Most Wonderful

Chapter 32 Who Knows How Many Days till Christmas

32.

Who knows how many days till Christmas

Time was irrelevant. The season, his family, a new job, his future: nothing mattered except for this—kissing Ash. Being kissed by Ash. Every stolen moment was a pulse-pounding, thought-snatching, dizzying high.

In the wine cellar, Ash slipping in after Rafi volunteered to select the night’s refreshments, his hand cradling the back of Rafi’s neck while his tongue swirled inside Rafi’s mouth, and Rafi felt like he might die.

In Rafi’s car, on the way back from an afternoon run into town for firewood. Ash squeezed Rafi’s thigh and seconds later, Rafi had pulled over and they’d pounced on each other, someone’s elbow jamming the horn.

Rolling around on Rafi’s bed, jeans intertwined, moving only because they’d found a better way to kiss, to touch, to play. Rafi had always enjoyed making out, but in recent years, the decadent hours-long make-outs of his youth had become a lost art. Now, because they were taking things slow, and because Rafi didn’t want to rush any stage of this mind-blowing evolution of their relationship, he was discovering anew how totally hot just kissing could be. Kissing in a way that felt like falling. Sometimes slowly, as if through layers of thick cotton candy. Sometimes fast, a breath-stealing plunge that made his heart take off at a sprint.

And the fact that it was happening with Ash added to the sexy surreality. “I keep going to tell you about this superhot guy I’m hooking up with,” Rafi murmured while they were wrapped around each other on the king bed. “And then I remember, it’s you. You’re the superhot guy.”

Ash chuckled, his fingers winding into Rafi’s hair. “I feel the same way. Like I’ve discovered hidden treasure. Pirate’s booty.” He squeezed Rafi’s ass, and they both groaned.

There was only so long they could keep their clothes on.

—

On Thursday morning, Rafi was in the walk-in pantry, searching for a missing pepper grinder, when he felt a strong hand at his waist, breath at his neck, then Ash spun him around, his mouth on Rafi’s. For one, two, three gravity-defying seconds they were lost in each other, kissing as if Ash had just returned from war.

“Hi.” Rafi panted. He ran his lips over the stubble on Ash’s jaw, biting his neck. “What’s up? Besides the obvious,” he added, pressing their hips together to create agonizing friction.

Ash growled in pleasure, his gaze glazing over. “Slow down, cowboy, or I’ll be on my knees in your mother’s pantry.”

The image almost had Rafi passing out. “And that would be a bad thing?”

Ash cocked a brow. “Maybe not.”

Rafi inhaled sharply. Raising his hand, he ran a thumb over Ash’s mouth, touching his plush, parted lips.

Ash took Rafi’s thumb in his mouth. Without breaking eye contact, he sucked on it, moving it in and out. In and out. Licking and sucking, with the entire expanse of his experienced tongue.

Rafi couldn’t speak. His vision blurred, his mouth going dry. The pressure between his legs was so intense, he had to back up before he lost control. “You’d better stop,” he managed, “before these dry goods witness my final undoing.” His heart was pounding, his need overcoming his ability to be pithy. “I can’t wait much longer.”

“We said we’d take things slow.”

“Says the man giving my thumb a blow job.” Rafi shook his head, impatience pushing him to the brink. “Fuck slow.”

Someone from the kitchen called to ask if they’d found the pepper grinder. “Still looking,” Ash called back, his gaze locked on Rafi. “Fine.” His voice was a low scrape. “Tonight. Your room.” Ash dropped his mouth to Rafi’s ear. “I want to taste you, Raf.”

Rafi’s blood was scalding. “And I need to feel you. Inside me.”

Surprise flickered over Ash’s face. “You mean…?”

Rafi nodded slowly, holding his gaze. “I mean.”

From the kitchen: “What’s taking so long?”

The pepper grinder appeared in Ash’s hand like a magic trick. He glanced from it to Rafi’s pants, crooking an eyebrow with a grin. Then he was striding out, announcing, “Found it!”

It took Rafi a solid thirty seconds to get his body under control, hobbling out after him.

—

Later that afternoon, Birdie cornered Rafi as he slunk out of his mother’s study. “Hey Raf.”

He tried to sidestep her. “Not now.”

She wasn’t having it. “I need to apologize. For saying all that dumb shit about making a move on Ash.” Birdie let out a regretful sigh, sincerity in her bright blue eyes. “I was being contrarian, trying to get a rise out of you and Lizzie. Really immature. Obviously, you should never, ever screw things up with Mr. Campbell. You guys are better off as friends, right?” She peered at him expectantly.

Rafi’s response got stuck in his throat. The sneaking around was fun, but a part of him was aware that none of this was real—permanent, a thing —until other people knew. Specifically, his family. Was that something Ash would ever be ready for?

Plus, there was a possibility that tonight wouldn’t go as mind-blowingly great as he imagined. Hadn’t that been the problem with Sunita? With all his exes? Rushing headlong into a life that didn’t actually exist? “Obviously.”

Birdie relaxed, rocking back on her heels. “Rad. Glad I didn’t help mess things up. So, did either of you end up having a holiday fling?”

Rafi felt a snap of irritation at this particularly destructive phrase that he covered with a plastic smile. “Neither of us hooked up with anyone else.” Actually, the truth.

“Cool.” Birdie checked her phone. “I should get going. Sorry it took so long to say something—Jecka and I have been, y’know: making the beast with two backs.”

“Ew.”

“Horizontal folk dancing? Disappointing the wife? You get it: I’m heading over now.” Birdie shouldered her tote, pointing to his hand. “What are those for?”

The tiny scissors he’d found in his mother’s office that he definitely wasn’t considering trimming his pubes with. “Oh, Ash and I are…vision-boarding tonight.”

Birdie gave him a pitying look. “You realize you’re more of a lesbian than I am, don’t you?”

—

In his bathroom, Rafi locked the door, putting the tiny scissors on the counter. Opening the cabinet under the sink, he looked past the spare toilet paper for a package he’d stashed two summers ago, when he’d invited Axel to visit, a trip his ex-boyfriend flaked on. Thankfully, it was all still there, in the paper pharmacy bag he’d bought it in.

Lube. Condoms. And a blue plastic douche. He held it up, examining the simple device thoughtfully. “Well, well, well. We meet again.”

—

Rafi didn’t taste a single bite of the baked ziti and Greek salad that Siouxsie made for dinner. Instead, he and Ash kept catching each other’s eye, legs pressing together under the table in a way that, unlike in their double feature, was extremely deliberate. The simmering heat in Ash’s gaze, the tiny curve of his smile, made Rafi feel lightheaded and antsy.

He was the first one out of his chair when the meal was finished.

“Charades?” Liz suggested. “Or cards?”

“Can’t. We’re, uh…vision-boarding.” Thank god it wasn’t their turn for dishes. Ash was at his heels.

“Loving all this soul-searching you’re doing this year…” Liz’s voice was already faint, as the two men walked, then hustled, practically running, down the hallway, into Rafi’s room.

They were laughing as they shut the door behind them. Ash slid his hand into Rafi’s hair, fisting the roots. Pressing him against the closed door, Ash kissed him with a low groan. Rafi angled his mouth to deepen the kiss, his hands sliding down Ash’s corded arms to circle his waist, pulling them closer. “I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this the whole time,” Rafi panted. “Are we idiots?”

“Total idiots,” Ash agreed.

Ash blasted jazz, overloud. Somehow, Rafi knew this was not for mood, but to drown out any noise.

Ash kept his gaze on Rafi as he unbuttoned his jeans and kicked out of them, revealing black Calvins. The boxer briefs were already straining. No two ways around it: Ash Campbell had a huge cock. Rafi had seen it many times, back when it was a source of schoolboy interest, not mouthwatering arousal. Now the sight of his bulging package jacked Rafi’s heart rate double, triple time.

Grasping the edge of his T-shirt, Ash pulled it up over his head.

Rafi had seen Ash’s body a thousand times. But he’d never really seen it. And he’d never gotten to touch it. His smooth golden skin. The light scruff of chest hair. Pecs the size of dinner plates, a stomach quilted with abs. Stepping forward, Rafi ran his fingers over Ash’s muscles, wanting to feel every warm, firm inch of his body. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, dumbstruck. “I can’t believe you’re mine. My…friend,” he corrected (ugh, why couldn’t he think before he spoke?). “My, um…”

“Whatever you want me to be,” Ash murmured with a smile.

He tugged Rafi’s T-shirt off, chucking it aside. He let his gaze, then his hands, rove all over Rafi’s body, fingers digging into his chest hair, tugging gently. A moan escaped his lips. “I’ve thought about this moment way too many times.”

Rafi pressed their mouths together, speaking into the kiss. “The moment you realize exactly how hairy I am?”

“No. This one.” Ash pulled back from Rafi, held his gaze, then dropped to his knees. In one quick motion, Ash undid the top button of Rafi’s jeans. Rafi gasped, already throbbing. Then slowly, deliberately slowly, Ash unzipped the zipper.

Rafi’s breath pole-vaulted into his throat. The edges of the room slid away. It took all his strength to stay upright.

Ash wiggled Rafi’s jeans off then hooked his thumbs over the elastic band of his underwear. “Can I?”

“Not sure anything fun’s gonna happen if they stay on.”

Ash smirked, teasing. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a fuck yes,” Rafi said, practically seeing double, “and why hasn’t it already happened?”

Ash tugged Rafi’s underwear down until he was able to step out of them, standing naked in the middle of his bedroom.

Ash stared at Rafi. All of him. At full attention.

“Oh. My. God.” Ash rubbed his jaw. “I knew, but I didn’t know. ” He licked his lips, slowly. “Sit in the club chair.”

“Not the bed?”

Ash shook his head. “The chair. Whenever I’ve imagined this—and I’ve imagined it a lot—you’re in the chair.”

Rafi sank into the club chair, the leather firm against his bare ass and thighs.

Kneeling between Rafi’s legs, Ash leaned up for a kiss before moving his lips down Rafi’s neck, kissing the center of his chest, a nipple, his stomach, the inside of his thigh.

Rafi was already panting, clutching the arms of the chair in anticipation, unable to tear his gaze from Ash. Rafi was so hard it almost hurt. He prayed to any listening deity that he’d remember this moment for the rest of his life. And that he wouldn’t come in literally three seconds flat.

Ash caught Rafi’s eye, flicking him a wicked smile. Then he lowered his mouth and Rafi’s world blew up.

Turned out, no one else he’d ever been naked with before knew how to do this. It was a journey. A seven-wonders-of-the-world-flying-first-class-oh-wow-it’s-a-waterbed trip. Rafi was swearing, groaning, grabbing at Ash’s hair, tugging the soft, thick strands. His hips wanted to buck, but Ash kept them in place with a strong hand as his head bobbed, tongue working, lips sliding from base to tip, again and again and again. It was glorious and messy and insanely hot. Each stroke of his tongue, each moan vibrating from his throat, brought Rafi closer and closer until he was right on the edge.

“I’m close,” Rafi gasped. “Fuck, Ash. ”

Ash came up for air, panting, lips puffy and slick. “Don’t come yet.”

Then Ash’s mouth was on his, and they were kissing, hungrily, stickily, a deep, bruising kiss, and Rafi was beyond words, beyond thought, because the story of his life had just had all the pages ripped out and he was starting again. Here, from this point.

Rafi hauled them both toward the bed, staggering over carpet littered with their clothes until they were stretched out on the mattress, limbs intertwined, staring at each other with a new sort of wonder. Then they were making out again, rolling around, touching every inch of each other. Rafi reached for the lube.

Ash was on PrEP but Rafi wasn’t, so Ash ripped open a condom and rolled it on. He positioned himself over Rafi so they were face-to-face, Rafi on his back, knees bent— folded up like a lawn chair was the way he’d once heard the position described.

“It’s been a minute,” Rafi whispered. “Go slow.”

Ash nodded, hands braced carefully by Rafi’s head. “I will.” He lowered his mouth for a kiss. Touching his chest, Rafi could feel Ash’s heartbeat, pounding in time with his own.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Ash rolled his hips forward, inch by inch. And it wasn’t the hot, sweet stretch that made Rafi drop into this moment in a way he never had before. It wasn’t the feeling of having a man inside him, deeper, then deeper still. It was this man. This boy. Someone he’d thought he’d done everything with.

Sex was usually a release, an escape. This was the opposite of an escape.

Their bodies adjusted to each other, and they began to find a rhythm. Ash’s eyes were squeezed shut, as he focused on his thrusts. Rafi pulled Ash closer for a kiss. A deep, slow kiss. When they broke apart, Rafi caught Ash’s gaze, holding it. Something like surprise flashed into Ash’s eyes as he stared back, eyes open. As they continued to move together, Rafi held their eye contact. Neither looked away. Something huge and warm split open in Rafi’s chest.

They were fucking, and it felt amazing: Ash knew exactly the right spot to hit. But there was something much bigger happening. Rafi was seeing Ash in a new way. Feeling him in a new way. Feeling close to him in a new way. Their hands, laced together. Their exhales, in perfect sync. Rafi’s heart was laid as bare as his body. He suddenly realized what making love actually was: it was this. This moment.

They were reaching a peak. Ash’s thrusts were getting quicker, his eyes going dark, his face turning intense and desperate. Rafi was close, too. He never wanted it to end. The sex. These feelings. Any of it. Ever.

It hit him like a punch in the face. Holy shit. I’m in love.

“ Raf, ” Ash roared, coming hard. The sound of his name tearing from Ash’s lips, a few strokes of his own hand, and Rafi was right there with him, white-hot pleasure surging, spilling, an epic release.

Ash collapsed on top of Rafi and lay there, panting.

The happiest moments of Rafi’s life were mere footnotes to the feeling flowing through him. Nothing in his past compared to this wild, almost blinding joy.

Ash lifted his head. He looked equally dazed. His words were a stunned exhale. “Oh my god.”

“My words exactly.” Each of Rafi’s nerve endings was still singing. He rubbed his face in a stupor. “Jesus, Ash. You could teach a MasterClass.”

But Ash didn’t smile back. He was staring at Rafi, breathless and so wide-eyed, he almost looked stricken.

Rafi touched his face. “What?”

Ash blinked, glancing away. “Nothing.” He wriggled back carefully, heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Rafi lay there, his body still vibrating, his mind in pieces on the floor.

When Ash got back into bed, trouble still creased his brow.

Rafi snuggled close. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes.” Ash wrapped his arms around Rafi, holding him possessively.

But Rafi could tell something was up. “Hey.” Rafi skimmed his fingers down Ash’s jaw. “If this is going to work, we need to be honest with each other. Like we always have.”

“You’re right.” Ash gazed at Rafi, something vast and wonderstruck blooming behind his eyes. “It’s just…it’s never been like that. That was different. Really different.”

Rafi’s heart fluttered. “Different how?”

“Well, I’ve never come that hard before. Ever.” Ash ran his hands up and down Rafi’s arms. “I really care about you. This isn’t just about sex for me.”

“Me neither.”

“Right, but have you ever had casual sex? Like, sex without feelings.”

“I’m sure I have.” Rafi flicked through his memories. “At one point…?” He couldn’t actually pinpoint a single time, unless masturbation counted, and Rafi was pretty sure it did not.

“Well, I’ve never fucked someone I really care about.” Ash’s expression was intense and disarmingly sincere. “Certainly not as much as I care about you.”

Extremely cute to see Ash so caught up in his feelings. “How does it feel? Being with someone you”— don’t say love —“like?”

Ash traced the backs of his fingers over Rafi’s cheekbones, his gaze pinning Rafi to the mattress. “Like I never want to let you go.”

And Rafi couldn’t even tease him for the earnestness overload because he was too busy melting like a dropped scoop of ice cream. The wonder of it all stole his breath. He tightened his arms around the man beside him, holding him as close as he could. “I know exactly how you feel.”

—

Later, after the rest of the house had been asleep for hours, Rafi and Ash lay in each other’s arms, fingers swirling absentmindedly over each other’s skin. Rafi didn’t want the night to end. But his eyes were closing. Sleep was near.

“Raf?”

Ash’s voice was so quiet, he almost missed it. He stirred against Ash’s chest. “Mmm?”

“Never mind. It can wait.”

“S’okay.” Rafi fought a yawn, blinking up at him.

In the darkened room, Ash was a study in shadows. “I’m just…thinking about my dad.” He glanced at the ceiling, then back at Rafi. “Maybe you were right. I should…y’know.”

“Pay Willie a visit?” Rafi asked.

Ash nodded, just once. “Yeah.”

Since Ash had arrived two weeks ago, Rafi had seen him looking happy, annoyed, exhausted, and energized. He’d seen him laugh and curse and lose control in a kiss. He’d seen him in his Christmas party finest, and stark naked, and in a Now Watch Me Whip apron. But Rafi hadn’t yet seen this look. This Ash. Vulnerable and sad and a little out of his depth.

Rafi intertwined their fingers, squeezing his hand. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

Ash blew out a sigh, sinking into the sheets. His voice was barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do it alone.”

Rafi cradled Ash’s cheek, meeting his gaze. “Then it’s lucky you don’t have to.”