Page 9
Story: Twelve Days of Christmas
Letting my temper out won’t help any matter, so I cup his face with my hand and kiss him. “Just open your present.”
He sighs, then slowly opens the small box. When he sees the matching gold cufflinks, his eyes well with tears. “Oh Luc, they’re beautiful.”
“They have the Hensley family crest on them,” I tell him with a shrug. “Seeing though everything I ever see has the Fletcher arrow on it, I thought you might like them if they had my namesake.”
He nods, and I think for a moment his tears might fall, but they don’t. He pulls me into his arms and he just holds me. He wraps himself around me and holds me so damn tight, like I’m some precious little thing he doesn’t ever want to let go of.
DECEMBER 24TH
ON THE ELEVENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS…
I hangup the phone from talking to my mom, when I hear Cameron. “Mom,” he gripes into the phone. “I wear suits every day. I don’t want to get dressed up for Christmas day.”
“Cameron Anthony Fletcher,” I hear Cynthia bark down the phone, playing her part perfectly. “Please do not argue with me. I want family photos, and you will be dressed for the occasion.”
Cameron sighs and rolls his eyes at me. I throw myself onto the sofa next to him, and his fingers automatically find their way into my hair. I listen as Cynthia lays down the law. Cameron huffs and sighs, resigned.
When he finally disconnects the call, he asks me, “How was your mom?”
“She’s okay,” I tell him with a smile.
“You know,” he says suggestively, “we could always go to Texas for Christmas. If we left now…”
I laugh. “We agreed; your family this year, my family next year.”
He sighs again. “With a bit of luck, we’ll get snowed in and won’t be able to leave the house.”
I laugh. “I can just picture your mother behind the wheel of a snow plough.”
He snorts and snuggles down onto the sofa, and I lay back against him. His arms fold around me. I take his hands in mine, and he kisses down the side of my neck.
“Who knows, babe,” I tell him. “You might just have a good day tomorrow.”
He mumbles, still kissing my neck. “I’d have a better day if I stay here with you.”
I laugh, but then he bites my neck, sucking the skin between his lips.
I pull his face from my skin; the last thing I need is a hickey on my neck for tomorrow. “None of that thank you, Mister.”
“Why?” he questions softly, kissing the side of my neck. “We don’t have to go to work for a week. No one will see it.”
“Mmm, you can mark me anywhere, just not there,” I tell him. “But about that week off,” I hedge. “Do you want today’s present? It is the eleventh day of Christmas…”
He falls back against the cushion. “Is this one ludicrously expensive?”
I grin. “Well…yes,” I admit. There’s no point in lying. He groans, so I’m quick to explain, “But this one is for both of us. Not just you.”
His brow flinches, so I kiss him hard, grin at him and tell him not to move a fucking muscle. I jump up and come back five seconds later with his next gift. I place the thin parcel on his chest, plonk myself at the opposite end of the sofa and pick up his feet.
“For both of us?” he asks, tentatively opening the wrapping.
I pull his stripy sock off and bring his toes to my mouth as I look at him. “Both of us,” I nod to him before taking his ring toe into my mouth. He’s used to me sucking on, biting and licking his feet now. It even turns him on, especially when I bite the perfect arch of his foot.
He wiggles his toes to get my attention, and I look at him. He’s holding the two tickets, looking at me. “Two tickets to Whistler and a week at the Four Seasons?” he asks incredulously. “Jesus! How much did that cost? No,” he stops. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
I laugh at him, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “For a week? Luc, you can’t ski!”
I grin and bite his toe. “You have a week to teach me,” I tell him. “If we make it out of bed.”
He sighs, then slowly opens the small box. When he sees the matching gold cufflinks, his eyes well with tears. “Oh Luc, they’re beautiful.”
“They have the Hensley family crest on them,” I tell him with a shrug. “Seeing though everything I ever see has the Fletcher arrow on it, I thought you might like them if they had my namesake.”
He nods, and I think for a moment his tears might fall, but they don’t. He pulls me into his arms and he just holds me. He wraps himself around me and holds me so damn tight, like I’m some precious little thing he doesn’t ever want to let go of.
DECEMBER 24TH
ON THE ELEVENTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS…
I hangup the phone from talking to my mom, when I hear Cameron. “Mom,” he gripes into the phone. “I wear suits every day. I don’t want to get dressed up for Christmas day.”
“Cameron Anthony Fletcher,” I hear Cynthia bark down the phone, playing her part perfectly. “Please do not argue with me. I want family photos, and you will be dressed for the occasion.”
Cameron sighs and rolls his eyes at me. I throw myself onto the sofa next to him, and his fingers automatically find their way into my hair. I listen as Cynthia lays down the law. Cameron huffs and sighs, resigned.
When he finally disconnects the call, he asks me, “How was your mom?”
“She’s okay,” I tell him with a smile.
“You know,” he says suggestively, “we could always go to Texas for Christmas. If we left now…”
I laugh. “We agreed; your family this year, my family next year.”
He sighs again. “With a bit of luck, we’ll get snowed in and won’t be able to leave the house.”
I laugh. “I can just picture your mother behind the wheel of a snow plough.”
He snorts and snuggles down onto the sofa, and I lay back against him. His arms fold around me. I take his hands in mine, and he kisses down the side of my neck.
“Who knows, babe,” I tell him. “You might just have a good day tomorrow.”
He mumbles, still kissing my neck. “I’d have a better day if I stay here with you.”
I laugh, but then he bites my neck, sucking the skin between his lips.
I pull his face from my skin; the last thing I need is a hickey on my neck for tomorrow. “None of that thank you, Mister.”
“Why?” he questions softly, kissing the side of my neck. “We don’t have to go to work for a week. No one will see it.”
“Mmm, you can mark me anywhere, just not there,” I tell him. “But about that week off,” I hedge. “Do you want today’s present? It is the eleventh day of Christmas…”
He falls back against the cushion. “Is this one ludicrously expensive?”
I grin. “Well…yes,” I admit. There’s no point in lying. He groans, so I’m quick to explain, “But this one is for both of us. Not just you.”
His brow flinches, so I kiss him hard, grin at him and tell him not to move a fucking muscle. I jump up and come back five seconds later with his next gift. I place the thin parcel on his chest, plonk myself at the opposite end of the sofa and pick up his feet.
“For both of us?” he asks, tentatively opening the wrapping.
I pull his stripy sock off and bring his toes to my mouth as I look at him. “Both of us,” I nod to him before taking his ring toe into my mouth. He’s used to me sucking on, biting and licking his feet now. It even turns him on, especially when I bite the perfect arch of his foot.
He wiggles his toes to get my attention, and I look at him. He’s holding the two tickets, looking at me. “Two tickets to Whistler and a week at the Four Seasons?” he asks incredulously. “Jesus! How much did that cost? No,” he stops. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
I laugh at him, and he shakes his head, exasperated. “For a week? Luc, you can’t ski!”
I grin and bite his toe. “You have a week to teach me,” I tell him. “If we make it out of bed.”