Happy New Year 2022. I am not going to make any big wishes, just hope for the best while preparing for the worst, as I usually do. I am the kind of person to have a doomsday kit, the only reason I don't have one is lack of space ;-)
To start the new year right, I wrote a little short story. It is all about Jack and Thibault and takes place a year and half after the first book and is their second Christmas together. To avoid spoilers, I kept it just between the two of them for a very NSFW moment.
It is edited, kind of, and I hope you enjoy.
**Thibault**
Dancing along to Leona Lewis’s ‘one more sleep’, I shimmied my way to the oven, careful not to drop any of my gingerbread cookies.
A light squeeze on my arse made me jump, and I turned around to smack a smiling Jack in the chest with my free hand.
“Putain, mon amour. Don’t scare me like that. What will I tell people if the promised gingerbread men all died a horrible death on our kitchen floor?”
“That the grinch ate them?” Jack grumbled with a smirk on his face.
I turned back to the task and righted two cookies before putting them in the warm oven. I set the timer on before grabbing a cup and fixing Jack his coffee.
“Everything ready?” I asked, as I checked the clock. It was barely seven in the morning, but with both of us being early risers, it wasn’t a problem. Snuggling in bed in the morning was for other people. Now a quiet afternoon ‘nap’ or a quiet evening with my man and I was all in.
Having a head start on what was in most households that celebrated Christmas, one hell of a day, was what I was aiming for. Cookies were made, my cake batter was ready to go as soon as the cookies were ready. Jack had peeled and cooked enough potatoes to feed an army. Four different mashes were now in the fridge. He had dressed the table and fed the animals outside.
Did we need to do this so early? No, but like this, our family would have time to open present and watch a short Christmas movie before having to worry about anything else.
Jack took the cup from my hand as I pondered all that was left to be done. He set it on the counter before spinning me around, lifting me, and setting me down on the counter.
“Jack, what are you doing?”
“Helping you relax,” he answered. His hands snaked into my hair, angling my face the way he wanted before his mouth descended on mine. I arched my neck, his fingers massaging my scalp. His lips skimmed along my neck, little nibbles and teasing kisses, my skin breaking into goosebumps at the contact.
A soft moan escaped my lips as Jack’s mouth found mine. The kiss was languid, Jack taking all the time in the world to bring us both pleasure.
He explored my mouth, tasting, almost savouring me, as if I was a delicacy. It melted me on the spot as only Jack’s touch every could.
I didn’t fight for control. This was too good to even think anything beyond the next stroke of his tongue, or where his fingers would land next.
Jack bit my lip, tugging on it, before whispering, “How long do we have?”
“Huh?” I had no clue what he was talking about. All my brain cells had disappeared at the onslaught of pleasure. With him so close, everything else fell away. Once he started kissing me, there was only him.
He grinned against my lips. “How long do we have before the cookies are ready?”
Better than a cold shower, the reminder of my cookies brought me back to reality.
I jumped off the counter and checked on the timer. Two minutes. Good, I wasn’t so distracted I didn’t hear the beep. It had happened a couple of times, since we started dating.
Not enough time to do anything. Disappointment washed over me, but a quick glance at my list told me that once the salty cake I had made was in the oven, I had nothing else to do.
With how early it was, we wouldn’t be disturbed for thirty minutes at least, and the salty cake took forty.
Ignoring Jack while the cookies finished baking, I straightened the kitchen and made sure the cake was ready. As soon as the oven dinged, the cookies were out and on a cooling rack and the cake was in the oven.
Before Jack knew what was happening, I grabbed his hand and led him straight to the laundry room. The bedroom would be better, but I knew the room was soundproof and no one would think to look for us there. It had worked well in the past.
I locked the door behind us and pushed Jack against it. Perfect. Now all I needed was enough time to finish what he started.
** Jack **
Standing on his toes, Thibault pulled me down, his grip on my neck gentle. His lips were on mine before my brain had caught up to what was going on. But I was so on board, body electrified at his tongue sought entrance.
I pulled him closer into me, bending my knees so that we would be perfectly aligned. He sank his fingers in my hair, pulling lightly on the shot strands, sending pleasure coursing through me.
His fingers trailed down my neck, inching their way down my body, caressing on the way down. On the way up, his hands sneaked under my shirt. He raked his fingers along my skin, the pleasure pain making me shiver. He lifted my shirt up; I lifted my arms and thought reluctant I lifted my lips from his so he could throw the shirt away.
His hands trailed down my arms before sliding across my chest and plucking at my nipples as he watched my face.
His eyes spoke of everything he wanted to do to me. After over a year together, he knew my body as if it was his own. I reached out to remove his shirt, needing to see and feel his skin, but he shook his head.
I grunted and raised my hands above my head, the meaning clear, and whispered, “Please.”
In less than a second, his lips were back on mind, his hands busy working my belt and pants open. Before long, I was naked and ready. He hadn’t touched me, not where it mattered, but every other part of my body was caressed, teased and loved on.
His lips, which had landed back on mine, retreated, and he stepped back. Thibault removed his shirt, and I took my fill of his body. He might not fit the perfect model body standard, but he was mine, and I loved every inch of his body.
With gentle hands, he directed me to the drier. We had retreated here a few times over the months we had been together for stolen moments just like this one, away from prying eyes and ears. The bedroom could have worked, but we learned pretty quickly that even a locked bedroom door wasn’t sacred.
I leaned forward and noted the towel lying on top of the appliance. I smiled before a moan escaped as Thibault’s hands, lips and body caressed every inch of my skin. I was thankful for soundproofing as the sounds escaping my mouth grew louder and higher pitched.
I heard Thibault move behind me, the snap of buttons and his zipper lowering.
When I heard the distinct snick of a bottle opening, I chuckled and said, “You stashed lube in here?”
“Oui, mon amour. We ended here at least five times in the past month. Made sense to have everything we needed.”
His fingers teased my hole, and I forgot about everything else. My nerve endings sizzled and sparked to life from the gentle caress.
“Good… good thinking, sweetheart.”
He bit my shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but the pain sent another jolt of pleasure down my spine.
I turned my head so that I could see Thibault. “Do you think we have time for that?”
“Probably not,” Thibault said with a heartfelt sigh. “And clean up in here is seriously lacking, but you were tempting me and I couldn’t resist.”
I grunted when Thibault made to move away, and reaching behind me, I pulled him forward. Reaching down, I took his shaft in my hand and guided him between my thighs. I bent my knees a little, supporting myself fully on the drier. We hadn’t done it that way in a while and it was just as fun as full on sex.
I tightened my legs around his dick and Thibault moved forward, unprompted. We both moaned when the tip of his shaft nudged my balls. He moved back and forth, his dick snug in the tunnel of my tights. The friction was almost too much, but it felt so good, I didn’t want him to stop.
When Thibault retreated, I whimpered and was about to demand he continue, when he returned and the glide was much smoother this time, no doubt aided by the slickness of the lube. His arm sneaked around me and my dick was encased by his slick hand.
Thibault started a slow, sensuous rhythm, his hand matching the tempo his hips set. He rained kisses on my body, the only sounds our soft moans and grunts, his sweet lavender scent filling my nostrils.
His left hand held me tight at the hip, keeping us steady, while one of my hands found purchase, grasping the edge of the drier and the other found his left butt cheek.
It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but in that instant; I didn’t care. The pleasure running through my veins, Thibault’s body blanketing mine, that was all that mattered.
Thibault picked up the pace, his hand working me faster as his hips sped up. I moaned louder, urging him on, needing more, faster, harder.
Thibault biting my shoulder had me shouting as I erupted all over his hand and our poor drier.
My head collapsed with a thunk as I rode the waves of pleasure and delicious after shocks.
Thibault pumped himself harder against me, but just as everything grew too sensitive, he kissed my shoulder and stepped back, releasing me.
I turned around to find him lost in his own pleasure, his fist moving fast over his dick.
I dropped to my knees and knocked his hand out of the way before taking his cock in my mouth. Keeping my eyes on his, I bobbed my head, using suction and hollowing my cheeks. I knew he was closed when his fingers fisted in my hair, gripping the short strands and holding me still as he worked himself in and out of my mouth.
Within seconds he exploded, his groan music to my ear. I swallowed it all down, licking his shaft gently before releasing him, and resting my head against his tight.
We stayed like that for a few minutes, catching our breath, Thibault’s fingers caressing my hair, neck and face.
When our hearts and breath settled, I stood up, Thibault’s hands steadying me. He helped me dress, readjusted his clothes before wiping the drier clean with a stray stock.
Thibault took my hand and led me to the door so we could finish getting ready, but before he opened it, he turned around. Standing on his toes, he graced my lips with the sweetest kiss and whispered, “Joyeux Noel, Mon amour.”
Merry Christmas indeed.
I wish you all the best for this new year.
Cel
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