Monsters Under Mistletoe

3. Oak

Chapter 3

Oak

B eep. Beep.

Fern honks to let me know he’s here, and butterflies fill my stomach as I make my way to the door. My outfit is simple—a thin, red sweater and loose black trousers. I tuck the sweater into my pants and belt before exiting my apartment.

As I open the pearly white car door, Fern greets me with a handsome smile, the green fabric of his shirt clinging to his muscled chest and biceps. He looks positively delectable. I stretch out my long legs in his spacious SUV. Centaur cars are super comfy, and I’m excited to be here with him.

Even though dates, and hanging out in general, makes me immensely nervous, I really do want to get to know him better. He’s occupied a small percentage of my brain these last few years, lingering in the background, and it’s time I push him to the front.

“Where are we going?” I ask, my coming out voice softer than I intended.

“You’ll see. A place you’ve probably never been to before.”

We drive for a few minutes before he parks outside an old arcade, which has kitschy Christmas decor stuck on the windows and a blowup reindeer out front. It’s cute. Almost as cute as Fern.

“Have you ever been here?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“I have not,” I confirm.

A grin lines his features. “Good.”

Fern takes my hand and leads me into the building, where we greet the woman at the front desk before getting out our phones. Each game takes one fourth of a dabloon, and we take turns paying for different rounds.

There’s a giant metallic floor with light-up arrows on the ground next to a sign that says Dance Dance Revolution: 6000.

“This is my favorite game,” Fern practically shouts, excitement sparkling in his eyes. He yanks on our already linked hands, pulling me onto the dance floor.

I pick a song I’m somewhat familiar with, and the arrows come onto the screen, telling us where to step.

“Hey, this isn’t fair,” I say, already breaking a sweat. “You have four legs. That’s cheating.”

“Don’t even.” In my peripheral vision, I watch as Fern turns his head to look at me. “You’re much more limber and flexible than I am.”

He didn’t mean it in a dirty way, but my mind immediately tosses itself into the gutters. I’d like to show him exactly how limber and flexible I can be.

When he looks back on the screen, he must realize he missed a few arrows, because Fern starts cursing and trying to move his legs faster, his tail rapidly swishing through the air.

The game ends, and a scoreboard comes onto the screen, telling us our points for different categories. Perfect. Great. Good. Boo. Miss.

It’s clear I’ve won, and I can’t stop the shit-eating grin that possesses my features as I turn to look at Fern. I expect him to scowl or frown, but he’s smiling back at me, his eyes scanning my body.

“Oh, it’s on. Time for me to reclaim victory,” he says and gestures towards the skee-ball machine.

I have never in my life played skee-ball, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Fern throws the first ball, landing it in the fifty hole with grace. I try for the same hole, but my ball flies its way into the larger ten hole. Whoops.

“Well, you’re no pro,” Fern teases.

“And you are?” I say, quirking a brow.

“I really want to crack a corny joke about never missing a hole, but the pathetic look on your face tells me I should be gentle,” he jests, and I cross my arms.

“What if I like it rough?”

It continues like this, Fern landing one hundreds and fifties, while the highest I score is thirty. Our banter continues as well, him managing to bully me while making me laugh the entire time. He makes me feel warm inside.

Strong arms come up from behind and wrap around me, Fern nuzzling into the crook of my neck. “Here, let me show you.”

He takes my arms, holding onto them as he guides me to throw the ball, and we land perfectly in the fifty hole. “You were throwing too hard,” he explains.

I breathe in his scent, relishing in his warmth and closeness as he kisses down my neck before releasing me.

Turning, I bite my lip and look down at his. “Thank you.”

He kisses me slowly, and I yelp when a hand squeezes my ass through my pants. “Let’s go get some snacks before we go,” he says, and we head for the ticket counter.

Fern counts our tickets and puts them together, preparing to exchange them for a sweet treat. The clerk takes the tickets and grabs the bag of peppermint bark he pointed to, and we take it as we head out of the arcade. “Where to now?”

“Hmm.” Fern scratches his chin. “You’ve seen my place, but I’ve never seen yours. Wanna go watch a movie and enjoy our treat?”

“Let’s do it,” I say. Thank fuck I had the foresight to clean my apartment just in case.

Fern drives us back to my apartment, and I stick my head out the window, looking at all the Christmas lights that already adorn everyone’s homes.

When we get inside, my familiar, Edgar, greets us, flicking his tongue. He’s laying on a branch in his vivarium, his fluffy leopard print fur tousled every which was as he slithers towards the glass.

“Hi buddy,” I say and pull a frozen rat out of the freezer.

“Your familiar eats other peoples' familiars for dinner?” Fern asks, his eyes lined with fear.

“Not exactly,” I say and shrug, turning to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. “But also, it’s the circle of life.”

“That it is.”

I cross back into the living room and slide onto the couch and turn on the TV, flipping through channels while Fern’s fingers linger on my bookshelves.

“Do you read a lot?” he asks. “Or have any other hobbies?”

“A decent amount. I like to read, play video games, and practice magic when I’m not at work. You?”

He shrugs. “This is going to sound stupid, but I mostly do what my friends do. I spend so much time studying, I feel like I can’t even think about what hobbies I’d enjoy, so I just join them with whatever when I can.”

“And what do they do?” I ask and pat the seat next to me.

“Iris likes to read and draw—oh! And she loves tattoos. Her boyfriend is a botanist, and we talk a lot about plants. Chrysanthemum and Daffodil are into roller skating and magic, and Basil and Saga are rugby players. I hangout with those two and Iris the most, so I’ve been working out a lot lately,” he says, gushing about his friends. His hand is resting on my upper thigh, and it sends shivers down my spin.

I don’t have many friends, as I mostly keep to myself, and a pang of jealousy hits me.

“Oooh! I should introduce you to one of Daffodil’s partners. His name is Moss. Human dude, but super cool. He loves museums and nerdy shit. You guys would be swift friends. He’s also trans, so maybe you two can relate in that way, too,” Fern shares as if he could read my mind. His fingers make small circles on my legs, and although it’s through the fabric of my pants, he might as well be touching my bare skin.

“He sounds great,” I say. I hope he introduces me to Moss and all his friends. I’d love to find people I can hang out with whenever I have the energy to socialize.

“What are your friends like?”

I shrug, unsure of how to respond, before deciding self deprecating humor is for the best. “You met my only friend.”

“The other paramedic?” he asks, red brows furrowing.

“No,” I laugh. “Edgar!”

“Be serious. Do you actually not have friends?” Fern asks, concern sprinkled on his face.

I put my hands in my face and sigh before speaking again. This might be the most embarrassing conversation I’ve ever participated in. “Nope. I’m just a loser, baby. A hopelessly lonely person.”

“I’m a hopeless romantic, so maybe the universe threw us together for a reason,” he whispers, leaning close. “I can make you forget you ever felt lonely.”

Grabbing me by my jaw, Fern kisses me with fervor, our lips pressing together. His words taste like candy as our tongues entangle with one another’s.

Fern tugs at my sweater, pulling it off over my head before doing the same to his shirt. His abs might as well have been sculpted by gods, and I watch while he kisses down my chest, past my faint scars, and makes his way down to my stomach.

Where Fern is chiseled and strong, I am long and lean, and he takes his time as he strips off my belt and unbuttons my trousers. He continues to lick and nip at my inner thighs, and he grabs me by my hips, hoisting my legs over his shoulders.

Fern devours me like a man starved. He sucks on my most sensitive spot, stopping to let his tongue circle my cunt, and I whimper.

And he was right. There isn’t a drop of loneliness in my soul as I let the warmth of his mouth envelop me.

My hips buck, the back of my shoulders pressing into the sofa as he eats me out until my muscles convulse and I’m bleary-eyed, my moans coming out louder than I expected. As I come down from climaxing, he slaps my cunt as he gently places me back onto the couch.

I flip over onto my stomach, already anticipating where this is going, and I look back to see Fern smirking down at me. He gets behind me from where I’m bent over on the couch and pulls me back into him, his hand covering the front of my throat. I can feel his hard cock pressing against my backside, threatening to release.

“Can I ask a question?”

“You just did,” he whispers, gliding his tongue along my ear.

“How big is it?”

Fern stifles a laugh, shifting his body down to where his front legs enclose my arms. I can feel his hard cock pressing against my backside, threatening to release. “Not at all what I expected you to ask, but alright. Around ten or so inches.”

Holy fuck. I asked, not because I care about stuff like that, but because I wasn’t sure if I can take it. And now I’m even less positive. I do the math in my head, figuring if I’m deeper than the average person with a vulva, he can come close to fully entering, but probably not all the way.

“I take contraceptives,” I say, my voice practically squealing with anticipation and fear.

“Good, because I want to fill you until you’re dripping with my seed.” Fern’s tone is husky. He pushes me onto the sofa, his body hovering above mine as his cock presses at my entrance.

Stretching me, he slowly fills me until I think I can’t take any more.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart,” he says.

I arch my back, and he pushes further inside me. I have to stifle a scream for fear I’ll wake my neighbors.

“Take my cock like a good boy,” he whispers, his voice low and full of heat.

His thrusts are slow and languid, his cock teasing me as I take nearly all of him. He’s gentle, my cunt dripping as my body adjusts to his size.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” I say. “I can take it.”

And as if he were waiting for permission, Fern plows into me. His cock thrusts in and out, harder and faster than before.

“Fern,” I moan aloud, praying my walls aren’t as thin as I thought. All I can smell are his hormones, and all I can feel is his cock as he drills into me, his movements more and more rapid.

This is exactly what I needed. To be filled to the point where all I can remember is his name and the feel of his cock inside me. No loneliness, no critical patients, just me and another man.

We come at the same time, him panting as I feel his fluids bursting inside me. For a second I worry he’ll collapse on top of me, crushing me instantly, but he gets down off the couch and pulls me into an embrace.

“I’d like to do this again sometime,” I say, my cheeks flushing pink as I feel liquid drip out of me and down my thighs.

“I’d like to do you again sometime,” Fern says and laughs. “Okay, not just the sex. Like—do—I’d like to take you out again.” He stumbles on his words, and I think it’s the first time I’ve actually heard him sound… nervous.

“What’re you doing Christmas Eve?”