"It looks great," David said. "Just right for Christmas." And he wasn't lying. This was a whole lot better than he thought he'd be getting for Christmas this year. The tree was lit; the fire was going; and Musa, on his way to find booze in the kitchen, had turned on a CD of Josh Groban singing Christmas melodies softly somewhere in the background—some of the same music David had heard at the community center, but more in tune now.
There was no tension. Both men knew the direction this was going—and that the other man knew too. The question had been asked and answered back in the community hall.
They settled on the sofa with a bottle of Scotch on the coffee table in front of the sofa and, while keeping their eyes on the Christmas tree and their ears tuned into Josh Grogan, comfortably and smoothly moved into the inevitable and doing, with their hands and mouths, what came naturally with two matched, if exotic, one being a large, black, muscular black African and the other an average-sized, willowy, ethnic Chinese, with two lonely gay guys in heat trying to grab what pleasure and togetherness they could from the holidays. David turned his face to Musa's to take the first kiss, and when Musa palmed David's basket, the younger man signaled total acquiescence by unzipping Musa's fly, freeing his now-hard cock, stroking it while then kissed, and then sinking to his knees in between the Nigeria's spread thighs and taking the jet-black shaft into his mouth and making love to it.
They were stretched out along the sofa, both naked, a tangle of clothes on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table, holding a third-full bottle of Scotch, with David on the bottom, legs spread and pelvis elevated, and Abeo on top, his oversized erection held by David in a two-handed grip and being put into position when Abeo's cellphone buzzed. With an exclamation of "Fuck," he dug the phone out of his trousers pocket and looked at the display to see who called.
"Shit, sorry. I gotta take this call," he mumbled, as he rolled off the sofa and headed, naked, jet-black erection jutting out from his crotch, still not fully satisfied, for the hallway leading back to the bedrooms.
With a sigh, David sat up on the sofa and took another swig of Scotch from his glass. His cellphone went off too—just a text message. It was from his father and was a terse as the old man always was. It said, "Xmas dinner at 4. Hope to see u here."
He smiled in relief. It meant so much more than it said. In typical Chinese family tradition, a call to sit down to a meal together meant acceptance, David's parents were telling him that all was back on keel. And it wasn't a command summons. His father wasn't prone to "hoping" his son would do what he directed him to do. The revelation that he was gay having been pulled out into the open by their last act of attempted denial of bringing in a Christmas bride had brought it all to a head and they had weathered it. He was wanted at the family dinner table once more—and on higher status standing now. This at least got him back to square one in his life.
He rose from the sofa, pulled on his briefs, and went over to the window out onto the street at the front of the house. The snow, still falling, had done its "winter wonderland" thing. The snow had blanketed the raw dreariness of the ground and cracked asphalt street in a fluffy white, which, in turn had made the tired attempts of Christmas decorations up and down the street sparkle into a fairyland of delight. Green River was no long tired and tacky.
The miracle of Christmas was here again. He looked at his watch. Sure enough, it was after midnight. It was Christmas Day. Another promise had been delivered.
Abeo Musa, naked and magnificently built, came out of the hallway, all smiles. "It was Vivian. She let me talk to the boys. They are settled in Denver, not too far from her. She has a job with another Golds Gym. She says I can come see the boys whenever I can get away. She gave me an address."
"That's great, Abeo," David said. "You can deliver the gifts in person now. That's just great. It's late now. Maybe I should go."
Maybe whatever the moment they had been building to had dissolved along with the dilemmas each had been occupied with—the circumstance that had highlighted and worried their loneliness on this of all nights. Maybe the moment for the two of them was gone. They were, after all, from two different worlds, dropped into one that was different from either of theirs.
But maybe not.
"I don't think so," Abeo said, coming up behind David at the window and pulling him into an embrace. "Jut your butt back. Take me." While recovering from the blow job David had started with, the Nigerian had put some effort already into David taking him with some finger and tongue work on the sofa as David whimpered and panted and sighed for him, clutching the man's dreadlocks and rocking on the fingers working at opening and stretching him for the need of the massive shaft. The big Nigerian slid David's briefs down his legs, and the young man stepped out of them, knowing what was coming.
David did as the big Nigerian bull commanded, jutting his pelvis back, setting his legs in a wide stance, and placing his palms and cheeks against the cold glass pane, his eyes trained the snowy wonderland on the street outside. Musa slapped him on each butt cheek in turn and then grasped and spread them wide apart with his hands, causing the hole to pucker and open to his need. David cried out in pain-passion as the gigantic mushroom camp of the cock pressed in, forcing him to stretch open to it. Abeo grunted, pulled back, and slow-thrust again, stretching David more, reaching greater depth.
David arched his back, cried out, "Yes! Oh, sit, yes. Fuck me! Shit, it's been too long. Fuck, you're big." He turned his face to Abeo's and they went into a lip-lock. Abeo withdrew, pressed in again, going deeper, holding David's hips in place with the strong grip of his large hands. He went deep. Both men were panting. David's hips went into a rhythmic counter motion, and the two, panting and groaning, were deep into the rhythmic fuck. Nothing would get in the way of a relentless journey to mutual climax now. The two were one.
Later, back in the master bedroom, Abeo lay on his back on the bed and David had risen, gone to the window, and parted the curtains.
"The snow is getting deep," he said. "I should go."
"The snow is too deep," Abeo answered. "You should stay. We're both closers of our business. We don't have anywhere to go until late afternoon. Didn't your parent say you aren't expected until four?"
"Nothing to do until afternoon except to sleep?" David asked.
"Sleep and fuck, yes. And you could check out of the Mustang Motel after lunch, if you wanted."
"And move back into my parents' house? Return to how it was before? Life as normal in nowhere Green River? Going to work at four in the afternoon and closing down at ten?"
"Not all the way back to how it was—unless you want to," Abeo said. "And you don't have to move back in with your parents' house unless you want to. You could come live with me. We're on the same schedule. We're both closers. The timing would work fine. We wouldn't be outliers in more ways than one in Green River. We could be a pack, running together."
"And we could fuck like rabbits?"
"That too. Come back to bed, David."
"Is that a proposition?"
"It's more a proposal—something more permanent and committed than a proposition. How about it?" He rolled onto his back and showed that he was in massive erection again. "Come ride it. It wants you again."
"Ask me again—the proposition part," David said, turning and giving the magnificent, naked, body-tattooed black man a smile.
"Come back to bed and let me fuck the hell out of you," Abeo rumbled in that low, melodic, slightly British accented voice of his.
And that's what David and Abeo did on Christmas morning.