Just For The Holidays (Home for the Holidays)

16. Teddy

Chapter 16

Teddy

Colleagues Don’t Kiss

T eddy and Nichol stumble out into the night, like a clichéd pair of drunken sailors, hanging off each other and giggling. The snow is falling in full force and piling on the sidewalk with two inches of pillowy fluff that whirls and twists into the air as their feet stomp through.

“You’ll have to stay the night.” Teddy slurs. “I don’t think either of us should drive.”

“Only if you behave this time.” Nichol winks, tugging on the edge of Teddy’s beard. “We can’t repeat the last sleepover, we’re professional colleagues now,” he chuckles.

“I can’t even remember the last one.” Teddy squeezes Nichol’s shoulder to steady his wobbly feet on the slick sidewalk.

“There’s nothing to remember. You passed out before I could unwrap your package.” Nichol’s dazed eyes meet Teddy’s, and he smirks.

“Oh, good… I was afraid I had missed out on the opportunity of my life.” Teddy confesses out loud, with a hiccup.

“Of your life?” Nichol queries.

“I’ve had a crush on you since I was thirteen.” Teddy can’t control the words falling out of his drunk mouth.

“What?” Nichol chuffs.

Teddy’s eyes close and he slowly nods, stumbling as the toe of his right boot catches on his left heel.

Nichol holds him up from falling, with a hand on his chest, before pushing him against the brick wall of the hardware store.

Nichol’s garlic-greased lips find Teddy’s and his sweetened-rum tongue slips into his mouth.

Their bodies crash together, exchanging humid breaths from heaving chests, lit by the alcohol-fueled fire between them.

Nichol’s hands wrap Teddy’s nape and fingers tangle in his coarse auburn waves.

“I thought we couldn't do this,” Teddy says, between sloppy kisses.

“Shut up.” Nichol laughs, cupping Teddy’s bearded jaw in both hands and mauling his face.

Teddy growls, wrenching Nichol’s body tight against his belly.

They roll along the storefronts, knocking their heads against a set of windpipes dangling from the awning above the A Petal A Day floral shop. The chiming carries down the street, echoing off the snowscape. The tumbling sailors finally land on the familiar pepto-pink siding of Buttercup Confections as they pry themselves apart.

Teddy hurriedly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find the right one to unlock the door, while Nichol leans against the frame, backlit by twinkling lights and dreamily staring at Teddy, covering the excitement in his jeans with both hands.

“Dammit.” Teddy drops the keys into the snow between his boots and folds down to grab them. His fingers search under the fluffy wet blanket of flakes until he finds the jingling ring and bounces back upright.

Nichol leans into his ear. His warm breath falls inside Teddy’s coat collar, tickling his neck and a fringe of chest hair poking out of his shirt. Nichol’s hand lands on Teddy’s crotch with a gentle squeeze.

“Hurry up,” he demands.

The front of Teddy’s jeans fill in an instant and the key finds its hole. He twists the knob, grabbing Nichol’s lapel, hauling him inside the dark bakery, slamming the door shut behind them with the kick of his toe and a rattling of jingle bells.

They rush to peel away their coats without breaking the sticky connection fusing their mouths.

Nichol busts free from his peacoat, dropping it to the floor and he rushes Teddy backwards against the shop counter. Their bodies collide with a low whimper escaping Teddy’s throat. He continues to battle with his jacket, that's tangled around his arms, cuffing his elbows behind his back.

Nichol’s lanky fingers pop the button of Teddy’s jeans and his palm slips in, over the pouch of Teddy’s jockstrap, wrapping around the taut fabric stretched over his hard dick.

“Fuck,” Teddy exhales.

Nichol’s mouth covers his as his other hand climbs under Teddy’s shirt, exploring his full furry belly.

Nichol’s lips trail kisses across the edge of Teddy’s, then his cheek nuzzles the side of his beard, continuing on to find his neck.

Nichol steps back, lifting his shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. His dreamy eyes drink in the sight of Teddy’s body as he pushes his shirt up over his head, tucking it behind his neck and moving back in to press their bare chests together. Nichol’s soft hairless skin contrasts the rough fur coating Teddy. Their lips meet again.

“You are so fucking hot… boss man,” Nichol whispers between kisses.

Teddy’s coat finally releases his arms and drops to puddle around his feet. Static heat rushes through their bodies, soaring the temperature of the bakery to a humid boil, bubbling a flush of goosebumps down his body.

Teddy wrenches Nichol’s tall frame against himself, grips the back of his neck, and smashes their faces together.

Drunken tongues tangle with the bittersweet flavors of rum and cheap draft beer, swirling on the foggy exchange of body heat. Nichol’s nostrils flare with a slick sheen of perspiration coating his forehead and upper lip, dampening the tip of Teddy’s nose and mustache. He halts their kiss and steps back.

Teddy leans forward, eyes still closed, searching for Nichol with pursed lips.

The abrupt shuffling of loafers on tile and the slam of the washroom door alerts Teddy to open his eyes, as the sounds of Nichol retching into the toilet, overtake the room. Hurls and gagging echo behind the door, stealing the moment and cooling the temperature of the shop.

Teddy collapses down on a vinyl-cushioned stool, sighing in sync with his own wallow. “You okay?” he calls out to Nichol. It’s no surprise the catalog-model-crush is sickened by their sloppy encounter. Teddy huffs.

A retch pauses. “Yeah,” his muffled voice responds, then carries on gagging, before adding, “I’m sorry.”

Teddy lifts himself back to his wobbly feet, bracing against every surface within reach as he makes his way back to the sink. Grabbing a glass from the shelf and filling it with cold water. He shuffles to the washroom door, leans against candy-striped wallpaper, and waits.

The washroom door slowly opens and Nichol’s smooth naked chest appears in the moonlight reflecting off snow outside the window. His bloodshot eyes are sleepy and he chews his lip nervously.

Teddy offers him the glass of water, helping to guide it to Nichol’s lips. “Drink,” he commands.

Nichol sips and leans against the doorframe. “Sorry,” he apologizes again.

“Don’t be.” Teddy takes his hand, leading him toward the office. “Come on,” he whispers.

Nichol drops down on the futon, curling up and facing the wall. Teddy covers him with a blanket before lying down, back-to-back, next to him.

The groggy guest’s body rolls and his arm falls around Teddy’s shoulder. “Thank you for dinner,” Nichol whispers.

His warm sour breath floats over Teddy’s neck and wafts past his nostrils, but boozy drowsiness carries them both to sleep before he can be bothered.