How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

They pat themselves down and they gather their clothes.

They turn off the lights, and up the stairs they rose.

For orgasms were upon them. With a grunt and a groan,

they’d fuck and they’d screw and they’d moan, moan, moan.

“Thank you for the toothbrush,” I say as I sit cross-legged on his bathroom counter, brushing my teeth. I’m in his flannel shirt that he let me use to cover myself as we cleaned up the living room. He stayed in his briefs, and it took everything in me to stop leering at him.

But now that we’re in the bathroom and his hand is on my thigh, I’m okay with taking in an eyeful with zero shame…because he’s been doing the same.

When we were bringing our cups and the cookies into the kitchen, he casually slipped his arm around my waist, his hand slipping into my barely buttoned-up shirt where he proceeded to kiss my neck and lightly caress my breast.

And when we were folding the blanket in the living room that we “copulated” on, I kept catching his eyes wandering over my body.

And when we walked up the stairs together, he trailed behind me, and I know he was checking out my ass because when we reached the top, he whispered in my ear how sexy I was.

So yeah, I’m going to get my fair share of staring in.

From his broad shoulders to his thick pecs to his trim body, which seems to have sinew popping out in every curve and contour. The V in his hips, the trimmed chest hair, the…bulge.

God, if only I’d been brave when I was younger, if only I’d come back earlier. If only I had reached out and acted upon those lustful feelings I had whenever he was around, maybe I wouldn’t have been with so many duds.

And I know they’re duds now. One hundred percent, no doubt in my mind they were duds, because what I just experienced was so different from anything I’ve ever done with a man.

And the best part of it all? It was just a good dry hump.

That dry hump was better than any other sexual experience I’ve had.

Sure, the fire was nice, and the lights were dimmed, and it was romantic, but that all played a small part. The big part…that’s tucked just beyond Cole’s black briefs.

We both spit our toothpaste into the sink, rinse our mouths, and then he helps me off the counter. Holding my hand, he brings me to a doorway that leads to another flight of stairs. When he turns to me, a look of insecurity pulls at his features.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It’s just…this is my bedroom from when I was a teenager and, well, I haven’t changed anything.”

I smile. “Ooo, so I finally get to see your bedroom in the same state it was when I started wondering what it was like?”

“You wondered what my bedroom was like?”

“Uh, yeah, Cole. All the time.”

“Well, not one thing has changed, and now that I’m much older, it feels kind of stupid bringing you up here. I just want you to be prepared.”

“Cole,” I say seriously as I cup his cheek, “you never need to worry about me judging you, okay? People move at their own pace when faced with grief, and if keeping everything in your house the way it was before your parents passed was what you needed to do, well, that’s your way of dealing with your pain. There is nothing to judge. I promise.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and then tilts my chin up. “You’re amazing, Storee. You know that?”

“I do.” I grin at him right before he places a kiss on my lips.

“Thank you for being so understanding and supportive.”

“Of course,” I say. “Now show me this room. I’m dying to explore.”

He starts up the stairs, and I follow. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” he mutters as I stare at his taut ass.

“Do you do a lot of squats?”

“Huh?” he asks, looking over his shoulder as we reach the top of the stairs.

“You have a really nice ass, and I’m just wondering if you do a lot of squats.”

He tugs on his hair, his embarrassment adorable. “Uh, no. But I lift a lot of things at the farm.”

“Well, keep it up. It’s nice and round.”

“Thanks,” he says with a laugh and then pulls me through the door to his bedroom.

The first thing I notice is the slanted ceiling that falls to just above his head. In height alone, he’s clearly outgrown the space.

The next thing I notice is the smaller bed. Not a twin, not a queen, it has to be a double. Not a problem—I don’t mind clinging onto him tonight.

And then from there, my eyes traverse the room, taking in the shelf that’s stacked with books, a few trophies, and some knickknacks. There’s a desk with an out-of-date laptop perched on it, some notebooks, and a cup for his pencils. Not sure why, but the thought of him using a pencil over a pen makes my heart warm.

A braided rug spans the floor, and since there’s no closet, he has a clothes rack in the corner full of flannels and a dresser right next to it.

But the item that is really getting my attention is the poster on the wall right across from his bed.

He must sense it because he says, “Don’t say anything.”

“I promised I wouldn’t judge.”

“I can feel you judging.”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “Just…fascinated with your choice.”

“It’s not what you think,” he says. “It was a gag gift from Max, and when I left for college, he hung it up there, and I just never took it down.”

Turning toward him, I say, “But can I ask you a question about it?”

“Sure,” he says, probably regretting that answer immediately.

“Have you ever gotten off to it?”

“A picture of Miss Piggy from The Muppets sitting on the beach—do you really think I’ve gotten off to that?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a laugh. “It’s just…I mean, she’s in a bit of a provocative position.”

“The answer is no,” he says, his face as serious as can be.

“Okay, fair, just making sure.” I pause and stare at the poster. “Another question, what are your thoughts on taking it down? You know, since I plan on sleeping over tonight and I don’t quite feel right about bouncing up and down on your penis with Miss Piggy watching.”

He chuckles and then moves toward the poster. “I can take it down.”

“Only if you want to, no pressure. We can drape a blanket over her.”

“No, we can take it down, and I can take it to work tomorrow and hang it up in Max’s office area where he sharpens his axes. Give him something to yearn for.”

That makes me laugh as I watch him take the poster down, revealing a fist-sized hole in the wall.

“Oh shit, I forgot that was there,” he says.

“Uh, what was that from?”

He rolls up the poster and then sets it to the side. “It was after I fight I had with an ex from high school.”

“You punched the wall?” I look him up and down. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see you as that kind of guy.”

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he replies. “It was stupid. She broke up with me because she wanted freedom for the summer. Anyway, she left, I got pissed, and that happened. Last time I punched a wall though—it hurt like a motherfucker and did nothing other than prove that punching a wall is a stupid thing to do.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Well, lesson learned,” I say as I take a seat on his bed. Instead of a comforter, he has a fluffy blanket and a quilt covering his mattress. And the bed is made, the sheets carefully folded over. “I’m impressed that you make your bed.”

“Jesus, your standard for men must be low.”

“Before you, it was,” I say. “But you’ve raised the bar.”

“Have I?” he asks as he steps up to me. I place my hands on his hips and nod.

“You have.”

“Good to know.” He tilts his chin toward the bed. “Get in.”

Excited, I scoot back and slip under his flannel sheets, loving how warm they are, and then I lift up the covers for him, letting him slip in as well. We each take a pillow to rest our heads and then turn to each other.

“So, you were in college for how long?” I ask him.

“One semester,” he answers. “Dropped out after my parents passed.”

“What were you going to major in?”

“Wasn’t sure yet. I was thinking about business, possibly engineering, but neither sounded at all interesting. I was trying to feel it out.”

“So you weren’t into animal sciences at all?”

“Not even a little,” he answers as his hand pushes aside his flannel shirt I’m wearing and lands on my bare hip. “Everything I know about reindeer is from what I’ve read over time and talking with the Maxheimers. Honestly, it was a pity job, and then I got good at it and it became a permanent thing.”

“Well, maybe you can introduce me to your reindeer one day.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I answer.

“Okay, then maybe after, you can show me one of the Lovemark movies you edited.”

“Would you even like watching one?” I ask. “They don’t seem like your cup of tea.”

“If you had a hand in it, I’d like to watch it. Plus, I used to watch them with my mom all the time. They’re predictable, but isn’t that what’s so great about them? There’s no anxiety over what’s going to happen—they’re just feel-good movies.”

“Yes,” I say excitedly. “Thank you. That’s what I try to tell people who scoff at them. Is it so wrong for us to just be happy while watching something? Do we always have to be thinking? Do we always have to be depressed? Do we always have to participate in entertainment that highlights drugs, abuse…sexual assault? Life is hard enough as it is. Why can’t we just escape that and enjoy something that doesn’t sprinkle us with a heavy dose of depression afterward?”

“I agree,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with escaping reality. Fuck knows I’ve done it for the past decade.”

I bring my hand to his face, running it over his beard. “What did you do to escape?” I ask.

“Hung out with the reindeer. Did a lot of reading…history stuff, mostly. Did a lot of hiking and mountain biking. Snowboarding with Max. Anything that got me out of the house during the day, leaving the nights as the only time I had to face my reality.”

That makes me really sad.

“Have you had a hard time sleeping?”

“At first, yes,” he answers. “I’d spend a lot of nights at Max’s place, but then I started to realize that if I kept hiding away from the house, I was setting myself up for failure in the long run, so I’d come back at night and force myself to try to be normal. And over time, it became more and more…accepted in my brain. I don’t think I’d ever call it normal, but I’ve come to terms with it. Well, mostly. Probably should have taken down Miss Piggy a while ago.”

I chuckle. “Probably, but I won’t hold it against you.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

Still stroking his beard, I ask, “Are you proud of yourself for today? Because you should be. You got a tree, Cole. You decorated it, you decorated your house…you took down that poster. Those are big steps.”

“I know,” he says and sighs. “I just felt…confident. Like I could do it because, well, because you were here.”

That pulls on my heart as I sit up and bring my mouth to his. I kiss him for a few seconds as his grip on me grows tighter, but I pull away and stare down at his handsome face. “I’m glad I could be a part of it, Cole. And I’m glad Taran and Aunt Cindy are gone so I could be here.”

His hand slides over my backside. “You don’t think they would appreciate you being here with me?”

“No, I don’t,” I say as I slide my hand down his neck and across his chest, the short stubble prickling my palm.

“Why not?”

“The whole competition thing. I don’t think they’d want me to get wrapped up in feelings when there’s a crown to claim.”

“I get that,” he says. “And I hope you know this isn’t about the competition for me. You and me—it’s separate. I’m not trying to distract you.”

“Oh, I know,” I say quickly as I caress his chest. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“Okay, I just want to make sure,” he says, insecurity in his voice. “What’s happening between us, it’s on a different level for me. Kringle competition aside, having you here feeds me in a way I wasn’t expecting.”

“Really?”

He nods and brings his wandering hand to my stomach and then up between my breasts. I lower onto my back, and it’s his turn to lift up on his elbow. He undoes the one button I have holding the flannel together and then he parts the shirt, baring my front.

Lightly, he trails his fingers up my stomach and around my breasts, teasing. “You’ve brought some life back into my mundane days,” he says softly. “I knew I was living in the dark, going week by week, month by month, but I didn’t realize how far I’d sunk until you came back.”

His finger moves inward, twirling around my nipple now, creating a tingling sensation throughout my body.

“You made me feel things again, Storee. Anger. Annoyance. Determination…lust. Whereas before, I’m not sure there was much that I felt at all.”

I shift my legs, spreading them ever so slightly, letting him know exactly where I want him. But he doesn’t give in, he keeps circling my nipple, turning me on, making me wet, bringing me to a point that I’m going to beg soon.

“I feel the same way,” I say in a breathy voice. “I’ve felt more alive here then I have in a while.”

“Because of the competition?”

I shake my head. “A little maybe, but also because of the town. Because of you. This feels right, being here, and I hate that I stayed away for so long.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid,” he jokes as his fingers trail down my stomach and circle around my belly button.

“Very stupid,” I say as I make more of a show of spreading my legs.

He glances down my body and then back up. “You telling me something, Storee?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Say it.” He drags his fingers right above my pubic bone and then back up my stomach, making me groan in frustration.

“I’m wet, Cole. I’m turned on. I want you to make me come again.”

He smirks and then circles my nipple again. “How wet?”

“Very wet,” I answer.

“Show me,” he says.

I hesitate for a second, unsure of what he wants me to do, but when his fingers pinch around my nipple and my back arches, my hand falls between my legs where I rub my fingers over my arousal. Then I bring them up to his mouth and without even thinking about it, he sucks them, cleaning them off. When he’s done, he pops my fingers out of his mouth and growls.

“Fucking delicious,” he says and then lowers his head to my breasts, gripping one and lapping at the other with his tongue.

His beard rubs against my skin.

The weight of his body blankets me in warmth.

And his mouth does naughty things to my breast, building a warm sensation in the pit of my stomach, driving me to need more. So much more.

He lifts up and switches sides, and it makes me crazy with need.

His tongue flicking over my nipple. His teeth nibbling. His lips sucking.

It’s an onslaught of sensations all at the same time, creating a dull throb between my legs.

“Cole,” I say as I sift my hands through his hair. “Please.”

But he doesn’t listen, he continues to suck, to play, to pinch.

My pelvis starts to move, seeking out any type of friction, but all I’m met with is air, so I twist my lower half just enough to find his leg. I hook my heel around his calf and start rubbing myself over him.

“Fuck,” he says against my breast. “Storee, you’re so wet.”

“I told you,” I say as I continue to try seeking relief from the way he’s turned me on.

And then to my surprise, he grips my hip and pins me to the mattress, freeing me of any sort of relief.

I groan in frustration while he continues to play with my breasts.

“Cole, please,” I groan. “I don’t…I don’t want to come like this.”

“How do you want to come?” he asks.

“By your mouth.” He lifts up and grins at me before pressing a kiss to each breast, and then works his way down my stomach, kissing a path until he reaches my pubic bone.

My breath is heavy.

My stomach is hollow.

And I lift up on my elbows to watch him spread my legs, making room for his large body. He settles in, parts me with two fingers, and then to my utter satisfaction presses his tongue right against my clit.

I sigh in relief, letting my body drop back down to the mattress and allowing myself to get lost in the feel of his mouth.

“Yes,” I moan, my hips shifting, my hands finding my breasts. “You’re so good, Cole. Fuck…ahhh, yes, you’re so good.”

He smoothes one hand up my stomach and moves my grip off my breasts, playing with them instead. He takes a nipple between his fingers and starts rolling it while his tongue makes long, languid strokes across my clit.

Heat builds deep within me.

My legs tremble.

And I can feel my orgasm start to climb.

“Cole, I’m…I’m close,” I say, which makes him pick up his pace.

His tongue makes short, concise flicks over my clit, driving my need to the point that I can barely breathe.

He pinches.

He flicks.

And then he sucks my clit between his lips, and my back arches off the mattress as a feral cry falls out of my mouth. My orgasm races through me, numbing my limbs, and spiraling through my stomach. He allows me to move my hips, to seek out every second of the intense pleasure until I’m completely sated.

“Oh…my…God,” I say, breathless and barely able to comprehend what he just did to me in mere seconds. “Cole.” I look down at him and he’s licking his lips. Jesus. “That was…God.” I dip my head back to the pillow and I hear him shuffle around. When I glance in his direction again, he’s completely naked and gripping the base of his cock, tugging on it as he stares down at me. Wanting to return the favor, I hold out my hand to him and he takes it.

I pull him down on the bed and lay him flat on his back. With his flannel shirt still on, I move over his legs and bring my mouth to the tip of his cock.

He places one hand behind his head and brings the other to my face, gently running his thumb over my cheek. I smile up at him right before I run my tongue along the underside of his cock.

He hisses in pleasure, his eyes squeezing shut, and I wonder how long it’s been since he last had someone do this to him. I know it’s been months since he’s had sex, but this level of intimacy…when was the last time?

I bring my hand to his balls, cup them gently, and then start to roll them in my palm while I continue to let my tongue do the work, running up and down his length, playing with the sensitive part under the head, swirling around.

“Jesus,” he groans as his legs fall open more. “I want your mouth, Storee.”

I debate if I should torture him like he tortured me, but when I see precum on his tip, I decide otherwise and bring my mouth to his head. I look up at him and watch his eyes turn heavy as I take him all the way to the back of my throat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he draws out, squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit, Storee, you’re…you’re going to make me come early.”

I pop my mouth off him. “Want me to stop?”

“No,” he groans and runs his fingers through my hair, lightly encouraging me to keep going. “Just…just stop when I tell you because I want your cunt.”

A thrill shoots up my spine from the gravel in his voice and the dirtiness in his words.

I take him back into my mouth, and as I guide my lips and tongue around the head, I work the root of his cock with my hand, pumping and squeezing, attempting to edge him to the point that he needs to take control because I want him. I want him inside of me.

I want to feel his girth stretching me. I want to see his eyes when he enters me.

The thought of it makes me so excited, so turned on that I work his cock harder, faster.

He breathes heavily.

He writhes.

He grips my hair tightly.

And then…

“Fuck, okay, stop. Fucking stop.”

I remove my mouth and stare down at him.

At his twitching cock.

At his hollowed stomach.

At his hard nipples and heady eyes.

I move up his legs and right over his length.

“Protection,” he says.

“I’m on birth control and clean,” I say as I lift his cock and position it at my entrance. “You good with that?”

“Fucking great with that,” he says as I tease my clit with his head. “Wet again,” he says. “Fucking perfect.” He reaches up and takes my breasts in his hands as I slowly start to lower down on him. The pressure is too strong, and my eyes flutter closed as I take my time, attempting to relax.

“Eyes on me,” I hear him say.

“What?” I ask as I open my eyes.

“I said eyes on me. I want to see your expression when I fill you up.”

Those words, those simple words, they amp up my need.

My desire for this man.

And as I lower down on him, letting him stretch me out in the best way possible, I keep my eyes connected to him even though when I get halfway, I want to shut them.

“Breathe,” he says softly, still playing with my breasts. “Relax. Show me how you love my cock.”

I take a deep breath and then sink down another inch.

“That’s it, Storee,” he says softly. “All the way down.”

I let out another deep breath, keep my eyes on him, and then sink down until I bottom out. The flannel falls off my shoulder, and I don’t bother fixing it as my hand falls to my stomach and my mouth drops open.

“Oh my God, Cole.”

“Shit,” he says nearly at the same time. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” His hands go to my hips, and he shifts, causing a wave of friction to shoot up my spine.

The fullness, the way I fit so perfectly around him, how my clit is moving against him at just the right angle—it creates a storm of desire racing through me so intensely that I start to rock my hips.

“That’s it, Storee. Fucking use my cock.”

My head falls forward, my hands now on his chest as I frantically start to pump over him, rubbing my clit over him, allowing myself to get lost in how large he is, how he’s hitting me in a spot I’ve never felt before, creating an addiction that I foresee never being satisfied.

“I’m close,” I say as I continue to rock my hips. And then to my surprise, Cole sits up and brings us both closer to the headboard. He leans against it and the angle offers me a completely different feel, one that spikes adrenaline through me as he hits that one spot inside of me repeatedly.

He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and brings his mouth to mine, kissing me senseless.

His lips captivating mine.

His tongue dancing, tantalizing.

His groans are so incredibly sexy that I can feel my orgasm start to ripple through me.

At first it’s slow, a numbing sensation at the tips of my toes, and then it climbs higher and higher until it pools between my legs. Pulling back from his mouth, my head tilts back and his name flies off my tongue. “Cole, oh fuck,” I cry, my body starting to seize, my inner walls convulsing around his cock.

“Oh fuck,” he yells, his hips moving now. “Shit, Storee. You’re…you’re making me fucking come.”

He roars out another grunt and then he stills, the sexiest sounds coming from him as we both ride out our orgasms.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes as his eyes open and connect with mine.

“What happened to eyes on me?” I tease him as I lean forward and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“You made me black out.”

I chuckle and rest my head against his shoulder as his bulky arms wrap around me. “I can assume that our friendship has effectively changed.”

He laughs and kisses my bare shoulder. “It changed the minute you sat on my lap on the porch.”

I lift up and look him in the eyes. “No, it changed when you parted your mouth under the mistletoe.”

“I thought we were still enemies then, not friends.”

“We were always friends,” I say. “Just had a dispute.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Ten years apart is quite the dispute.”

“Let’s just call it a miscommunication and move on.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I sigh and rest my head back down. “Never mind.”