I'll be Home for Christmas



"Tell me again why weíre fifty thousand feet up a tree freezing our butts off?"

Trent looked cross-eyed at his nose, checking to see if it was still there. He couldnít feel the darn thing therefore, he was pretty sure it had fallen off at least an hour ago.

"Itís the coldest winter on record," he continued, "and Iím spending my Christmas holiday sitting up a tree, hunting for Bambi and his pals." Removing his gloves, he pinched his nose for good measure before looking at his boyfriend. "Some holiday, Budman."

"Quit your grousing," Blaine replied. "Nobody twisted your arm, made you say Ďyesí when Gramps invited you along on this hunting trip."

Trent rolled his eyes. It wasnít like he was going to let Blaine leave him behind. "Yeah, well, I guess I didnít realize weíd be freezing our fucking asses off the entire time." He glared at Blaine or at least thought he did. The feeling in his face was the first to go shortly after they arrived at their designated deer stand, and now he couldnít tell if he was frowning or smiling.

"No wonder your Uncle Dan hightailed it back to sunny California," Trent mumbled under his breath. He didnít mean for Blaine to hear him but then again, maybe he did. He was cold, he was pissed and he was horny, and not particularly in that order.

"Uncle Dan went back home in order to put his house up for sale," Blaine explained. "That, and start the process of moving his business back to Baton Rouge."

"How convenient." Making sure the safety was on, Trent placed his gun on the floor so that he could blow on the tips of his fingers. "You canít tell me ole Uncle Dan didnít have ample opportunity to do all that shit way before now."

He was reaching for their thermos of hot chocolate when Blaine captured his hands and lifted them to his lips. He groaned as each finger was sucked into the blazing furnace of his boyfriendís mouth. By the time Blaine had finished Trent could feel just about every bone in his body. Of course that was until they all melted around his feet.

"Holy shit, Blaine." He stared mesmerized at his boyfriendís wet, swollen lips. "Those nuclear plants ainít got nothing on you. Man, your mouth is hotter than Hades. So hot Iíve---"

Trent never did finish his sentence. He was too busy heating his tongue in the worldís hottest mouth. Caps, gloves, scarves fell to the floor as the two of them struggled to get at each other. Blaine slipped a hand between his thighs, and Trent humped it furiously. It didnít matter that he couldnít feel it one hundred percent through the multiple layers of clothes he was wearing. Blaine was touching him, finally.

"Blaine, please. Oh, God. There . . . yes, there. Fuck!"

The explosive release of spunk warmed Trent from his bare head to his frozen tootsies. He rested in Blaineís arms and basked in the afterglow until Jack Frost came knocking on his door. First his ears froze, then his nose and then . . . .

"Shit! Now Iíve got wet underwear. My nuts are definitely gonna freeze to death." Before he could finish his current round of griping, he was roughly shoved back into his corner of the stand by one very annoyed boyfriend.

"And whose fault is that? If you werenít so fucking horny all the time." Blaine readjusted his clothes then slammed his hunting cap back on his head before turning away to stare at the landscape below them.


Keeping an eye on the sulking teenager sitting beside him, Trent took his time straightening his clothes. He pulled on his crotch in a desperate effort to ease his rapidly cooling underwear away from his groin. It soon became apparent the task was a lost cause, and he gave up and put his gloves back on. For a few seconds he briefly considered dousing his crotch with some of their hot chocolate but decided damp bvds were a better deal than third degree burns.

"Look," Trent scooted closer to his boyfriend and nudged his shoulder. "Youíre right. I am horny. Horny as hell, to be exact. Jesus Pete, Blaine, except for my birthday, the only other time Iíve seen you was at Thanksgiving, and we barely had a minute to ourselves that entire holiday. Between my relatives and yours, the part-time job I was working, not to mention you helping your dad with that addition heís building onto your house." Trent rubbed Blaineís thigh. "Shoot, between all of that, we barely got to spend any time together, much less fuck."

The holiday had been extremely frustrating for Trent. It was the first time heíd seen his boyfriend since Blaine had left for college. The emails, the instant messaging, the phone calls -- all of that had kept him sane during Blaineís absence, but none of it could replace the real deal. Heíd been downright thrilled once his boyfriend was home. Unfortunately, it seemed fate had been against them, and every time they thought they had the time to slip between the sheets, something or someone had popped up.

His case of blue balls was on the verge of going critical by the time his birthday rolled around. Blaineís gift to him had been an Amtrak ticket to Alabama. Trent had basically jumped his boyfriendís bones the second he stepped off the train and didnít stop jumping his bones for the next two days. It went without saying that his spunk level was almost nil by the time heíd re-boarded the train, not to mention his ass had been as sore as hell. Seemed he wasnít the only one suffering.

And yes, he knew he had been all over his boyfriend since Blaineís current return home from college, but hell, they only had two weeks. Baseball practice was in full swing, and Blaine didnít have the luxury of spending the entire semester break with his family.

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Trent glanced sideways at the boy next to him and for the millionth time cursed the circumstances that had separated them. He knew money was an issue for the Matthews, but if Blaineís dad had kept his dick in his pants and not gotten Mrs. A pregnant again, then maybe his boyfriend wouldnít have felt obligated to take the scholarship offered by Alabama State instead of LSU.

Frustrated to the max, Trent stomped his feet. "Fucking things are frozen solid," he muttered.

"You should have worn some thermal socks," Blaine retorted.

Trent suddenly saw red. "How many times do I have to tell you I donít have any thermal socks!" He pounded his thigh with his fist. Blaineís family wasnít the only household pinching pennies. "Iím wearing the only socks I have. Maybe if I was lucky like you and had grandparents who were lo---"


The walkie talkie at their feet crackled to life. "Think you two could hold it down to a mild roar?" Blaineís father asked. "Youíre scaring off the deer."

Cringing with embarrassment, Trent scooped up the two-way radio and apologized to their hunting companions, "Roger. Will do." He tossed the device back on the floor, then turned to face his boyfriend.

"Iím sorry for being such a bastard," he said. On the pretense of checking their surroundings, Trent scooted his chair a little closer to Blaineís. "Itís just that I miss ya, Budman. Miss you like hell when youíre not here."

His boyfriend refused to look at him but did grasp his hand. "Do you think itís any easier for me?" the older boy asked. "At least you still have your dad, your friends. You get to see them every day." Blaine finally looked over at him. "You think youíre lonely? Iím two states away. Not to mention, Iím over there by myself."

Trent stared at his boyfriend. Try as best as he could he couldnít stop the smile that was tugging at his lips. Once the smile slipped free, chuckles soon followed, and before he knew it, he was laughing so hard his side started hurting.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?"

Hearing the anger in his boyfriendís voice, Trent wiped the tears from his eyes and desperately tried to stop laughing. It was a lost cause. Finally, after a couple of minutes, he was able to speak without gasping for air. "Would you listen to the two of us? We sound like a couple of whiney-butt titty-babies, trying to outdo each other in the pity department."

It took a few seconds before an identical smile took shape on Blaineís face. Another round of laughter soon ensued. Tears streaking down his cheeks, Trent paused to sigh when familiar arms pulled him into a tight embrace.

"We are pretty pathetic, arenít we?" Blaine asked.

Trent agreed with his boyfriendís assessment and the kiss that followed. "Totally," he replied after refilling his lungs with oxygen. "We are 100%, without a doubt, pathetic."

Unbelievably warm lips discovered the area behind his left ear. Trent shivered, but this time his trembling had nothing to do with the cold. "God, I love ya, Budman," he whispered hoarsely.

Blaine slowly straightened. "Same here, Frosty." Blue eyes twinkling, he nipped Trentís nose. "Or maybe that should be Rudolph. Your nose is a-glowing."


Shutting his eyes, Trent snuggled closer to his boyfriendís side. He didnít budge an inch for the rest of the morning, not even when a 12-point deer stepped into view. As far as he was concerned, heíd already snagged his prize buck and would Ďmountí him the second he could feel his dick again.


Trent shoved a chair in front of the door of their small bedroom. Satisfied with its position, he turned back toward the bed and crawled under the covers with Blaine. The chair would serve as an early warning system just in case someone came to investigate the strange sounds coming from their room.

Moonlight streamed through the window next to the bed, and its reflection drew his gaze to his boyfriendís pierced nipples. If he had his way there would definitely be a whole lot more than strange sounds occurring between him and Blaine during the next few hours.

Plastering himself to Blaineís side, Trent nuzzled the side of his boyfriendís neck. He liked the way it made him shudder.

"Your grandpa hates me," he whispered.

Right on cue Blaine shuddered then gasped. The sudden intake of breath was a reaction to Trent taking hold of a patch of flesh with his teeth and lightly biting. "Trent, you know thatís not true. Hell, youíve been my best friend from day one. Gramps has always liked you."

Blaine arched his back, thus pushing against the mouth attacking his left tit. "Itís just that Gramps doesnít understand your change in status. One minute youíre the kid down the block, and now youíre the guy sucking face with his grandson. Not to mention, Dad didnít do us any favors by adding Uncle Dan to the mix."

Trent swiped his tongue one last time over his favorite nipple, favorite because it lay just above his boyfriendís generous heart. "What do you mean? Your dad didnít do us any favors?" He coaxed Blaine over on his side, thus giving him better access to the neglected nipple piercing. He took the entire tit into his mouth and sucked hard. The husky groan that welcomed the attention was pure music to his ears.

"According to Nana," Blaine explained once he caught his breath, "Gramps didnít quite know what to make of his son being bi. It led to some . . . uh, major arguments between them. But once Dad married Mom and Uncle Dan moved to California, everything seemed to settle down."

Trent grinned when Blaine took his hand and shoved it between his legs. Heíd been having fun teasing the hair just below his boyfriendís navel but was more than happy to move onto bigger and better things. "Iím guessing things changed when you came out of the closet?"

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "Gramps wasnít exactly ecstatic to discover his only grandson was a fag."

Trent snatched the offensive word from Blaineís lips with a kiss. He then turned his attention to the rod of steel poking him in the gut. Suddenly conversation was limited to grunts, moans and sighs, and it was Blaine who was the first to get his brain back online.

"I guess in all fairness we should cut the old guy a little slack," the nearly 18 year old admitted begrudgingly. "It's not like gays are a majority in this neck of the wood, And Gramps has got four to deal with."

"I donít care what you say," Trent replied, "I don't care what kind of slack you want us to cut him,. Your grandpa does not like me."


Trent did nothing to hide his grin when Blaine levitated off the mattress. He added another finger to the one making nice with his favorite butthole, and his grin grew in size when Blaine started begging.

"Yeah, thatís it. Keep . . . Jesus Christ, please! A little . . . oh hell. Come on, Trent. Suck me. Please!"

"Iíll do you one better," Trent promised. Smothering Blaineís protest with a tongue-sucking kiss, he straddled the older boyís hips and carefully lowered his ass. Even though heíd had the foresight to lube up before coming to bed, it still hurt like hell, and his lower lip was nearly gnawed off by the time Blaineís mammoth-size erection was completely seated inside him.

"This," Trent slid his hand between their bodies and squeezed the base of Blaineís dick. "This is the best fucking feeling in the whole world. You in me. Me on you. I know it sounds corny, but damn, I could stay like this forever."

"Youíre right, it does sound corny," Blaine agreed while thrusting upward. "But itís a corniness Iíll never . . . oh God, Trent, do that again." Eyes scrunched shut, Blaine froze in place and panted like a freight train. "Def . . . definitely a corniness Iíll never get tired of hear--- Trent!"

Trent was pretty sure Blaine was tired of his continued corniness by the time they were both covered in sweat and spunk, but that didnít stop him from whispering silly sweet nothings until they fell asleep. He had only eight more days total with Blaine and if that meant acting the fool so that his boyfriend wouldnít forget him, then so be it.

He was a fool . . . a fool in love.


"Move your leg, Budman. I gotta go pee."

The dead weight that was his boyfriend didnít move an inch. Trent was cool with that, for all of ten minutes. After ten minutes his bladder was protesting in a major way that would embarrass the both of them if he didnít get his ass in gear.

Wiping away the drool slobbered all over his left pec, Trent shoved Blaine up and over. Moonlight once again drew his gaze to the naked body sprawled beside him, and all thoughts of exploding bladders went bye-bye.

Damn, Blaine was drop-dead gorgeous, and every inch of that glorious bod belonged entirely to him. Man, talk about winning the lottery of love.

Pulling on his discarded underwear, Trent chuckled softly. He was so way past corny. "Get a grip on yourself, Anderson," he admonished, "Youíre beginning to sound like a Hallmark card."

Shaking his head, he deactivated their early warning system and walked to the bathroom as fast as his full bladder would allow. He was on his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack when he spied Blaineís grandfather in what passed as the small cabinís living room.

The old guy must have fallen asleep while watching TV, he mused.

Carefully Trent tip-toed his way through the scattered soda cans and dirty dishes left from supper. Slapping off the TV he cringed when the sudden cessation of noise disturbed the manís slumber.

"Ah, hell," he mumbled. Frozen in place, Trent stood with one hand on the console and one glued to his chest in an attempt to quiet his stampeding heart. Blaineís grandfather snuffled and snorted but thankfully remained asleep.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, he turned toward the kitchen. "Sleep on, old man. Sleep on."

Trent was almost clear of the chair when something he saw out of the corner of his eye stopped him dead in his tracks. "What the hell?"

With lightening speed, he rushed forward and snatched the burning cigarette from where it had fallen between the manís thighs. His fingers barely made contact, but it was enough to wake the old geyser.

"You fucking queer! Get your filthy hands off me!"

Trent never saw the blow that sent him flying across the room. The next thing he knew Blaine was leaning over him asking him how many fingers were in front of his face. Trent surged off the floor but was caught by two sets of arms.

"Son, he didnít mean it," Sean Matthews said.

"Trent, come back to bed. Dadíll take care of Gramps."

The red haze of anger was still clouding his vision and as far as he was concerned, heíd love nothing better than to haul off and belt the old guy right where itíd hurt the most. Yet, one look at Blaineís father and the blaze of fury in his eyes, Trent was more than happy to follow his boyfriend back to bed after a quick stop in the kitchen for a dishrag and a handful of ice cubes.

As soon as the door thumped shut, he reminded his boyfriend of his earlier statement. "Now do you believe me? Your grandpa hates me. Literally."

Blaine didnít say a word. Instead, he crawled under the covers and pulled Trent into a hug that threatened to break his ribs. "Iím sorry," he whispered. "Iím so fucking sorry."

"Me and you both," Trent sadly agreed.

The left side on his face was treated with several kisses before being tenderly covered with the makeshift icepack.

"At this rate, Iím never going to thaw out," Trent muttered.

Loud voices suddenly shattered the silence they had sought refuge in. The yelling grew so loud Trent swore the front windows were on the verge of shattering. In fact, he nearly peeíd on himself when the noise of a door being slammed off its hinges reached their ears. He and Blaine hadnít even made it out from under the covers before a truck engine roared to life. The two of them briefly looked at each other, then rushed for the door. Twin sighs of relief snuck out when they discovered Sean standing on the front porch staring dumbfounded at the road leading back to the highway.

Blaine moved to his fatherís side. "Dad?"

Sean let out a sigh, but his was one of frustration and disbelief.

"Mr. Matthews?" Trent quickly closed the door once Blaine and his father were back inside. It was freezing as hell out there, and the paper-thin material of his underwear offered little protection against the cold, artic air. He was seriously considering grabbing his jacket off the clothes hook beside the door when he caught sight of his boyfriend.

Blaine was hugging the shit out of his father, just like heíd done with him moments earlier. It made him wish his own dad had come with them instead of going to Memphis with Kenney and the team.

"Blaine? Mr. Matthews?"

Without warning Trent was pulled into a group hug, and it was several minutes before he could explain what had happened. "I hope you both know Iíd never, ever, do something like that, touch your grandpa down there. I swear on a stack of bibles, Budman, I so wasnít putting the moves on him."

Trent slammed the brakes on the shudder racing down his spine. Just the thought of Blaine or his dad thinking heíd do such a thing was enough to make him puke.

Swallowing down the bile that had risen in the back of his throat, Trent continued. "He must have fallen asleep while watching TV," he explained. "I had just turned off the TV and was heading to the kitchen when I smelled something burning." Straightening, he turned to face Blaineí father. "I guess he was smoking when he fell asleep and dropped his cigarette. It was burning a hole in the crotch of his pants." He looked over his shoulder at Blaine then back at Sean. "All I was trying to do was keep him from getting burned. Honest."

Trent glanced at Blaine in confusion when Sean released them both and headed toward the kitchen. The older man went straight to the fridge and pulled out two beers. He quickly finished off one and was starting on the second when he paused and looked at the phone.

"Guess I should call your grandmother. Warn her about whatís happened."

Trent jumped when Sean unexpectedly threw the nearly full can of beer across the room. "Damn it, Dad! Why canít you accept the fact that I love Dan as much as I love Allanah?"

Blaine took a step in his fatherís direction. "Dad?"

"Go to bed, son. You, too, Trent." He indicated the empty living room with a wave of his arm. "This, none of this, has anything to do with the two of you. Itís between me and your grandfather."

Trent followed in his boyfriendís steps. "Mr. Matthews? Maybe I could---"

"I said, go to bed. Now." Sean grabbed a handful of paper towels and went to work on the puddle of beer on the floor. "Iíll see the two of you in the morning."

Trent remained only as long as his boyfriend. The second Blaine turned to go, he was right there behind him. Neither one of them spoke a word until they were safely tucked under the covers. 

"Whatís going on with your dad?" Trent finally asked.

Blaine stared at the closed bedroom door. "I donít know."

Trent crawled on top of his boyfriend and buried his face in the solid musculature of Blaineís chest. "Does your grandpa know about your Uncle Dan moving in? I mean, Iím sure your dad told him about the two of them getting back together, right?"

"I seriously donít know." Blaine distractedly ran his hand up and down Trentís back. "I thought Gramps knew. Hell, he has to." He shifted one hand to his forehead and rubbed it. "Maybe Iím wrong. Maybe Gramps doesnít know or doesnít want to know."

Trent closed his eyes when Blaine tangled his fingers in his hair and tucked his head beneath his chin. "This is turning out to be one hell of a Christmas, isnít it?" he asked his boyfriend.

Blaine answered with a tender touch of lips to the top of his head. Minutes later, the makeshift icepack somehow found its way back on his face, and Trent fell asleep to visions of frozen noses sliding off the faces of angry snowmen.



Trent slapped at the lips nibbling on his ear. "Go Ďway."


"Five more minutes."

The lips returned, but this time they teased the back of his neck and then down the length of his spine.

"Wake up, babe."

Trent wiggled his butt in an attempt to dislodge the lips nudging his buttcrack. "What part of Ďfive minutesí donít you understand? Bambi ainít goiní nowhere. Take my word for it."

Burying his face in his pillow, Trent settled down for the requested five minutes. Damn deer werenít awake. Hell, Bambi was probably still snuggled with the missus.

He was on the verge of dropping back into the dream of him and Blaine and the largest dildo ever known to mankind when . . .

"Iím up! Iím up!"

Quickly turning on his side, Trent dislodged the tongue torpedoing his hole. He snorted with glee when he heard the sound of his tormenter hitting the floor. ĎServes you right for snatching me away from my dream,í he thought.

Trent erased the smirk from his face and peered over the side of the bed. "Why are you on the floor?" he asked as innocently as he could muster.

A one-finger salute and muttered Ďassholeí were thrown back at him. He returned the salute but not the expletive. His mouth was too busy hanging open with surprise at the sight of the decorated Christmas tree sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor.

"Santaís a little early, donítícha think?" Trent glanced over his shoulder at his boyfriend and grinned. Blaine was wearing the patented Santa headgear and nothing else. His grin turned to a chuckle when he noticed how the cap was sitting cockeyed, no doubt because of Blaineís tumble from the bed. The lopsided position obscured the left side of his face, leaving only one blue eye glaring at him.

Ignoring the Ďevilí eye, Trent snickered, "Let me guess, youíre Santaís new elf?" He reached out a hand and tapped the head of Blaineís Ďyuletide log.í If I promise to be a good little boy, will you let me ride your Ďsleigh?í "

Trent waggled his eyebrows and gave another light tap to his most favorite sex toy. Blaine responded to his silliness with an unexpected grab, and before he knew it, he was lying sprawled on top of his boyfriend. Not exactly the worst place to be.

"Fancy meeting you here," Trent whispered. He treated Blaine to a kiss that definitely put him on Santaís naughty list and by the time they pulled apart, the red velvet hat had traveled far south of the border.

"Never thought of your dick as a hat rack, Budman, but hey, if the---"

"God, youíre such an asshole." Blaine retaliated with another round of heart-pounding kisses, and this time when they broke for air, Santaís hat, the furry pompom to be exact, was stuffed between the cheeks of Trentís ass.

Blaine looked him over and smirked. "Now, whereís a camera when you need one?"

Trent punched his boyfriend on the arm, then soothed the abused area with a kiss. "Whatís the occasion, Budman? I mean, I know itís Christmas, but the actual holiday is a week away." Yanking a blanket off the bed, he wrapped it around the two of them once they were spooned together on the floor next to the small twinkling tree.

"Even though I didnít say anything, I was as upset as you were about not getting to spend any quality time together at Thanksgiving. I didnít want that to happen again this holiday, so thatís why I got Gramps to ask you to come on our annual hunting trip. I wanted us to be together as much as possible, even if it meant suffering his homophobia."

Trent sucked in a breath when his hand was grabbed and placed over Blaineís heart. He could feel it pounding like crazy. "Ah, Budman, I---"

"Iím sorry Gramps went off the deep end with you. Iím sorry his hatred of you ruined this trip. It wasnít what I had in mind."

Trent tugged on Blaineís shoulder. The second the older boy was lying flat on his back, he straddled his hips and took hold of his arms. "You ainít got nothing to be sorry for, Blaine. If your grandpaís got a problem with gays, then thatís his problem, not yours." Lowering himself down, he laid his head on Blaineís chest. "If anyoneís got a reason to be sorry, itís me. Iíve been whining since we got here."

Trent slid a hand up Blaineís chest, around his neck and tangled his fingers in the boyís hair. "You know, weíve got this cabin for what . . . another four days? How Ďbout we start this trip over? Forget the past two days, especially forget last night." Lifting his head, he grinned at his boyfriend. "Hey, letís get your Uncle Dan on the phone. See if he can catch a plane, maybe join us here at the cabin. Iím bettiní your dad needs some serious comforting about now."

Arms surrounded him and squeezed the air from his lungs.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" Blaine asked.

"You donít have to say it, Budman. I know it." Trent drew the blanket up and tried to stop from shivering. Lying on the floor wasnít exactly conducive to staying warm, but heíd be damned before he said a word about moving. He loved lying on top of Blaine, being hugged to death by him. What were a few frozen tootsies compared to that?

He glanced over at the tree. "Is that a present I see?" he asked his current body pillow.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Nah, itís a gift for my other boyfriend, you idiot."

Trent bit the closest nipple and grinned when he felt a certain Ďhat rackí stir to life. "Can I open it? Or do I have to wait Ďtil Christmas?"

Blaine snagged the gift and handed it to him. "Of course, you can open it. You donít think I went to all this trouble, brought all this stuff out here, so that you could stare at your gift for the next four days?"

Sitting straight up, Trent delivered another punch to Blaineís arm before ripping the wrapping paper off his present. Inside the box was a small black velvet case, a jewelerís case. "Tell me this isnít what I think it is."

His handsome features marred by a frown, Blaine covered the case with his hand. "Itís not. I wish it was, but I donít have the money yet to buy you a real wedding band. The ringís coming but until then, well, I guess youíll just have to keep on wearing my graduation ring."

Afraid their special moment was about to turn morose, Trent looked at his boyfriend and waggled his eyebrows. "Then whatís in the box? A new chain? Hey, is it a PA? Remember that picture I emailed you? The one of that guy with a PA fucking his man? I know you had some reservations about . . . ." He eased open the case and froze. "Blaine, I canít believe . . . Wow, theyíre . . . theyíre fucking awesome." He handed his present to Blaine. "Will you slip Ďem on for me?"

Trent watched as Blaine carefully removed the silver hoops from his tits. His own Ďhat rackí went on alert when his boyfriend paused to suckle each pap before inserting the brand new gold hoops. Each piercing was anointed with a lazy lick and a wet kiss, and Trent almost came where he was sitting, it felt so good.

Cupping the sides of his boyfriendís face, he tilted Blaineís head back and went to work on properly thanking him for his gift. "Love ya, Budman."

"Back at ya, Rudolph."

End of chapter 17

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