A Christmas Surprise - 1. Chapter 1

A Christmas Surprise (vers. 2)

It was late; the fire warmed and lighted the room. Candles lit the windows; snow fell gently outside. He sat in the semi-darkness sipping his cognac. In a funny kind of way, Hank was content, not happy exactly, but content. It was his tenth year teaching at the university, and things had settled down. He had a small group of very bright grad students working with him; he enjoyed his undergraduate classes, and he had grown to love this small, academic town. He had found a lovely, older stone home with wooden floors. He even had a couple of fireplaces, one in the living room and one in the master bedroom. He had his garden out back, and a small group of friends to enjoy. He had found an easy acceptance in this liberal town, something that had been difficult where he had come from. It had been even more difficult with his birth family. So, yes, he was content.

Or, at least, that's what he kept telling himself. Only one thing kept niggling away at him. He was lonely. Sure, he had found the odd person for a quick one-night-stand, sometimes even for a few weeks of enjoyment. He had his friends, some of whom were gay, too. He had his academic colleagues to share his professional life and intellectual interests. Nevertheless, deep down, he knew that he wanted something more; he wanted someone more. He wanted a special someone to share all of his life, to laugh with, to argue with, to cook with, to tumble into bed with and to just be with. It was nights like this when he felt that special ache, that deep-seated lack in his life. It was Christmas Eve.

He sighed, looked into the fire, and took another sip of the cognac. It had been a nice Christmas Eve. He'd gone to church and enjoyed the service. The pastor's sermon had been pretty good, actually. The choir sang beautifully and the service itself, incense perfuming the air, bells chiming at all the right moments, everyone moving through the stately ritual with grace and dignity, had gone off without a hitch. He smiled wryly to himself; that had been a minor miracle in itself. Of course, he had worked extra hard with all the acolytes, making sure that each one knew his or her place, knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing, and no one had been sick at the last moment, so, yes, it had gone off without a hitch. Maybe he should resign now on a high note before the next big set of services. He laughed aloud to himself. He knew he wouldn't do that. He enjoyed it too much. He loved the liturgy, and the chance to work with the kids was a real ministry.

For years, he'd made a ritual of coming home after the last service, building up a good fire, sipping a glass of fine cognac, and watching Midnight Mass from the Vatican. Somehow, that made it Christmas for him. He reached over and clicked on the TV, tuning to the channel with the service broadcast live from St. Peter’s in Rome. It had already started, but that didn't matter, he knew the service well. The glorious music sung by a wonderful choir wafted over him from the television set. The sonorous Latin phrases and ethereal Gregorian plainchant filled him with a sense of wonder. He sat back and sipped his drink slowly.

A knock came from the front door. Who could that be? It was after midnight. He got up; made sure his bathrobe was tied tightly, and went to the door.

"Merry Christmas, professor. I saw your light on as I was walking by and thought I'd wish you a merry Christmas." The professor goggled at the good-looking young man who stood at the door. The porch-light framed his face, ruddy in the cold, his blue eyes looking a little anxious under the red woolen ski cap.

"Come in, Jim, come in. It's too cold for you to stand out there, and a Merry Christmas to you, too. Here, let me take your coat."

Jim came in, stamping the snow off his boots at the door. He stuffed his cap into one pocket, his fleece-lined leather gloves into another and took off his heavy parka. The professor took it from him and hung it on the old-fashioned wooden coat tree standing behind the door.

"Take your boots off and put them there on the little rug. And come in. Would you like a drink? I'm having a cognac myself. I always do on Christmas Eve."

He realized that he was blathering, surprised by this late night visit, and, if he was going to be truthful with himself, surprised and a little off center by this particular visitor. Jim had been one of his best undergrads. He'd enjoyed having this young man in his classes. Bright, insightful, well read, his sharp, sometimes challenging questions, had enlivened the class discussions. And, he wasn't bad to look at, too. In fact, he was very good to look at, something that had been more than a little distracting at times. Hank knew he'd found Jim attractive. What wasn't to like? But students were off-limits, and Hank had kept his thoughts about Jim strictly to his own nighttime imagination. He bustled around getting out a snifter, pouring some cognac into it, swirling it around as he brought it over to Jim.

"Sit down. Here, have some cognac."

They sat, watching the fire, each lost in his private thoughts and wondering how to broach the now slightly awkward silence. They watched the fire fitfully, sneaking little peaks at each other from the sides of their eyes, turning their eyes away quickly when they caught each other looking. What was going on?

"Prof…/Ji…" they started together, laughing as they both stopped. The ice had been broken by that little interplay. Somehow, they could both look at each other, now, and smile.

"Jim, please call me Hank. I'm not your professor anymore. You graduated last spring, didn't you?"

"Yes. I've been going to grad school down the road since the fall. That's why you haven't seen me."

"Do you like it? What are you studying?" The usual questions meant to make opening a discussion easier came out of his mouth automatically.

"Yes, I do. I'm studying law. Going to be a lawyer someday, I hope."

"Great! That's a good field; tough though, lots of hard work. I know you can do it; you were a hard worker in my classes. But Jim, why were you taking my courses if you were going into law? Is this a change of direction, did you change majors?"

Jim blushed and hung his head.

"No, I was always going into law. My father's a lawyer, and his father before him. It's kind of the family business. Actually, I first took your course just because it fit into my schedule. Finding things to fit the schedule was always tough. I needed a humanities elective."

He fell silent for a few moments, and then started up again. "I took your other courses because of you."

Silence again.

"Profes…, uh, Hank, you were the reason I took all those courses. I kind of had a crush on you, and that seemed to be the only way I could be with you. I loved the give and take of those classes, and the way you would look at me so intently while I was speaking…and, uh …" He trailed off into silence again."Hank, I guess I still have a crush on you." He looked up at Hank, his expression anxious, eager, frightened, confused, hopeful, all at the same time.

Hank sat there, stunned by this revelation. "Jim, I'm flattered, very flattered. But aren't I a little too old for you? I must be at least fifteen years older than you. And anyway, there's this student professor thing…" Hank trailed off into silence. He didn't know quite what to say.

Jim looked at him, and started up again, this time stronger, clear about what he wanted. "Hank, you're not my professor now, so the 'student professor thing', as you put it, doesn't count anymore. In fact, I'm at a completely different university, so it really doesn't count at all. There's no legal barrier after all; I’m of age, and there’s really no moral or ethical barrier, either. And no, you're not too old for me. You could be my older brother, or even my uncle, but not my father. I know; I looked you up. You're only just fifteen years older than me. And, you've just answered my only outstanding question."

"What's that?"

"You didn't protest about the same-sex thing. I've always suspected that you were gay, hoped it actually, and I pretty sure now that I was right."

"How did you guess?"

"Well," Jim blushed a little, "there was a reason why I started sitting in the front row. Sure, I wanted to hear and see, but mostly I wanted you to see me. I watched you, your eyes would look over at me and then quickly dart away. When I wore tight pants, you always checked me out. If I stretched, you quickly looked over. Yep, I was pretty sure you were gay, but you were always so…so…correct, that's the word, yes, correct with me. So I wasn't absolutely sure. I just kept hoping."

Hank smiled, despite himself. He thought he should be outraged, angry, or even a little shocked. Jim had just confessed to intentionally flirting with him, testing him out. But inside he was delighted, and more than a little flattered. What a tease this guy had been! He remembered all that little byplay during class. Sometimes he had enjoyed it, at other times, well, he’d wondered just what was going on. He fiddled with his drink now, looking down at his hands, watching the firelight catch the highlights of the deep amber liquid. What now? He didn't know. He was out of his depth here. The professor was lost. He hadn't had a relationship in a long, long time. The silence lengthened.

There was a slight rustle. Hank looked up, he was startled to see Jim standing beside his chair. When had he gotten up? Jim's hand came down on his head, stroking his hair, drawing the fingers down his cheeks, oh so soft, so gentle, so sensuous. The hand curled around the back of his head, cupping his neck and skull. Jim's other hand came down to his chin and tilted it up. He leaned down and then his lips covered Hank's own.

It was a sweet kiss, full of promise, soft and yielding; a kiss that invited and promised. His hands rose of their own volition, wrapped themselves in Jim's thick, rumpled hair, and pulled him in. Somehow, Jim was on his knees beside the chair and the kiss grew stronger, more demanding. The cognac was forgotten, though the taste lingered on the tongue as they explored each other's mouths more deeply. Their tongues battled with each other, probing deeply. They tasted each other, and tasted the rising desire.

Jim drew Hank up out of his chair, that kiss working like a magnet to pull him erect. Their bodies came together, hardness grinding against hardness, hands roaming, exploring. Jim's hands came to the front and pulled the robe open, his hands darting underneath to glide over sleek skin. One hand cupped Hank's buttocks and drew him closer, Jim's denim covered length thrust against the soft cotton of Hank's underwear, grinding, demanding attention.

Hank felt overwhelmed by the speed, the suddenness of this, but found that he loved it. The athletic hardness of Jim’s muscles seemed to wrap around him, Jim's height covering him as he leaned down to kiss Hank. Hank was amazed at himself. He wasn't frightened by Jim's strength. He wasn’t struggling against Jim’s sudden dominance. He had never felt so safe, so wanted, maybe even so loved. He leaned into Jim, his own hands working the shirt out of the jeans, scrambling at the snap, pulling down the zipper. He reached underneath and pulled up, so that he, too, could caress the body underneath. He felt hard muscles and fur, a treasure trail running down, and up, too. He curled his fingers into the wonder of hair, letting his index caress the nipple out of its surrounding forest, bringing his thumbs up to pinch gently, to tease until the hard pointed tips stood proud. He pushed with both hands, pushing the shirt down Jim's arms and out of the way. What a wonder was revealed! He'd never guessed, all those hours in class when he'd snuck his quick glances, never guessed that Jim was so wonderfully furry underneath. There were the muscles that had been hinted at through the tight shirts, the pecs with their now upstanding nipples, the ridged abs that his fingers had just traced, covered with fur. He could run his hands over the broad shoulders and down the back, it, too, covered with fur. His hands dipped down, caressing the taut curves of muscled ass, cupping and filling his hand with taught muscles. He pulled him in closer.

Hank's head dipped as he flicked his tongue over the nipples, first one, then the other, and he slid to his knees, tasting what he had only imagined, his mouth filling with fur, his tongue dipping into the tight, little 'innie' and then following the treasure trail down. His chin bumped into something hard, and he tilted his head, feeling the fur tickle his cheek, turning so that his mouth could come down and kiss the deep red of Jim's maleness, thrusting up above the waistband of his shorts. He slipped his mouth over that male peak, slowly letting himself sink down, pushing the shorts and jeans out of the way; twirling his tongue the whole time as he finally came to rest with his nose in the thick bush at the base. A gasp slipped out above him, a shudder that he felt through his tongue. He began to work slowly up and down, letting his hands caress the body now laid open above him, palms cupping the full scrotum, fingers delving deeply into the hidden recesses opening to him. He lost himself in sensation, loving the fullness that filled his mouth, all that male strength covered by smooth softness, the heat of it warming him, the scent intoxicating.

Jim's hands clenched in Hank's hair, pulling it (and his head) closer yet. He loved the sensations he was getting from Hank's tongue, lips and throat. His hands loosened, and one continued softly to stroke the thick dark hair, the other gently pulled Hank into him, joining in the rhythm, urging Hank on. He felt his balls tighten, felt the urge rising and overtaking him. He jerked once, twice, three times into Hank, letting the little aftershocks come one after another, enjoying the continued attention from Hank. He felt himself slip out and looked down. Hank's eyes met his and he reached down to bring him up. He kissed him again, deeply, tasting himself as he explored again the depths of Hank's mouth, using his own tongue to enter him again, and claim him for his own.

Hank loved it. He loved the strength, the mastery. He wanted more. He hadn't realized just how much he was missing. It was more than just loneliness. Something had been missing in his life, a void. Now Jim was filling it. He wanted more. He melted into Jim's arms, feeling them holding him tightly, enjoying the caress of a strong hand roaming up and down his back, and then settling on his ass, kneading and holding. Yes, he definitely wanted more.

Jim lifted his head, letting go of the kiss. He stood there, pants puddling around his ankles, shirt off on the floor somewhere, Hank's body fitting closely all along his front. "I've wanted this for a long, long time, Hank, a long time. You're mine now and I'm not letting you go. You're my Christmas present to myself." He kicked off his pants and stood there completely naked. "And now, I'm going to claim you completely." He swept Hank off his feet and into his arms, and stalked towards the bedroom, intent on completely un-wrapping this gift to himself. Hank clung to him, yielding to his strength and masculinity.

They reached the bedroom and Jim set Hank carefully on the bed. He slipped Hank's underwear off, as Hank lifted his hips off the bed. The bathrobe had been left behind somewhere. Jim stood beside the bed, looking down at Hank, his eyes drinking him in. He had wanted this man for a long time now, ever since that first class four years ago. He sat and let his hands trail down Hank's body, caressing gently now that his first urgency had been satisfied. He was ready again.

He wanted more, but he could take his time now.

Hank had a fine body, lithe and wiry, smooth, a good foil to his own bear cub look. Hank had always been in charge in the classroom, sure in his own knowledge and his ability to teach. Yet here, on his own bed, quivering under Jim's touch, he had a softness about him, a gentle yielding that Jim had always sensed, a vulnerability that called to something deep inside him. Jim wanted to protect Hank, to cuddle him and hold him tight. That sense had confused him in the beginning when he'd sat in Hank's classroom. How could he want to protect his professor? But he did. There was just something about him. Something about the way they had fitted with each other all that time, even without touching physically; something that just said, "This is right."

He lay down beside him, on one elbow, leaning over to kiss him again. He loved kissing this man. He couldn’t get enough of him. His hands glided down over this body that he had dreamed about for so long, the softness of skin overlaid on the firmness of muscles, that special feel of a man – this man, who he hoped would become his man. As his excitement continued to rise, he found himself rolling over on top of Hank, pinning him under his weight, covering him with his body. Groin thrust against groin, hardness grinding against hardness. Jim wanted to claim him, to make love to him, to bury himself deep inside.

“There’s lube and condoms in the nightstand.” Hank knew where this was going, and he wanted it, too. No one had claimed him as Jim was doing. Sure there had been infrequent lovers. He wasn’t a virgin, and yet he was. There was a huge difference between sex and love, between somewhat to tumble into bed with and someone who wanted to claim him. This is what he’d been missing – a lover who would say, “You’re mine!” That’s what Jim was doing right now – claiming him. Hank was ready. His body reflected his inner soul. It didn’t need a lot of lube. It didn’t need a lot of teasing open. He was ready to be claimed.

And Jim did, sinking deep into Hank, settling into a rhythm that fit both of them, gentle, yet demanding, short and long, quick and slow. A rhythm that brought both of them higher and higher until they burst together, falling over the waterfall of their climax and into the depths of slumber. They settled, still joined, nestled together like spoons in a drawer, and slept.

During the night, they each rose from those slumbering depths to wonder at the body clinging tightly, smiled as memory surfaced, and sank back into the depths. Quiet and peace reigned that night in this one house.

And to all, a good night.

The next morning woke slowly. Hank slowly rose to the surface, luxuriating in the closeness of Jim’s embrace, the security of being surrounded by this man. He snuggled in closer as he listened to Jim’s breathing, wiggling against the soft hairs of his chest and the harder demands down below. He felt so safe right now. As he wakened more, he became aware of his own urgency. He gently extricated himself from Jim and went to the bathroom, taking care of business, and then went to the kitchen to put on coffee. Coffee, that gift from the gods that would help him, and Jim, come back to life after this wonderful night.

He began the ritual of coffee making. It was automatic, safely so for so early in the morning. As he began to push the button to start the process, he realized that he needed more water and more coffee. There were two this morning. He smiled to himself, and added the water and coffee. The process started. The slow gurgling of water and heady scent of coffee began to fill the kitchen. He padded back to the bedroom to find Jim’s eyes open.

“What do you take in your coffee?”

“Cream, if you have it, and nothing else, please.”

“OK”

He went back to the kitchen, poured out the two cups and returned to the bedroom.

“Here you go.”

Jim sat up and took the cup, breathing in the aroma and tasting that first tentative sip of the morning. A fresh cup of coffee began the day just right. Hank sat down on his side of the bed, settled back against the pillows and began to sip his own coffee. Jim moved over slightly until they were touching. It was wonderfully domestic, two lovers leaning slightly against each other, sipping coffee in bed. Hank put his mug down, scotched down in the bed and nestled his head against Jim’s belly, letting his fingers reach up and play with the chest hair. Jim’s hand began stroking Hank’s hair, gently twining his fingers in the chestnut curls.

It was Christmas morning. Last night, they had unwrapped their gifts. Now, they had to decide what to do with them.

“Hank, last night was wonderful. It was everything I had dreamt about. You’re a wonderful lover.”

Hank blushed. He let his fingers do the walking through Jim’s hair. He loved the crisp and silky feel of it. The wonderful texture of the treasure trail, the slightly harsher feel of Jim’s bush. He loved the utterly masculine feel of muscles moving under smooth, silky skin. His hands couldn’t seem to get enough of Jim.

Jim began to respond, tenting the sheet as he filled to Hank’s touch. It wasn’t just the physical sensations, though those were wonderful, too. It was the feel of love, the gentle sensuousness, the delicacy of the touch. When Hank touched him, he felt as if he were precious to Hank. That aroused him, touched his masculinity as no one else ever had.

He pulled Hank up and they began to kiss. Mouths parted, tongues intertwined, hands grew rougher with passion. They inaugurated the day with their newfound need for each other. Maybe this gift would last.

After, they got up and showered, put on bathrobes and went into the kitchen for more coffee – and maybe a bite to eat. Their lovemaking had left them famished.

Hank moved around the familiar kitchen while Jim sat at the counter and watched, impressed by Hank’s obvious competence. Clearly Hank wasn’t just familiar but at home in his kitchen. Jim set the table after Hank told him where the dishes, cups and cutlery were. He poured fresh orange juice for both of them and brought over the carafe of coffee. Hank brought two plates out.

“Eggs Benedict,” he announced, “I hope you like them.”

“Yes, I most certainly do. I just didn’t expect this at home.”

Hank smiled as he looked at Jim. “I like it that you called this home.” Now it was Jim’s turn to blush and look down. They sat and began eating. Fresh coffee, sweet orange juice and luscious eggs went down easily. Silence reigned as they both set to. They leaned back from the table and refreshed their coffee. They looked at each other over plates licked clean by the last piece of English muffin. There was an awkward silence.

Jim looked down into his cup, twirling the coffee slowly. “Hank, I’m sorry if I was a bit pushy last night. I think I kind of got carried away. It was something I’ve wanted for a long, long time. Sometimes I can be a little rough, so I just want to apologize.” He looked up, a worried expression on his face.

It was Hank’s turn to stammer a bit. “Jim, I’ve wanted it, too, for a long time. I was attracted to you the first day you walked into my classroom. You were just so damn good looking. I lusted in my heart after you something awful, but I couldn’t do anything. I was your teacher. As you kept turning up in my classes, I got to know your mind and, through your writing and debating with me, I saw into your soul. I began to fall in love with you – and I still couldn’t do anything about it. I’m an academic, Jim. You know that. It’s difficult for me to make decisions quickly or to take action quickly. I’m overwhelmed by last night – and thrilled. God, I’m just so grateful that you came over and took the first step.”

Jim reached over and lifted Hank’s chin with a finger. “Look at me, Hank. I want this to be a first step, and I want a hell of a lot more steps after this. Will you let me take them with you?”

Hank was afraid. He’d waited so long for this to happen that he’d given up. He’d lost himself in his books and teaching. But he longed for someone to come home to, someone to share his life with. He didn’t dare to believe that something could be happening now.

Jim took another first step. He got up and came to Hank, lifted him up again and kissed him – oh so thoroughly. “Hank, I want us to live together. I want to love you every night and morning. I want to wake up with you and debate with you.

I want to laugh with you.”

Hank was overwhelmed but he looked up into Jim’s eyes. “Yes. I need someone who can help me laugh. I want someone I can lean on. I spend all day being the ‘authority’ in the classroom. It’s nice to have someone else to lean on sometimes. I’m going to be wild and let go of the careful scholar. Yes, yes, yes.”

“This is the best Christmas ever!” Neither one knew who had said it aloud.