Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

9. Nichol

Chapter 9

Nichol

Shots and a Spark

T he shop is steeped in lingering warmth from the overworked oven and mouth-watering sweet scents from various baked treats. Cooling racks, piled with cookies and frosted cupcakes are stacked on every kitchen surface that has the space to accommodate them.

“Wow, you did go overboard.” Nichol awes at the sight, perching on a pepto-vinyl chrome stool, peering over the counter, and taking in a visual catalog of the spread Teddy has left out.

“Baking relaxes me.” Teddy grins awkwardly. “Now I just need to figure out how to get the customers back in.”

“Where’d they go?” Nichol asks.

Teddy shrugs, “Who knows?” he deflects and then asks, “Would you like a beer?” He swings the fridge open and collects two amber bottles of craft brew from the back of the bottom shelf.

Nichol ogles the ample curve of Teddy’s ass-cheeks, enhanced by the magical effects of intentionally—self-serving—loaned gray sweatpants, but winces at the drink option.

“What else do you have?”

“Hmm?” Teddy moves across the kitchen.

Nichol’s eyes follow the baker’s special package, shifting side to side between thick thighs in motion, moistening his lips with the sweep of his tongue.

“Whiskey?” Teddy peers from the side of his face, arching an auburn brow.

“Sure.” Nichol’s cheeks warm.

“Ice?” He waits for an answer.

Nichol nods with a sly grin.

Teddy gathers two tumblers from a wire rack mounted above the sink, scoops up blocks of ice from a freezer tray into each glass, and struts back toward the counter, clinking all the way.

Nichol can’t help but stare at the heavy gray bundle bouncing in the borrowed pants.

“Just a little bit.” Nichol waves near pinched fingers, demonstrating a little bit in front of his winked eye, sucking his cheeks between his teeth and pursed lips.

Teddy pours the golden brown liquid into both glasses and slides one tumbler across the countertop.

“Thanks.” Nichol lifts the sharp-scented booze to his mouth and dumps the bitter liquid over his tongue, setting his throat on fire. “Maybe one more?” he wheezes, licking the bittersweet residue off his lips.

Teddy swigs his own, with a grimace, and shallowly refills their glasses. “You have to drive.”

Nichol sips the fresh pour and giggles. “The one good thing about that car, it has autopilot,” he winks.

Teddy swallows his second shot and pours another.

An hour passes and the shots flow as the pair grow looser with each sip. The whiskey bottle empties, and Teddy breaks out the six-pack of blueberry beer he’d left waiting in the fridge to calm himself before bed.

“I have to admit, I had no idea who you were until Katie pulled out her yearbook at dinner,” Nichol says, crossing his eyes down the length of the beer bottle lifted to his lips.

“Those were not my best years.” Teddy’s face sizzles.

“Those years were a nightmare for all of us.” Nichol swallows.

Teddy huffs.

“What?” Nichol smiles wide with droopy eyes, leaning and elbow on the counter as he gazes at the delicious baker.

“It’s hot in here.” Teddy turns away and pushes the sweats down his thighs, pulling his shorts halfway off his bubbly butt.

Nichol chokes on a sip of beer that catches at the back of his throat and rises into his nose. A jockstrap? In the wild! Suddenly Buttercup Confections is reminiscent of jock night at Club Q, back in Seattle, minus the strobe lights and brain-thudding dance music. He swigs more malt brew to wash down the stuckness clogging his airways.

Teddy wobbles, attempting to peel the sweatpants over his sneakers, bracing himself with one hand on the rack shelving in the center of the kitchen, giving up halfway, and kicking the shoes off with the pants. He fumbles to lift his running shorts back up over his ginger fuzz-freckled bum.

Nichol grabs a cardstock menu from a pile next to the cash register to fan his face and neck.

Teddy moves around the counter and plops down on the stool beside Nichol. His knees sweep and trail the denim seam along Nichol’s hip, as he spins in to face the kitchen.

“This place is a mess,” he chuckles, drunkenly bumping against Nichol’s shoulder.

Nichol’s makeshift fan is no match for the rising heat emanating between his and the baker’s bodies. Knees touch, elbows graze and eyes lock.

Teddy’s soft peach lips glisten with whiskey and temptation.

“I should get going.” Nichol twists on the stool, leaning forward, smooshing his cheek in his palm, propped up by his elbow over the counter.

Teddy stares at his finger tracing the rim of his beer bottle, nodding in agreement.

Nichol grips the baker's shoulder, to steady himself rising off the stool, and sweeps his palm across Teddy’s thick back muscles, that tense under his traveling touch.

“Maybe you should stay.” Teddy slowly turns his head, peering up through ginger lashes with large pupils—lit by desire—overtaking ocean-blue irises. He pulls his lower lip in, chewing the pillowy flesh, timidly awaiting a response.

Nichol answers by leaning in and pressing his mouth to Teddy’s—testing the water—before pulling inches away to stare into the baker’s face, silently gathering consent to keep going.

Teddy’s chest heaves, expressing a long rush of hot breath, and his eyes plead to continue. His arm wraps Nichol’s waist, and his hands slip under Nichol’s t-shirt, tracking warm fingertips up his bare back, and wrenching their bodies tight together.

Nichol cups Teddy’s bearded jaw in both hands, moving back in, pressing their faces together, and slipping his whisky-bitter tongue past parted lips to meet Teddy’s.

Lips tingle with static and flavors sweeten in their mouths as alcohol burns off from the boiling heat generated between their bodies.

Teddy lifts off his stool, taking Nichol’s hand in his, and leading him around the counter, toward the back office. He unlatches a low aluminum gate, stepping into the dark windowless room, inviting Nichol to join him, and closes the gate behind them.

He taps a small lamp on the desk, igniting a warm glow, and folds over a futon sofa, set against the wall, converting it flat into a bed.

Nichol peels his shirt off, over his head, and steps closer to Teddy.

The baker’s eyes slowly scroll down Nichol’s torso and his hand reaches for Nichol’s belly. Fingertips gently trace his skin, tangling in sparse blonde hairs along the journey toward his chest.

Breath catches in Nichol’s lungs and goosebumps rush his body.

Teddy’s face moves in until they’re kissing again.

Nichol wraps himself around the bearded baker. Coarse hairs tickle his nose and chin.

The baker’s arousal meets Nichol’s through flimsy shorts and taut denim.

Nichol reaches under the hem of Teddy’s pullover, gliding his hands up the furry-mounded terrain, pushing the hoodie up to expose his freckled chest.

Teddy raises both arms, helping Nichol remove the shirt.

Nichol leans down to kiss Teddy’s nipple.

The baker’s gentle hand holds the back of Nichol’s head and his heartbeat pulses wildly against Nichol’s cheek.

Nichol’s lips climb past Teddy’s collarbone, nibbling his neck and jaw, before meeting his mouth again.

“Lie down,” Nichol whispers against Teddy’s cheek.

The baker does as he’s told, perching on the edge of the futon and leaning back on both elbows. His flimsy shorts tent and pulse with anticipation.

Nichol stares into his eyes, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down off his long legs. He kicks the denim puddle away with his untied boots and drops to his knees, between Teddy’s thick furry thighs.

Teddy’s chest heaves again and he chews his bottom lip. Sleepy eyes, glazed with lust, fix on Nichol’s hand climbing his knees and moving along his thighs.

The tent in Teddy’s navy running shorts is darkened by a wet spot at the tip.

Nichol kisses it and slips his tongue across his lips, placing a hand on Teddy’s belly and pushing him back down on the futon mattress. His fingers tickle the hem of the shorts and reach inside, pushing away the taut cotton jock underneath and wrapping around Teddy’s stiffness.

The baker’s body convulses and his belly hitches, expressing air from his chest with a soft groan.

Nichol nuzzles his nose into the crease of Teddy’s thigh, inhaling his musk, while gently teasing his cock with his rolling palm.

Nichol is paused by the raucous snore that rumbles from his bearded baker.

“Teddy?” he whispers, sitting back on feet folded underneath himself and stretching his neck to see the brawny man completely passed out.