Snowed in for Christmas

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Benjamin

I WAKE WARM. INCREDIBLY warm. I snuggle more deeply into the sheets, and a grumble rumbles beneath my ear.

I startle, suddenly wide awake. I push myself up to find Jett beneath me, naked under the covers. His chest is warm where my head rested against it. My movement jolted his arm from where it laid around me. He screws up his face as frigid air sweeps into the gap in the sheets I’ve opened by pushing myself up on my hands.

Jett rubs at his eyes. He smiles when they creak open and he sees me perched over him. My chest flutters at that soft, warm, unguarded expression. The first thing he saw today is me, and that sight produced that smile sitting so naturally and easily on his lips.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hello.”

“Come back down here. It’s cold.”

It is. It’s freezing. I settle gingerly on his chest, and his arm wraps around me. I hold myself tense, the languid sprawl of sleep lost now that the previous night catches up with me. I joined him in his bed when he asked. I kissed him. I let him undress me. I let him … do all those things with his tongue.

The memory flushes through me, leaving heat in its wake. I didn’t know that could feel that way. I’d heard of it, sure, but it seemed a distant, unimportant concept. Now I tingle as my body relives every sweep of his tongue, the nerves lighting up from the distant echo of Jett’s attention.

Jett rubs his thumb against my shoulder. “You’re thinking too much,” he says, voice deep and rough with sleep.

“There’s a lot to think about,” I say.

He chuckles. The sound tickles my cheek where it’s pressed against his chest. When Jett rolls over, he deposits me gently on the bed beside him so we’re lying face to face. He brushes my hair off my forehead.

“Not really,” he says. “You can let it be, you know. You don’t have to analyze every single thing.”

“But…”

“Was it fun?”

I pause, weighing the question. Jett lets me muse, simply watching as I churn his words over in my mind. It was surprising. It was confusing. But it also felt good … really good. Better than I thought it would. I always believed that kind of thing required … something going in a hole, but he only used his tongue and that was more than enough for an orgasm more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt.

“Yeah,” I say eventually.

“Okay then,” Jett says with a smile. “If we both had a good time, what is there to worry about?”

“But I didn’t even do anything for you.”

He cups my face to draw me to his lips. “You did more for me than you realize.” His voice dips lower, dark with heat, and my body stirs the way it did last night, that confusing mix of tingling anticipation and warm desire.

Jett brings me back in, kissing me again and again. The musky warmth of our mouths mingles until it’s indistinguishable. My hand goes to his waist, eager for the skin-to-skin contact. Already, his body is something familiar, something safe. Touching him calms the worries that woke alongside me, the anxieties about whether last night should have happened. Whether it should have or not, it did, and now, with his mouth and hands on me, it feels so incredibly right.

“Mmm, Benny, you’re going to drive me crazy,” Jett says. “I can’t stop kissing you.”

I never let anyone call me things like “Ben” or “Benny,” but for some reason I let it slide when it’s Jett. He draws back while chewing on his bottom lip, as though he’s barely holding himself back from diving in again. How an inexperienced dork like me can inspire that response in someone like him, I have no idea, but Jett’s breathing has gone deeper and his eyes are clear and sharp with desire. My body stirs, something it seems to do incredibly quickly now, and I’d bet anything Jett is in just as delicate a state.

I slide my hand off him, fingers shaky as I reach for him. Just as I expect, I find him hard. I try to grip him the way I did last night, remembering how he set my hand on him. He moved me at first, but eventually that was mostly me. I want to impress him by doing it again, by giving him what he needs without his guidance or instruction. I can learn how to do this. Even if he’s far more experienced, I can make him feel good the way he made me feel good.

Jett sucks in a sharp breath when I grip him.

“Ben,” he says, perhaps a warning, perhaps a question.

“I want to touch you more,” I say. “Can I?”

“Fuck,” he rasps. “You beautiful creature.”

He shifts his whole body toward me, cupping my face to kiss me as his cock pushes into my hand. I groan against him as his mouth sears mine with sudden heat. He kisses like he’s trying to suck the breath out of my lungs, and my eyes fall shut on instinct, pushing away everything but the physical sensation of his body. My thoughts and questions and confusion tumble away, crowded out by an onslaught of physicality. I curl my fingers around Jett’s hard cock, marveling all over again at how nice it feels to hold him. I never thought a cock would feel nice. I thought it might be something that was useful. I knew I was attracted to men, but I didn’t anticipate the thrill that would race through me simply from grabbing another man’s cock and feeling it hard and hot in my grasp.

I pump along him, feeling his whole length from the base all the way to the tip. He’s wet at the top, and I swipe my thumb over it, brushing my finger against the softest part of him.

“God, Ben, that’s so good. That’s perfect,” Jett groans.

He lowers his head, burying it against my shoulder. Then he grabs me in return, his hand large and sure and strong on my cock. I yelp, but my body arches toward him instantly, more prepared this time to respond to his machinations.

I end up arching back as he bows inward, the two of us curling around each other like commas as we stroke each other and build up a cloud of heat under the covers. Jett’s free hand snakes under me and he grabs a fistful of my hair. Short as it is, he manages to grasp tightly and pull back, forcing me to arch even more. Then his lips find my chest, my collar, my throat long and vulnerable before him. He sucks and licks. His teeth scrape against my skin. His ragged breaths scratch along me.

With my head tilted so far back, my breathing is no better. Every exhale blows out peppered with little cries, pathetic grunts and groans I never would have imagined myself capable of before last night. Jett strokes me harder and it only makes the noises worse. I try to match his pace, but my brain is flooding with lust all over again, and it’s drowning out everything but the animalistic need bubbling up inside me.

“Say my name, Ben,” Jett growls against my skin. “I want to hear it.”

I all but screamed it last night, but apparently that wasn’t enough. Apparently he wants more. I struggle to find the breath to obey as his hand burns along my cock. I moan incoherently, a sound that’s not even close to being his name. He keeps stroking anyway, and tension builds inside me like blocks stacking up before they collapse calamitously.

I put every ounce of mental fortitude I have left into pumping his cock, getting him to the same place I am. I don’t want to leave him behind this time. I don’t want to be the one doing all the receiving without giving anything in return. I want to show him I can do this, even if it’s new and I’m simply following his lead.

But Jett sucks hard on my neck, and I cry out, all thoughts obliterated. Maybe it’ll leave a mark. That thought only has a second to reach me before it too flees before the stampede thundering through me. Jett licks over the same spot he just sucked, and my whole body tingles from the clash of sensation. Hard and soft, pain and pleasure. The lines blur as our hands move so fast and hard the friction begins to burn.

“Ben,” Jett sighs. “Oh, Ben. I can’t get enough of you.”

I don’t understand how that’s true, but I’m too far away to care. My own body is both distant and my only immediate concern. Jett twists as he strokes, and I moan so loud the sound rings in my ears. He sinks his teeth gently into the skin around my collar bone, like he’s holding onto me as we shatter each other. His hips start thrusting toward my hand, and I realize I’m doing the same to his hand, the urge irresistible as the desire inside me grows so big I can’t contain it with moans alone. I both never want this to end and need desperately to reach the peak. My body teeters on the verge of disaster, every stroke threatening to break me as my hand works frantically on him as well.

“Say it,” Jett rasps, more desperate now. “Please, Ben. Say it. Let me hear you.”

“Jett,” I gasp, but even I know it’s not enough. What’s boiling inside me is too big for one tiny, breathy gasp. “Jett,” I say louder. He strokes me so hard that stars of color pop behind my closed eyes. “Oh shit, oh shit, Jett. Fuck, Jett. Jett! ”

The last one comes out so loud it scratches my throat raw along its way. I’m bent so far back I’m almost hanging off the bed, my body breaking itself on the pleasure bursting out of me as I explode over Jett’s hand. He’s doing the same to me, cum spilling over my fist as I pump him through a matching orgasm. The mess hits my abs, my chest, but I don’t care. Nothing in the entire world matters except this feeling, this explosion of sensation that rips my very soul out as it gushes from my body.

He bundles me up against him when it passes. The cum is sticky between our bodies. It’s all over our hands, but neither of us seem to care. What matters most is being nestled against his chest, listening to his breathing smooth, feeling the tap of his heart beating against my ear.

Jett kisses the top of my head, holding me tightly, holding me in a way I never thought I’d want to be held. His arms are strong around me. His warmth washes over me in waves. His breath tickles the top of my head as we lie there in our mess reeling from a second round of the most unlikely sex of our lives.

I don’t know how I went from despising him to losing my virginity to him in a single day, but as I lie here in his arms, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. I fit against him like his chest was designed for me. The circle of his arms seems crafted precisely for my body to fit within it.

“Ben,” he says softly, nuzzling into my hair.

He sighs with contentment. Neither of us are thinking about the mess or the cold or the lack of power or how long we might be stuck here. Everything outside this bedroom fades away, as insubstantial as the snow that will eventually melt and disappear.

But the real world lurks just outside that bedroom door, and no amount of kisses will keep it at bay forever.