Christmas wasn't much of a holiday when you were on your own, with an ex-wife in California and grown kids who made their own plans.
Last Christmas John had worked his regular day shift, even though he could have flaunted his seniority to avoid it. The younger officers wanted to be at home with their families, and Christmas was never that busy anyway. The station was pretty peaceful and he caught up on his filing. After work he stopped at his mother's for a turkey dinner in the communal dining area of her senior citizens' home, but all the old people talking too loudly because their hearing aids weren't properly adjusted had been irritating, and he'd fled as soon as he could. At home, he'd felt at loose ends, and finally scrubbed his kitchen, which had really needed it, particularly behind the refrigerator and the top of the oven hood. He figured that was a lot better than something morbid like cleaning his gun.
This year, he'd looked around the guys at the precinct, deciding whom he could get to invite him over. Matt, he assumed, would go to his parents in upstate New York, and John was determined to appear to have plans. Charlie was the most obvious choice, particularly since he always went to his parents' for a big family dinner where one more could be fitted in without hassle, but John wasn't sure he wanted to be teased all day.
So when Matt said, "I told my parents I wouldn't be at their place for Christmas," John was uncharacteristically thrown for a loop and could only come up with, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Matt answered. "My sister's going to her boyfriend's parents, so I think they've decided to visit my brother in Florida. They like the sun."
"Huh," John said.
"We should get out your Christmas decorations soon. Hey, you want to ask Charlie over? I texted Lucy today and she said she'd pick up your mother."
"Pick up my mother? For what?"
"Christmas dinner. That's what I've been talking about. Where are your decorations? In the attic?"
Matt was horrified to discover that John had never bothered buying any decorations, which was how they'd ended up in shopping hell, wading through the crowd of desperate shoppers, bumping elbows and other body parts, trying to get the house ready for a Christmas meal. John had suggested a real tree, but surrendered in the face of Matt's ranting about the environmental waste, and instead they selected a fake tree with built-in fiberoptic lights. John was surprised enough that he was going to have a tree that he didn't feel a need to battle for tradition.
Next up was shopping for ornaments. Matt balked on the inexpensive ones, insisting they were made in China using child labor and likely to be recalled soon because of toxic paint anyway. They ended up spending an exorbitant amount on glass ornaments from Germany, which were the most gorgeous John had ever owned, as Holly would never have risked such nice ones around the kids.
Music seemed like it might be problematic when Matt firmly announced he'd puke if he had to listen to Bing Crosby crooning and John insisted that they needed something his mother would like. Fortunately, Matt conceded to Nat King Cole. "He's just as old and dead," John noted, to which Matt argued about him being a symbol of racial advancement in a white-male dominated world, who at least hadn't died at a boring sport like *golfing.* John thought about pointing out that they were both white males, what the hell was wrong with that? But then he found several volumes of "A Very Special Christmas," and they got distracted in a squabble over whether Madonna and Springsteen were classic icons or aging has-beens. A harassed shopper glared at them and made snippy comments about people who hogged the aisle in front of the Christmas CDs, and before John could lecture the guy on politeness, Matt agreed that at least they'd been produced during his lifetime, so he could tolerate them. Figuring that was enough music for one day, they called the shopping trip a success.
"So who's going to cook this feast you're inviting people to?" John asked as they loaded their purchases in his trunk, curious to find out Matt's plan. John could competently handle the basics, and Matt was decent in the kitchen when required (and even better when he was indecent, John thought, stifling a smirk), but mostly they both tended toward one-dish-throw-everything-together meals.
"I figured you could call around some restaurants and order a meal. Try to make it a local place, okay? I hate giving money to those homogenized multinational chains."
"Me? Why don't you call?"
"You'll have to pick it up since I don't have a car. You might as well pick some place convenient for you."
Which is how John found himself using his break to call restaurants and price meals, glaring at Charlie when he flung himself into the visitor chair by John's desk.
"You and the boy toy having Christmas at home?"
"What's it to you?"
"Invite me over."
"Come on, invite me over."
"You go to your folks' for Christmas."
"I feel like a change of pace," Charlie said casually, which was just so odd that John took the hint and asked, "Carlos, would you like to have Christmas with Matthew and I?"
"Why, John, thank you for your exquisite invitation. I'll bring the wine."
Past Charlie's head, John could see Singer turning in his desk chair to glance at them. Mostly they all pretended to have a cone of silence around their desks, but the low modular walls prevented privacy. "What's it to you, asshole?" John directed at Singer.
"Christ, McClane. I'm happy to see going gay hasn't improved your manners," Singer grumbled, but he turned back to his computer.
"Asshole," John said to him for good measure.
Christmas morning came slowly, the first in many years that John's alarm hadn't jolted him out of bed. It was probably freaking cold outside, but under the covers with Matt tucked along his side was toasty warm.
"Morning," John said when Matt's breathing indicated he was awake.
"Merry Christmas," Matt responded, rolling on top of John, giving him a sleepy kiss, settling his body so their morning erections snuggled as comfortably as their bodies.
John cupped Matt's ass, firm and round and perfect for his hands, coaxing Matt down as he arched up, bringing them together. Matt's kisses were slow and lazy, his hands caressing John's bald head. Everything was leisurely and relaxed, a far cry from the normal frenzied pace associated with the hectic holiday season, just the two of them rocking together until they both came, wetness spreading between their torsos.
"Damn. Good." Matt nipped at John's neck for emphasis.
"No hickeys for Christmas," John said, though he wouldn't have fought if Matt had carried on. It might be amusing to see Lucy's reaction to her old man with a love mark. Charlie would never let him hear the end of it though, so he didn't protest when Matt gave him a last kiss and swung off him.
"First dibs on the shower." Matt yawned and stumbled off to the bathroom, John watching his naked body until the door closed behind him. Stretching and yawning, he got out of bed, deciding to make some bacon and eggs.
Christmas was off to a great start.
The day passed quickly in a flurry of activity, last minute straightening of the house and checking over the instructions on the pre-baked meal. Lucy and John's mom arrived first, and early, mom making a beeline for Matt, hugging him and reminding him to call her mama.
"We're not Italian," John griped. "What's wrong with mom?" His mom just tsked at him, dragging Matt away to ask questions about using the Internet. John smirked at Matt's helpless expression, then turned to confront Lucy's narrow-eyed glare.
"Dad, you can't leave the food in Tupperwares. Don't you have serving bowls?"
"Hey, it's green to use the Tupperware as serving bowls. That way we don't have to wash two bowls for each dish. Right Matt?" he called to the living room.
Matt yelled back yes, and Lucy had to surrender to good environmental practices, instead whipping out the tablecloth and centerpiece she'd brought, decorating the table to her satisfaction.
Charlie came bearing the wine as promised, as well as a six pack of beer, rum for the eggnog, and the sweet dessert wine John's mom liked. He smirked at the Tupperwares but didn't say anything, and made them take hands and said grace. Though he wasn't a particularly religious man, John felt blessed, to have peace with his daughter, his mom still in good health, a pain-in-the-ass friend, and Matt as his lover, all of them celebrating the day together. His eyes met Matt's as everyone said, "Amen," and John hoped he was feeling the same sense of contentment.
John stepped outside with Charlie and promptly stuck his hands in his pockets. It was freaking cold. "So what's really the deal with not going to your folks?"
Charlie sighed, wrapping his scarf around his throat. "My brother-in-law is concerned about having me around the kids."
John wasn't sure which brother-in-law or which kids that would be, as Charlie had a large confusing family, but that actual detail wasn't all that relevant. "Christ, what does he think, that since you're gay, you're a child molester?"
"He wasn't very articulate about it. Let's just say it wasn't the most comfortable Thanksgiving."
"Asshole," John muttered. "So that's it, you're just going to surrender?"
Charlie looked at his watch. "Actually, I'm on my way there for a second dinner. I figure by the time I arrive, he'll have had four solid hours of being harassed for driving me away, and he'll have learned to keep his mouth shut. Some of us believe in strategy rather than brute force." He mock punched John on the shoulder. "Besides, now I've celebrated Christmas with my famous friends, the saviors of the country. I can sell the story to the tabloids."
John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure everyone wants to read that mom and Matt had an in-depth discussion over the pumpkin pie of whether Madonna was a symbol of female advancement in a male-dominated world." How the hell had his mom ended up being the one to support Madonna? He hadn't even expected that she would have heard of Madonna, much less admired her.
Laughing, Charlie shook his head fondly. "I think Matt's met his match in more than one McClane. You're shivering, John. Go inside. Let Matt warm you up."
"Hey, for whatever reason you came, thanks. It was the best Christmas I've had since Holly and I broke up," he admitted.
"Thanks for inviting me." Charlie kissed him on both cheeks, which John supposed he was going to have to get used to, and walked off down the stairs.
John watched him go for a moment, cursing idiots who lived by stereotypes, hoping the rest of Charlie's Christmas went as planned, then slipped back inside. His mom and Lucy were bundling up. "You guys leaving already?"
"I want to get grandma home and back to my apartment while it's still light," Lucy explained.
"There's caroling tonight," his mother confided.
"Well, I've done the obligatory phone call with my parents and my siblings, so we shouldn't be bothered again," Matt announced, wandering into the living room.
"Lots of Christmas specials on," John said, dropping the TV guide to the end table. "Probably all filled with commercials."
"Let me guess." Matt dropped onto the couch by John, leaning around him to pick up his eggnog and take a sip. "Your favorite is 'A Christmas Story' because the kid wants a BB gun."
"I never saw that one. I'm not big on Christmas specials."
"Well." Matt put John's drink back, and then picked up a package he'd had tucked by his other side, depositing in on John's lap. "Perhaps you'd like to open your last gift."
"I thought we were through with presents," John said. It had been amusing to watch Lucy's expression when they revealed John had bought Matt the DVD box set of Roy Rogers movies, while Matt had bought John the Matrix box set. She couldn't quite seem to decide if they'd let her down, not buying romantic gifts for each other, or if it delighted her that they were so perfectly matched. He picked up the surprise gift, a rectangular box about 10 inches longer, basically phallic-shaped, though that was probably his imagination.
"I was saving this one for after our company had left."
Our company – it sounded good. John tore off the red and silver wrapping paper, throwing it on the floor to reveal a box. He read the label on the side, which was bold and eye-catching. "You bought me a dildo?" A silicone rubber dildo, named 'Johnny,' the label proclaimed. Of course, anyone who bought Gun Oil lubricant wouldn't have been able to resist a dildo named Johnny.
"I thought you might want to use it. On me."
John went hard, grateful that he was wearing his most comfortable trousers. He'd never been much into gadgets for sex, but to picture Matt naked, sweaty, his hole stretched and open for John's cock or for the unyielding toy, whatever one John choose to use – "Strip," he commanded harshly.
"I guess you like your present?" Matt asked cheerfully.
"Get your fucking clothes off or I'll tear them off."
"Christ, you're so impatient," Matt grumbled, but he stood and pulled off his red sweater, arching his body like a cat. Beginning on the fly of his jeans, he dug his toes in the carpet. "Your carpet sucks. This is going to feel horrible on my skin."
John yanked the crocheted green blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over the beige carpet. He'd thought Matt was being silly when he'd found the blanket in the linen closet and draped it over the couch 'for some festive color,' but now he had to wonder if Matt was a good planner.
"Cool," Matt said, standing on one leg then the other to remove his socks, finally pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs and kicking them away, standing naked in John's living room like it was no big deal.
Matt dropped to his knees. "How? On my front or back?" His body swayed forward, his face teasingly rubbing on John's groin. "Maybe I should take care of this first."
"You love to suck my cock, don't you?"
Moaning, Matt mouthed the front of John's black trousers, his hot breath and tongue leaving a wet mark. "Fuck yes."
"Yeah. Do it."
Immediately obedient, Matt opened John's trousers, swallowing John's cock deep in his mouth. It was always such a rush, the pleasure of being blown by Matt, and Matt's obvious enjoyment, his eternal hunger to worship John's dick. It didn't take long before John was shuddering, thrusting his hips forward, shoving fiercely over and over into Matt's mouth, trusting Matt to back away if he went too deep. He felt almost blinded by the hot white pleasure as he came, pouring into Matt, holding onto Matt's head to stay on his feet, watching with satisfaction as a trickle of semen slipped out of corners of Matt's mouth. His come on Matt's face was always a beautiful sight.
Not that it stayed there long, because Matt's tongue flashed out, catching it all, before Matt bonelessly sprawled against the green blanket which damn, was a good color for him, with his dark hair and eyes. He looked young, gorgeous, and very male, body naked and exposed to John's vision, covered by nothing more than the light amount of hair on his chest, groin and legs.
And also very aroused, his hands resting over his head, twitching against the need to stroke his hard cock. John glanced at the couch and yeah, sure enough, there was the lube where Matt had brought it into the living room and left it on the couch. He was a logical thinker and detailed-oriented. It must be the computer geek in him, the ability to design orderly lines of code. John stuffed himself back in his trousers and zipped them, grinning as Matt whined. "I don't need to be undressed to play with you."
"Yeah, but I like to look at you."
John wasn't sure why. He was battered, marked by scars, and middle-aged, but he wasn't going to parade his insecurities. He never had, never would. "Later," he said, settling on his knees between Matt's spread thighs, grabbing the box and opening it up. Fortunately, there was padding around 'Johnny,' so the toy was closer to 7 inches then 10, but it was certainly plenty for Matt to handle, and very realistic appearing, with wrinkles, veins, and balls. John generously slicked lube on his fingers and the dildo.
Matt's body welcomed his fingers as it always did. He rolled his hips, encouraging John's fingers to go deeper. John played with him a long time, until he had inserted four fingers, and Matt was writhing on the blanket, moaning continuously, his body beginning to sheen with sweat.
"I'm ready to come," Matt warned him, but John used his free hand to grab him firmly around his dick.
"Don't," he commanded, watching with sheer sense of pleased – well, fuck, machoness or machoism or whatever the word was – as Matt shook slightly but calmed himself, breathing slowly and forcing his muscles to relax, struggling to come down from the edge.
A last stroke on Matt's prostate as a reward for his patience and John slid his fingers out, quickly substituting the lubed dildo. "I want to watch you like this," he said. "Watch you be fucked by this toy."
Matt nodded, tilting his hips obligingly, rocking up and down as John thrust the solid rubber into him. It was so hot, Matt's opening squeezing around white dildo, Matt's dick, red and leaking, swaying with each move of his hips, begging to come. Matt himself didn't beg though. He moaned frequently and bit his lips occasionally, clearly using the pain to distract himself, to delay coming until John was through watching.
Without warning, John bent to take Matt's dick into his mouth, and that was it. Matt's hands closed on his head, his hips arched, and he gave a strangled gasp as his come shot into John's mouth. John drank until the spurts stopped coming, then sat back, licking his lips. He shoved his trousers down, yanked the dildo out, and thrust into Matt's body, leaning forward to lie on him, kissing him hard on the lips. It only took three desperate thrusts and he was yelling into Matt's mouth, Matt's legs circling his hips and squeezing as strongly as the pleasure racking his body.
John slumped onto the younger man, feeling him cradle him, soft lips kissing him on the side of his face. He hadn't expected that second orgasm, hadn't thought he could get it up again, but an aroused Matt was an inspirational sight.
"So I guess we're going without condoms now?" Matt asked, not sounding particularly concerned.
"Yeah, why not? I'm clean, you're clean, and neither of us is going to have sex with anyone else."
"Sounds good." Matt stroked his back, long soothing strokes, and it felt good except that his clothes were in the way.
Reluctantly, John broke out of Matt's arms, standing up and undressing as Matt watched appreciatively. He lay back down and Matt curled into him, putting his head on John's chest as John tugged the blanket around them.
"They say the pleasure is in the giving and not the receiving," Matt murmured sleepily, and John could tell he'd soon be out for a short nap, "but that was both."
"Yeah, best Christmas present I ever got." He brushed his fingers through Matt's silky hair. "This has been the best Christmas I've had in a long time," he added.
"Um? Good," Matt mumbled, already drifting off.
John petted him some more, admiring the serenity of his sleeping face against the backdrop of the Christmas tree with its twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. He'd let Matt sleep a bit, then wake him up and give him the surprise gift John had bought.
Yeah. Best damned Christmas ever.
~ the end ~