Somewhere in New York Part 10
Christmas Eve:
Shamrock Pub is closed for the three-day holiday weekend.
Six o'clock.
Pat, Heero and I share a supper of honey-glazed ham, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, green beans, cinnamon spiced apples, dinner rolls and pumpkin pie topped with Cool Whip. After washing the dishes and tiding up the kitchen we gather around the Christmas tree.
Pat gins when we hand over his present, "I'm supposing ya lads didn't wrap this."
We nod "no".
"Didn't think so, much too neat." he teases as the red and green plaid paper is ripped away. "Been needin' a new one." is proclaimed while he examines the Black and Decker eight speed, stainless steel blender. "Thanks. Now I can make ya decent milkshakes."
Heero takes his turn giving my gift; not as neatly wrapped in blue paper studded with silver stars. He's restless with anticipation while I tug at the expertly applied tape to expose a tan wooden box.
Guess I'm taking a nanosecond too long to open it 'cause he's getting fidgety. "Okay." I declare, slipping my finger under the gold tone latch. "Don't get spastic."
The hinged lid snaps back to reveal a Seiko analogue wristwatch with a black leather band. As the quartz movement aligns the hour and minute hands with the large easy-to-read numbers, the shorter second hand clicks around in a metered Tick. Tick. Tick.
Holding up the incredible timepiece, I angle it so the tree lights reflect on the smooth glass. "This is amazing." I praise my partner's thoughtfulness.
Visibly relieved by my favorable response, Heero is immediately more at ease however, "You really like it?" is asked with a hint of uncertainty. "If you'd rather have something else---"
I take his hand to halt the fretful rambling. "The watch is perfect." Leaning closer, "I'll show my thanks properly later." is promised huskily.
My gift to Heero is swathed in silver paper. The unwrapping frees a small maroon box yet, removing the top doesn't solve the mystery as a square of cotton conceals the contents.
Heero casts a questioning glance to which I reply. "It won't bite."
Trusting my word that no miniature beastie will launch an attack, Heero hooks his index finger under the cottony cover and extracts a sterling silver continuous chain long enough to slip over his head. Dangling from the uninterrupted links, a Saint Christopher's medallion glistens with the purity of the Christmas star.
Heero's wide-eyed lingering look eliminates all doubts I made the right choice. Whispered lowly, "Wow." is accented with a wispy sigh.
"Figured you deserved a lot of good graces."
Pat adds his approval. "Ya did good." Redirecting his attention to Heero, he urges. "Put it on."
The chain securely around his neck, Heero admires the saintly adornment. "Thank you so much." he declares with genuine sincerity.
"Time for you two's present." Pat states before settling a large, flat, rectangle box wrapped in snowmen paper on the bar.
Like giddy kids, Heero and I waste no time unwrapping. "A television!" we exclaim in unison.
"A nineteen inch, color, flat screen, surround sound Sony with stand." Pat clarifies the particulars. "Right after Christmas I'll run a cable line upstairs to ya room and hook it in with the TV at the bar."
To emphasize our appreciation each thank you is underscored by a hug. "We're gonna spoil us." Heero declares as he admires Pat's extremely generous gift.
*********
Arms encircling the boxed TV, Heero precedes me up the stairs. I follow closely, right hand braced on his lower back for balance and my left sliding along the rail so I don't lose my equilibrium. It'd be nasty for us and the TV to take a tumble.
On the top tread, my supportive hand slips low on Heero's blue jean-encased ass-hey-whatever it takes to get us upstairs safely.
Heero squirms when I give his firm bottom a squeeze. "Don't distract me." He growls in mock annoyance.
Almost to the bedroom door I wiggle my fingers between his legs. "Bet you'd like to know how many ways I can distract you."
"Open the damn door." Heero orders, "This is heavy."
Once inside our boudoir (only French word I know) the box is propped against the desk. With an exaggerated stretch solely for my benefit, Heero flexes his muscles. "I believe you were bragging about distraction?" is the only warning before I'm grabbed around the waist and flung backwards on our adjoined beds.
"Sneaky son-of-a-bitch." I hiss half-heartedly trying to wiggle free. "Ouch, my braid's caught." is proclaimed in a further feigned attempt to escape the playful bear hug.
"Ain't going to work." Heero grins then nips my neck sending shockwaves straight to my groin.
Knowing I've been bested, "You win." is admitted as I slide my arms around his neck and pull him down for a fierce kiss.
When breathing becomes necessary, Heero raises up far enough to gaze into my eyes. "Thank you again for the Saint Christopher's medallion. I'm never going to take it off."
"Thanks for the watch." I return the expression of gratitude. "Except now I got no excuse for being late."
Heero brushes stray strands of hair from my face. "I love you more every day?" is whispered with an undertone suggestive of a lover's secret.
Suddenly I'm drowning in pools of blue. Overwhelmed by his heartfelt declaration, tears track down my cheeks. I want to reply, to also proclaim my undying devotion but my bottom lip is quivering too much to speak.
Shocked by the unpredicted tears Heero rolls onto his side. "What's wrong? Oh---God---Duo---I'm sorry."
"I'm not upset, it's just---" I struggle to find the right words. "It's just no one other than my Mom ever cared for me like this."
"I support you, love you unconditionally." Heero vows earnestly, "Pat loves you like a father. We can't replace your mother, we wouldn't try to but as long as I'm here you'll never be alone."
Enfolded in his reassuring embrace it's as if we're the only people in New York City.
"I'd like to say a prayer for my mother. Sacred Heart Chapel is a few blocks from here. I'm not sure if a Christmas Eve Midnight Mass is scheduled but I wouldn't feel comfortable in a crowd."
"Let's go now." Heero suggests, "This early there shouldn't be many people."
"You wanna go with me?"
"Of course if you want me to."
Again tears of joy threaten to fall. "I really do love you, Heero Yuy."
*********
Dwarfed between a four story and five story building, Sacred Heart Chapel puts Duo in mind of a limestone dollhouse. Dimly lit from within, clear, wavy glass windows, topped with graceful arches, set on either side of the wide-plank wooden door painted a conservative shade of red and adorned with a seasonal wreath of white pine and a purple velvet bow.
Although enclosed by a weather-worn wrought iron fence, the chapel's matching gate is always open in a welcoming summons to enter the courtyard.
Shielded against the cold in a black ski jacket and matching hunter green scarf and stocking cap, Heero steps aside to let his similarly shrouded partner thread through the gate.
Bordered along the narrow flagstone walkway, stubby brown grass and barren flowerbeds frosted with traces of freeze-dried snow provide stark reminders of winter's cheerless curse.
Beneath an olden oak, its bare branches towering well above the chapel's gray slate roof, a pale stone statue as tall as Duo depicts a man in a monk's cowl; left hand gripping a staff and right hand aimed towards the sky.
Duo stops beside the nameless saint or, perhaps, martyred defender of the faith to stare up into chiseled eyes that neither pass judgment nor grant absolution. Not certain whether a sudden, involuntary shudder is generated by the cold or the lingering essence of apparitional energy, he sucks in a shaky breath.
"Are you okay?" Heero asks, wrapping an arm around Duo's waist for support.
"Yeah." is replied with a sigh that doesn't totally convince Heero of a truthful answer.
*********
Inside the chapel sulfur from burning candles scents the air and flickering flames cast phantom shadows over plain white walls. Flanked by rows of ten walnut pews, the single aisle ends at a simple altar craved from the same dark wood which supports an unadorned silver cross.
On a smaller wooden table near the white marble baptismal font, a humble thatched-roof cr¨¨che shelters the infant Jesus, Mary and Joseph, a reverent angel with wings unfurled and a trio of worshipful shepherds.
Debating the proper comportment for entering the chapel, Duo pauses just inside the door. Since Heero has no better notion of what's considered suitable behavior, he quietly slides into the second pew from the back then scoots over far enough for Duo to also take a seat.
At nine-fifteen on Christmas Eve only a few faithful parishioners are in attendance. Two elderly ladies, their heads veiled in black lace, sit on the left side three rows from the front.
The right side is occupied in various places by a man swathed in a gray woolen overcoat saying the rosary, a thirty-something couple sharing silent meditation and a husband with his wife cradling their peacefully sleeping child.
The last man with a scruffy beard, wearing a ragged denim jacket too thin for the wintry climate, has segregated himself in the far back corner. Probably homeless, he's seeking refuge from the cold as much as salvation for his soul.
After a moment of contemplative thought, Duo leans close and whispers. "I don't wanna go up to the altar."
This time Heero is certain in his response. "God can hear you just as good from here."
Reckoning the entreatments for his mother would be better received from a subservient posture, Duo lowers onto the padded kneeler, bows his head, closes his eyes and entwines his fingers in imitation of his childhood bedtime mantra, "Now I lay me down to sleep."
While Duo makes his unvoiced intercessions, Heero studies the comforting aura of diffused candlelight and mentally ponders the virtues of conviction and confession.
Did fate guide Duo Maxwell to the Shamrock or was divine intervention the deciding factor? Whatever the source Heero determined, then and there, he'd show Duo how grateful he was to have him in his life.
A barely audible "Amen.". Duo opens his eyes, slips back into his seat and takes Heero's hand. "Let's go home."
Heero squeezes the slender hand enfolded in his, "Home wouldn't be home without you."
*********
Recently returned to the Shamrock, Heero and I stop in the kitchen to brew coffee which will, hopefully, chase away the chills. Fifteen minutes. Coffee kept hot in an insolated pot and a half a bag of sugar cookies in hand we head up to our bedroom.
Coats are hung on hooks; scarves and caps tossed in a wicker basket. Heero visits the bathroom to empty his bladder. Shedding his street cloths, he opts for a navy blue long sleeve tee shirt and comfy black lounging trousers. Meanwhile I change into my favorite outfit of maroon sweatshirt and sweatpants.
By the time my roommate reenters the bedroom I've laid out sheets of holiday print paper towels as makeshift placemats on the desk. Heero pours coffee into his tan mug embossed with the Goldman Gym logo. Next my white mug, imprinted with the portrait of a noticeably stoned Mona Lisa smoking a joint of marijuana, is filled.
Street traffic watched through the front window is sporadic yet, even on Christmas Eve, yellow cabs and cops are still on duty. The frigid temperature hurrying their pace, a smattering of pedestrians rush up and the avenue. Not particularly inclined to talk Heero and I enjoy the late-night quiet which is occasionally disrupted by the crunch of cookies.
Heero finishes his coffee but declines a refill. "Pat sure has good taste." He states, nudging the TV box with his sock-encased foot.
"Yeah, we need to figure out a special way to show our appreciation."
Heero nods in agreement. "That can be our New Year's resolution." Grinning like a mischievous child he adds, "I have one more present for you."
"Because I've been naughty or nice?"
"Both." he verifies handing me a plain black box.
With circumspect anticipation I lift the top and take out a plastic bottle. "Easy Glide. Hypoallergenic Lubricant for Exceptional Pleasure" the label proclaims. Not daring to look at Heero I set the bottle on the desk then gather up a handful of Trojan Ultra Thin condoms individually sealed in shiny gold foil.
I can't help blushing as the implication becomes clear. Noticing my reaction Heero takes my hand. "Let me show you how much I love you."
"I've wanted to be with you for a long time," I assert honestly, "but I want you to be sure."
"I've never been so sure about anything in my life." is affirmed with an extremely persuasive kiss.
*********
A confusion of cast-off clothing ends at our bed. Bathed in subtle lamplight filtering through the curtains, bare bodies recline in the practiced posture of intimate lovers.
Insistent kisses bruise lips. Tongues spar. Fingers trace fiery paths over skin slick with sweat. Proficient hands fondle erogenous zones. Breathless murmurs share sensual promises of ecstasy and corporal stimulation evokes hissed curses that plead for relief.
Sprawled on his back, Heero groans as I suck a hard nipple while stroking the inside of his thigh, always stopping just short of his rigidly distended manhood.
"Fuck me!" Heero implores huskily when I brush my fingertips across his scrotum. "Need you---ahhh---inside me---ahhh---now."
Even in the fervent throes of passion I don't want to fuck Heero, I want to love him. "Do you trust me?" I whisper close to his ear.
As I settle between his legs, he responds in unconditional surrender, "With body, heart and soul."
"I would never disrespect you." is pledged for both his physical and emotional protection.
Heero's breathtaking blue eyes, hazy with lust and longing, focus on me with such willing expectation it causes me to weep.
Without diverting my eyes, I lubricate three fingers. With gentle pressure I slip one through the taut anal muscles and move it in a circular motion until the puckered ring relaxes. I ask permission before a second finger is inserted. The last finishes the stretching.
Heero growls lowly when the fingers are removed so I quickly begin to sheathe my hard length with a condom.
"No." halts my movements, "I don't want any barriers between us."
"Are you sure?"
A wordless nod signals consent.
Left hand hooked under Heero's ass, I use my right to center myself. Leaning forward the head presses into the pre-prepared opening.
Slow and steady.
Midway I stop. "You all right?" is asked with earnest concern.
"Everything is perfect."
"Promise if it hurts you'll tell me to stop."
"Okay."
Pulling back a few inches, I rock my hips and push again until the entire length fills my cherished lover. Heero sucks in a breath but doesn't seem to be in pain as a fusion of amazement and primal hunger is mirrored in his eyes locked with mine in a gaze of absolute devotion.
To my surprise Heero's legs encircles my waist and hands grip my hips in undeniable encouragement to accelerate our copulation-not screwing like hormone-crazed rabbits but the ultimate expression of our love.
Realizing Heero's erection is being neglected manual stimulus comes to mind and I urge him to dictate his climax. "Pleasure yourself."
Fingers tunneled around his penis, Heero takes the lead. My thrusts match each stroke with equal enthusiasm as moans, whimpers and guttural grunts spur us to mutual breathtaking, heart-pounding, genital-tingling, mind-boggling orgasms.
Energy spent I ease out then collapse on my sated lover trapping his still pumping manhood between our stomachs.
Tangled in the bedding it doesn't matter we're sweaty and sticky or my braid's come undone. With extra effort I tug the comforter over our nakedness, not from shame but in a sensible endeavor to keep the bedroom's chill at bay.
Glancing at the digital clock, Heero announces, "Twenty minutes after midnight."
Warm and secure in his arms, I don't immediately grasp the interest in the hour until he snuggles closer. "Merry Christmas, Duo, I love you."
"Merry Christmas. Love you, too."
Basking in the afterglow Heero and I hold on tight. Christmas morning will dawn soon enough but tonight it's as if we're the only two people in New York City.
TBC...
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