Title: Reindeer
Author: kimberlite
Pairing: Curt/Brian
Rating: NC-17
Archive: Please ask.
Disclaimer: These beautiful boys belong to Todd Haynes, not me.
Thank you: To LaConstance for being kind enough to pinch hit-beta.
Summary: Curt gives a Christmas gift.
Feedback: Yes, please, to kimberlite@cox.net
Reindeer
I'm not sure what wayward noise wakes me, but when
I open my eyes it's pitch black outside and our room is illuminated by the string
of Christmas lights draped haphazardly around the window. Brian is curled along
the front of my body with his head resting on my left shoulder. He's toasty warm
against me but the blankets only reach my armpit and my right arm is exposed to
the chill of the room. I think about rearranging myself, but I'm afraid my cool
skin will wake him so I remain still. It's a small price to pay for the comfort
of his body and I've survived Michigan winters, so I'm not complaining.
We've been on a hectic schedule lately, with enough concerts and holiday parties
that it's all running together. I should be exhausted, but I find I can't sleep.
I have vague memories as a kid of being so excited on Christmas Eve that I couldn't
shut my eyes. Of course, that was before poverty and my brother wore me down and
taught me that writing letters to Santa didn't do a fucking bit of good.
I think I could have dealt better with the hand-me-downs and disappointment of
not getting a pair of ice skates or whatever the other kids at school were getting
if my family had been different. But they are who they are and I can't change
that, not then and not now. Can't make them love me. The best I could do was get
away from them.
So, I don't believe in Christmas. I told Brian that right up front -- that I wasn't
going to get involved, wasn't going to vie to outdo the others by buying expensive
gifts that no one really wanted. He was surprisingly understanding, telling me
I didn't have to do anything that made me uncomfortable, that he'd still love
me. Of course, he then managed to coax me into participating in a whirlwind of
holiday activities. I still feel sick at the thought of all the excess and pretension,
but I admit I do enjoy Brian's excitement.
It's funny how one person can change your perspective. Like now. Here in yet another
nameless hotel room, with a string of colored lights glowing through the darkness
and his head on my shoulder, I'm happy.
The covers rustle and I realize Brian is awake as his warm, wet mouth closes over
my nipple. He teases me with tongue and teeth before working his way down my chest.
I draw my arm under the blanket and tangle my hand in his hair, gasping as he
reaches my cock. I've had a lot of sex -- certainly enough to know how talented
he is. But it's more than just technique with him. There's something else that
makes me instantly hard and yearning for him.
It must be love.
I've never felt like this with anyone -- the need to be with him, to make him
happy, to trust him. It's utterly terrifying. And yet, it's liberating in a way
that makes all the risks worth taking.
He's giving my cock serious attention and it's warm and incredibly good and I
just want to let him get me off. But I also realize I want to give him a Christmas
gift -- one he can't buy and no one else can give him.
I tighten my hand on his head and whisper, "I want you to fuck me." In the stillness
of the room I feel like I've shouted.
Brian goes completely motionless beneath my hand and then slowly releases my cock.
I draw him up until we're face to face.
"What?"
I know he heard me the first time, but I can't blame him for being surprised.
From the moment we met across that restaurant table, we knew we were going to
end up in bed together. And we both knew I was going to fuck him.
I'm sure someone could get all technical about it, but I have problems with control
and trust. I fuck; I don't get fucked. For the most part, Brian is cool with it.
He knows enough about my past to be understanding, but he's hinted that he'd like
to switch occasionally.
"I want you to fuck me."
Brian's smile almost counteracts the fear that tightens my gut. I want to give
this to him, I really do, but it's been a long time.
"Are you sure? You don't have to, love, if it's too difficult."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I trust you."
The kiss takes my breath away. He's like a puppy, all warm and wiggling, and I
let my body rub against his, content for the moment with this simple pleasure.
"I love you, Curt."
"Me too, Bri."
He crawls over me, looking for the lube on the nightstand. Instinctively, I pull
the blankets up to my shoulders, curling in on myself a little before I consciously
hold still. I focus on the lights. Red, blue, yellow, green. And my breathing.
Red, blue, yellow, green. Slowly, I calm.
I feel Brian spooning up behind me and try to stay relaxed. He feels good. I want
to want him. He's rubbing my chest soothingly, making quiet noises into my neck.
I appreciate the care he's taking even as I need him to get on with it.
"I'm okay. Do it."
His hand slips down, finding my cock and petting it back to hardness. Then he
releases me, and a moment later his fingers are slick and rubbing against my ass.
I take a deep breath and will myself to open to him. The first finger feels impossibly
large but I push onto it, knowing it's only the beginning.
"Shh, relax, love. I'm not going to hurt you."
Brian adds another finger and begins to stretch me open, occasionally brushing
against my prostate, creating a maddening flare of pleasure. He's teasing me,
making me want more.
"Come on, fuck me."
He removes his fingers and repositions himself, pushing his cock into me. For
a horrible moment I'm a kid again, helpless and hurting. I must have whimpered
because he stills immediately, using his outer hand to pat my hip reassuringly.
"Take my hand."
I reach behind my head, clasping at his other hand like a lifeline. I force myself
to look at the lights again and breathe.
"Okay."
Slowly, he thrusts the rest of the way inside me. It burns and I feel tears at
the corners of my eyes. I'd forgotten exactly how intimate this is. We're connected
and he's in control of our pleasure.
Fortunately, he doesn't give me time to think. Instead, he begins to move, thrusting
in and out of my body while fisting my cock. Our motion causes the blankets to
creep down and I enjoy the contrast of the intense heat of our joined bodies and
the impersonal chill of the air on my chest.
He's being careful not to thrust too fast or too deep, but that's exactly what
I need now. I want to feel completely open to his touch.
"More, more."
I gasp as he gives me what I want, clutching his hand as our passion rises and
we lose control. I feel my orgasm racing all the way to my toes.
"Don't move -- stay with me."
Oddly enough, I want to keep him in me for as long as possible. I fight the urge
to laugh out loud. I set out to give him a gift, but ended up finding a freedom
I'd lost.
His lips are soft on my ear, his words of praise and love like velvet glistening
in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. I feel cherished, renewed.
I think I hear reindeer prancing on the roof.