by elfin

For the first time in as long as the locals could remember, it snowed on Christmas Eve in Briar Hollow.  Several miles out of the village, the white flakes fell thick and fast, carpeting the fields with a flawless white blanket.

The warmth of the BMWs recently-used engine melted the first flurry to land on the dark blue bonnet.  But it soon cooled, and as the windmill beyond was covered in white, so too was the car.

Inside, on the ground floor, the aroma of fresh coffee and home-made biscuits filled the circular kitchen.  Up the wooden stairs, the wonderful smells permeated the warm air.  Half-empty glasses stood abandoned on the carpet next to the old leather sofa.  Torn wrapping paper littered the wooden boards of the floor, glittering in the glow of the lamps.

The warm air moved the tinsel that hung around the statues and posters in the room.  Next to the locked wooden door that led out onto the terrace, fairy lights danced around a short Christmas tree, under which more brightly wrapped parcels were strewn.

From beyond the second set of wooden stairs came soft moans and whispered affections.

Shadows danced in the light of the candles that stood on the floor and cabinets in the bedroom.  The warm, amber glow caressed the slowly moving bodies on the large bed in the centre of the light.

They moved together in an ancient rhythm, keeping time to their own heartbeats.

Jonathan's long, lithe body shifted forward once again, tight buttocks clenching as he moved slowly deep inside his lover.

Adam's muscles, taut with desire and sheened with sweat, glistened in the light as he pushed back to take as much of Jonathan inside of him as he could.

On the mattress next to them, their joined hands supported Jonathan's weight, their fingers entwined, gripping tightly.

Dropping his lips to the back of Adam's neck, Jonathan kissed the heated skin lightly.  Pushing up the white fur rim of Adams Santa hat with his forehead, Jonathan used the tip of his tongue to trace the outline of a tiny love-heart at the top of Adams spine, searing himself there.

As a bright expletive shaped Adam's lips, Jonathan murmured words of love, meant to soothe.  His free hand moved, from where he'd been torturing the man's right nipple, down over the tight stomach to tuck between hard thighs.  He wrapped long fingers around Adam's painful erection and began to pump him with languishing care to the same, slow rhythm that their bodies were moving to.

Slowing impossibly, Jonathan nipped a trail down the back of Adam's neck and over his shoulders.  Only when he had tasted his way from left shoulder to right, did Jonathan finally take mercy on his lover.  He lifted himself and thrust forward suddenly, hard and deep.

Adam screamed, his voice drifting through the windmill as he came through Jonathan's fingers to the damp sheets below them.

Jonathan's ecstatic cry joined with his lover's as his own climax was stolen from him.

Finally they collapsed, Jonathan to Adam's back, softening cock still buried deep.  He pulled his hand from under Adam and, wiping his fingers on the edge of the duvet, he reached up to cup the large furry bobble that hung from the top of the red furred Santa hat that Adam wore.

"I can't believe it stayed on," Jonathan murmured quietly, laughing gently.

Adam chuckled low in his throat.  "Me too, the way you were yanking it."

Carefully rolling them on to their sides, Jonathan spooned into Adam's back.  He liked to keep the physical connection between them for as long as he could, and he had discovered Adam to be a true masochist at heart when it came to having his lover buried inside him.  That one night at 'Skin' had turned into something much more; a journey of discovery for them both.

"What time are your parents likely to turn up?" Adam murmured sleepily, hoping he could leave in the early morning instead of having to leave the warmth of his lover and the windmill to drive the long trip back to London.

"No earlier than ten," Jonathan assured him, wrapping himself closer around Adam to make his point.

Adam smiled to himself.  The idea of Jonathan's dotty family finding their son in bed with a man wearing a Santa hat was more than Adam's career could stand up to.  But he was nevertheless willing to risk it for a couple more hours.

"Merry Christmas," Jonathan murmured as his mind went quiet and his body erred toward sleep.

With the memory of his lover sitting in his lap, Adam too closed his eyes.  "Merry Christmas, little boy," he whispered.