Christmas at Bennett’s (Breakfast at Bennett’s #4.5)

9. Jonah

CHAPTER 9

JONAH

Because Christmas Day was going to be spent with his family, Jonah and Spencer turned their phones off on Christmas Eve and had a quiet day at home. They went for a walk in the snow, hand in hand. Spencer didn’t ruin it by deciding that everyone loves a snowball fight the way Colby would have done. And Jonah didn’t ruin it by being a stick-in-the-mud.

They made lunch together after and they curled up in the living room and watched old Christmas movies for the rest of the afternoon. They’d planned on exchanging gifts after dinner, but time seemed to have stopped.

“A watched clock never boils,” Spencer said.

Jonah twisted so he could look up at him. “What did you just say? A watched clock never—what?”

“You’ve checked the time every two minutes for the past half hour.”

Jonah blushed and didn’t try to deny it. “Busted.”

“Did you want to exchange gifts before dinner?” Spencer asked. It was hard to tell if he was just as eager as Jonah, or if he was indulging his boyfriend’s enthusiasm.

“It’s not what we agreed to,” Jonah protested… sort of. He didn’t think he was very convincing.

“We made the rules, so we can change them. Did you want to exchange gifts now?”

Jonah was equal parts excited and nervous, but he got off the couch and fetched his gift for Spencer. “You know I struggled this year with what to get you and I tried a bunch of different things, convinced that you’d want a homemade gift from me.” Jonah passed the package to Spencer without another word and held his breath while Spencer carefully unwrapped it. Spencer had the most gentle touch out of anyone Jonah had ever met, and the way he unwrapped a gift reminded Jonah a bit of the way he often unwrapped Jonah.

It was stupid to get horny over watching someone open a present, but Jonah couldn’t help it.

Spencer pulled out a beautifully crafted scarf and a pair of leather gloves.

“I didn’t make them, obviously. I’ve all but given up on that idea, but they’re locally made. The alpaca scarf is locally sourced too. I’m not sure about the leather, but they’re lined and they should keep you warm when you’re wrestling with your projects out in the cold.” Knowing Spencer loved handmade items, Jonah knew he’d love the gifts, even if Jonah didn’t manage to miraculously learn a craft in the matter of a couple of weeks. Maybe it was something Jonah would pursue in the future. Maybe it wasn’t. That didn’t matter now. What mattered was the heat in Spencer’s gaze when he locked eyes with Jonah.

Spencer wrapped the scarf around his neck, and the deep blue of the dyed fiber made Spencer’s eyes stand out. He slid the gloves on and flexed his fingers, testing them. “These are beautiful, Jonah. Thank you.”

Spencer leaned over and caught Jonah’s chin with his leather-clad fingers. “And I’m glad you’re not driving yourself crazy to make something for me. You’re sweet and thoughtful and I’m lucky to have you exactly as you are.” Spencer kissed him again, longer and slower. He took his time exploring Jonah’s mouth, kissing him breathless before he finally pulled away.

Spencer took the scarf and the gloves off and set them aside, lovingly folding the scarf and stacking them in a neat pile. Then he got Jonah’s gift from under the tree and handed it to him.

It was wrapped in a flat rectangular box that was deceptively heavy. Jonah tore the paper open, eager to see what was inside. He pulled the lid off the box and nestled inside was an old family picture. It had been taken just weeks before his mom died.

“Where—” Jonah tried to ask, but his words got stuck.

“Your dad.”

Then Jonah noticed the frame. “Are these forks?”

“And knives and spoons.”

The picture frame was made out of old cutlery, hammered and bent and shaped to form hearts and flowers around the edge of the picture. Jonah stared at the frame for a while, going over every detail with his eyes and his fingertips. He traced the designs until he had them burned into his brain.

“This is beautiful. And thoughtful.” Jonah’s mom looked impossibly young in the picture and it struck him, maybe for the first time, that she had been impossibly young and she’d stay that way forever.

It wasn’t until Spencer moved the picture off Jonah’s lap and bundled him in his arms that Jonah realized he’d started to cry. He missed his mom, but that wasn’t why he was crying. Jonah had spent so long pushing aside things he wanted so that he knew his brothers would be okay. He’d done his best to look after them. Even though his dad handled everything pretty well, Jonah always felt a sense of responsibility as the oldest.

His relationship with Spencer was something that belonged only to him, and Spencer always found a way to put Jonah first. He always made sure Jonah had what he needed, whether it be reassurance, or a space in his workshop, or a picture of his mom.

Jonah sniffled and swiped at his eyes. “Gah. Leave it to you to make me cry. How are you so good at gifts?”

Spencer’s eyes were soft, as they often were when he looked at Jonah. He never took for granted how lucky he was to have fallen in love with his best friend.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Spencer said, instead of answering Jonah’s question. It was rhetorical anyway.

“They’re good tears. Happy ones. I’m just incredibly lucky to have you.” Jonah reached for Spencer and cradled his face. He smoothed his hands over Spencer’s stubbled cheeks, feeling the slight prickle. Spencer wrapped his arms around Jonah and pulled him up into his lap.

“Merry Christmas, Jonah.” Spencer leaned in close and brushed his lips against Jonah’s.

Spencer was taller than Jonah. Bigger in every sense of the word. Rougher too, from his hands to his five o’clock shadow. But he was a not-so-secret softy. Jonah knew that even though his tears were happy ones, they still worried Spencer. He wanted to reassure him, so he wound his arms around Spencer’s neck and slanted their mouths together.

Spencer’s mouth was soft and willing. His lips parted for Jonah, granting him entry. He kissed back with ardor, his big hands sweeping down Jonah’s back, cupping his ass. He pulled Jonah closer until their bulges pressed against each other. Jonah let out a moan and his hips ground against Spencer, who was suddenly smiling through their kiss.

Jonah did it again. He sank his hands into Spencer’s hair and moved his hips in circles, grinding his cock against Spencer’s. He would never get over the thrill of kissing his best friend. Of being able to touch him like this. Especially after he’d spent so long unable to picture himself touching anyone as intimately as he did Spencer.

But the friction wasn’t enough. Jonah was crazy with want. He craved all of Spencer, and the needy sound he made when Spencer pulled back must have given it away.

Spencer, strong as an ox, stood while holding on to Jonah. He clung tighter and let out a gasp of surprise, then a laugh.

“All that wrestling you do with your scrap piles definitely has advantages.” Jonah let himself be carried down the hall to the bedroom where Spencer laid him on the bed like he was a prince.

“I need you,” Jonah confessed, already working his pants open and kicking them off. Yanking his shirt off over his head, he rolled over and reached for the lube on the nightstand.

“Stay like that.” Spencer said, his voice husky. Jonah glanced over his shoulder and lost his breath. Spencer was shirtless and working the fly of his pants open. He dragged it down slowly, giving Jonah a bit of a show.

Jonah watched Spencer free his cock from his pants and then strip naked. He got the lube from Jonah and slathered his cock with it, all the while Jonah lying there empty, aching, and trying his best not to hump the bed.

The bed dipped when Spencer kneeled on it. Strong hands parted Jonah’s cheeks and cold lube dribbled down his crack. Jonah didn’t mind that it was cold because then Spencer’s fingers were there, warm and slick and just the right amount of rough. Jonah tucked his legs up and spread his knees, giving Spencer full access to his most intimate parts.

One hand pressed against the small of Jonah’s back as a finger eased into Jonah’s hole. Jonah dropped his head down onto the bed, which angled his ass up higher. Spencer made an appreciative sound, almost like he was purring.

“Don’t make me wait,” Jonah pleaded, his body already hot and desperate. His ass chased Spencer’s retreating fingers, but he was rewarded with Spencer’s fat cock pressing against his barely-prepped hole.

Sometimes Jonah topped Spencer. Sometimes neither of them topped and they did other things instead. But Jonah loved the feeling of Spencer sliding into him, stretching him open with his cock. Spencer sank into him, inch by inch, until he was balls deep. Then he grabbed Jonah’s hips and pulled him back, sliding into him deeper, until Jonah moaned and started to squirm and twitch.

“Spencer, fuck… fuck.” Jonah had already lost most of his vocabulary.

Spencer’s hands dug into Jonah’s hips. There’d be bruises there tomorrow if he was lucky. Jonah flattened his chest against the bed and stretched his arms out in front of himself, knocking the pillows askew.

Spencer leaned forward and molded himself to the curve of Jonah’s back. Reaching under him, Spencer’s calloused fingers sent shockwaves through Jonah’s body when they toyed with his nipples.

Jonah gasped when Spencer’s hand wrapped around his cock. He was going to come embarrassingly fast if Spencer wasn’t careful and he tried to relay that information, but Spencer’s pace increased. His hips snapped harder, driving Jonah up the bed with every thrust.

They were panting and moaning, the both of them together and then Jonah couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to say. Hell, he could barely remember his own name when Spencer stroked his cock. Once. Twice. Rough and quick, like he wanted Jonah to come. A third and fourth and fifth time, a little slower. Softer. Like he’d changed his mind.

And then Jonah lost count. He tumbled down into oblivion where the only thing that existed was him and Spencer and the pleasure that spun Jonah’s thoughts like a cyclone. The ecstasy that consumed him, ripping him apart and reconstructing him.

Spencer dragged a series of kisses against Jonah’s skin, across his shoulders. The nape of his neck. And then Jonah was coming. Shattering. Rocking back as Spencer thrust into him, keening as Spencer wrung every last drop of cum from his dick. Jonah had no sooner finished when Spencer pulled out. Jonah heard the tell-tale sound of skin on skin, hand on cock, as Spencer jerked himself to completion, slamming his cock back into Jonah at the last possible second.

Jonah let himself collapse into a boneless heap on the bed, and Spencer lay on top of him, kissing the back of his neck every so often. There was little in the world that made Jonah as happy as this, being under Spencer, sated and sticky. The sticky he could live without, but he was too euphoric to bother trying to move.

“I love you,” Jonah mumbled and his hands swept over the bed, searching for Spencer’s. Spencer found his hand and twined their fingers together. He kissed the back of Jonah’s neck again, and even gave his hips a little thrust. Though his dick was too soft to do anything, Jonah still loved the feeling.

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jonah said, closing his eyes. He was tempted to sleep, but Spencer had other ideas.

“Come shower with me?” Spencer asked. “I’ll wash your back.”

How could Jonah say no to an offer like that?