When we arrived home, after many hours spent shopping, I was exhausted. Sadly, that was only the warm-up.

The kids rushed inside the second I parked in the garage.

“Of course, leave me with the fucking tree and all the bags!”

When no one reacted, I shouted after them to move their asses back in the garage.

“KIDS!!!”

No answer.

“Little brats,” I muttered, snatching most of the bags and going after them.

They were in the living room. Patrick was showing Gus the dog.

“Didn’t you hear me calling?” I asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Oh, I’m introducing Gus to Sloth.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Justin had to choose the most idiotic name for the dog. “Well, I need someone to help me with the rest of the crap we bought.”

Gus petted the dog on the head, before coming closer. He grabbed the edge of my jacket, tugging me to the garage.

“I’ll do it, Dad.”

By his tone, it sounded like I was making him do who knows what horrible thing.

“Good. Take the rest of the bags. I’ll get the tree.”

While I was pulling the huge tree to the sun-room, I saw Patrick still hugging the dog. “Hey, Munchkin. Do something productive and pull dada out of his studio.”

He zoomed up the stairs, making me stare after him in horror. Christ. He was going to kill me.

“Where’s the tree stand?” Gus inquired.

“In the garage. Wait. We still have a lot of shit to bring from the Christmas corner.”

“This is actually cool. I’m decorating for Christmas twice.”

“You won’t be so happy when we start. You weren’t here last year when Patrick decided to help. I hope some of the decorations will make it on the tree.”

He laughed, helping me prop the tree in the corner of the room. “You sure about setting it up here? Not the living room.”

“It’s better here,” I insisted. More space.

“Maybe you should ask Justin too.”

“Ask me what? Hey, Gussy!” Justin engulfed Gus in a tight hug. “You’ve grown again.”

“A little.” He shrugged, modestly.

“Good for you. Soon, you’ll be taller than your dad.” Justin grinned at me, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around my waist. “You took forever.”

“But we got everything.” I kissed his forehead. “I see you’ve advanced with your painting. Now, you have some pink and yellow in your hair.” I fingered his multicolored fringes.

“It will wash, don’t worry. I’m almost done. You’re going to love it!”

“I always love whatever you paint. Can you tear yourself away from the painting and help us decorate?”

He bit his lip, his eyes sliding away. I knew that look too well. “Maybe in one hour or so. You can start with the outside. The lights are on the top shelf in the garage.”

“All right. Can you take Patrick with you? I can’t possibly look in five directions at once while I hang the lights on the house.”

“Yeah, sure. Have fun.” He pecked my cheek. On his way out the room, he ruffled Gus’s hair.

“Come on, Sonny Boy. You’ll hold the ladder.”

“Are you sure? You won’t fall, right?”

“I’ve done this before.”

The setting of the lights didn’t take long. I’d become an expert at how to keep them from tangling up. Next step was setting up the tree, which didn’t take long.

I brought all the decoration from the garage, plus the new ones, we had enough to even decorate around the house not only the tree. The only missing part was the decorator himself.

“I’ll get them,” Gus offered, eager to start the charade.

“Go right ahead. They’re in Justin’s studio. I’ll find something to eat.”

Besides a small snack at a street corner deli, we hadn’t eaten anything else.

I found some turkey breast and put it on a slice of bread. It had to do until dinner time.

Who knows when that will be?

It was already after five, and we hadn’t even began.

“Don’t!” I heard Justin shouting.

I had no idea why until the living bullet collided with my legs. “Look!” Patrick showed me his right hand covered in something red and gooey.

“What’s that?” I’d learned my lesson the hard way not to touch anything suspect he showed me.

He frowned, pouting. “It’s blood.”

“Oh.” I played along. “Then we can’t decorate. We have to go to the hospital.”

“It’s not blood, actually,” he averted, shaking his hand, making red paint fly everywhere. “I dropped one of Dada’s cans.”

That explained Justin yelling after him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Try not to touch anything.”

His eyes fastened to my leg, before shooting up at me. Cringing, I glanced at my pants.

Fuck.

“Come on.” I seized his paint covered arm, pulling him upstairs. “To the bathroom with you.”

I found Justin on his knees, scrubbing at the top hallway floor, with Gus holding a bucket. “Did he put paint on anything else?”

“Besides me?” I pointed to my pants. “In the kitchen…everywhere.”

“Urgh.” Justin shot Patrick a dirty look, receiving the most innocent smile the demon child could produce.

“I can help him clean up,” Gus offered, already taking his brother’s little hand and pulling him into his room.

I towered over Justin, grinning. “You missed a spot.” I tapped my toe to an old smudge of fuck knows what.

“You’re an asshole.” He glared up at me.

“Well, this is not the ideal way for you to spend on your knees. How long do you think it might take them to get cleaned up?” I popped open the top button of my jeans.

Justin’s hands shot up, gripping the hem of my pants. “Do you know Patrick to stay put for more than two seconds? I estimate he’ll come running out the door, soapy and wet, in about…” The door of his room opened, before Munchkin rushed out, but his socked feet caught some wetness from where Justin had cleaned, sending him on his ass. “Now,” Justin mumbled, closing his eyes. “Aaaannnnd…” He pointed a finger to Patrick, who promptly burst in tears. “Awesome.”

I crouched, hugging him tightly. “It’s okay. Come on. Get up.”

He wailed louder, burrowing into my arms.

Justin didn’t seem impressed by the show our son was putting. It was his special trait, ever since he was a baby. Crying louder and louder got him what he wanted—undivided attention.

Maybe I’d been away for too long and missed even these tidbits, but I caved at the sight of his tears.

I stood up, holding him tightly as he clung to me like a koala. Our display got a groan from Justin.

“What did you learn from this? No more running around! Especially on the stairs,” he muttered. “When will you learn that? When you crack your head?”

“Justin, quit it,” I hissed, rubbing Patrick’s back.

“Hurts,” Munchkin hiccupped in my neck.

“I know. You’ll be fine.” I kept rubbing his back and ass, soothingly. “Dada’s right, though. You need to stop running around. It’s for your own good. See what happens?”

He sniffed loudly, not answering.

I decided to finish washing Patrick, and change him in clean clothes.

“Brian! Take your fucking pants off. You’re dripping paint everywhere!” Even Justin burst out laughing after snapping at me.

“Another questionable context of you wanting me naked. Whatever happened to us, Sunshine.”

“That little demon in your arms happened.”

“Who, him?” I gave Patrick a huge smooch on his cheek, earning a giggle. “Go to your brother. I’ll be right there,” I instructed.

Once we were alone again, I pulled my pants off, throwing them at Justin, making him squeak and push them away, freaking about paint on his face.

“I’d be more worried about your multicolored hair,” I said over my shoulder, following Munchkin for some thorough cleaning.

Justin surprised the hell out of me, by somehow reaching me so fast and swatting my ass before I could step in Munchkin’s room. “What?” Justin shot me an innocent smile.

No wonder we had such a deranged kid, from two insane people, how could the poor kid turn out?

By the time we got a move to start decorating the tree, it was nearing seven. Justin insisted we should eat first, but everyone (the kids) was too excited about the tree to think of food.

We left them to it, trusting Gus to keep Patrick from breaking too many balls, while we went to work on peeling potatoes for fries.

“Does it make me sound like a vile person that I lost interest in Christmas?” Justin whispered, keeping his eyes trained on the potato in his hands.

“I was never interested in Christmas.” I shrugged. “So…” I pushed the potato in my hand in his face. “Potato, potahto.”

He laughed heartily, bumping into my shoulder.

Many potatoes later, Patrick appeared at my side. “We need help.”

I rose to wash my hands, before steering him back to the sun-room. “What’s the problem?” I did my best not to cringe at the state the poor tree was in. The lower branches were filled with balls, some hanging here and there from the higher branches where probably Gus reached on his tiptoes, and a lot of tinsel thrown around.

“The top. I want to put it.” Patrick picked the star, coming to me. “You have to lift me.”

No shit?

“See? If you don’t eat all the vegetables?” I teased.

Gus chuckled behind his hand.

“Come here.” I lifted Patrick on my shoulder. “Careful, okay?” I leaned closer to the tree for him to reach it better.

“Done!” He squealed, slapping his hands on top of my head. “Can we go out now?”

“It’s already dark outside, Munchkin. How about tomorrow?”

“We won’t stay long. Right, Gus?”

“We’ll be fine, Dad.”

“Just right outside—in front of the kitchen window so we can see you,” I advised them.

The next second, they were both gone. And cue Justin shouting after them to bundle up.

This was seriously not a place I’d seen myself almost ten years ago when I met Justin. Actually, it wasn’t a place I’d ever envisioned myself—a family man with a Stepford husband of my own and a child. My own child—our child, who I gave life to. It still spooked me to think of that, but I couldn’t regret anything.

“Briiiaaan!”

“They’re fine,” I told Justin, heading his way. He was still a twat.

“I know. We have a problem. You need to choose fast: frying these or wrapping presents. Since I had to stay constantly with Munchkin, I couldn’t spare a moment to wrap the presents.”

“I’ll fry,” I offered. It was much safer. “But don’t turn the presents into art, okay? They’ll rip the wrapping anyway.”

“Okay.” He pecked my cheek, before dashing up the stairs.

And we wondered why Munchkin was running around. He did what was he saw.

While I worked on frying the potatoes, I had a canine visitor, sniffing my ass. He hadn’t understood we weren’t going to be friends. He’d been a late present for Patrick’s birthday and an early present for Justin’s birthday.

“Stop it,” I hissed, stomping my foot, making him scurry to the corner of the kitchen where he started whimpering. “For fuck’s sake. What do you want from me?”

I made the mistake to turn my full attention to him. It made him think he was forgiven, because he rushed to me, rising on his back legs. His front legs’ paws dug into my stomach, his claws catching in the hem of my jeans.

“Ow!” I slapped his paws away, grabbing my side. “Out!” I pointed to the door.

“Done!” Justin returned not long after I sent Sloth on his merry way. “What’s up with the dog? He’s whining.”

“Fuck him.” I touched my freshly scratched skin. “He tried to dig out my intestines.”

“Must you be so gross?” He eyed my newest batch of fries and groaned. “Don’t burn them, Brian!”

“You do it. I’ll bring the kids back inside.” I swatted his ass with the dish towel on my way out.

oOo

Many hours later, Patrick and Gus were asleep, but not before preparing milk and cookies for Santa. Cookies we didn’t have at the time Patrick demanded them for Santa’s snack, and Gus refused to feed the old man bought cookies from the new box we’d bought. Of course, Justin had to make a small batch of cookies for the nonexistent person. It was nearing eleven by the time the kids were asleep.

And I was beat.

“Did you lock up?” Justin joined me in the entry hallway, switching lights off on his way.

“Yeah. The alarm is set.”

“Where’s the dog?” He looked around, confused. “You didn’t lock him out, did you?”

“I’m not fond of the animal, but I won’t let him out in the blizzard. He’s in front of the boys’ room.”

“Good. It’s just us then.” He grinned, sneaking his hands under my shirt and running them up my stomach to my nipples, scratching his nails over my skin. “I missed you so much.” Justin leaned closer, seeking my lips, freeing his hands, and locking them behind my neck as we kissed.

“Me too, Sunshine.” I pulled him upstairs and into the bathroom.

After a week away from his ass, I was having withdrawals.

Justin barely had time to turn the knobs of the shower, before I pushed him in the cabin, not caring the water was ice cold. I’d waited enough.

“Sheesh, Brian!” He jumped away from the sprays, shivering.

I pushed him against the glass wall, kissing up and down his neck. “I can’t even remember the last time I went five days without sex—any form of sex.”

“I did offer phone sex the other night,” he reminded me through a moan.

“You had Munchkin next to you.”

“I was in the bathroom. Alone.”

“Still.”

“Stop talking,” he muttered, pushing his ass into my dick. “You’re not the only one who’s been depraved of sex.”

While I lubed him up, I mused on how my life had changed. If I hadn’t fully committed myself to Justin, I knew that my trip to Chicago would have been filled with unknown fucks. I’d met at least five fuckable guys, but somehow, over the years everything had changed.

I knew it didn’t have to do with Munchkin. He might be part of it, but the actual reason in me not tricking anymore was actually understanding that I couldn’t find anyone else to conquer with Justin. Not even when he was to fucking New York.

“Fuck me.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” I teased, rolling a condom on my dick. Justin arched his back, his head resting on my shoulder, and his eyes closed.

Fuck. He knew how to drive me crazy.

One of his hands wrapped in my hair, as he moaned loudly. “Stick your dick in me,” he breathed out. “I need you.”

If I wasn’t just as horny as him, I might have kept teasing him a while longer, but after days of nothing, I needed him more than air.

Justin shouted when I pushed into him.

“Shhh!” I clapped my hand over his mouth.

“Fuck. So good,” he said into my palm. “Harder!”

“Don’t shout again,” I warned, lowering my hand.

If it was possible, he was even more tight than usual. I had to hold still for a few moments to get a hold of myself, before I started moving. Each stroke, earned me a groan from Justin. His sounds got higher as he approached his orgasm. I didn’t remind him to be quiet, because I was right there with him.

When I exploded, his name left my mouth in a loud shout, but I stopped giving a fuck. We were in the shower, the water was running.

What were the chances?

“That was fabulous.” He turned into my arms, bringing my head down and kissing me deeply. His eyes widened when he felt me still half hard against his hip. “What do we have here?”

“Why don’t you greet it with your mouth? That boner is all for you.”

He beamed like a kid in a candy store, sliding to his knees smoothly. “Who the fuck said men after forty have erectile problems?”

“They clearly had some sorry specimen of breeders as examples,” I said through my teeth. Justin was so skilled with his mouth, maybe just as skilled as with his fingers, which were currently trying to locate my prostate from an awkward angle. I grunted in frustration, turning around to give him better access. It wasn’t often when I allowed him near my ass, but I’d missed him too much.

He moaned enthusiastically, spreading my ass cheeks, diving into my hole like a starving man—licking and sucking.

Before I realized what he was doing, it was too late. I was too deep in the pleasure of his fingers up my ass, when I felt his dick nudging its way into me.

It felt better than ever before, but it always felt amazing when I had him deep inside of me. I’d taught him well, and it was my job as his partner to actually allow him the pleasure of topping. As much as Justin loved dick in any form he could get it, he still loved a tight ass. I’d question his queerness if he didn’t demand my ass every once in a while.

“Shit!” His fingers gripped my shoulder when he shot his load. For some reason, I could actually feel it. “Fuck. Crap, Brian.”

That’s when I realized why everything had felt so good. “You didn’t!” I snapped, whirling around.

“Fuck.” He had the decency of looking at his feet.

“Seriously?” I grabbed two handfuls of my hair. “Fuck, Justin!”

“I…” He peeked at me, his face red in embarrassment. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I made a point to ignore his stupid apologies as I cleansed.

All I could think of was Munchkin, and no matter how much I loved him, I wouldn’t do that again. Ever.