Page 81 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

“Fuck, I can’t—”

“You can. Because I know you.” Kenny used his free arm to band across Aaron’s chest and held him tight. “Know exactly how far you can go before you break. And you’re not breaking, baby. You’re flying.”

He worked Aaron harder, faster, the slick rhythm loud and sweat-slick bodies grinding as one. And when Aaron shattered again, it was almost unnoticed apart from the shiver and catching of his breath.

“That’s it. Fucking perfect.” Kenny nestled his throbbing cock between Aaron’s cheeks, gliding through the heat ofhim. Taunting, promising more, and every jolt, every ragged breath, every helpless arch of Aaron’s spine was his to read, his to command.

“Jesus…I can’t feel my fucking tongue…” Aaron slurred, half delirious.

Kenny chuckled low in his ear. “Good. I don’t want you feeling anything but me. Nothing but what I’m doing to you. We’re going further, baby. Further than we’ve ever been.”

And Kenny took hold of him again. Expertly drawing him out for another round and Aaron clawed at the sheets, caught on that knife edge Kenny knew so well. The fine line between ecstasy and collapse. He felt the tension coil, the tremor building in every muscle pressed against him, and he tightened his grip exactly when he knew Aaron couldn’t hold back a second longer, forcing him over.

“That’s it.” Kenny dipped his head to Aaron’s, feeling his drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. He licked it up. “Good boy. That’s four. Don’t fight it. Give me everything.”

The fourth orgasm ripped through him, violent and raw, Aaron’s entire frame shuddering on top of Kenny. But he held him steady, watching with dark pride as he spilled helplessly, head lolling to the side, mouth slack, and utterly ruined, wrecked beyond thought.

Kenny kept him open, kept him grounded, feeling every aftershock convulse through him. He murmured praise against his ear, low and gravelled, the sound of ownership. Aaron’s body was his instrument, every spasm something Kenny had drawn out of him. Precisely. Expertly. Beautifully.

“That’s it. My good boy. All mine.”

“Bastard,” Aaron slurred, weak and undone.

Kenny smiled against the sweat-soaked curve of his neck, because that insult meant there was still more in him.

ButAaron then jolted.

Not from pleasure. From something else entirely.

His body twitched, then shook again. This time different. Not the rhythm Kenny knew. This was jagged, confused, as if Aaron’s wiring had shorted out. His breath hitched. Froze. Chest stuttering as if drowning on air. Kenny felt it before Aaron even made a sound. The way he curled inward, the sudden absence in his eyes, presence ripped away in a blink.

So Kenny clamped his arms around him, tight, instinct taking over. He hooked one beneath Aaron’s chest and hauled him higher over his own body, tilting his head back onto Kenny’s shoulder, forcing his chest open and tangled his legs with Aaron’s. He pressed his other hand flat and steady over Aaron’s sternum, holding him there.

Touch. Contact. Anchor.

“Aaron.” He whispered into his ear. “Breathe, baby. You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Convulsions juddered through Aaron’s limbs. Short, wild bursts. But Kenny kept still, remaining that solid wall behind him. Every inch of contact—arms, chest, thighs—a tether. Kenny wouldn’t let him fold in on himself, wouldn’t let him go under.

Aaron’s mouth opened, but no words came out. No sound at all. Just a trembling gasp stuttering into nothing, and Kenny cupped the side of his face, pressing their foreheads together. “Come on, baby. Come back to me.”

No words. Only tears. Slow at first, then streaming. Silent and unchecked. His fingers scratched weakly against Kenny’s thigh, reaching for something. So Kenny grabbed his hand, laced their fingers and squeezed.

“Feel me. Right here. You’re with me.”

He recognised what was happening. The short-circuit. The body’s way of emptying what the mind refused to speak. Trauma, grief, terror. He’d seen it before. During EMDR,during collapse, when long-withheld grief finally cracked through. He’d seen it once before in a previous partner. But never like this. Never from someone who held himself together with sharpness and fire and denial so thick it had become armour.

This was Aaron. Stripped to bone.

Not afraid.

Released.

And Kenny held him through it. Through the tears. The tremors. The terrifying stillness following. Letting Aaron come down without rushing the fall. Letting him land somewhere safe.

Christ.Awe sharpened his chest, painful with the weight of it.He’s giving this to me. Letting me be the one.

So, soft, so damn soft, he whispered into the curve of Aaron’s neck, “I love you, Aaron.” And again, because once wasn’t enough. “I love you. Fucking adore you. Cherish you.”