Michael doesn’t have his head buried in the sand. He knows he has a lot to prove this Christmas, and he’s not sure if he’s up to the task. All these years and he’d never considered having to spend a holiday with Max’s family. Now that it’s happening he’s not scared to admit it—he’s terrified.
A story from the Dreamspinner Press 2014 Advent Calendar package “Celebrate!”.
He settled down with a laugh, scooting forward so Michael had enough room to give him the massage. “My lower back to start, please.”
Michael dug his thumbs into the arch in Max’s back beneath his coat, sliding them firmly up and down. He used the heel of his hand next, kneading the tight muscles. Max was releasing breathy little moans, so Michael figured he was doing something right.
The sun was starting to set, the sky turning an orange-red color as the sun progressed lower and lower. Little snowflakes fell from the sky, and Michael blew a few from Max’s hair.
Max had a hand resting on Michael’s ankle, curled up under his jeans. His thumb was stroking the skin in broad sweeps. “You can move up to my shoulders now,” he directed after a while.
Michael withdrew his hands from under his coat. “You’re going to have to take off your coat,” he warned.
“No, I’m not.” With a little bit of maneuvering Max was able to awkwardly shrug his coat down enough that his shoulders were free of the fabric. “M’necks cold,” he muttered, shivering without the coat collar there to shield him.
Getting to work, Michael dug in, kneading flesh and muscle and trying to draw from every massage he had ever gotten to make this one as good as possible. Max’s moans were turning into little grunts, but he didn’t sound like he was in pain, so Michael kept going. He made sure to pay attention to Max’s neck, trying to keep the skin warm with his hands.
His nose was getting cold, and he was burrowing his chin down into his scarf for warmth, but he didn’t think he’d ever been more comfortable or happy. Max was propped against his knees, his moans doing nothing to help with Michael’s raging erection that was starting to hurt tucked in the confines of his jeans, and the sun had completely disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but an array of colors and fading light.
When the back of Max’s neck started to get red from exposure to the cool air, Michael pulled away, tugging his coat back into place. He wrapped an arm around Max’s waist and yanked him back so they were chest to back once more. He propped his chin on Max’s shoulder and stared out at the twinkling lights of London.
“It’s gorgeous,” he said. “I wish I had my camera.”
He could feel the stubble on Max’s cheek scratching him as he rubbed his cheek against Michael’s.
“Why don’t you take a picture with your phone, and you can paint it when we’re home?”
“You think I could do this justice?”
Max titled his head back so he was staring straight up at the sky and the emerging stars. “I think you can do far more justice than a mere photo would.” He stuck out his tongue, his eyes crossing as a snowflake drifted down to land on the tip.
“That’s unsanitary,” Michael pointed out.
Max ignored him, waiting for it to melt. Once it did he turned and captured Michael’s lips for a sloppy kiss. His tongue stroked over Michael’s once, then twice, before he pulled away, a wide smirk on his face.
You can find it at: