Twelve Days (7 page)
feet to get the blood flowing. It was late and for the first time that night Adam began to doubt his dad would show.
Another tram pulled up to the stop and he watched expectantly, only to be disappointed yet again. Pins and needles spread through his legs and he grimaced with each step toward the windows, not quite willing to give up while it was still Christmas Eve. He stood at the back of the onlookers, but could still easily see over the children clad in dressing gowns and slippers.
The window framed an Australian forest scene. Holes in the trunks of plaster eucalypts so tall they stretched up above the window view housing possums and colored parrots that bobbed in and out to join in on a raucous night chorus led by a big white cockatoo. Adam smiled as its head swiveled from side to side with its wings outstretched like a conductor, and its bright, yellow crest rose and fell in time to the song. He didn’t recognize the scene from any of the storybooks his father had read him, but when he looked up Adam saw a koala and its baby watching an image of Santa’s sleigh being drawn by six white kangaroos across a painted sky.
“Six white boomers….” The song was sung softly behind him.
Adam’s heart skipped a beat and he asked quietly, “Is it midnight yet?”
TECHNICALLY it was Christmas because the clock had ticked past midnight, but John didn’t feel like celebrating.
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
“Jamie,” he shouted at the young man, who was holding a sprig of green over Brian’s head even though they seemed to need no excuse to kiss. “It’s time to go. Hurry up.”
Jamie’s lips left Brian’s and he smiled almost bashfully before bouncing up to John and raising the sprig. “Kiss under the mistletoe?” he asked happily.
“It’s holly,” John said tersely. “And plastic holly at that.”
“Okay then,” Jamie muttered and glanced at Barbara over John’s shoulder, who mouthed a single word of warning,
David
.
Jamie put the holly on a nearby table and said, “Yeah, a bit silly, I know. How about we head home?”
John nodded, said a brief goodbye to Barbara, and they walked out to his car in silence.
THE apartment was still empty when John’s car keys dropped on the coffee table with a loud clatter. Although he’d spent almost all his adult life living alone, John hated how hollow the apartment felt without David. It wasn’t that it was too quiet, because David rarely made any noise; it was more the awareness that no one else breathed the same air or would brush his skin as they passed each other in the hallway. John sighed, but the tightness in his chest remained until he entered their bedroom and saw the little blinking light of missed calls from the phone on David’s nightstand. “Daft bugger,” he muttered, then heard the distinctive clunk of the old lock on their front door.
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
John turned and leaned against the frame of their bedroom doorway and grinned as he held up the phone.
“I’m sorry,” David said, but couldn’t hold back his smile.
“I didn’t remember until I was walking home.”
“Come here and I might forgive you,” John said and beckoned David over to pull him into a hug. “I guessed that’s what happened, but I was still worried.”
David’s arms tightened around John and he repeated his apology, then whispered, “Maybe one day you won’t need to worry so much.”
John eased back and pushed a strand of hair away from David’s face. “That’s not how it works.” He smiled and asked, “Did you see Adam?”
“Uh huh, we looked at the windows together and then we sat and talked.”
“Who talked?”
David gave a small chuckle. “Adam talked, but we were together.”
“Together is good,” John agreed and then gave a tired groan. “But together in bed is even better.”
Christmas Day…
SMALL children wake at the crack of dawn Christmas
morning, not grown men,
John mused while he lay awake watching the first glow of the sun light up the bedroom Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
curtain. A smile twitched at the corners of his lips at this new excitement….
Not new; just missing for a lot of years.
John’s hand slowly crawled across the bed to where his lover had retreated during the hot summer night in search of a cool patch of sheet. His fingertips found skin to tickle and John’s smile broadened at the sleep-infused murmur they caused. Another touch; this time his finger traced the length of David’s spine, eliciting a shudder and a squirm. John laughed and snuggled close enough to whisper in David’s ear, “Are you ever going to wake up?”
David rolled back into John and mumbled, “Hey, merry Christmas, John.”
“Merry Christmas yourself.” John grinned and was still smiling when they kissed. “I’m amazed you slept after all the sleeping you’ve done the past few days, but I woke up a couple of times and you were dead to the world. Good dreams?”
“Not sure if I did dream,” David replied. “This feels more like the dream.”
“It’s a reality I’m still getting used to.”
“Big changes.”
“Good changes,” John agreed while his hand began to explore David’s willing body. It had changed so much in the past year, almost a physical representation of their journey.
The first time John touched David, the body was bruised and beaten; the sex was simply a function John resorted to because he knew no other way to communicate. David let it happen, nothing more. But John’s fingers traced a different path in their shared bed. Fingertips followed smooth Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
contours while his lips were met by David’s and they enjoyed mutual touches.
Small, unspoken signals were exchanged and John gently eased David back against the mattress.
So different
, John thought as their eyes met and David held his gaze with shared love. “Think we have time before the Christmas elf arrives?” he asked, still a little intimidated by the depth of what he felt.
David laughed softly and tangled his fingers through John’s hair to pull him back into their kiss.
Slowly they moved against each other…
with
each other, enjoying the rub of hair and skin. Hands adding caresses and tugs between them, until John pulled himself up enough to reach for the nightstand drawer to retrieve and squeeze the silken lubricant over his fingers. “I don’t think we need to worry about Jamie walking in on us,” John grunted almost apologetically at the surging ache of his flesh under his fingers. “This might not last long.”
David lifted his thighs a little higher and mumbled, “He can never find his key anyway.”
The initial penetration was slow. Both men held back their urgency, needing to feel the ache and burn spread through and between them. Their hands clutched at each other while they began a slow, sensual rock. Only their ragged breaths and flushed skin betrayed their tenuous thread of control.
Gradually their tempo increased and muted groans were accompanied by the rhythmic slap of increasingly urgent, needy flesh. John rose up at arm’s length, needing to see David… watch him before orgasm forced his eyes shut. His Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
lover looked back and tried to smile through gasped breaths until that breath was completely taken by his own release.
The room became quiet of all but their breathing. Both were spent, and they lay together in a tangle of sweaty limbs, neither willing to move until the bedside alarm going off broke into their cocoon. John groaned and slammed his hand on the clock. “Do you think we could just stay here all day covered in the sweet smell of sex?” He wrinkled his nose and laughed.
David grinned and shook his head. “You can stay here and stink, but I need to shower and shave.… Been a few days.”
John gave a playful pout and rolled onto his back, but it was another sign David was “back.” “Okay, you shower; I’ll put the kettle on and make a start on breakfast. We’ll need all our strength before Jamie arrives.” John hauled himself out of bed and added, “Give me a minute to get some water for the kettle before you shower.”
“Sure,” David said and smiled at John’s naked backside wandering out into the apartment, skin still marked with the creases of their crumpled sheets.
The bedroom became quiet and David could hear the faint clink of mugs from the kitchen. He knew John’s morning routine and waited for the sound of tap water filling the kettle because, even though it took longer to boil it, the kettle allowed for a second round before they finished breakfast. Next was the sound of the fridge door opening so John could align the milk with the sugar and teaspoons on the countertop.
We all have our little rituals.
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
David stretched the length and width of the bed and lay like that for a full minute before getting up to wash clean the last few days.
THE breakfast dishes were stacked in the sink and David was glancing through the morning newspaper when he heard an insistent knock on the door. He knew it could only be one person.
“Merry Christmas!” Jamie exclaimed and held up his holly sprig. “Kiss under the pretend mistletoe?”
David smiled and gave Jamie his kiss.
“Get your hands off him and find your own man,” John said as he wandered in still toweling his wet hair. “Oh, that’s right, you did.”
David noticed the instant flush of color that hit Jamie’s cheeks, but he still held up the sprig and grinned.
“Still with the plastic holly?” John growled, but winked and gave Jamie a kiss.
“Persistence pays off,” Jamie said and hooked his arm in David’s. “Present time
and
I waited for you to help me hang the decorations on the tree.”
“Meet you there in a minute. I need to finish dressing,”
John said and left them.
“Don’t forget your Santa suit,” Jamie shouted after him and giggled at David. “Come on, and you can tell me about last night.”
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
JAMIE sat cross-legged under the tree with eyes wide as he listened to David talk about his Christmas Eve. His tale was a little short on details, but Jamie was good at filling in the gaps and knew the omissions were for David alone. He closed his hand over his friend’s and said, “John knew you’d be okay. Now I want you to see the ornaments I came up with.”
Jamie dragged his overstuffed satchel around and pulled out a little box. It didn’t look big enough to hold much, but Jamie grinned and removed the lid. “I’ve got one each for all of us.” One by one Jamie lifted out gold-painted macaroni angels until there were five lined up. David laughed with joy at their bow pasta wings and messy rice hair.
“Nothing I saw in the shops seemed right, and then I thought about your angels. Can you hang ours while I hang my mum and dad’s?”
David took the angels as if they were fine porcelain and carefully placed them among the paper chains and tinsel until all five little angels hung on the tree. Although a couple lost some grains of their hair in the process, it didn’t matter.
“I put something under the tree for you,” David said quietly.
“Oooo, present time.” Jamie grinned, quickly located his gift and returned to the floor to fold back the wrapping of a brightly painted journal. He gave David a quizzical glance, then opened it to read the inscription.
This journal is to
chronicle Jamie’s many wild adventures.
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
“Just like Mr. Toad,” Jamie whispered. He stared at the message and took in all its implications before nodding, “I’ll try to be brave.”
“Why is it I always walk in on the end of conversations I might want to hear?” John said and pulled up a chair to sit next to the Christmas tree. He stroked his hand gently down the back of David’s hair and leaned forward to look at the journal. “Any adventure with Jamie is bound to be a wild one,” he teased, but grabbed Jamie around the back of the neck and planted a kiss on his forehead.
“I have something for you too, John,” David said with an almost nervous smile.
John waggled his eyebrows and said, “I thought I got that this morning?”
“Stop,” Jamie exclaimed. “It’s like finding out your parents have sex. Get back to the presents.”
“In the tree,” David said. “It’s been hidden in the branches since the day we put the tree up.”
“Where?” Jamie said and scrambled to the base of the tree.
“Back you get,” John said. He stepped over him to peer between the trimmings to find the hidden trunk. It took him a little while to locate the tiny package nestled safely in the crook of a branch. John stretched his fingers past a swinging bauble and drew out the gift. It sat almost lost in the palm of his hand and John carefully pulled the threads that acted as string. The little square of paper unfolded to reveal a tiny book.
“You made me an Elf Book like you used to for Adam,”
John said with both surprise and reverence at the tiny text.
Twelve Days |
Isabelle Rowan
He opened the miniature book that mirrored the ones David had told him he used to make and hide around the family garden for his young son to find.
“It’s about us,” David said, and touched the first drawing that depicted a pair of old boots beside the leather chair.
