolutely, one thousand percent not going to sing or even hum along, but darn it, I couldn’t control my toe tapping in my sneaker. That was the least of my worries. Butterflies were dancing in my stomach, and I felt gooey all over. Not okay.

It got worse when Hudson insisted on stopping to purchase ornaments in town.

“Are you bonkers? Ornaments were not part of the deal.”

“Humor me.”

Against my better judgment, I acquiesced. I’d be the talk of the town by morning. Everyone would be speculating about what had prompted two Moody sightings at holiday venues within an hour. Of course, they’d come to the swift conclusion that I was infatuated with our new neighbor, and they’d be correct.

But this was for BJs…plural.

Okay, that was a lie. It wasn’t the promise of sex that had convinced me to tag along on Hudson’s holiday spirit quest. It was him.

Hudson was so magnetic.

That had to be why I followed him through Mrs. Clause’s Ornament Parlor, grunting my yays and nays to red bulbs versus silver ones. I grudgingly approved his glittery star tree-topper and admitted that I preferred colorful lights over plain ones. And yes, the velvet tree skirt was a pleasant addition.

But that was it. He’d get no more opinions from me.

And no, I certainly would not be aiding him in the decorating process. Are you bananas?

After I helped Hudson lug his purchases into his abode, he was on his own. Although I had hoped this afternoon jaunt would end on a libidinous note, sans clothing, Hudson had insisted that I should come to his place rather than dropping me off when we were still in Christmas Town. That meant something, didn’t it?

Perhaps not.

“Aren’t you going to bring the tree in the house?” I asked, gesturing to the adorable gray bungalow he’d parked in front of as I shut the passenger side door.

Hudson tilted the brim of his hat and shrugged. “It can wait. I want to put the lights on the house first.”

I frowned. “Why? That makes no sense.”

“Sure it does. I want to get them up before it’s dark.” He folded his arms, seemingly in no big hurry to get started with anything in particular. “There’s a ladder in the garage. I’ll grab that and worry about the tree tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? You’re going to leave it in your trunk all night long? That’s—no!”

“No?”

I closed my eyes briefly and released a put-upon sigh. “I’ll help you take the tree inside.”

Hudson grinned as he leaned in to kiss me. “Thanks.”

He didn’t require my assistance. No chance. Hudson was fit and burly, and his shoulders were wide enough to carry three trees at once, Paul Bunyan style. But I helped anyway, struggling to hold my end and the bags of ornaments too.

I dumped the bags on the coffee table and somehow ended up supervising the tree placement after Hudson partially blocked his hallway. We arranged it in the window and it looked…very nice.

His cottage was rustic chic with wide-plank hardwood flooring, high ceilings, and comfy leather furnishings anchored by a red-and-gold print area rug. It lacked personal touches like books and photos, but it was a homey space with potential. And yes, the tree added undeniable warmth.

“This is lovely.”

Hudson smiled. “Pleasant Moody is making a comeback.”

“Don’t push your luck,” I grumbled without heat.

“I wouldn’t dare. I like this place, too. It was one of the overflow cottages Mills used for guests of the dude ranch, so it came prefurnished. The kitchen is small, but it has an island and my bedroom is?—”

“Why don’t you give me a tour?” I intercepted, flashing my version of a come-hither wink.

“Do you have something in your eye?’

“Uh—no.”

“Good.” He thumped his thumb on the box of holiday lights. “Lights first, then a tour.”

No mention whatsoever of naked shenanigans.

I squinted in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

“No. Come help,” he said, as if that were a logical response to my rhetorical query. “It’ll go faster and?—”

“Help? Help…how?” I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m short, significantly under-muscled, and I have zero interest in illuminating the interior or exterior of your surprisingly resplendent home. I’m here for sex. You owe me a gosh-darn blowjob!”

Hudson widened his eyes comically, rubbing his stubbled jaw. “Are you pouting?”

“Well…I—yes, I am,” I admitted.

“Naughty boy, but…you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. This is extortion and exploitation and if I didn’t know better, I’d accuse you of foisting unwanted holiday cheer down my throat when?—”

“When I should be sucking your cock,” he finished. And just like that, the air crackled with a familiar seductive spark. “C’mere.”

I swallowed hard, but try though I might, I couldn’t make my feet move.

Lust choked me, rooted me to the spot. I felt dizzy, and my cock ached behind my zipper. Hudson repeated my name, his voice rough and raspy, like gravel. His tone was authoritative but soothing. Don’t ask me how. I was too busy struggling to remain upright whilst in a fog of intense desire.

“I…” Yes, I’d apparently lost the ability to form words.

Hudson dropped the lights on the coffee table, grasped my face in his big paws, and thrust his tongue between my lips. He commanded the kiss as he slowly walked me to the closest wall. He fumbled with my belt and zipper. I felt cool air and the brush of his fingers on my bare booty, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything beyond his tongue in my mouth.

Until Hudson pulled his hat off and sank to his knees.

Listen, I was a big fan of blowjobs. Who wasn’t? But I was not the most experienced gay on the planet. I’d been with men who’d bragged about their prowess and left me underwhelmed with sloppy ministrations and either applied too little or too much pressure, so I’d set my expectations on the lower end of the spectrum to avoid disappointment a long time ago.

Hudson single-handedly reset the standard. He fondled my balls, rolling them languidly in my sac while he stroked and sucked. I saw stars almost immediately, but there was no way I’d let myself come that fast. I bit my bottom lip and pushed my fingers through his thick hair. He hummed, sending a delicious vibration along my shaft that spread through my body like wildfire. I was warm all over and tingly, and oh…

Do not come. Do not come.

I thought I might be able to hang on if I didn’t look at him. The view of his lips wrapped around my dick was too much. Too, too much. But I could rest my head against the wall, hands in his hair, and just…let Hudson do whatever he wanted to me. He could suck my balls, stroke me, and tease my hole with one finger. And if he pushed that digit on my pucker, I could handle it.

Oh, gosh. Maybe not.

“I’m gonna come,” I panted.

Hudson took everything I gave him, sucking and sucking till I went limp. Then he sat on his haunches and licked his lips, his gaze locked on mine. I expected a teasing comment along the lines of fulfilling his side of the bargain. Or perhaps he’d try to talk me into helping with those darn lights again. Or maybe he’d kick me to the curb or?—

“You’re very beautiful. You know that?”

I opened and closed my mouth in shock. Nope, I definitely hadn’t expected that. It wasn’t just his words, it was the sincerity in his tone. Beautiful? Me? He really believed it was true, and that was enough.

So yes, in a moment of weakness, I held the ladder while he strung lights on his house. Was I happy about it? No.

But I wasn’t unhappy either.

All I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I didn’t want to be home alone, wishing time away. If the alternative involved bright lights, a tree, and a hunky man with twinkling eyes…so be it.

Confusing. I know.