Best Gift Ever

An EQUILIBRIUM Short Story

by Katey Hawthorne

Copyright 2011 Katey Hawthorne

kateyhawthorne.com

Cover Art Copyright 2011 Astro

nogutsnoglory.tumblr.com

This free short story may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes,

provided the story remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please head to

kateyhawthorne.com and say hello. Thank you for your support.

~~~

The "Read Me" File

A little holiday thank you, and the last of the shorts for Hansen and Sam, the heroes (so to speak) of
Equilibrium. Hopefully this is a good place to leave them. They seem to think so, anyhow.

Warnings and disclaimers:

1. Minor spoilers for Equilibrium abound (and one major one -- as in, is there an HEA?), though there's
still plenty to discover in the book if you want to start with this as an introduction or sampler. "Best Gift
Ever" also takes place after the events of "Jealousy: A Love Story" another free short, though again, it's
not necessary to read the first to get the second.

2. This story contains NC-17 m/m sex practices, holiday festivities, a large bottle of Jack Daniel's, and a T-
shirt kink moment. It is not for children, humbugs, or those opposed to sugarkink.

3. This ebook is not associated with Loose Id, LLC, the publishers of Equilibrium. It is a short promotional
freebie extra from the author to the reader.

Thanks to Raven McKnight for the fabulous edits. Bonus thanks to Astro for cover Sam. Her character
illustrations are more than just the cherry on top.

Sorry. Couldn't help myself.

<3 Katey

~~~

Best Gift Ever

You know that kid who busts into his parents' room at 4a.m. on Christmas morning, crawls in between
them, and pokes them until they finally let him get up and open his presents?

Yeah, that was me.

It's my favorite holiday, hands down. My grandparents used to take us to their church on Christmas Eve;
then we'd go home, and my mom would light every candle in the house so the whole place smelled like
the tree and cinnamon and vanilla wax. They'd give me one present to open, usually a kick-ass toy to
keep me quiet for the rest of the night, something from them.

You know. As opposed to Santa. Who is still my hero, thanks.

So I was thinking, first Christmas with Hansen-as-boyfriend. Awesome, right? Yeah, but I had a little bit
of a scare when we finally got around to discussing it. Mom and Dad were heading to Edinburgh to visit
my Aunt Leah and they wanted us to come. But when I invited him, he went all shifty-eyed.

"Uh, that's -- that's really nice of them. But...I'm already going to run out of money before the year's
over. The grant's getting pretty thin."

I said, "Well, it'd be, like, their gift. To us."

He did that uncomfortable squirming thing, and not in the fun way. "Tell them thank you, seriously. But I
don't...um..."

So at that point, I was totally crushed. I'd invented this scenario where we got to spend two weeks --
school and work forgotten -- doing nothing but fucking each others' brains out.

You know. In the Christmas spirit.

I hadn't even considered he might already have plans. "Sorry, I didn't -- I'm sure you want to be with
your parents."

"No," he rushed to say. "No, that's not it. They're going to Florida, anyhow."

"Oh. So, you're not?"

"No. I mean, they offered to take us. But -- money. Why, you want to?"

"Um."

He laughed. "I was just thinking, you know, lake house will be empty for the week."

I pretty much popped a boner right there.

He went on, "Mom suggested it. There's always the chance we could get snowed in and be stuck there,
but --"

"That'd be a fuckin trial, Hansen. But I'll do it. For you."

He smirked, but when he looked back down at his laptop, his face fell. "Bastard piece of shit cum
dumpster!"

"Crash again?"

"I hate this fucking thing with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. I am gonna fucking melt you
the second I turn this goddamn paper in, you dick biting fuckdog!"

I had to retreat, because he was starting to turn all red. And when that happens I either have to jump
him or laugh at him. He'd made it very clear that he had to finish editing three chapters today, and if I
distracted him there would be hell to pay. Again, not in the fun way.

It was okay, though, because I had finally figured out what to get him for Christmas.

~

We got to the lake house the day before his family took off. First thing, I went out back to amp myself up
and get rid of some of the extra electricity I'd been walking around with. It's pretty cool, actually: I stand
in the middle of the yard and strip down to my shorts -- sends my dick into hibernation in winter, but
whatever -- and reach down really deep inside me for the power. I don't know exactly where the
electrogenerative thingie is, but somewhere in my middle, so I focus there. Then I let it build up hard,
like holding it in, but getting bigger and bigger. Totally unsafe indoors, but when you're out in the open
it's incredible just to let it fly like that -- and safe because I'm grounded. So when I can't hold it anymore,
I let it run through me, all those little pathways under my skin like veins, until it comes out and covers
me.

The only thing I can compare it to is adrenaline high times fifty. And with electricity.

It wore me out, but by the time I pulled my clothes back on and wandered up to the house, I felt like a
million bucks. Grandma Hansen had been doing one of her little rambles outside, and we met up on the
deck. She patted my face and said, "Getting good at that, kiddo."

I leaned way down to kiss her cheek. "Yeah. Thanks, Mrs. Hansen."

"Think you can start calling me Grandma, Sammy." She patted me again and pulled open the door.

I would've bear hugged her, but I was always afraid I'd break her. Hansen saved me, brought me to
them, but she was the one who showed me how to get control, how to enjoy being what I am. I know
she did it partly because of her son, Neil, who was mad-electric like me; I think I remind her of him,
sometimes.

I get it. I was tight with my Grandma MacLeod. When I was old enough that my parents felt cool telling
me about the adoption thing, she was the first person outside them to talk to me about it. Told me I was

the grandkid she always wanted and really helped me get to the important stuff. We were buds before
that, too, but these are the things you remember.

Sometimes I wonder if she'd been around when my electrical freakouts started, if I would've been able
to tell her. Sometimes I think I would've.

Anyhow, I'm not Neil, and Grandma Hansen isn't Grandma MacLeod. But it's nice, all the same.

So after we had our moment, she went into the living room, and Hansen's voice drifted down the hall. I
was going to stop in the kitchen and say hi, but heard him say, "I can't even afford to get him anything
good."

Something told me he wasn't talking about his dad or Uncle Kristoff.

"He doesn't care about that, Hansen," his mom said. She had that same, patient teacher tone with him
that he gets with his undergrads.

"I care. He already pays for everything."

I bit my lip. The only good thing about my job was that it overpaid me for nothing. Yeah, that meant I
footed the bill a lot, but after that time I brought up a joint bank account for the sake of expenses and
he got all cranky on me, I'd learned to dance around it. And believe me, once he finished school and was
raking in half a mil a year as a policy advisor or whatever, I was totally planning to quit and become a
full-time cabana boy for his ass.

Mrs. Marks said, "Who else should he spend his money on?" Have I mentioned she's cool as hell, too?

He said, "I'm not his kept boy, Mom. Jesus."

See here's the difference between me and Hansen. I have no shame. He has too much pride. I guess it
balances out in the end, but damn.

"You're a student. You won't always be."

"Well, it makes me feel like shit. I just got him all this stupid cheap --"

"Hansen."

"What?"

"Call off the pity party, dear. It's Christmas."

He snorted. "Just saying. I'm going to feel like an asshole when we get to the presents."

I turned around and went right back out onto the deck, feeling like an asshole myself. I knew Mrs. Marks
wouldn't have told him about the shiny new MacBook in the basement, but Hansen knew me well
enough to figure I'd get him something big.

And I should've known him well enough to realize it'd make him feel shitty, if I did.

I threw myself into an Adirondack two-seater and shoved my hands into the pouch of my sweatshirt.
Which was way too thin for me to be outside, but I was too pissy to be bothered. I sat there breathing
cold steam for a few minutes and being a little black raincloud. It started snowing, just a flurry or two,
right before the door slid open and Hansen came out carrying a flannel blanket.

He tucked up beside me and threw the blanket over us both. He turned on the heat so that side of my
body went insta-warm. "The hell are you doing out here?"

I didn't want to say I was having my own pity party, so I said, "It's snowing."

"Uh-huh. Something up?"

"Nah." I put my arm over his shoulders and pulled him close. "C'mere."

He burrowed into my side and put his hand on my thigh. We both relaxed, and he sighed into me after a
few minutes of playing personal space-heater.

I was trying to figure out if I had enough stuff to give him without the computer. A sudden grin from him
distracted me. I laughed. "That's your evil face."

"I was just thinking." He shifted against me, grabbed my thigh and inched his hand upward, amping my
heartbeat. "You remember that night everyone came over, like right after we moved into the
apartment, before you and Nessa were --"

"Uh, yeah. I remember sitting at the end of the couch under a blanket with you."

"The drunks said it was hot and turned down the thermostat, and you were freezing."

"I wasn't cold. I just said that." I grinned. Funny, because at the time I'd felt really, really bad about it.
Not so much, anymore.

Hansen raised his eyebrows.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything. Just, everyone was asleep and we were the only ones watching the
movie. I was drunk. I figured..."

He snorted. "That was fucking torture, man."

"Yeah it was. I got a lot of wank material out of it, though."

"Yeah. I kept telling myself I was just going to oh so fucking casually rest my hand on your thigh..." He
gave me another squeeze, moving upward.

It had already been going on down there, but my dick got a surge of blood that pushed it into the
"serious semi verging on full on erection" stage. "Um, I think your grandma's --"

"She's in the kitchen with Mom arguing about dinner. They'll be a while." Another squeeze. "I probably
should've grabbed you, huh?"

"Would've got a handful of cock."

"Mmm."

I'd wanted him to. Bad. That was back before I was completely sure he was into dudes, and I had no idea
how to go about getting into a guy's pants, anyhow. (Because yeah, that's some rocket science. Smart
Sam.) I was between girlfriends. Nessa had been kind of sidling up to me, and she was awesome and all,
but... "I was freaked out you'd notice. Couldn't help myself."

Hansen grinned some more and slipped his hand upward again, which put him right where the action
was between my legs. He flattened his hot palm against my cock, and it twitched, thickening. "Yeah. Me
neither." He started to rub it through my jeans.

I bit back a groan as it swelled again. When shit got uncomfortable with the seam of my jeans, I reached
for him under the blanket.

He stopped my hand and put it back in my own lap. "I mean, I knew I'd feel it, if you were hard. I
pretended you would be. Then I'd do this. First."

I was too hot to try and figure out what the hell was going on. I just kind of slipped down in the seat a
little farther and said, "Unh. Yeah, that's -- that's kinda what I was thinking." And reached for him again.

He put my hand back in my lap. He squeezed my dickhead through my pants, all warm, then rubbed all
the way up to the base, over the zipper, then back down the inside of my thigh again. "No, see, you
would've been really into it, but afraid to move, because someone might see. But my arm was under the
blanket and kind of under your arm. Like this. No one would've seen it moving if we held it up." He
tugged at the blanket.

I pulled it up over my shoulder, so it formed a kind of tent over our laps.

He said, "Yeah. Like that. So, of course, you would."

"Mmm-hmm. But I would want to--" I reached for him again, this time with the hand over his shoulder,
just trying to get at his nipple.

He stopped me. "You couldn't. All those people in the room. No idea how bad I wanted your dick." He
stopped rubbing me and I gave a disappointed sigh; he made up for it by unzipping my pants and
sticking his hand down the front of them. The heat was intense through the thin cotton, and he got as
near as he could to wrapping his hand around my dick, readjusting it so it filled out the top of my shorts,
just under the waistband.

I bit back a groan, thinking of the people in the house behind us. Which perversely made me that much
hotter, so much that I could feel my shorts getting wet. He felt up over it and squeezed, rubbed his
thumb into the wet spot and dragged it all over my dickhead, playing with it. I grabbed the blanket hard.

He pulled my shorts down so my dick stood up straight, tucked the band under my balls, and whispered,
"And I wouldn't be able to help getting it out."

I shifted, so for a second my dick pushed up into the blanket like a fucking tent pole.

He held my hips down and curled closer into my side, resting his chin against my shoulder. He breathed
hot into my ear; smelled like cinnamon from apple cider. When I tried to reach for him again, he
stopped me and wrapped his hand around my naked cock. "No, remember? Someone might see."

I drew a hard breath, fingers and toes curling. "Someone might, because --"

"Right, exactly. So I just have to kind of..." He angled my dick up a little more so it touched the front of
my sweatshirt and started jerking me off. "And I knew you had a big cock, so it'd be hard to hide what
was going on, but it was dark. And I'd try to be quiet."

This as I was biting back another groan. He was going slow, but it was getting a little faster with every
couple pulls. And the whole thing was just -- I couldn't even think. "Unh. You?"

"Maybe I'd pretend to fall asleep." He buried his face in my neck and kissed at it, sucked so goosebumps
ran down my side. My nipples hardened, my balls pulled up, and my dick felt so heavy I could've fucking
screamed. He kept whispering, "Just so I could get closer to you."

My face was so cold, but flushing, and it was so goddamn hot under the blanket with him I was starting
to sweat. It trickled down my ass crack and into my shorts. My dick thrilled in his hand, and he jerked it a
little faster, up to the head then back down; a little faster until the lightning started racing across my
vision. The darkening woods disappeared.

"Oh Jesus, Hansen. I --"

"You need to come?"

"Yeah."

His lips pressed into my ear. His hand moved faster on the upper half of my cock, back and forth hard
now, like he knew I liked it. He said, "So come, Sam."

I reached across my lap for him again; I could tell from the sound of his voice he was as hard as I was,
and I wanted to get his dick in my hand so fucking bad.

But he pinned my wrist down and kept jacking me.

I bit my lip, the feeling swelling down deep inside me, the one that told me I had about five seconds
before it took me. "Blanket --"

"That's what would've happened. You would've come for me under the blanket, all over my hand, all
over your jeans, because you couldn't fucking help it." He jerked me off even harder, not as hard as he
liked to fuck me, but as close as he could get.

It just rolled over me and took me like that. I even moaned out loud while I came in his hand, hitting the
blanket and my shirt and leaving his hand a sticky mess.

When I finished he held me, petted while I came down, and kissed me long and hard, open-mouthed,
licking at the roof of my mouth and biting at my lip. "You're so fucking sexy, Sam."

"Me? I'm the idiot who just came everywhere because you're so fucking hot." I took my arm from
around him and put my hand on his thigh.

He tried to pull me off, wiping his hand on the inside of the blanket at the same time. "Wait --"

"Oh, fuck that."

He laughed "But--"

I tucked my still-hard cock back into my underwear, zipped up my jeans. "I will put you over my
shoulder, carry you past your mother, drag you up the stairs, and throw you onto the bed if I have to."

He grinned. "You liked it."

"I'll show you how much, too." I stood, holding the blanket over me to hide the mess, and pulled him up
and into the house.

~

Dinner smells drifted up the stairs and into his room, but we were just chilling naked in bed, still
breathing a little hard. I thanked God silently for the way the Marks family never bothered about each
other; I'd never dated anyone who I'd feel that comfortable having sex with them at their parents' place,
but at the lake house, no one ever seemed to notice we were missing.

I was just thinking of all the other ways I'd lucked out with him, some more life-saving than others, when
Hansen asked, "What did you get me for Christmas?"

Obviously, I couldn't give him the MacBook. Maybe I could get his mom to say it was from them or
something, but for now the plan was off. "Nothing exciting. Same stuff I usually get. Why? What did you
get me?"

"Same stuff."

"I got us both something, too."

He grinned. "What?"

"Bottle of Jack."

He laughed.

"I wasn't very inventive." But I was coming off my second orgasm, a really good one right down his
throat, as a matter of fact, so I was being all honest. "I just want to be alone with you for a few days.
And maybe spend Christmas day getting too drunk to fuck, and then trying anyhow."

He patted the flat of his belly, making a hollow sound. "That's your idea of a perfect Christmas?"

I reached over and flicked his hair out of his face. "Yeah. So you can save the presents for my birthday if
you want. It's fucking cheesy, but I don't give a shit. I want you."

"You have me every day," he said.

"I'm working and you're studying and our friends are around. Shit distracts us. And, I mean, you finally
finished that motherfucker of a thesis, right?"

"It's always just --"

"Why are you being a pain in the ass, Hansen? Something on your mind?"

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

I laughed. "Are you gonna pout?"

He bit back a smile. "Shut up."

"No, you can't pout; that's not how it works." I attacked him, rolling over to press in on him and nipping
at his collar bone, then neck. "You're happy the whole time, and you can't keep your hands off me."

He grabbed my ass. "Still not getting how this is different."

"Happy, I said." I laughed and bit at him. "And I get to chew on you whenever I want."

He pretended to push me away. "When I want."

"Didn't know there was a difference."

~

Just before dinner he went down to see if his dad needed help setting the table. I took the opportunity
to recheck my backpack for his gifts and make sure I'd grabbed everything, since it looked like every
little bit was going to count. When I pulled it off the dresser, I knocked off his nerdy little document
folder thing and sent a few pages flying.

And that's when I found the letter from the Wharton School of Business at UPenn. A regular envelope,
hand-addressed from the applied economics program, postmarked from a few weeks ago.

He'd said he'd probably hear from them early December. He wanted Wharton bad; there was no way he
wouldn't say yes, so long as they offered him a fellowship -- and he'd pretty much had it from Dr. Miller
that they would. If it was a rejection, he would've told me right away. He told me everything.

Or I thought he did, anyhow.

I stuffed it back in the folder before I could be tempted. Trying to tell myself it could be anything, though
I knew better. My heart crackled when I thought of how happy he must've been when he opened it.

It gave me little chest-stabby pains to think he hadn't said anything. For weeks.

All night, I came up with fucking awful scenario after scenario. I mean, Hansen's really practical; if he
wanted me to come to Philadelphia, seemed he'd want me to have as much time as possible to arrange
everything, look for a place, find a new job. So did that mean he was trying to think of a way to break it
to me gently? Did he want to do this thing long distance, or, worse, was he trying to shake me? Had that
fight over the stupid Rayner kid shown him something he didn't like in me? Was he tired of me leaving
the bath mat on the floor instead of hanging it up and drinking whole milk from the carton?

I couldn't make myself ask. I mean, he'd been acting the same, apart from that little sulk today -- and
that had to be about the gift situation, right?

I trusted him. More than anyone else in the world. He'd totally tell me.

When he was good and ready.

~

The snow started falling hard after his parents left, and we had a good foot on the ground by the day
after that. We set an ambitious goal of getting off in every room in the house before the week was up,
and made a pretty good start at it. His usual enthusiasm multiplied by the awesome abandon of being
alone in the house edged my worries out. I don't know, about the only time I don't think he's going to
leave my dumb ass is when he's touching it. Maybe I'm shallow, but fuck it.

And, okay, maybe part of me was scared I was just inviting disaster, so I locked it up and enjoyed the hell
out of it while I could.

Mom and Dad called early Christmas Eve, all tipsy from a party. While they were talking to Hansen, I
went around lighting all the candles. After they hung up, Hansen stopped me, looked me dead in the
eye, and said with a completely straight face, "Hey, West Virginia Boy. I know this might come as a
shock, but we do have electricity in these here hills."

I kissed him and smacked his ass hard. He did that little happy-hum he gets when I land a good one, and
I said, "Where's your holiday spirit? Go light us up, firebug."

He smirked and moved to the fireplace, doing some hand-wavey stuff to get it going.

We opened presents: graphic novels and music for me, books and DVDs for him. He'd somehow
discovered a slip-case for the Freakangels books, the last of which he'd also got me.

"Fucking nuts, man. Where'd you find this?"

He shrugged, toying with the box from the Amadeus Director's Cut I'd scored for him. "It was on the site.
Since you have them all now..."

I attacked him right there on the floor, kissing him and pushing in until he had to drop his DVD and keep
himself from falling backwards with both hands. I settled down in his lap, wrapped my legs around him,
and planted my ass right on his dick. He dipped his tongue into my mouth and played with mine for a
long time, all hot and wet, while sticking one hand down the back of my pajama pants.

And then, once we were pretty well heated up, he closed it off, looked up at me through his eyelashes,
and asked, "So, we done with the gift thing?"

"What?" I grinned and put my forehead against his, bearing down on him. "You want more?"

He flushed hard and tried to avoid my eyes.

"I got more." I wrestled him down flat, pushing his shirt up and running my hands all over him with just a
tiny little static charge in them to give him goosebumps.

We'd had some pretty intense sex already that week, but there hadn't been a whole lot of making out.
Sometimes we forget about that part and just go straight to licking everywhere else, if you know what I
mean, but he's an incredible kisser. It's really hot and deep and kind of wicked, like, well, Hansen.

So we made out until my brain was pretty much just going, I love you I love you. At which point, I figured
I'd better say something or risk complete madness. "Thanks for not, like, abandoning me."

He blinked. "Abandoning you?"

I was looking down at him, those big blue eyes and his mouth all pink and open in surprise. And I wanted
to ask about Wharton. I wanted to tell him what I'd seen and apologize for going through his stuff and
beg him to tell me it wasn't what it looked like.

But he was happy. I didn't want Christmas Eve Dramarama.

So I totally caved. Again. "Yeah, like, going with your parents or having your nose stuck in class notes or
something. We need to do this more often."

He pushed himself up to sitting suddenly, so I ended up on my ass beside him instead of on top of him.
He said, "Idea."

"Uh...good?"

He smirked and pulled me upstairs.

-

"We already did it in here," I reminded him. "Three times. Or four."

He steered me to the foot of the bed. "Yeah, but I want you to be comfortable. Sort of."

Whatever this idea was, I liked it already.

Hansen grabbed the hem of my shirt, so I raised my arms and let him pull it off and chuck it on the bed.
Then he reached down for his, and I moved to help.

He took both of my wrists and held me. "Let me."

I grinned. "Yessir."

He took it off, stretching upward so his arms and abs did that sweet rolling-flexing thing. Then he came
nearer and pulled my pants down over my backside, dropping them to the floor. He patted my ass, and I
kicked them away.

Then he hit his knees, tucked a hot finger into my underpants at each hip bone. He looked up at me
through his hair.

Brain melty. Unf.

He tugged my waistband down little by little so the cotton rubbing up against me was sweet torture. I
bunched my hands up into fists to keep from interfering. When it got to the base of my cock he pulled
the elastic out in front, reached inside, and got my dick out. He stood it up straight, then let the
waistband hold it to my belly, halfway on-halfway off.

"Mmm." He slipped his hand between my legs to massage my balls through the crumpled underwear.

My dick moved. It felt so good I tightened up and made it do it again.

"Talent." He grinned and tugged the underwear down all the way, slow and careful over my balls, then
my thighs, then knees. He leaned forward and put his hot lips against my stomach. His hair brushed my
dick, and I growled involuntarily. He muttered into my belly, "Mkay. Step out."

I did, double time, as he stood and slipped his own pants off.

I reached for him.

He stepped back and nodded at the bed. "Sit."

He waved his hand, directing me toward the headboard. Hell yes, I obeyed, and he crawled up after and
tucked a pillow behind my back. He batted my hand away again and said, "So here's my idea: I'm going
to touch you." He sat back, ass on his heels, and pinned me to the pillow with that don't you fucking
move look. "I'm going to lick you, grab you, heat you up, and suck on you. And I can use anything I
want."

"Yes, please."

He grinned. "But you can't use your hands."

"What?"

"You can kiss me, if you can reach me. You can do anything but touch me with your hands."

"But..."

The grin turned into a smirk.

I thought of him frustrating the hell out of me the other night on the porch. How bad I'd wanted to grab
him. How hot it had made me to get owned without being able to.

My head started spinning. My heart pounded hard, filling up my veins with electricity. And my dick -- oh
my god, I wanted him on my dick.

He laughed like he heard my idiot thoughts as I had them.

"I have to warn you, man," I croaked. "I am so fucking hard right now I might pass out."

He laughed some more, crawled into my lap, straddled it, and kissed me.

I instinctively went to wrap my arms around him. He pulled back, leaving my mouth still open, and
grabbed my wrists. He pushed them downward until my palms flattened against the bedspread. "I know
you can do better than that, honey."

Pretty sure the sound that came out of me was a whimper.

Whatever it was, he liked it. He settled into my lap, his fine ass and hard cock not-so-well-hidden by
those little white cotton shorts. He threw an arm around me, running his hot fingers up and down my
spine. He tangled the other hand in my hair, ruffling it as he covered my mouth with his.

My fingers prickled, wrapped tight in the duvet. He was fully capable of calling it off if I didn't do what he
said -- believe me, it's happened. The thought just got me hotter, until I felt a little wet spot against my
middle and that tingling in my balls, my dickhead.

I moaned into his mouth and squirmed, all desperate.

He pulled back a little to look me in the eye, still playing at with my hair. "You got that stupid, pretty look
on your face already. Hope this won't be over too fast."

I huffed out, "Jesus, Hansen."

He sat back on my thighs, then heated up his hands and started rubbing my shoulders, relaxing and
exciting all at once. He kissed me, bit at me now and then as his fingers trailed downward, played with
the hair on my chest.

Completely ignoring my dick, of course.

He pinched my nipples hard and I sort of whimper-groaned again. He kept that up for a while, then
dropped lower and licked at one of them. He tucked his hands under my ass and pulled me downwards,
so I wasn't sitting up so straight, and my dick stood against his package. He snaked his hips to rub at it
through the cotton and sucked harder at my nipple.

"Ah, fuck." I squirmed under him some more.

"You can use your hands to readjust, if you need to. Just don't touch me."

I swallowed hard. Like hell; I was staying right where he fucking put me. "I'm -- I'm good."

He laughed and kept kissing toward my belly, one of his hands leaving a hot trail up the inside of my
thigh. I parted my legs as far as I could. He paused when he got to my navel, then stopped and sucked
hard again.

My entire skin tightened up. I pulled so hard at the bedspread it came off the upper corners. "Unnnnh."

He slipped lower, rearranging us so he was on his knees, bent over between my legs. He licked off the
pre-cum, then kept tonguing the hole like he was looking for more. "Mmm, that's fucking good."

Fuck, I was about to blow my load right on his face and he'd hardly touched it. I gritted my teeth and
gave another super-articulate grunt.

Hansen licked down the side of my cock, all the way to the base, gentle and slow and goddamn he had a
hot tongue. He kissed the inside of my thigh, bit at it gently so I couldn't help but arch a little and pull my
legs up. He did it again, and I propped my knees in the air. Apparently that was what he wanted,
because he licked his way up the other side of my dick and kept going like that, getting me all wet and
dizzy for seconds like little lifetimes. When I had to grit my teeth and close my eyes to hold it back again,
he went for my balls.

I was about to start begging, even though I wasn't sure I was supposed to yet, when he came back up
and licked my dickhead clean again.

I gasped. "Hansen..."

He sat up and ran both hands down the backs of my thighs toward my ass. I had slipped a little lower, so
I was halfway on my back by then, and my hands were still tangled in the bedspread, white-knuckled.

His voice was rough. "Stay like this."

Another huge thrill, just from the sound of it; I'd been halfway joking about the blacking out thing, but
yeah. Just about there.

He held my cock in place against my belly, then climbed on top of me, one leg over each of mine. And
sat right down so my balls pressed his underwear into the crease of his ass.

No thought, none at all. I reached for him.

He grabbed both wrists, tighter than before, and made a face. "Sam."

"Sorry. Shit. Just..." Just so fucking hot oh my god want you so bad you incredible fucking tease you
gorgeous motherfucker want want waaaaaaaaaaaaaant.

He readjusted, felt around on the bed, grabbed my t-shirt, and went through a complicated process that
confused the fuck out of me until it was done. He had my wrists through the hand-holes, and the middle
twisted up between them so it held them -- not tight, but they weren't going to slip out unless I tried. He
held my hands up and tucked the shirt behind my head so it was pinned to the pillow, my elbows out
wide.

He sat back down on me, leaning against my thighs, and admired his work. "Feel okay? Not too tight?"

"Fucking awesome," was all I could say. Because, holy God. Unh. Guh. And other exclamations of drive
me wild fucking awesomeness.

He leaned forward and kissed me hard. I kissed back with everything I had, sucking at his tongue, biting
down on his lip, licking the backs of his teeth. He gasped into me and lifted up a little so I could reach his
neck, and I went to work there, sucking on his hot skin and trying, trying so fucking hard, to make him
feel everything I did with just my mouth, just what he gave me. He even tasted hot, like sweat and fire,
and I couldn't stop myself moaning into his neck.

He sat up and bowed his back, reached behind himself to cup my balls and caress with his thumb.
Perched on top of me like I was his personal couch, all long and hard, so fucking gorgeous in the dark,
stiff cock still trying to escape from those goddamn underwear.

He ran his free hand, so hot it almost burned, down the middle of my chest.

I arched hard under him; a little tearing sound came from somewhere in the t-shirt restraining my
hands.

He narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. "What would you do if you could touch me? "

Words. Words were hard. "What?"

"If you could touch me? What would you do?"

More words. Can. Not. Understand. "I... uh..."

He smirked, still holding between my legs, not-quite sitting on my dick. "What are you going to do when
I say you can?"

"Feel you," I managed to gasp. "I want to fuckin' feel you."

"And then?"

"I'm going to..."

He pulled his waistband down, freeing his swollen, pink cock. His thighs quivered against my sides, and
mine fell farther apart. I was too weak to hold them up any more. And then he paused, waiting.

I grunted, trying to pull my head together. "Pin you to the bed."

He rewarded me by taking our cocks in his hand, holding them tight against each other. His fingers were
still doing something awesome between my legs, but all I could tell at that point was that my dick was
almost purple, and it looked amazing rubbing up against his like that, and when he finally let me, I was
going to come so hard it might make me cry.

"Then?"

No idea where it came from, but it was the first thing that popped into my head: "I will fuck you so hard
you'll see God."

The grin, oh fuck me, the evil fucking grin. He started jerking, rubbing our dicks off together. "How long
do you think that would take, Sam? To make me see God?"

I grunted. "Longer than I have, maybe."

"How about I suck you off, first, then?" He let go, pushed my thighs down flat, and had himself in prime
position before I knew what the hell was going on.

I started to ask, "Can I --?"

He looked up, concerned. "Is it hurting?"

"Uh, not my arms, no." And hell, I wouldn't have minded if it did, a little.

Or a lot. Whatever.

"Then not 'til I say."

"Nnnngh."

He spit on his fingers and rubbed it into my asshole as he went down on me. His lips hit the base of my
dick, his throat contracted around me, and the lightning flashed behind my eyes. Then just up and down,
all the fucking way, but kind of slow and drawing it out while he played with my ass.

It started within seconds. Just this wash of feeling that was so huge my fingers and toes went numb. My
balls were so fucking tight and my dick was all wet and hot and desperate and so goddamn hard. I
bucked my hips into him and he stayed down, let me fuck his throat for a second when it started coming
on. I went blind, or just closed my eyes, and holy fuck there was nothing in the world, in the whole
goddamn world, but one long, huge, incredible hit of perfect bliss. Even after it rolled away, it came right
back, just a little bit less, but still goddamn magnificent, so I bucked again and gasped, "Fuck, yeah."

Then again. Again, a few times, until it finally stopped rocking me every time my heart pounded, and I
was just throbbing in his mouth and sort of growling and gasping for air.

It was still hard when he let me go and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. "Fuck, Sammy,
had to swallow twice."

I sat up, brought my bound hands down in front of my stomach, and got up on my knees. My legs were
shaking, but I leaned over and kissed him hard, working my wrists out of the t-shirt.

He let me push him back on his hands, but gave a little, "Hey!" when I got mine free.

I nudged him backwards until he was half lying down, propped up on his elbows, and planted a hand on
either side of him. I buried my face in his neck. "You said I could use my hands to adjust."

"Yeah, but --"

"I'm not touching you." I sucked at the little dip between his collar bone and shoulder, until his skin
pebbled. God, the fucking taste, the heat in him was --

He arched and gave a little, "Ah!" when I pulled my lips off him with a smack, leaving a pink mark. I bit
gently at his shoulder, licked at his skin, then bit a little harder.

"Mmm." He melted and let me pin him down, writhing underneath me.

His dick was still out of his shorts, but they were halfway over his ass, so I moved down, took the
waistband in my teeth, and tugged at it. He lifted to let me pull it down over his hips, then his thighs,
and from there it was easy. I crawled back up and pinned him again, this time fitting myself into him. He
wrapped his long legs around me and angled his ass up. All his skin against all of mine.

I still wanted to touch him, though. Explore him with my hands, feel him breathing, feel him burning.

He sighed. "Jesus, you're ready to go again."

I laughed. "Wonder why."

"I'm not saying I love you for your hard cock, but it doesn't fucking hurt, either."

I rocked against him, sucking at random spots to make him squirm. "I'll take it. You can tell me to use my
hands any time, by the way."

He smirked. "You're doing fine."

"How am I supposed to fuck you like this?"

"You're a smart boy, Sammy. You'll figure something out."

I don't think I've ever made it from bed to nightstand back to bed so fast in my life. He sat up on his
elbows, his dick leaking onto his belly and his chest heaving with frantic breath. I sat back on my heels
and used my cock to rub the lube against his asshole while he watched.

Yep. Totally a smart boy. That's me.

It was a strange combination of momentary almost-satisfaction and unspeakable horniness; felt like I
could fill that tight ass up and go all night. But his long, pale body was stretched out in front of me like
that, his perfect thighs begging to be touched, his pink hard nipples, and his gorgeous, straight cock. I
needed to get my hands on him. Give him the electricity he loved. So I worked his asshole a little with
my dickhead and started to beg. "Please let me touch you. Please, Hansen. You're so hot. Feel so fucking
good. Please. Begging you."

He clenched his jaw and tried to grind down on me. It went inside a little, but just the very tip; he made
this cute-hot frustrated noise. "Gah. Fine. But next time I'm tying your hands together for real, you
sneaky fuck."

"Mmm, yes, please." I only kept my hand on my dick long enough to make sure the head got in. The
second I felt him contracting around me, I flattened my hands against his hard belly -- unf, his skin, his
incredible skin -- and let go with just a faint static charge as I pushed my hips forward, inching into him.

So soft, but hard. So hot, so tight. Inside, outside, perfection.

"Ah, yeah." He sighed and angled upward as I pushed inward. "Love that cock."

I leaned over him and stretched out, all missionary, so I could reach his mouth with mine. I started it
going with my hips, his rising up to meet me even as he kept his knees wide apart. His mouth fastened
on to mine, his fingers dug into my back hard. I felt him up and down with my free hand, the other
propping me up on top of him. I shoved up into him all the way, and he gasped. When he pulled his
mouth away to do it, I said, absolutely certain in that moment that it was true, "You love everything
about me." And did it again, this time keeping it up there, grinding into the tight heat of him, the wild
friction.

He groaned and shifted under me, with me. "Uh-huh. God help us."

"You can ask him to when you see him."

~

We went back downstairs after we were settled down and cleaned up, if only because we'd left the
candles and the fireplace burning. But it smelled nice down there. Smelled like Christmas, even he had
to admit.

I put my head in his lap while he turned on Frosty the Snowman in all its creepy glory. Just when I was
starting to drift off a little, Hansen said, "He said no, by the way."

"What?"

"God. Asked him when I saw him, if he'd help us. He said no help for the wicked."

"Thought that was no rest for the wicked."

He flicked at my hair, grinning down at me. "We got that part covered."

I looked up at him. Tired again, tired in ways I'm not even sure I knew existed before I had him in my sex
life. It felt so goddamn good to be all spent like that, to be there with him after. So close.

Fuck it. "Hansen."

"Yeah?"

"I knocked your folder thing off the dresser the other day. Stuff fell out."

His eyes were on the TV. "Okay." But then he seemed to remember what he had in there. He sat a little
straighter and bit his lip.

I sat up. "That letter from Wharton was an acceptance, wasn't it?"

"You didn't look?"

I shook my head. "But if it was a rejection you would've told me."

He sighed. "I thought you'd feel bad if you knew I was thinking of declining."

Funny he should say that, because I suddenly felt like someone was sitting on my chest. I mean, if he
didn't want it anymore, that was one thing. But wasn't I the guy he was supposed to tell that shit? "I do,
as a matter of fact."

"Well, I didn't respond yet." He pulled at his hair. "I just wanted to have a nice vacation. Thought I'd
bring it up after New Years."

"So, you did actually consider that it was something we should discuss. That's a little less terrifying."

He made a face.

I explained. "Option A: you tear up the acceptance. I get old and lazy and spiteful because I've been
stuck in a job I hate for years, and you resent me for keeping you from following your dreams."

"Sam --"

"Option B: you go off to Philadelphia and are so convincing about not wanting to take me away from my
suck-ass job that I think you're trying to get rid of me. I let you go. I cry myself to sleep like Jane fucking
Eyre every night."

He gave a little laugh, totally humorless. "Come on."

"Option C: instead of growing apart, we do it together."

Finally, Hansen shut his pretty mouth.

My heart was loud in my ears by that time, like it always is any time I try to pour it out to him. But one of
us has to be willing to do it, and I'm cool with it being me.

He's good about keeping it safe after I'm done.

I finished with, "Which one do you want?"

He looked away. "I like Marietta Falls."

"Weak."

He collapsed like he wanted to disappear into the couch. "I would never resent you. You --" He stole a
quick glance at me out of the corner of his eyes. "You don't even know."

"Don't play the I love you more game with me, man. Why are you even thinking about saying no?"

"I can stay with Dr. Ferrara and finish."

"I really hope you don't think I'm that stupid, Hansen. Worst career move ever."

Another sigh. "I just -- we're really happy. I don't want things to change."

Okay. My brain was in a whole other place, a whole other universe on that subject. "If you...if you don't
think of it like I do, like" -- like I want to buy a house, get a dog, white picket fence, hi, honey, I'm home,
forever -- "like we're a family..."

He set his jaw and reached out, put a hand on the side of my face and turned it toward him. "We are." A
little kiss on the lips. "We fucking are."

I swear to God that if I didn't know he'd think I was only saying it to make him feel better, I would've
dropped down on one fucking knee.

But instead I said, "I'll start looking for a job in Philadelphia when we get home. See? That easy."

He laughed and kissed me, this time a little longer and slower. Then, "For someone who wants to be tied
up so bad, you're kind of sweet."

"You know I can't live without you to boss me around. Fucker."

"Cockbag." And he kissed me some more. "I really was going to bring it up and let you talk sense into
me. I promise. Just, I've been really stressed, and I really wanted --"

"I believe you." I brushed his hair out of his face. "Congratulations, Mr. Smarty-pants Economist. You just
got the power-up and won the game."

"Yeah. I reckon I did."

And the way he kissed me, I even suspected he wasn't talking about UPenn.

~

My Christmas Day plan succeeded. Which is to say that while we were trying to make the Tofurkey
dinner, we succeeded in getting too drunk to fuck on that bottle of Jack. Probably for the best, since we
could both use some recovery time, anyhow. And we were so disgustingly all over each other for the
rest of the week, the little break in the middle was probably all that kept us from causing serious bodily
harm.

His family came home, we had some good talks about The Philadelphia Plan, and all was right with the
world. At the end of it, the big snow had melted down, and we shoved off into my car.

I was about to turn the key when he sighed, blowing his bangs upward. "Okay."

I stopped. "Okay?"

"Are you seriously going to leave it here?"

I bit my lip. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "The MacBook."

I flushed to my ears. "How...?"

"I saw it downstairs when I went for wrapping paper. Mom didn't hide it very well. I thought it was for
Dad because she was talking about getting him a new computer, so I asked. She's the worst liar ever."

I let my head hit the rest, sighing. "Fuck. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry you bought me a badass present."

"I didn't think. I should've after the Edinburgh thing. Then I heard you talking to your mom and I felt like
shit. Was so thoughtless of me. I didn't want you to know I even..." And that's about when I figured out
that he didn't sound angry. Like, at all.

I raised an eyebrow.

He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me over for a kiss.

I managed a, "Mmm?"

He laughed. "Yeah, well, if it's your money, I guess it's mine too. So go get my goddamn present,
already."

I planted another one on his lips. "Happy Christmas?"

"We'll have to work hard to top it next year."

"Got some ideas already."

"Percentage that came from the porn collection?"

I said, "Eighty-three-point-nine-five," because it sounded like something a smarty-pants doctoral
candidate in applied economics would say.

He smirked. "I like our odds, Sam."

"Me too, honey."

The End

~~~

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